#anyway for the past like 2 1/2 months I have been trying to practice hygienic self care more

[wingwaver]

bitches were right about all that moisturizer talk all these years

my face skin is so fucking soft

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Sakura Blossom (Pt 5 of Torin’s Story)

(A/N: Yay! Torin gets a baff, a shave, and a haircut! This is a sort of intermission chapter where Torin starts to drag himself out of the dark place he’s been locked in, physically and mentally, by refreshing his body. That sounds...weird. But yeah lots of descriptions of wet shaving as I warned yesterday. 

It’s not the most well received idea, but I’m solid on that Torin’s new haircut is the same Late Season 3!Sokka from Avatar: The Last Airbender. I promise I’m not giving him a man bun. Just a fresh new look and feeling. Anyway, cheers!)

 Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // PART 5 // TBC

~~~

The tight quarters of the bathroom didn’t leave much room to maneuver. Twice Torin nearly fell face first into the frosted glass of the tiny shower stall as he peeled off his grimy prison greys, tripping on the hem of the pants before he caught himself on the sink’s counter. Once fully undressed he opened the door and adjusted the shower’s temperature before gingerly stepping inside and clicking the stall shut behind him.

The sensation of warm water flowing over his skin felt almost foreign. Torin tilted his face upwards to catch the spray, relishing in the tendrils of heat that drained back from his forehead and over his scalp.  

The Ward Captain had either left in a hurry, or the bathroom had been stocked before he was brought to his new room. A bottle each of shampoo and conditioner sat on the shower caddy, with a bar of the standard issue strong soap that everyone received in their hygiene kits nestled on a folded washcloth on the shelf beneath. 

The runoff from the shampoo stung as Torin splashed another handful of water on his hair to lather it more deeply. The sores scattered across his body protested, the cracked and gashed surfaces of his knuckles screaming as the soap infiltrated every crevice that the injuries created. Instead of avoiding the wounds, Torin took his time with them, ferreting out the embedded grit and scrubbing out damaged and dying tissue to give them a fresh chance to heal in this new, clean environment. Months of dirt, sweat, and blood washed away, leaving his body feeling almost raw in its refreshed state. 

A new start, vulnerable as it was. 

Wrapped in a towel, Torin stepped out with a billow of steam. The collection of clothes in the dresser was indeed quite varied, from jeans and clean prisoner uniforms to cargo pants, T-shirts, and sport shorts. Feeling overheated from the shower, the young man dressed in only a pair of clean underclothes and shorts before returning to the bathroom.

Tendrils of steam still curled lazily from the open shower door, caressing the ceiling before trickling out into the bedroom. The currents they created bloomed small patches of fog on the mirror, the gentle ebb and flow having drawn Torin’s attention. Curious, yet almost fearful of what he would see, the young man reached out with a dry cloth and wiped down the mirror. 

Dark eyes stared back at him, ringed and sunken. His damp hair was still wild and jumbled, matching the rough two inches of snarled beard that covered his lower face. Torin ran his fingers through the scraggled mess of facial hair, tugging on it as if to ensure it was real. 

He had never grown a beard outside of prison, and even inside it was managed for minimal hygiene’s sake. Every three months the guards would take him out to shower, then strap him to a chair in the back of the base’s barbershop. A gruff, mute master sergeant would then shave his face and trim his hair till it was just at regulation length before shoving Torin out into the waiting hands of his guards and slamming the door behind him. The whole process was reminiscent of the first two hours of his arrival at Gil’ead as a forced recruit, a whirlwind of activity and movement where he had no choice of where he was going nor when he went there.

The guards hadn’t done any of that the last two cycles though, only gave him a large bucket of cold, mildly soapy water and a rag to wash up in his cell. Too much to deal with concerning the war than to worry about prisoners facing the possibility of lice. 

Torin scratched at the tangled bristles that obscured his face, frowning. He could barely feel his cheek through it. It looked awful, like an angry mess of thick, curly boar bristles slapped onto his skin. 

The beard would have to go. 

A little rummaging in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror produced more than what he needed. He found a half-full tin of medicated ointment, which he gently dabbed on his knuckles before bandaging them with the plasters tucked beside it. On a lower shelf was a standard shaving kit, complete with spare blades, scissors and a comb for trimming hair to regimented lengths, and what Torin assumed had been the Captain’s rather fine badger hair brush. A puck of dimly scented shaving soap rested in a mug on the counter, a piece of tape boldly reminding the former owner that it was for ‘SHAVING ONLY.’

As the soap and brush soaked in the filling sink, Torin busied himself swapping out the old blade in the kit’s safety razor before the young man turned back to the mirror with scissors in hand. With a wince of pulled skin, he seized a clump of beard, pulled it away from his face as best he could, and slid the scissors in. 

The slow snick as the strands were severed, followed by the chunk of damp hair releasing its hold, was oddly satisfying. Torin settled into a rhythm, slipping his fingers under the tangled mess to move it away from his skin before clipping it. As the pieces came away, scattering across the counter before being swept into the tiny wastebin, something almost recognizable began to take shape. As the final clump fell, Torin raised his gaze to meet that of the man in the mirror.  

He had lost weight. His cheeks, still mostly covered by the now close cropped beard, reflected the years of meager meals served in his cell, so different from the slight softness of his teen years. He reached up and gently felt along the ridge of his cheekbone, feeling for the wire-like scar there. As he did, the changes to his body became more apparent. His muscles had been lean before, but were now almost etched under his skin. His collarbones and shoulders bore the brunt of the sores from his dirty uniform, the rough patches raw from where sweat collected and irritated the tiny scratches left from the sand and grime embedded in the coarse cloth. More scattered across his chest and back, where he rested between fits of tossing and turning in restless sleep on that cold steel cot and concrete floor.    

Torin swallowed. Maybe recognizing the man in the mirror wasn’t a wholly good thing in his current state. He closed his eyes and breathed deep of the humid air, trying to calm the tremors in his hands.

As the shaking eased, Torin retrieved the wet brush, warmed razor and slick soap from the sink. A shave would help him, he was sure of it. It was an unexpectedly skilled task, one that required concentration to be done correctly and safely, never mind done well. The act had always served as a calming start to his day before it all happened, a ritual carried out by men across the whole of Alagaësia that he shared. 

With a practiced flick of his wrist, Torin flung the excess water from the brush and began to swirl it over the puck of soap. Each turn loaded the fine hairs with light froth, building up as the moisture was absorbed. He stopped twice to drizzle the puck with droplets of water, and continued the smooth turning of his wrist until, by feel of the resistance and the sound of the brush alone, Torin knew the foam was instead a thickened paste of froth. 

A sprinkle of water into the mug and he began the long art of building a proper lather. The act brought a tiny smile to his face, the slap of the brush as it circled the mug in quick succession reminding him of long past mornings watching his father shave. Once the lather formed peaks, Torin began working the rich foam into the cropped bristles across his face. Light strokes painted everything white, soft and airy on his damp skin. 

Outside the room, Torin heard Naela speaking to someone. There was movement and a clattering jangle of objects being settled on the desk, but he paid it no mind as he picked up the razor. This was not a time to be distracted. A steady hand was needed now, and for once his did not tremble. 

Tilting his head slightly, Torin set one of the edges of the safety razor against his cheek, right above the gentle ridge the foam created over the start of his trimmed beard. The angle was muscle memory, as was the feather light pressure he applied as he guided the blade with short strokes downwards. After so long, a second pass going against the grain would probably be in order, but for now Torin followed his father’s advice to follow the grain first. It wouldn’t do to have a sloppy shave if the Queen of the Elves were to visit again, no sir.

Every few strokes saw him flip the razor to utilize both sides before swishing the whole thing in the warm water of the sink. It was not long before the first pass was complete, and with a quick reapplication of the still-activated brush, white foam covered his face and neck again.

Moving more carefully now, Torin began the second pass, going against the grain and removing any stray hairs that remained. He could feel the familiar smooth, almost slick texture of the skin that was revealed with each stroke under his fingers as he pulled the awkward sections taut. It felt...good. Felt like normalcy.  

With one last stroke, the final patch of soap was removed. Torin set the blade aside and drained the sudsy water from the sink, wiping the stray flecks of foam away with a hand towel as he watched the dregs slide down the drain. Two cupped handfuls of cool water splashed across his face saw the ritual completed in its entirety, soothing the minor irritation that always came with a close shave. He checked the mirror one last time as he ran his hand over his now smooth chin, feeling for any missed spots.

If it weren’t for the haunted look of his eyes and the wild length of his hair, Torin could have sworn the scrawny young man looking back was him on the first day of bootcamp. His face had matured somewhat since then, but the skinny frame and baby smooth cheeks called him back to those first few days of his forced service. 

He picked up the scissors and rinsed them in the sink before awkwardly pulling a strip of his hair down. This would be a tad more difficult than a shave.

“You look much younger without your beard. Would you like help with your hair?”

Torin jerked, whirling to face Naela where she stood at the doorway to the bathroom. She tilted her head slightly, hands clasped behind her back. “My apologies. I did not mean to startle you.” 

“I-it’s fine.” The young man looked back to his reflection, contemplating his still-damp locks. “...A bit of help would be appreciated. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Naela took the scissors from his hand and led him to the desk chair, which she dragged to the rough center of the room. “Is there any particular way you would like it?”

Torin paused. Part of him simply wished for a return to his previous style, to be able to look in the mirror and forget that anything had happened. To believe that the last years were simply a dream. 

But no. To cast aside the time spent in Gil’ead’s cells would be to cast aside the changes he had gone through, changes that were integral to his sense of self. It would also feel like...a disrespect to the elf woman who set in motion Torin’s new path in life those years ago. 

A thought occurred to him. “One of the Queen’s guards...I think his name was...Macil? D-do you think you could cut my hair like his?”

The smile that graced Naela’s face could be heard in her words. “I think that is going to suit you very well. I will do my best, Aldsson.”

“Thank you.” Torin smiled as well. The elf’s warmth was infectious. “And Naela? You can just call me Torin.” 

The room fell to comfortable silence but for the rasping sound of the scissors through Torin’s hair. The feeling of the comb gently running over his scalp was surprisingly calming. It was nice to just sit for a moment, free from fear.

As the minutes passed, a question drifted into Torin’s mind. “Naela?”

“Yes, Torin?” The elf returned from retrieving a small hairband from her pack, where it leaned against the outer door frame. 

The young man chose his words carefully. “When...when I was a guard, there was an elf woman here.” Naela’s hands, gathering up sections of his hair, paused for the briefest of moments, a stop so short that it was little more than a twitch. “Did you know her?”

Naela gently snapped the elastic around the small ponytail she had made and began trimming down the back of his head. “I cannot say. I heard about her, but do not know much.” She checked the length of her cut and used the comb to even it out. 

“Oh.” Torin hadn’t considered that. It occurred to him that he had no idea just how many elves there were left after the Rider’s Fall. Were there hundreds? Thousands? It was foolish to think that a single elf out of their entire species would be, just by chance, known by his new guard. “...I never even got her name.” Even if Naela hadn’t taken that moment to tilt his head forward for a better angle, Torin would have hung it in shame. “It’s strange, but...I’ve always wanted to know what happened to her. It’s like her face is burned into my memory.”

Naela didn’t respond, engrossed in her work. Torin left it at that, but the questions still swirled in his mind.

It was only a handful of minutes more before Naela gave a soft hum and used a hand towel to brush the stray hairs from Torin’s back and shoulders. “Finished. Let me know if you would like me to try something else.”

Torin moved to the bathroom to see the elf’s work, peering into the mirror. 

He couldn’t help but smile as he ran his hand over the soft three quarters of an inch left at the sides and back of his head. The remainder of his hair, gathered in a tufted ponytail, would hang at the edge of his jaw when released.

It felt clean. New. A true fresh start.

“Thank you, Naela.” He turned back to the summer-eyed woman, beaming with a long forgotten smile. “It’s perfect.”

Not long after, Torin found himself seated at the former Captain’s desk with a bowl of warmed stew and a slab of bread. He did his best to not look like a feral beast as he ate, forcing himself to take a single spoonful at a time and a bite of the thick bread after. It was the first real, filling food the young man had eaten in years, and he would savor it. 

Torin finished off the final dregs of the stew and rinsed the dishes in the tiny bathroom’s sink. Once done he wandered back out to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, feeling drained.

Out of habit the young man looked up to the wall to judge the time by the glimmer of the moon and stars. It took him a moment to remember that the Captain’s room was more central than the wards and had no window.

“It is nearly midnight.” Naela commented from the door. “Would you like the light off?”

Moments after Torin confirmed that he did, his head hit the pillow. He sank into sleep, mind abuzz with the turns his life had taken.

~~~

The morning brought a breakfast of overnight oats and fruit, a delicacy Torin had nearly forgotten existed. As he slowly peeled each segment from the last orange at his disposal, the young man mulled over what to do in the coming hours till the Queen came to him again. 

There were no books in the room. Naela was reading a novel, but when she offered Torin one of the two others she had in her pack he was dismayed to find that they were in a script that he did not understand. Most of the drawers of the desk were empty besides a few pieces of the thick, cotton-based stationary the Captain used for official correspondence. No pencils or pens rattled about, and beyond a dusty chewing tobacco tin filled with paper clips that had fallen between the desk and the wall, nothing else of note could be found. 

The last segment disappearing between his lips, Torin quietly got up and rinsed the oats bowl in the bathroom sink and disposed of the strawberry tops and orange peel in the small wastebasket. 

Naela looked up as he moved. “Would you like anything else, Torin?” She smiled, sliding a thin wooden tab into the book on her lap. “There is plenty more food if you are still hungry.”

As always, her kindness made the edges of Torin’s lips tilt up in a returned grin. “No, thank you.” 

A jolt suddenly shot through his mind. The conversation the night before. Naela’s uncertainty surrounding the elf he had met those years ago. His shame at never even learning the woman’s name. 

“Actually, Naela. Do you happen to have a pencil?”

He didn’t know her name. But he would never forget her face.

~~

Torin shifted his grip on the pencil, feeling the gentle rasp of the graphite against the paper’s texture as he defined the edge of the scar that interrupted the woman’s right eyebrow. That one had been old, he was sure. He refused to add any of the scars she had gained in Gil’ead, trying to capture the person she was away from the prison’s influence. 

It had been hours since Naela handed off the pencil to him. She occasionally peered over his shoulder and praised his unusually steady hands but otherwise let him work in comfortable silence. Torin let the world melt around him, everything else a blur. 

A sudden shuffle alerted him to a change outside his cone of focus, but he paid it no mind. He was almost finished, added the last flecks to the eyes, and sat back with a crackling pop as his hunched spine straightened. 

The elf he had met before stared back at him. As always, there was fire in her eyes. 

“It is customary to rise when a guest enters.”

Torin strangled a yelp. Queen Islanzadí stood in the doorway, Naela at an eased attention just outside. 

“M-ma’am!” Torin put the pencil down and scrambled from the desk, nearly knocking over the chair in his hurry. A long buried instinct told him to snap to attention and salute, but at the last moment he stifled the urge and hastily bowed. “I-I’m s-sorry, I didn’t hear you c-come in. I beg your f-forgiveness.” Torin kept his head low, unsure if he should rise from the kowtowed position. 

He could feel Islanzadí’s golden eyes roving over him. “That is quite enough.” Torin straightened, somewhat relieved. The Queen turned to Naela with a short, “Thank you. You are dismissed. Return in three hours.” before returning her attention to the young man before her. 

Torin felt his fingers digging into his skin where his hands hung at his sides. Naela was a balm to his anxiety, and part of him wanted to ask if she could stay. The departing elf gave him a warm smile over Islanzadí’s shoulder and subtly nodded towards the hall door as she left. 

The knot of tension in Torin’s stomach eased slightly. Naela would not be far. 

“Tell me. What had you so absorbed that you forgot the world, Aldsson?” Torin snapped his gaze back to the Queen just as her own gaze fell on the desk. 

A bolt of lightning seemed to shock through Islanzadí’s expression. It was there for the barest measure of a second before it was gone, replaced with a sudden tightness in her voice. “What is this?” 

Torin felt himself shrink at the sharpness in her tone, but something inside him held firm. He drew himself up, and lifted the sketch from the desk with steady hands. “Ma’am. I don’t know the woman’s name, but I can remember her face clearly.” He offered the drawing to the Queen, a nagging urge to please flitting in the back of his mind as she accepted it. “I...I wanted to know if she made it. Naela did not know but–”

Islanzadí held up a hand, halting the rush of words in Torin’s throat. She studied the drawing intently, eyes gliding over the details Torin had included. The young man swore he saw a hint of warm softness color the chill of the Elven Queen’s countenance. 

What felt like an eternity ticked by. Cautious, curious, Torin risked a quiet question that had been burning in him since waking that morning.

“Did...did Your Majesty know her?”

Islanzadí did not look up. Instead she breezed by him to the desk and picked up the discarded pencil. Torin felt a jolt of protectiveness over the drawing, surged forward to stop her from destroying it, before Islanzadí’s sharp glare stopped him in his tracks. 

Torin could only watch, first in dread and then in relief as the Queen wrote out four human runes at the base of the picture. 

She turned back and held the sketch out to him. “Arya.”

The former guard’s mouth went dry, heart pounding in his chest at the single uttered word as he carefully took the offered page. “A-Arya?” He dropped his gaze to the drawing. 

“Yes. Her name.” When Torin did not move, frozen in place, the Queen pointed to the bed. “Sit.”

Body numb with the new information, emotions roiling through his skull, Torin obeyed. He sat on the edge of the simple bed and finally managed to tear his eyes away from the name elegantly scrawled below the face that had haunted him all these years. One question answered, another took its place. “What ha–”

“Now is not the time.” Islanzadí’s statement snapped his mouth shut again. Regal even now, the Elven Queen turned the desk chair and sat to face him. She had taken on the cool demeanor once again, the deadly hawk still debating on whether to end this little field mouse or let him live. 

“Tell me more of your story, Aldsson.”

~~

Sakura Blossom: Renewal

[iwachans-beefyarms]

Hey everyone! Ok so first off, I’m really sorry for being hella inactive, it’s been a rough few months with exams and stress and seasonal depression HAHA but i’m better now! Unfortunately tumblr decided to delete a lot of my requests so I’m opening requests up again, so please feel free to drop by!!! This was a fun story to write, and I personally really love Sakusa’s character. I was heavily motivated by @sachiwrites‘s take on his character so hope I did u proud >.< I was also gong through a really stressful time while writing this so I thought it would be interesting to see how the reader’s own stress and depression would affect her relationship with Sakusa, someone who already had his own setoff problems. Anyway, hope y’all enjoy!

Original request: Hiiii ! lately, sakusa stole my heart >< so iy would be nice of you to write something about him !! Like something angtsy but with a fluffy end please, love me some emotional rollercoaster ride ^^

Truthfully, Sakusa Kiyoomi was indebted to you. He was acutely aware of how difficult he could be to handle. In fact, he had fully prepared himself for a life of solitude by the time he graduated from middle school. Who would want to spend the rest of their life with a person as complicated and fastidious as him? More so than that, Sakusa could not fathom having to care for another person so intimately. While he would like to pretend that his reasons for never taking interest in the pursuit for a lover were entirely born out of his insecurities about himself, the truth was that he was honestly just entirely too selfish to bother with a committed, loving relationship. He was not prepared to nurse any potential lover if they ever fell sick, or to have to go on spontaneous and wild dates just to please them. There were too many compromises that made a healthy relationship and Sakusa was not interested in making any of them. Life was too much of a burden as it already was; there was no need to worsen the weight of it.

Which is why he was so surprised when you whisked into his life, dancing up a storm in his heart. When he had first met you, he was utterly and completely blown away. He had been alone at the back of his school’s building trying distressingly hard to slow his breathing. He was panting-- no, hyperventilating. It was a panic attack of course, something he had gone through many times in his life, and something he thought he should be used to. However, the frequent occurrences of this attack on his lungs did not prevent him from feeling like he was on the edge of death everytime they came. This is it, this is really it. He heard himself think, his inner voice booming against the walls of his skull. In his crouched position, he saw the movement of feet through his peripheral vision. Too preoccupied to care, he ignored the actions of this unknown person and continued to focus on getting his breathing back on track. He noticed them, a girl maybe, reaching into her bag and pulling out a small bottle. It looked like… sanitiser maybe?

“Hey, eyes on me okay?” She spoke, her voice coming out muffled and soft against the loudness of his own heartbeat. Stressed and confused, he looked up at her as she carefully applied the liquid on her hands. Her thorough and smooth movements somehow helped him as he realised his vision had started becoming a lot less blurry. She came down to his level, and gently took his hands into hers.

“Breathe, 1, 2, 3. Exhale, 1, 2, 3. Come on, I’ll do it with you,” She spoke again, her voice confident and commanding, as she rubbed small and firm circles around his hands with the bud of her thumb. They stayed that way for nearly twenty minutes before Sakusa’s breathing finally came down from being erratic to somewhat normal. He was still panting, but he could think clearly now and he no longer heard his own heart beating in his head. She had stopped holding him by then, thank God. When he finally mustered up the effort to speak, all he could say was, “Who?”

With a small smile you replied, “Y/n! I’m in the class next to yours and we’ve never really met but I remember seeing you around quite often, Saskusa.” He was quite surprised when he realised you remembered his name. In all honesty, he had never seen you before. Maybe he had but he normally couldn't care less about other people. He didn’t even remember the names of some of his own classmates so why would he bother with a stranger next door? Still, she had been kind enough to help him. Not only that, she seemed to be aware of his phobia and had accommodated to it, which was incredibly moving for him. In that moment he felt the rare feeling of gratitude grow in his chest.

“Thank you, you must be really attentive to have known to be so careful,” he whispered, voice still raspy.

“Not really, it’s kind of obvious,” she laughed nervously, as if she was trying not to offend. He wasn’t offended.

“Anyway, see you around!” She said cheerfully, after a couple of awkward minutes. “Don’t be a stranger,” she added while walking away. He didn’t bother gracing that with a response.

Your persistent personality was a catalyst for your friendship. The daily greetings and small-talk had forced him to get to know you better and, interestingly enough, he was not repulsed. He found out about that new book you were reading, and actually enjoyed it when he decided to give it a read. Also, it was a pleasant surprise when you told him that you used to play volleyball. So, your conversations grew longer and meetings became more frequent. Soon, he was meeting you after school on days he didn’t have practice and even spending his lunch breaks with you. You started to inch closer to him and began leaving soft, subtle touches on his skin. You were obviously trying to be discreet, but he was a person who was so painfully aware of everyone around him that of course he noticed. The surprising thing was that he didn’t mind. He knew you were hygienic enough for him to be comfortable so he began to let himself enjoy your affections.

When you confessed your feelings for him, he was not surprised. He knew from the beginning that you had a little crush on him and he even found it quite adorable. Had you asked him out a few weeks earlier, his answer would have been a hard no. However, getting to know you over the past few weeks had really changed his entire mindset about relationships. For the first time in his life, Sakusa felt like he could open himself up to someone. You had been kind enough to cater to his obsessive and exhausting personality. You were also completely comfortable with taking things slow. Above all that, you had an absolutely endearing personality. It was as if fate had intentionally sent you his way after torturing him for the past years, and he wasn’t one to let blessings like this slip away. So, when you confessed your feelings for him, he was not surprised. But you were, when he said yes.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dating Sakusa was going to be hard and you knew that from the very start. You weren’t naive, despite what your boyfriend might have thought. You paid him a lot of attention during the earlier stages of your friendship. You knew what he liked, what ticked him off, his pet peeves and at that point you could even tell his emotional state just by looking at the way his eyebrows moved when the rest of his face was covered by a mask. You also knew that the effort Sakusa put into your relationship was unparalleled to everything you had done for him. But, that was what you had signed up for. He had enough problems on his own trying to deal with the world with his own personal struggles so you strived to make life just a little bit easier for him.

However, after a certain point, you had to come to terms with the fact that you were your own person too. You were human too. It was easy to forget about yourself when you had been so invested in another person. The most difficult part of it all was being unable to see the fruition of all your efforts. You knew deep in your heart that Sakusa loved you. He let you kiss him, touch him and even let you sleep in the same bed as him at times. Despite that, you felt incredibly lonely in your relationship. Interacting with Sakusa started feeling almost burdensome. While your relationship had been quite a ride, built by reckless passions with bursts of feelings like joy, anger and love, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of staleness develop after a while.

It started very slowly. School had been getting ridiculously hard and Sakusa’s practices had been getting more frequent. Engulfed by the stresses of school, the two of you had gone nearly two weeks without properly speaking to each other. While Sakusa had seemingly remained unbothered, the realisation of that had completely shocked you. How could you go two weeks without any interaction with the person you loved, and not even notice it? The thing you felt most guilty about was actually the sense of peace you had experienced over those two weeks. Blindsided by your adoration for Sakusa, you hadn’t realised how draining it was being around him. When the two of you would spend time, you rarely ever took care of yourself. You’d clean the table for him when eating lunch at school because he absolutely refused to eat at those disgusting cafeteria tables, and would rather die than clean it himself. Hell, you’d even do a thorough cleaning of your own house just so Sakusa could come over and spend time with you. That, coupled with the natural angst that grows in you as a hormonal teenager, had caused you to grow more and more irritated with him.

Things you had previously found endearing about Sakusa now made your skin crawl. Even as your interactions grew less, you found yourself wanting to cry out in anger everytime he asked you to wash your hands before touching him. It was incredibly frustrating because all you wanted was some affection, and your boyfriend, of all people, couldn’t give that to you. It hurt because you had foolishly believed that if you could convince him that he was capable of being loved, he’d grow to be able to reciprocate those affections. But you were starting to feel scammed.

“Sakusa, do you want to go to that cafe I’ve been talking about?” You had asked one day, hoping to salvage your sinking relationship. He had to have noticed the drift, right? He’d want to fix it too, right?

“Huh? I don’t really feel like it…” He shuts you down just like that. Your hands are intertwined, as they usually were when you went home together, but for the first time, you untangle your fingers from his.

In hindsight, you realised that not all your feelings had been caused by your dysfunctional relationship. You had suspected that you were depressed months ago, but the problem had never been serious enough to warrant any major action so you ignored it. At least, that was what you told yourself. As time went by, it became nearly impossible to ignore. You couldn’t do your homework, you couldn’t sleep and eventually your appetite began to vanish. The rejection you felt from Sakusa had further sent you down a spiral of self-doubt. You hated yourself for being so selfish and you figured that maybe the reason Sakusa was drifting away from you was because it was you who wasn’t enough, not him.

It didn’t take long for your guilt to morph into anger once again. You had made no mention of your fractured state of mind to Sakusa, but it would not have taken a genius to figure out that you were not okay. Friends and teachers had approached you to check on you but the man you loved with every fibre of your being had never once mentioned anything to you. The two of you went about your days as you normally would. Little kisses hello and goodbye had become almost mechanical, and you cried yourself to sleep every night. You knew you should seek help soon, before it became even worse but you couldn’t bring yourself to overlook Sakusa’s indifference towards you.

You couldn’t brush your teeth. You stood in front of your bathroom mirror and furrowed your eyebrows at your reflection, toothbrush in hand. Why…? It’s just… move your hand…? It had been two days since you last showered. It physically hurt you to move and all you wanted to do was go back to bed. Still, being the responsible student you were, you went to school. You were late, none of your homework had been done but hey, at least you showed up. You knew your boyfriend was disgusted by your appearance because he had been avoiding you like a plague. You didn’t blame him, you looked as hideous as you felt. It felt like the end of your relationship was nearing and you shocked yourself with how relieving that felt. Maybe if you stopped seeing each other you could start feeling at least a little less miserable. Again, at least that was what you told yourself when you messaged him about wanting to talk.

When the two of you met at the rooftop where you had so often shared meals, the atmosphere was tense. It didn’t help that the afternoon sun was unforgiving and the air was humid. Your disheveled state in the heat made you want to claw your own skin out but you settled for subtly digging your nails into the palms of your hands. You had planned the conversation out thoroughly; first ask him how his day was, then let him down easy. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him. You knew how difficult getting into a relationship was for him and you didn’t want to completely turn him off from ever dating again.

Yet, when you saw the unreadable expression on his face with his fingers impatiently tapping the sides of his legs, your anger triumphed any semblance of civility you had planned.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Your words come out much softer than you anticipated but your voice shook. You could tell he was surprised by the way his eyebrows shot up.

“What do you mean I --”

“Shut up and listen, where have you been? I needed you, do you even care?” You were obviously crying at this point but Sakusa remained stunned to silence. “Screw you, Sakusa. Seriously, screw you,” you interrupt, your emotions clearly messing with your vocabulary.

“I’m your girlfriend, not your maid. I’m not just there to clean up shit for you! I have a life, I have feelings and I have been so miserable and you haven’t said anything,” You’re rambling but it was hard to stop once it started. You felt your vision blut from the tears and felt the snot running down your chin but you didn’t care. If Sakusa couldn't handle you at your worst then he sure as hell didn’t deserve you at your best. You continued your rant and poured your heart out to him. Unwittingly, you express your grievances about your own state of mind to him. You had wanted to keep your condition to him a secret for so long but there was no turning back now. He deserved to feel guilty, to hate himself for being such a terrible friend.

“I warned you about setting expectations. I told you that I’m not that guy. Why are you surprised now?”

His words seemed sarcastic but the genuinity in his voice as he responded triggered you. He wasn’t even trying to be hurtful, you knew that much. It was the fact that he hadn’t even tried to change for you that really broke your heart. Even though you had told yourself that you didn’t feel anything anymore, that the break up would be a relief, nothing in your nearly two decades of living could have ever prepared you for the heartbreak you felt in that moment. Seriously, it felt like your heart was about to fall from your chest, and you had to physically clench your fist against your chest to keep yourself from falling apart. You weren’t crying anymore, and there was nothing left to say. So, you walked away, and Sakusa didn’t bother stopping you.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sakusa Kiyoomi was indebted to you, this he knew for a fact. You had forced him out of his shell and had inspired him to be better. He never knew he was capable of doing something even as trivial as kissing, but with you he had been able to open himself up to so much more. Hell, he had had sex for the first time with you, something he had previously been unable to even fathom. It wasn’t just his comfort zone that you had expanded, you changed him for better. He was less cold towards others and he learned to appreciate the little things.

He remembered going to the beach once while you were on a date. He hated the sand in his shoes and he didn’t even want to think about stepping into the ocean. But, you had begged and begged for weeks and he eventually had to give in to you because, although he would never admit to it, seeing you smile made his heart flutter. You had forced him to take his shoes off and stand in the sand with you. With your eyes closed and hands raised, he watched you smile radiantly at the sky. He was transfixed, staring at you because how could someone be so beautiful and full of life?

“I love the feeling of the sun on my skin, it’s like being kissed by the sky don’t you think?” You had turned to face him, hands still in the air. Your words took him by surprise because Sakusa had never really seen the sun as anything but a source of humidity and a catalyst for disease. But the way you looked at him, the way your eyes sparkled; he couldn’t help but love the sun a little more from that day.

He really did love you, even if he wasn’t the best at showing it. So when you started getting dull, he noticed it immediately. He probably noticed it even before you had. The problem lay in the fact that he had no idea what to do. He figured, if you really needed help you would ask. But he knew that was just a pathetic excuse to avoid any kind of confrontation. Sakusa, for all his self-confidence, was incredibly insecure about his relationship with you. He never expected to cultivate such intense devotion towards you, but he did. And his biggest fear was that one day, you’d realise you were worth so much more than Sakusa could have ever hoped to offer.  You were perfect and ethereal. Everybody loved you and it was almost like the sky became brighter when you were around. As the days went by, he found himself becoming more and more blinded by you. You had inspired him to get help, but he held himself back because of the fear that if you ever did grow wiser and left him, all his efforts would have been for naught. Truly, Sakusa believed that he would never love anyone the way he loved you, ever. The fear of losing you frightened him more than anything and he was too afraid to change any aspect of your relationship in case it ever disrupted the balance the two of you had created.

Things had started to change when you grew darker over time. He saw you deteriorate with his own eyes, but he couldn’t do anything. He didn’t want to do anything. He told himself it was because he was afraid of hurting you even more, but Sakusa felt deep down that it was his selfishness once again preventing him from ever going out of his way to care for someone. He reasoned that you were smart enough to have no expectation for him, that you knew he was a self-centred prick. But seeing you cry in front of him had really sobered him up. He hadn’t expected it to hurt so much when he saw you clutch your shirt as you fought back tears. When you walked away, he tried so hard to move towards you, to stop you, touch you-- anything, really. But his feet were grounded and all he could do was watch. Sakusa was nothing if not proactive, and he knew he had to do something quick, before the damage done was irreversible. With a quiet sigh muffled by his mask, he leaned his head back, face tilted toward the sky and let himself get lost in his thoughts.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been two weeks since you spoke to Sakusa. You knew it was over but there had been a small part of you that had hoped he would approach you and you would both talk things out until everything went back to normal. Of course, that did not happen, and you were not surprised either. As much as you would like to believe in the romance of life that the media often tried to feed you, you were a realistic person who knew better than to have faith in some fantasy that only existed in your mind. At the same time, you were also, unfortunately, just a teenage girl whose heart refused to listen to her brain. Which was why, when your doorbell rang at 10pm that night, your heart skipped a beat in hopes that perhaps Sakusa had finally come to his senses and came to sweep you away.

What was more surprising than the fact that even after two weeks you still held some lingering hope that your ex-lover would come back to you was the fact that, indeed, it was him who stood at your front door. For a solid few seconds you could not move or say anything, as you took time to process the vision that was presented before you. Sakusa was wearing casual clothes and he sported his usual mask. However, it had been pushed down to collect at his neck, and you were gifted with the image of his whole face. His dark curls fell gracefully over his forehead and you noticed a slight sheen of sweat. Had he run here? What could he possibly want from you that was so urgent?

“Hello? Anyone home?” He asked. It took you a moment to realise he had just cracked a joke. Regaining your composure, you retort, “What the fuck do you want?” If he was hurt by your outburst, it certainly didn’t show.

“Look, before you say anything, please hear me out, okay?” He asked softly, taking a step towards you. Instinctively, you backed away. There was something different about him but you couldn’t place a finger on what it was exactly. His gaze on you felt stronger than ever, and he had a determined glint in his eyes that you had never seen before. You also noticed his posture. His shoulders were rolled back and he stood tall and proud, like he was so sure of himself. Whatever the source of his newfound confidence was, it made your heart hurt a little bit. You had been an absolute mess after the break up, while he had clearly been thriving.

“Sure. Whatever. Spit it out.”

“I love you, and I’m sorry for being such a jerk. I know I should have said this much earlier but I didn’t want you to think I was being insincere. I had to do something to prove to you how serious I was being,” He started, a small smile creeping on his face. You stared at him blankly, not understanding where this was going.

“Are you proposing…? Because I will say no!” You blurt out, panicking slightly. He blinked at you a couple times, obviously puzzled by your outburst. Then, he laughed. A full blown chortle. It was a rare Sakusa laugh that you had only witnessed a couple times before. With a big, bright smile, he shook his head and responded, “No, dumbass. I’ve been seeing a therapist.” The revelation was shocking, to say the least. But, before you could interrupt, he continued.

“When you left after our argument I realised how much I had been taking you for granted. I’m not good with expressing myself but I knew enough to realise that you’re the best damn thing that could have ever happened to me. You see, I knew this for a long time, I just don't know how to tell you. I don’t like people and I find relationships exhausting but with you, for the first time in my life, I want to try harder. I didn’t want to lose you. I spoke to my mother and she offered to take me to see a therapist. She had asked me before but I never felt the need to see one. But after our fight, I realised I had to grow up. I still generally hate people and I still don’t know how to say what I’m feeling. And I sure as hell still hate germs but, I’m willing to work towards getting better. For you. You deserve at least that. If you’re willing to take me back, I’d be lucky to have you with me while I do this.”

He ends his speech with his eyes still looking into yours, as if he was analysing your reaction. He had clearly rehearsed this, you could just tell. It was honestly quite cute and heartwarming because you couldn’t think of any other time Sakusa had tried this hard with you. Your chest swells with affection you had been repressing for the past couple of weeks as you grabbed his shirt and yanked him down to your lips. The kiss was sweet, and a little salty from the tears that escaped your eyes after his little speech. Sakusa wasted no time wrapping his arms around you as he pressed your body closer to him. You had become an expert at reading him since the start of your relationship and you could feel just how much he had missed you from the way he held you during that kiss. Pulling away, he let his hands slide up your arms and cup your face.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” He asks, breathless.

You weren’t an idiot. You knew things were going to be far from peachy. But for him, you were willing to risk the sun and the moon. You tell him this by taking his hands into yours and leaning up for another kiss.

[butterbeeryuta]

interview with me • lee taeyong

photo credits to owners 

Niki: Good morning Mr. Lee and Ms. ______, thank you so much for taking your time off this morning to do this interview. 

Taeyong: No, no, it’s not a problem at all. 

________: This interview was bound to happen anyway, so it’s all okay. 

Taeyong: Yeah… 

Niki: Both of you attended the most prestigious high school in the island of Jeju, known for its socialite students and tremendously high standards. Can you please give us a bit of background from each of you. 

You and Taeyong looked at one another smiling, knowing that the two of you will have to repeat the exact same story again and again. 

________: Uh, well, my mother is the owner of NCT Kitchen, so I guess that it the main reason behind my current social status

Taeyong: We own Lee Industries, known for its, you know, agricultural production. Same reason as ________, probably the reason behind my current social status

________: Except that Taeyong over here is actually taking part in his family business, meanwhile I am working as my mother’s personal assistant. 

Taeyong: Well you’re at least putting effort into working now, very different from the ________ that I dated back in high school. 

________: That is true, I was quite a mess back in high school. Still am now, but less drinking and lashing out against people.

Taeyong: That was indeed one ________ experience. If you did not see ________ plot an evil scheme or sort against anyone, that was not this person sitting beside me. 

You could only nod and smile at Taeyong’s words. There was no possible way that you could deny any of the things that he said since most of the shenanigans that you caused made it to the media. 

Niki: Well from what I remember at least when I was reading the magazines and such during high school, you did come out a lot Ms. ________. Now that we are on the topic of your characters during high school, could you give us a bit more on how you two were during your time at Jeju for our readers here at Seasonies?

________: Well, as you said, I made a lot of appearances in magazines, newspapers, online articles, and so much more— and not all of them, in fact the majority of them, were either me being really drunk, or being pulled out of the car looking like I haven’t slept in decades. I put my mum under a lot of stress, and I do feel really terrible about the amount of money she had to pay to refrain the family business from being at risk, and most importantly, just putting up with me. 

And you were being truthful, for the most part at least. There was no doubt of how much trouble you caused during your high school days. You deliberately sent a picture of your ex’s previous girlfriend sucking the soul out of your Biology teacher in the lab to the so called ‘Gossip Girl’ of your school, creating a huge scandal within the school, risking the school’s reputation. You also hosted a party at your own house, having three of your ‘friends’ calling the entire neighbourhood, only leaving a mess in your house; and not to mention, the smell of alcohol remaining for a good whole week. Your mother was disappointed in you in many things, but this was probably by far one of the worst things that you had done. 

Taeyong: But don’t you think you improved a lot since then?

________: I hope I did, definitely tried to stay out of being the cover page of every magazine to be found in Korea. 

You and Taeyong chuckled, looking back at one another knowing how many times you have been featured in every possible media-- both physical and digital. 

Taeyong: I, on the other hand, was a perfect little boy—

________: That is complete bull, he always skipped lessons. I may have been a perfect epitome of chaos, but I at least got somewhat decent grades and did attend most of my lessons. 

Taeyong: Honestly that’s probably the only reason why you didn’t get expelled.

________: Hey! 

You two laughed again, his sparkly eyes being the same since the last time you saw them. 

Niki: Well, I can assure that you two were the commonly talked about duo in that school, and it’s not only me who says that. But, I’m pretty sure the two of you already know that the point of this interview isn’t really to talk about how you were as individuals, but rather together. 

Both of your laughter slowly died down, knowing to yourself that the interviewer was indeed not really that interested in who you have become. It was more of what happened between you and Taeyong. 

Niki: It’s been 6 years since the two of you went your own ways to different universities. In fact, I believe that one of you went to Yonsei University, and the other went to University of Leeds. Many thought that you two were still together, but it wasn’t until 3 years ago when we saw ________ being with Nakamoto Yuta, a well-known Japanese rock star—

________: Which ended after 5 months of fooling around, thank you

Niki: Yes, sorry about that. So, what happened?

Taeyong noticed your sudden change in posture, the atmosphere of the room gradually darkening; he knew how much of a painful and serious topic this was for the both of you, especially you. It wasn’t that your relationship ended badly, you two decided amongst yourselves hours after the two of you threw your Oxford cap up in the air. 

________: It w-wasn’t that that our relationship ended badly. Nobody cheated on anyone, nor was there hot ‘tea’ behind it. 

Taeyong: It was more on the fact that we couldn’t—

________: Understand each other properly 

Taeyong softly smiled at your words, somewhat proud of you for being brave to talk about this. You two may have decided amongst yourselves and thought it was best for you two part away, even though the two of you did not like it at all. 

________: Yeah… 

Taeyong: I guess you could say that I assume things too easily

________: Whereas I do things without thinking, which only led us to fights and disagreements

Taeyong: And although we were able to solve things and have our couple-y moments together,

________: it did get tiring… 

Taeyong could only nod his head as memories of countless, petty yet intense fights rushed through his mind, clearly hearing the amount of frustration and anger you had in your voice. And it would be a lie to say that you were not thinking of any of your past arguments as well. 

________: So I guess that’s what happened. 

You gave a little laugh, hoping to lighten up the mood. 

Niki: Oh… but I must ask about one thing, and I am really sorry but the company wrote these questions so, how do you still think of each other now? 

Taeyong: ________ has definitely improved, from what I hear and see from media outlets at least. There are more smiles now, and I think that you should continue since you have a really great smile. 

Taeyong wasn’t lying about this. Your smile was everything to him; it made him feel that he made you feel happy and vice versa, regardless of how cheesy that sounds. You immediately crouched your head down from the sudden compliment, only causing the person beside you to laugh. In his eyes, you haven’t changed at all. Maybe a bit more mature, but still the same. 

________: T-thank you? Umm, the first thing I noticed about Lee Taeyong was his eyes. I think everyone can agree that he has one of the most beautiful sets of eyes, and my thoughts haven’t changed about that at all. And still now, despite the 6 years of us being away from each other, I guess you could say that there is still that sense of… umm… 

Taeyong: Comfort?

________: Yeah, comfort… and warmth too… 

Taeyong: Yeah… 

Niki: Well thank you for joining us for Seasonies today, and I am really sorry to bring up such a serious topic. I hope the two of you for the best, and again, thank you so much! 

You and Taeyong got off your the black stools, walking out of the studio set, feeling somewhat exhausted from the pretty short chat. 

‘Even after 6 years, we’re still being contacted, huh?’ Taeyong asks you, cutting the silence in between the two of you. 

‘Yeah I guess so, but I’m not surprised to be honest’ you answered, looking up at the boy, your first love. The silence and awkwardness between the two of you slowly developed back to its place, not a single word exchanged with one another. You said your goodbye to Taeyong the moment you got out of the building, wanting to leave the odd environment you were just in. Or perhaps, you were trying to not fall in love with him all over again. Then again, you would never admit that to yourself. Not now at least. 

a/n: so my exams got cancelled which means that (1) this bish is done with high school 💅and (2) i have time to write YASSSSSSSS. omfg i’m actually so excited imma have another social media au coming up soon, and my plan for the ‘that guy’ series has JUSt been finalised, and imma start writing it later today. alright okay pls continue to stay safe and practice proper hygiene alright i wuv youuu <3 -niki 

[wolf-555-writer]

Still Breathing Part 7

I really did a number on your patience with this one I think ;p. But here it is, the final part. (That’s the intention at least, who knows what will happen in the future). Anyways, thank you all for reading the story, especially if you made it till this one! :) Enjoy! 

Read part 1; part 2; part 3; part 4; part 5; part 6

Alex Danvers x Reader

Word Count: 2,643

“Talk to you later Danvers”, you breathe out, closing the door behind you and leaving Alex her apartment in shame and guilt. She sighed agitated and squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of your footsteps fading away. Being aggravated as hell while still seated on the couch with her arms crossed in anger.

“I definitely need something stronger than coffee…”. Alex grabs a bottle of wine and pours herself a glass. Or two. Maybe even three. It’s already a total mess at the DEO, with Colonel Hayley parading around, watching over the Director’s every move, and now THIS!? DEO Agents beating each other up, fighting over absolutely nothing. Alex has a soft spot for you, considering you both confessed your long-lasting feelings to one another in front of the bar earlier. But that doesn’t mean she can’t be mad at you. Maybe the alcohol will help her relax from this long, intense day.  

Trying to ease her mind while sipping the red liquid at a reasonable speed; more or less. Finally… some peace and quiet, when suddenly her phone buzzes. The screen lights up and Alex takes a quick peek to see who it is. It’s your name on the phone display. A deep sigh followed by a dramatic rolling of the eyes as she drops back, burying herself in the couch again. She doesn’t even think about picking up. You’re probably calling to apologize, or beg for forgiveness. Why can’t you just let it rest. Alex is not in the mood to handle anything else today. The phone buzzes again. “Ugh, I’ve had enough”. She grabs it from the table and turns the phone off, whereby the silence kindly returns.

After simmering down, and an entire bottle of wine, she decides to call you back. A thorough, flawless speech thought out, ready to be delivered since you've had more than enough time to think your selfish actions over. She lightly regrets playing ‘hard to get’ earlier, though you kind of made her. You were practically an asshole, so it’s your own fault she ignored you. Alex noticed you left her a voicemail and listens to it first. Best case, you came to your senses all by yourself by which Alex would be relieved of a frustrated outbreak on the phone. She puts the phone to her ear. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops while a small gasp escapes her mouth after she’d covered it with her hand. Without hesitation she jumps up from the couch and storms out of the apartment. It’s as if all the alcohol left her system in a snap of a second and she’s never been more focused -or worried- before. Slamming the door shut with a loud bang and while running she dials a number. Hearing it ring a couple of times, after which a person on the other end of the line picks up and speaks:

“National City General, how can I help you?”

///

“Am I ...still alive? …still breathing?”. Vaguely perceiving all kinds of beeping noises and a pungent, hygienic smell that’s hanging around makes you feel nauseous. Carefully opening your eyelids as you give yourself some time to adjust to the bright lights. All too familiar with the place you’re at. “Again? How many times is this going to happen?”. No recollection what time it is or even which day of the week ...or month? Different types of wires are attached to you and fluids with medicine is entering your body through the IV. You try to lift your head up and inspect the room, but it’s hard, almost impossible. Your whole body is aching, muscles are sore, and the pain caused you to let out a deep groan.

Hearing the low sound, Alex promptly jumped up, since she had fallen asleep in the chair, exhausted from the constant state of uncertainty she was in. You take in the sight of her, pale skin, red eyes and it seems she hasn’t slept for days. Now standing beside you at the edge of the hospital bed, she takes your hand and clutches it delicately. You try to speak.  

“H-how l-long... “, stuttering with a dry, hoarse throat. “Have I been on life support? On ventilation?”, you think, feeling your trachea burn and having difficulty speaking. Alex is aware of your struggle and answers: “You’ve been in a coma for weeks now. To reduce brain swelling and give your body time to heal.”

In shock, you gape at her as the color drained out of your face and try to point at your neck with your other hand. “They’ve had you on ventilation, yes. Does your throat hurt?” she caringly asks. You weakly nod at her. Alex averts her gaze towards the bleak hospital floor. “It-it was pretty bad… You were in pretty bad shape ...and had stopped breathing. I-I thought…”. She said with a trembling voice, not able to finish the sentence. You grip her hand tighter with all the strength left and press to her, now with a more audible tone: “I’m still here. Still breathing''. You've locked eyes with her again and watch Alex staring at your poor face. You smile at her, and she matches you by showing a faint grin when you notice she’s desperately fighting back the tears that are heaping up in the corners of her eyes. She leans forward and gives you a tender kiss on the forehead while a doctor enters the room.

“I see you’re fully conscious now. Good”, she says as you and Alex turn to her. “Given your history I don’t have to explain everything in detail to you, sadly. I won’t lie, you have a tough road up ahead”.

Knowing it all too well due to your past experience. You have to go through rehabilitation all over again. Only the thought of it makes you feel even more miserable. However, that’s not all. It’s also the feeling of being weak, helpless, not able to do easy or simple tasks yourself since you don’t have the strength for it, yet. You have to start at square one again, and this time it’s your own damn fault. Alex noticed the sad, hopeless expression and strokes your shoulder gently. You look at her. This time you're not alone, Alex has been beside you, from the moment you were brought in injured up till now.

“I’m not going to leave your side, not ever. I’ll be here with you, every single step of the way”. Those words hit you right in the feels as teardrops started to run down your face. You tried to pull her closer with the little power you have in your hand which Alex was still hanging on to. Luckily she understood the hint and moves closer while she cups your face with both her hands. Brushing her thumbs across your cheeks mildly, wiping the tears away. Bringing her lips to yours, kissing you, slow and passionate, as if she thought this would have never, ever been possible again. You taste the saltiness on her lips, since Alex wasn’t able to hold her tears back any longer. By that time the doctor had left to give you a moment alone and to let it all sink in. However, with impeccable timing Kara barged in and rushed towards you, seeing that you’ve woken up. You and Alex being kinda busy, in a legit emotional sentiment, while Kara swoopes in, now at the other side of the bed. She squeezes herself in between Alex and you to make room and gives you a hug.

“Can’t breathe”, you moan, because Kara her hug is obviously too tight, and not to mention the weakened condition you’re in. 

“Oh, sorry! I’m just so glad you’re awake”, she apologizes as she quickly pulled back. Kara straightens her glasses and immediately starts to talk, telling you stories about her Supergirl adventures with Dreamer, who you’ve apparently met before, reporter news, how matters at the DEO progressed, about J’onn and his PI office, and many more. It hurts, cause these are all moments you missed out on. Although you love the distraction, not having to think about the obstacles you’ll need to face, and it’s nice to know that everybody is doing well. Being hesitant at first, and undeniably a little pissed at Kara for ruining the moment back there, Alex joins the story telling later on, seeing you enjoy hearing them. After a while she notices you’re getting tired, knowing Kara can be rather overwhelming. “I think (Y/N) needs to rest for a bit”, she mentions and raised her eyebrows as she’s looking at Kara with a piercing gaze. “Eh, yes. Um- I’ll go. See you later (Y/N)! I’ll tell the others you’re awake!”, Kara responds while leaving the hospital room in a rush. “Bye Kara”, you deliver too late, cause she’s already gone, and you turn to Alex. “Something wrong?”. You’ve sensed a weird vibe hanging around the entire time since you’ve woken up. You can clearly see it in Alex her dazzling, brown eyes. It’s guilt. Alex takes a step back from the bed, thereby letting go of your hand, instantly losing her warm touch. She stays quiet, avoiding eye contact as she’s gazing out the window while biting her lip nervously. “Alex, is it about the phone-”.

“It’s all my fault that this happened. I’m the reason you left the apartment and I-I didn’t pick up the phone and I was too late at the hospital and I said those mean, awful words and I-”. “STOP”, you interrupt, now coughing due to the loud voice you had to use, heart rate spiking which is displayed on the monitor.

“It was my mess that caused this. And that asshole of a DEO Agent of course…”, you mutter. You really hate that guy. "I picked that fight and- Wait... what mean, awful words did you say about me?”.

“Ow, um- no, I said some, like, awful things inside my head. Which I deeply regret now-”, Alex confesses while rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment. “It’s okay”, you chuckle, she's just too good for this world and you probably deserved it anyway. “It’s all good”.

“I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you”. Alex takes a step closer again and pauses. “I thought that ...I was never going to see you again. To speak to you again. To hold you again…. To kiss you again”, she whispers with a quivering voice. “But I’m still here. And you're here. With me. That’s all that matters now”. Meanwhile, you carefully shifted to the left side of the bed, creating some room on the small mattress. Glancing at Alex and making an inviting gesture while tapping on the empty spot with your right hand. You feel her warm body moving closer as she comes lying next to you. Her head resting on your chest and you wrap your free arm around her, wanting to hold her forever and to never let her go. "I've missed you", Alex voices in a softhearted tone and closes her eyes. She’s extremely tired, now finally able to get some well-deserved rest, knowing you’re all right and that everything will be fine.   

“What happened to that DEO Agent anyway?”, you suddenly remember. Kinda hoping he got punished for what he did. “He got arrested for assault and is locked up”, Alex answers directly, her eyes still closed. “Good, he got what he deserved”. It’s quiet again, aside from the occasional sound made by the medical equipment in the room. Breathing frequency becoming slower and slower, relaxing in your arms, dozing off, almost asle-

“Did you guys have game nights without me by the way?”. “Come on (Y/N), you need to sleep”, Alex suggests as she lifted her head up, now staring at you with a commanding expression on her face.

“Copy that, Director Danvers”, you return with a smirk, kinda loving the bossy side of her. She’s right though, you’re completely worn-out and need to recharge. But you can’t help it, wanting to cherish this moment for as long as possible. You grip her tighter, or at least try to, to keep her close, to feel her touch, her warmth, her heartbeat. It doesn’t take long for you both to fall asleep. It’s peaceful and despite the delay, you’re together, at last.

///

A sudden slip to the right, followed by mean right hook. The muscles in your arms and shoulders are burning. Completely out of breath, deeply inhaling to fill your lungs with oxygen. And exhale again. Sweat is coating your forehead and you wipe it off with your arm. You’re a total mess. Only one round to go and then you’ve reached the goal. Throwing a sprint of punches, as fast as you can, it’s mind over matter now. Stopping at the sound of the timer reaching zero, you’re finished. Removing the boxing gloves to grab a towel from the floor nearby to clean yourself up.

“Okay, that’s enough for today”, you pant, weary from the intense workout on the heavy bag. It's been a rough couple of months, you've had extensive rehabilitation training, needed time to heal and were not spared of the pain that came along with it. Giving up was never an option, but becoming your old self again is highly unlikely. The damage has been done, you can't change the past anymore. But you've made peace with it, well, sort of. Luckily you've had tons of support. Friends visiting at the hospital and swinging by your place frequently once you were discharged. It feels so good to be home again. 

While unwrapping your hands, you hear the doorbell of the apartment buzz. Looking up in surprise, who could that be? You rush to the door while throwing the boxing wraps aside, nearly tripped over them, and unlock it. Standing in the doorway, you feel your heart rate rising again, now for a different reason. Still happens every damn time. A satisfying smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth.    

“Hi, forgot the keys again?”, you laugh, lifting up your eyebrow as you smoothly lean against the door frame. “Yeah... but I brought some take-out with me”, Alex counters, pulling up her right arm to show off the bag which carries a delicious scent with it. It would be outrageous to deny this offer of course.   

“Permission hereby granted”, making a humble bow and a gesture with your arm to invite her in. “Also cause I’m literally starving”. Rubbing your stomach with your hands, only being a little dramatic, and you close the door behind you. "Easy (Y/N), you're not turning into Kara are you?".

“Ha. Ha, funny", you sarcastically return."But I’m gonna take a quick shower first. Don’t you dare eat it all Danvers”. Alex placed the food on the kitchen counter and shrugs her shoulders while raising her eyebrows.

“Well, I don’t know, I guess I need something in return then”.

"You sure? You don't want me to shower first?", you assure, still being kinda sweaty with a specific smell that goes with it. Alex walks to you and throws herself into your arms while you place your hands on her hips, her arms resting on your shoulders. "Absolutely sure". Pulling Alex closer and wrapping your arms around her waist as you press your lips onto hers, giving her a desirous kiss. You have to admit, the years of denying and avoiding your feelings for Alex makes you feel utterly stupid, looking back now. Seriously, you were an idiot. A wide smile appears while kissing Alex, because you've never been happier.  

"I love you (Y/N)", Alex softly speaks after she pulled back. "I love you too Alex". Her forehead is resting against yours. "And I'll never stop, as long as I’m still breathing”.    

[threemoonsareshining]

i read through all the 'get to know me uncomfortably well' questions and honestly i couldn't pick because i'd love your answers to any of them so idk just answer the ones you feel like answering? is that allowed in these ask games? idk i'm making it allowed (also have a great day!) xx

Hi!!!!!! Oh my god you’re blessing my night with this message because let’s say... I haven't had the best day today, and I’m sure that’s allowed in these ask things, i mean are there even rules? I do’t know how many i’ll be able to answer but I’m going all in so let’s go

2. How old are you? 19 such an ugly age let me tell you

4. What is your zodiac sign? taurus and i’m not really into astrology and stuff so i don’t know if i can relate to my sign or not

5. What is your favorite color? i really like earthy tones, and i’ve always loved dark colors but i’m trying to broaden my horizons in terms of colors, unsuccessfully this far

6. What's your lucky number? i’m not sure if it brings me luck but i’ve always loved the number 5, maybe bc it’s my birthday, i think it’s really nice overall

7. Do you have any pets? yes!! i have 2 cats, i love them so much even though they’re not the friendliest cats in the world you know. I used to have fish but they kept dying not matter how hard i tried! It makes me a little sad but in the end it was just too much work and if i wasn’t able to take care of them properly i’d rather have no fish honestly

8. Where are you from? i don’t like to say these things but i think it’s pretty obvious if you pay a little attention to what i post every once in a while

9. How tall are you?i’m 1.64 or so, which is like… 5.3-5.4??? I’d like to be a little taller tho

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? I don’t own many, this year i bought some winter shoes but i just realised all my summer ones are either a little too used or i just don’t like their style anymore so yeah i should do some shopping (if only i had time to do that hah!)

12. What was your last dream about? i don’t remember very well but i think i saw my economics teacher riding a bike with no pants after i’d been fined by the police for having a water balloon war in the middle of the street, I wasn’t happy about that. I’ve had many dreams i was able to remember these last days, but they were more like nightmares i’d say, many of them about being kidnaped, other studies-related (i failed my math test again, i had to retake my college-access test… just terrible), and other were with people i actually know, which wasn’t the best thing ever honestly

15. Favorite song? Plant life by owl city, i’m going to paste the answer i wrote to explain why it’s my favorite (Plant Life by Owl City, that song just describes my soul at a spiritual level, like I could choose 1564 other songs by Owl City that describe me as well but this one is the one that I can relate to when i’m going through the worst times, but also gives me the hope that things will get better idk. And it’s funny because I still loved it before I had the level of English to understand the lyrics, and then I found out what they meant and i was like “woah this actually speaks to me in a way i can’t explain” it was a really weird feeling idk, that song is just me)

16. Favorite movie? billy elliot, actually it’s been a really long time since i last saw it. I remember i watched it like 7 times in a row in one week when i first saw it, i just loved it so much

17. Who would be your ideal partner? Just… someone that i’m 100% comfortable with, which should be a given, but apparently that isn’t that easy to find. Idk i’ve been thinking a lot about this lately basically because some of my coming decisions are going to be based on who i want as a partner, obviously not in a serious-for-life way, but in a way that i deserve right now. I’d like to have someone that doesn’t make me feel inadequate like almost everyone does, that doesn’t make me feel like a temporary asset in their life until they get want they want for me and just don’t care anymore. I don’t know, recent experiences have made me realise I need to figure out what I want and fight for it, not settle for someone just because it’s convenient, or because i don’t want to be alone... because in the end, if someone is making you feel like shit for being who you are and it’s acting like you are not important, even though they’re willing to be with you (even if it’s just for the physical part) that clearly makes you feel even more lonely

18. Do you want children? I’d say my #1 fear in life is getting accidentally pregnant (i know that shouldn’t worry me that much if i use protection and stuff), i meant a good reason i’m so wary of having sex is because i’d go crazy just considering the possibility that the condom failed or something. I think this answers the question, i really don’t want children, idk if i’d be able to take care of a kid, and above all, i don’t want to. Every time i see a kid in the street or in the public transport i pray he/she doesn’t interact with me because i just find it so so so difficult to be nice to them, basically because i don’t know how . Then i also look at their parents, their tired look, and don’t get me wrong, I’m sure they love their kids and all but I don’t think everyone can find happiness in having kids, and I don’t think I’m one of those people that won’t feel complete until they have kids or stuff. Furthermore, I’m not willing to sacrifice my body and to suffer the pain of giving birth, that doesn’t even cross my mind. So if I consider the possibility in the future i think I’d adopt.

20. Are you religious? I already answered this so I’ll just paste it I’m sorry this is so lazy (i was raised catholic and as a child i was really really devote, i truly believed in god. But you know, as years go by, then you find out you don’t agree with a lot of things the Church preaches (being in a catholic school doesn’t help, i will never forget the day i heard a priest telling literal 7-year-old girls that their only duty in life was to have children). My environment was really really conservative and I was lucky to somehow realise how fucking wrong some of the stuff they were teaching us was, sadly, i still see a lot of kids in my school being brainwashed… it’s crazy to see the way some families think. Anyways, that contributed to me getting distanced from everything religious-related. Now i could say i’m somewhere between agnostic and non-practicing. I still pray every once in a while but i’m not sure if i truly believe it or it’s just out of custom, i just feel too hopeless and detached from everything to believe there’s something greater than us… this question is too hard!)

24. Baths or showers? I used to hate taking showers just because I didn’t have the strength to go through all the process of taking a shower but I’ve been trying to fix this mainly because 1) Personal Hygiene and stuff 2) Even though i don’t have the willpower to do it, i always try to think about how nice it feels to be clean after a shower, or how relaxed you are (even if it’s for a short period of time) after taking a bath. So yeah I don’t like either of them but they’re obviously necessary

26. Have you ever been famous? I haven’t been famous but I’ve been mistaken for a famous people more than once. The first time i was very young and a man asked me if i was that girl (idk who) that was on tv and I said no, and the other was more recent, last year, when someone mistook me for a youtuber

28. What type of music do you like? I love instrumental music, specially orchestral but i also adore celtic themes. And i hate to admit it but i love electro pop, the owl city - type, even though many people (aka my dad) may think it’s not the Best Quality, but i mean who cares at least I enjoy it

33. What do you typically have for breakfast? I’m a mess so most of the time I have a coffee so I don’t die of tiredness throughout the day and if i have time i eat some fruit and cookies, not a lot honestly, which isn’t the most healthy thing to do but hey idc

34. Have you ever fired a gun? No. I really, really hate guns.

37. Favorite swear word? I never swear in public, just when I’m alone, I don’t think I can choose any word!

38. What's the longest you've ever gone without sleep? Maybe 24 hours, the thing is that i sleep very, very little, but i always end up sleeping anyway

41. Are you a good liar? Even when I’m actually telling the truth there are people who don’t believe me so yeah hah not really

42. Are you a good judge of character? i’m really good at getting the vibes of people, sometimes i think i’m just overreading everything but a high percentage of the time i end up being right, so yeah not only regarding people but also with other aspects of my life… i like to trust my gut. However, i don’t always say it bc i’m afraid i might be wrong, but when my suspicions are proven, I’m like yeah i was right how weird hahahahhhhhhhhh, i amaze myself in this aspect honestly

46. What is your personality type? i think i’m intj, but i remember retaking the test a few months later and getting another result but yeah i can relate to the architect type, introvert, cautelous, focused on analysing rather than acting blah blah all that stuff (i love this stuff)

49. Are you an innie or an outie? Innie 4 life, because I’ve tried to force myself to be more outie and let me tell you that didn’t go well

50. Left or right handed? left!!!

51. Are you scared of spiders? I’m really scared of them but i also cry every time i kill one bc i feel sorry for her (but it’s either my life or hers i’m sorry) although most of the time when i see i spider i face my fear and i put in in a box or something to release it outside

52. Favorite food? i’d eat ice cream every day of my life for every meal all the time just give me all the ice cream

58. Do you have much of an ego? My ego is so tiny sometimes i forget it exists and let people step on it like it’s nothing

61. Do you sing to yourself? I perform to myself, i love singing alone in my room. I used to care about my neighbour hearing me but you only live once right

62. Are you a good singer? i wouldn't say i’m a bad singer, nor a good one bc the problem is that my voice is not very strong, so it’s very hard to hear me. But yeah, i’ve been complimented for my singing in some occasions, and i really enjoy doing it on my own (i still don’y know how i was able to sing in public the only time i have done it)

63. Biggest Fear? that i’ll keep missing stuff due to my anxiety, oh that and having unwanted kids obviously

64. Are you a gossip? it’s always interesting to hear stuff and be aware of what happens around you but i‘ve always said that things would be better if everyone just… minded their own business a little bit more, you can’t get mad at someone if they don’t want to tell you something, it’s their life and they don’t owe you all the explanations after all

66. Do you like long or short hair? i have really long hair and i’d love it if it wasn’t so so so hard to maintain… i’m pretty tired of it honestly and i know i said i’d be cutting and donating it this year but… it’s such a part of my identity (which is so silly but it’s true, i’m introduced to some people as “the girl with really long hair”) and… i don’t know i think i’ve enough changes this year, so i’ll keep it for a little longer

70. Have you ever been scuba diving? i’m so scared of the sea i think i’d die

71. What makes you nervous? sadly, even the most insignificant stuff makes me nervous, and apparently, ignoring them doesn’t mae them disapear! so yeah i’m basically suffering at all times due to stupid stuff, i’ve just learned to ignore it enough so it doesn’t interfere with the rest of my life (most of the time it works but it’s mentally draining now that i think about it)

77. Have you ever drank underage? I’m one of those people that can say that never drank alcohol until it was legal for me to do it, I didn’t do it even when my mom offered me something at family gatherings… yeah i think that’s the reason i drink so much now

80. How many piercings do you have? I don’t like piercings for myself (i obviously don’t have a problem with other people having them) but i just think it’s an unnecessary way of mutilating yourself (i hate needles)

86. What are you allergic to? Ironically, I’m allergic to cats, even though i have 2. It comes and goes, and it’s not serious, i sneeze a lot, my eyes itch a little sometimes, but i’m willing to pay that price for my cats honestly

87. Do you keep a journal? I do, but it’s been months since i last wrote mainly because i always feel like shit after writing, so now i can’t bring myself to do it, that’s why i post so much about my personal life in here, because i’m not able to journal but i also don’t want to forget about what happens in my life

90. What makes you angry? Anger is a weird concept for me. I get angry very often, but I’m angry in general, not at anyone in particular, I just find myself unable to get mad at someone, the anger instantaneously turns into sadness, so I don’t know what’s worse. If I’m being mean to someone (most of the time my parents are the victims) it’s not because of them, I’m just angry for no reason and I just can’t keep being nice.

Hey congratualtions if you made it till the end, i was really bored so i answered a lot. Thanks for the message again 🐱🐱🐱🌳🌳🌳

[solastia]

Beneath The Surface | 4

Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Word Count: 6,316

Genre & Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut. Lake sex, unprotected sex, sex in public. 

Notes:  Happy comeback day!

Please don’t actually have sexy time in lakes. Bacteria gets all up in you, and you can get infections. If you must do it (because I admit it’s hot), make sure you take care of your hygiene thoroughly afterward. 

Everything about you was messy. The eye makeup smudged just below your left eye. The flyaways in your hair pinned so poorly up. The giant hole on the right knee of your sweats that you couldn’t stop picking at, making it even bigger.

Your heart.

You felt like an idiot. Here you were, still pining after Hoseok despite not hearing from him for a month. He gave you the best sex of your life, made you think that he wanted something more, then vanished. Sadly, not literally. His face was everywhere. Interviews, music videos, music shows. Hell, you'd seen his cardboard cutout at work when one of the girls thought it would be fun to put BTS stand-ups in the practice room. 

The first few days after your date was a mess. You'd tried to text and call him, but it always sent you straight to voicemail. You gave up on day three when you saw him with his group during an interview, and he looked as sunny as ever. Smiling and joking, being his usual aegyo king self. You'd seen that he had a sunflower pinned to his outfit and wondered if it was for you. As the weeks flew by without a word, even though you kept seeing a sunflower pinned to whatever outfit he was wearing, you stopped wondering. If only you could stop hurting.

You threw yourself into your work, hoping that ten straight hours of dance practice would leave you exhausted enough to do nothing but sleep the moment you got home. Between the extended practices and you snapping at them anytime they mentioned BTS, the girls were getting frustrated, and you could tell. If you weren’t snapping at them, you were glaring at the cardboard standee of Hoseok they insisted on keeping in there. Even in cardboard form, he looked good. Stupid Hobi and his stupidly handsome face.

You were just sitting here once again putting yourself through hell watching a live video of Hoseok and Yoongi. They were having a meal together and talking about their latest concert. Every sound of enjoyment out of Hoseok's mouth was torturous and brought back memories of other times when he moaned that loud. He was dressed casually but still had a sunflower pinned to the flowy white shirt. You assumed it was now just his thing, like Jin and his hearts. You watched as he leaned over his food to grab something, the flower hanging dangerously close to a bowl of soup.

"Yah, Hobi, your flower is about to fall in your food. If that splashes on me, I'll kill you." Yoongi growled. Hoseok slaps his hand over the flower and leans back into his seat, fixing the flower so it’s pinned tighter. 

“It’s OK, I’d still eat it. Sunflowers are tasty, “ He smirked into the camera.

“You mean sunflower seeds,” Yoongi told him.

Hoseok hummed noncommittally, going back to his meal. 

“What’s with the sunflower thing anyways? Army keeps asking, and I’m kind of curious myself.” Yoongi asked, nodding at the flower. 

"Sunflowers make me happy, and it breaks my heart to not have them with me all the time.” Hoseok rumbled with a serious face, staring right into the camera. 

Surely he wasn’t talking...about you? Was this just your wishful thinking or was he really trying to tell you something? Because that sounded an awful lot like he made a sex joke and then tried to send you a message. He called you Sunflower before. Has this sudden appearance of sunflowers in every damn picture of his really been a sign this whole time? Should you let yourself hope? 

The video ends with Yoongi waving and Hoseok kissing the screen with an enthusiastic “I love you!” You set your phone down and stare at it, thinking. Maybe he had a reason for not contacting you besides your initial assessment of him being a fuckboy idol. Perhaps he wasn’t allowed to, or they took his phone. Maybe they found out about you, and he got in trouble. 

Perhaps...you could trust Hoseok? The mere thought of putting your full trust in anyone again, much less a member of the male species, was enough to make you feel squeamish. But at the same time, with Hoseok, it felt right. 

Either that, or you’d just taken your first step to becoming a crazy stalker chick. 

“Sunflowers are tasty. Quit talking about my privates in a live video, you perv.” You chuckle and shake your head as you walk to your room to change into something that doesn’t look like you stole it from the trash. It was time to stop moping. Maybe he hadn’t forgotten you after all. 

 “That isn’t water in that water bottle, Hoseok. I can smell it from here. Are you fucking serious right now?” Namjoon glared down at Hoseok as he relaxed on a couch in the practice room. Hoseok scoffed, taking another drink. 

“Look, I know you’re upset right now, but drinking before a live show is ridiculous. What if you mess up? You’ll get us all in more shit than we are already. I thought you hated alcohol, and yet here you are, fucking plastered going on a month straight.” 

“I don’t like alcohol, the taste is vile. The being buzzed part is nice though. Anway, even drunk I still dance better than you, so fuck right off, thanks.” 

“You need to get over this and fast. I am starting to lose my fucking patience. It’s not like you’re the only one suffering. Because of you, they took all of our phones and put us all on lockdown.”

Hoseok sighed and hung his head down, remorse and sadness practically flowing from his pores. “I know, man. I’m...I’m sorry. I just...miss her,” He whispered, his voice trembling as he held back tears. Another reason he avoided alcohol is it tended to make him weepy. 

Namjoon sighed and plopped into the chair next to him. “I understand. I just hate watching you do this to yourself. I’ve never seen you hung up on a chick before. You really like her, huh?”

Hoseok nodded, sniffing a little and stuffed the bottle under his seat. 

“Yes. She’s incredible. She’s so beautiful, smart, funny, and treated me like I’m just me. Just Jung Hoseok. I can’t get her out of my head. I’m just so scared, bro. I’ve just up and disappeared for a month without being able to say anything to her. How is she going to take that? What if she’s moved on already?”

Oh God, what if she had? What if there was some other asshole pounding into her right now? He wanted to pummel the faceless bastard already. And even worse, what if she hadn’t? What if she had sat around waiting for him, crying her eyes out when he never showed? Did she hate his guts now? Did she watch his shows, his lives? Did she see how he kept a sunflower pinned to his heart for her? Did she catch the little messages he tried to send her? 

“She knew who you were and that you’re an idol, right?” Namjoon asked as he rubbed Hoseok’s back. 

“Yeah, we talked a little bit about it.” 

“Then if she’s as smart as you say, she’ll probably understand that not everything is in our control. She’s probably seen how busy we are lately, with all the shows and interviews. Have a little hope, huh?” Namjoon chuckles and squeezes Hoseok’s shoulders as he stands up, earning a snicker from Hoseok. 

“Bro, again...I’m sorry. You guys don’t deserve to put up with my shit.” Hoseok sighed as he stood up and followed Namjoon to the backstage area of their next show.  

“We’re in this together, man. I know it’s fucking hard, but you have all of us here to support you. Now, let’s head out there. I’m sure she’s watching, so put on a good show for her, yeah?” Namjoon slapped Hoseok’s back, and they joined the rest of the group as the curtain raised for their next performance. 

“This one’s for you, Sunflower,” Hoseok whispered to himself, patting the sunflower on his jacket before pasting a bright smile on his face for the camera. 

“Jisoo, wider movements, please. You’re too stiff.” You tell the girl for what has to be the sixth time today. She was probably due for another break soon.

You’d had the girls practicing for about four hours so far today, but you’d been giving them more breaks than they’d had in a while. You’d realized how unfair you’d been to have taken out your frustrations on the girls. It wasn’t their fault, and it was unprofessional of you to let your private drama impact your professional life. As a sort of apology, you’d cut practice times entirely in half, and you were going to let them out in an hour, especially since it was Sunday. 

Or sooner, judging by the frantic waving of Lee PD on the other side of the practice room door. 

“Alright everyone, good practice. We’ll cut it short for today. Remember to keep up your stretches, stay hydrated, take a nice warm bath. I’ll see you all back here tomorrow.” The girls whooped in glee, quickly gathering their belongings and leaving. 

You wiped your sweat with a towel as you strolled over to the little woman that looked more like a kindergarten teacher than a producer at a music label. You chuckled inwardly at how adorable she looked excitedly hopping, bursting to tell you whatever news she had. 

“Lee PD, to what do I owe the honor of you gracing my smelly studio with your presence?” You smile sweetly down at her. 

“OH, you are not going to believe this. So, you know how we’ve been in talks with that sports gear company? They wanted Hypnotic to model their outdoor wear collection this year. It turns out, however, that we are not the only ones. They are going to have our girls team up with another group and do a huge camping shoot with a dance. So you’d have to team up with the other group's choreographer and work together to make something original.” She was excitedly clapping her hands, obviously pleased at how big the project was turning out to be. 

“Who is the other group?” 

“OH, this is the best part! Teaming up with them, our girls are going to look great! Not to mention that you’d have so much fun doing their choreo since they are known for being good dancers. It’s BTS.” Lee PD squealed, her glasses slipping down her nose as she hopped around. 

BTS...as in Hobi’s BTS. 

You stare at the excited little woman in shock. You’d have to work with Hoseok, the man you’d hadn’t seen in over a month but couldn’t stop thinking of. Would he be happy to see you? Or would he be horrified and think he was getting stalked by someone that he’d tried to hit and quit? 

You shook yourself from your thoughts and managed to fake an enthusiastic smile. You were happy for your girls at least. This was a huge deal. 

“This is exciting! The girls are going to go nuts when they hear! When does this start?” You ask, thinking your voice sounded too squeaky to sound genuinely excited. Lee PD didn’t seem to notice as her smile widened even more. 

“TOMORROW! We head over to meet them bright and early. You have to meet their choreographer and go over the plans from the company so you can start work on your end. Then, at the end of the week, we are going to be spending the weekend up in the mountains. They are going to be doing the commercial and photo shoots there. They told us to plan on being there the entire weekend.” 

“Yikes, one week to come up with choreography for twelve people? This should be fun.” You huff and Lee PD pats your arm in comfort. 

“I know, but we believe in you. Plus, I hear that those boys and their choreographers are used to working like dogs, so this should be nothing new for them. Just meet up with me and the girls at 7:00 am sharp tomorrow, and we’ll head over from here.” 

“Will do, boss. See you tomorrow.” 

You saunter out of the room and walk to your car in a daze. Tomorrow. You’d see Hoseok tomorrow. Although you were still a little anxious, you couldn’t help the small spark of excitement at the thought of seeing him again. At least now you had a chance of learning what happened. If he ended up being happy to see you and wanted to get together again, great. If not, you’d finally be able to close that chapter of your life and move on. You can’t help the shiver that courses through your body at the thought of seeing him again, no matter what. 

You stared at the door in front of you, your entire body shaking. You couldn’t remember ever being this damn nervous in your life. You could hear the music they were blasting through the door, the occasional voice of someone. They were all in there. The girls were chatting away, obviously excited. Lee PD was talking to Bang PD at the front of the group. You observe Bang PD’s hand on the doorknob, watching as it turned in almost slow motion. The door cracked open and the sounds amplified by a thousand. You were tuned into every squeak of a sneaker, every chuckle, every hum. 

You maneuvered yourself so that you were at the very back of the group. Able to see but not be seen. You heard him first. The PD’s were introducing Hypnotic to everyone, and you heard Hoseok’s polite greeting of “Nice to meet you.” Such simple, innocent words and yet the impact his gravely voice had on your body was no joke. You tried to repress the shiver that went straight to your core, forcing an impassive expression on your face. 

“And this is Hypnotic’s main choreographer. She’s truly incredible, and you’ll find her a joy to work with.” Lee PD gushed as she forced you to the front of the group. 

You heard the quiet gasp before you saw him, your eyes raising to meet his. He looked amazing. He was drenched in sweat, the black supreme shirt clinging to his chest. He ran a hand through his equally sweat-drenched hair (were you developing a sweat kink or something?), and you watched as his expression changed from shock to pure, unadulterated joy. 

He smiled blindingly down at you as you blushed and snuck a small smile his way before glancing at everyone else. You decided it was probably safer for him if you didn’t let the rest of the people in the room catch on to the fact that you already knew each other. He seemed happy to see you, though. You weren’t sure how to process this yet, but you felt a little flame of hope come to life. 

You bowed and shook hands with all of the boys and the choreographer. You had to fight to hold the moan that wanted to escape when Hoseok sneakily laced his fingers with yours as you pulled your hand away from shaking his. You had it bad if just touching his damn fingers was enough to get you excited. 

The PD’s left to go do paperwork that had to be turned into the sportswear company, leaving you and the girls to get acquainted with everyone. They all needed to come up with a game plan and get to know everyone’s dance styles to come up with something quick. The first order of business was picking a song, so everyone sat down wherever they were comfortable in the studio and started writing out lists of suggestions to be voted on. You picked a spot in the back corner, next to a window, hoping the slight breeze would help cool you down. You had written down about three suggestions when you felt the heat on your back, followed by warm puffs of air against your neck. You could smell hints of vanilla and citrus mingled with sweat, smells that remind you of Hoseok in your bed. 

“Are you cold?” a quiet voice rasped in your ear. You shook your head no and heard his soft chuckle. 

“Then why are you shaking, Sunflower?” He asked, as he stealthily ran a finger up and down your spine. 

You hadn’t even realized that you had been shaking, but as soon as he pointed it out, you could feel the trembles. You were so on edge with him being this close to you and not being able to do anything about it. You felt his breath on your ear and couldn’t hold back the tiny whimper.

“I think you missed me as much as I missed you,” he whispered in your ear. You didn’t trust yourself to keep your voice down, so you just nodded. You didn’t miss the barely audible Thank God from Hoseok. 

You clear your throat and turn around so you’re facing him. You let your mask drop for a second and trying to convey everything you feel in one broad smile, before going back into business mode. 

“Did you have any song suggestions, Mr, Jung?” You ask briskly. He raises an eyebrow at you, then props his chin in his hands. 

“Usher’s Nice and Slow.” 

“Mr. Jung, I don’t think that’s the feeling that they’re looking for.” You drone sarcastically. 

“You’re right. How about...Silk’s Freak Me.”

“Hoseok...”

“Trey Songz Neighbors know my name?”

“HOBI!” You whisper furiously and look around worried that someone might have heard you.

“There’s my girl. Hi, baby.” He looks at you with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen in your life, and you just melt. 

“Aw, you’re so cute when you blush like that.” He cooed, scooting closer. 

“Hobi, I’m trying not to make things obvious, and you’re not helping.” you groan, trying not to make any noises despite the fact that his sneaky fingers were making their way under your crossed legs to stroke under your thighs. 

“I know. I just missed you so fucking much. You know it wasn’t my choice not to see you again, right? They took our phones and put us on lockdown.” 

So it was as you’d suspected. You’d hoped this was the case, but to have it confirmed made you feel so much better. Honestly, you were a little upset for him. To be a grown ass man and get treated like a misbehaving teenager was a little ridiculous. 

“I kinda thought that might be the case. Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you.”

Hoseok exhaled loudly. “Good. So...does that mean that you’ve uh...that you’re still...” Hoseok’s face was turning an adorable shade of light red, and you smiled. 

“Yes, Hobi, I’m still single.  No, I haven’t fucked anyone else. I’ve been working.”

“Cool.” He nodded, looking around the room like he was unconcerned. He was so adorable. 

“Did you uh...like my sunflower?” He asked you, blush spreading to his neck. 

“I did. I was hoping that was for me, but I wasn’t sure. It was...probably the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” You whisper, trying to stop your own blush. God, Hoseok made you feel like this was some first love high school thing.

Hoseok smiled brightly at you and tried to discreetly lace your fingers together with his free hand.

“It was for you. I wanted you to know that I didn’t forget you. And that I still wanted you. Fuck, I always want you.” He growled quietly, making you shiver and you could feel yourself becoming wet just from his voice alone.  

“Hey, you guys come up with any good songs?” Seongdeuk, the BTS choreographer, asks from behind you. You nudge Hoseok’s fingers away and smile up at the man, handing him your paper.

“Outside, by Calvin Harris and Ellie Goulding? That’s actually a decent commercial type song. We’ll see what the other’s think and then pass it onto the boss to take care of licensing stuff. Good pick! You two work well together.” He mumbles as walks away. 

“You hear that, baby? We work well together.” Hoseok snickers, putting his fingers back under your leg. You nudge him away again, laughing when he pouts. 

“You are going to get us caught, stop.” 

“Bro, are you hogging the choreographer already?” A soft voice asked from behind you. You swallowed your squeak of alarm and quickly moved your leg out of Hoseok’s reach, smiling up at Jimin. 

He plops down next to Hoseok and softly smiles back, somehow seemingly oblivious to Hoseok’s glare. 

“Hello again. I’m Jimin, in case you forgot. You’ll be working with Hoseok and me the most. Me, because I practice a lot, and Hoseok because he’s our dance God.” You chuckled along with Jimin at that, narrowing your eyes in silent warning at the still pouting Hoseok to play along. 

“That’s good to hear. Since we only have a week to get this down, I’m predicting 10 hour long practices at the very least. Something that my girls are used to.”

“That won’t be a problem for us either. We do what we have to do.” Jimin responded sweetly. You nod and smile at them both. 

“I’m going to head back up to the front. Get ready to work your asses off, guys.” 

You stand up and glance over at Hoseok, not able to say anything you want to with Jimin right there. You settle for a wink and stroll away. 

“Damn, she has a great ass.” The words whispered behind you sounded somehow more perverse when they were being said by such a soft, innocent sounding voice.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” Hoseok warned. 

You sighed and stood next to Seongdeuk. This was going to be a long week.

It was finally Friday. Today, all of you were being jammed into vans and driven into the mountains for the commercial shoot. It had been an incredibly long week and you were exhausted. Everyone had practiced for a minimum of 11-12 hours a day, some of them electing to practice more on their own. 

You were proud that your girls had been able to keep up with BTS’s notoriously high-energy dancing. Despite the fact that a few of them had developed crushes, this week had gone relatively smoothly. BTS were amazingly hard workers. You’d been incredibly impressed by all of them. 

As for Hoseok, being in the same proximity to each other without being able to do more than sneak a touch here or there was taking a toll on both of you. The number of times you’d had to tear your eyes off of his reflection while he was dancing was ridiculous. He would drip with sweat, thrusting his hips vigorously, his stare burning whenever you locked eyes. He’d find reasons to grab your hips, or come behind you and help you stretch, whispering things in your ear the entire time. Unfortunately, the staff followed them everywhere, not giving them a single moment to themselves. The tension driving you crazy, and judging by Hoseok’s increasingly dark glances, he wasn’t fairing much better. 

You peered out of the van window, lost in your thoughts. You hadn’t really had time to think about what would happen after this weekend was over. You supposed things would just go back to the way they were. You’d go back to working your regular hours, go home, and obsessively watch videos of a man that you may or may not see again. 

The mere thought alone was enough to break your heart. 

As the campsite crawled into view, you vowed to not think about the future right now. Just get through this first. Enjoy the tiny tidbits of contact you get with Hoseok and store it away for when you’re going to need it. 

“Alright everyone, that’s a wrap for the day! See you bright and early!” The director bellowed, the groups not even bothering to hide their moans of relief. Dancing in a studio was one thing. Dancing in bulky outdoor wear when it was still hot as hell outside was another. The staff gave everyone leave to go and do what they wanted with the remaining bit of daylight. They probably assumed everyone was too tired to get up to too much trouble. And it seemed they were right as most elected to shower and go to their tents. 

You had been eyeballing the lake all day, so you decided to get into your swimsuit and go for a little evening swim. You figured that with most already getting to bed, you’d have a bit of alone time. 

You leisurely floated on your back in the water near the dock. You hummed a little nameless melody and stared at the stars. It was so peaceful. 

You were utterly unprepared when you felt hands wrap themselves around you and drag you closer to the dock. 

“What the fuck?!” You complained, getting ready to hit whoever the fuck was grabbing at you. 

“Shhh, baby, it’s me.” 

“Hobi, what are you doing?” You hiss at him. He’s smiling at you fondly, barely swimming as he’d pulled you under the dock and his feet could touch the bottom. 

“You looked so pretty and lonely out there, so I thought I’d join you.” He murmurs as he pulls you closer to him, picking up your legs and wrapping them around his waist. 

“I’ll just bet you did. Hobi, if you get caught, you’d be in deep shit. You’re already on lockdown.” You whisper, trying not to moan as you feel his bulge hit your core.

“At this point, I don’t even fucking care. If I don’t touch you soon, I’m going to go insane.” He growled, bucking against you. You whimper and bury your head in his shoulder. 

“This is such a bad idea, Hoseok.” 

"I’m just going to pull your swimsuit to the side, no one would see a thing.“ He whispers in your ear, fingers already stroking the outside of your suit. You nod silently.

“God, yes. Finally.” Hoseok’s fingers slip inside your swimsuit bottom, lightly stroking through your folds. He buries his face in your neck, biting softly and kissing his way up to your face.

Your lips meet, and the kiss is so soft and sweet. Just a gentle exploration of each other as your bodies get reacquainted. His tongue lightly tracing your lips and caressing your own. You remember something that’d he’d liked last time, so you sucked on his bottom lip gently, releasing it with a little pop. He groans and bucks his hips into you, and you smile to yourself. You forgot how much you love teasing his sounds out of him. It was really too bad you had to be so quiet. 

Hoseok touched his forehead to yours, moaning into your mouth as he slid his cock into you. You started rocking against him, your mouths fused together to help prevent any loud noises escaping. You were both so focused on each other, you almost missed the creak of the dock as someone made their way across it. 

“It’s beautiful out here. We really should do more shoots here, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I agree! I think the shots we took today are going to be great.” 

You and Hoseok looked each other in horror, completely halting your movements. How the hell were you going to get out of this? Hopefully, they wouldn’t stay long, and you could escape without anyone catching the two of you together. 

God, you’d been so close. Your pussy clenched at the mere thought of how amazing you’d been feeling. You hear a hiss from Hoseok and a plan forms as you see how fucked out he still looks. You clench down on him again, watching his face. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth, looking at you in silent warning. You merely grin and clench again. He leans in and bites your ear, whispering softly. 

“If you keep that shit up, I’m going to cum.” 

You clench again as hard as you can. With a strangled groan against your neck, Hoseok shallowly pumps his hips into you, filling you with his cum. 

You sigh and let your legs drop from his waist, though he keeps you close to him, burying his face in your hair. You both wait for the people to leave, listening to their boring conversation as Hoseok occasionally plants soft kisses on the side of your face. 

After what seemed to be forever, they finally left, and the both of you let out a sigh of relief. You shoot him an irritated I told you so look that he just responds to with a satisfied grin. You look around to see if anyone else is within eye range before getting out of the water, Hoseok not far behind. When you reached the campsite, you noticed that everyone was already in their tents. You go to yours, prepared to wave goodbye to Hoseok and go to bed, only to feel him come up right behind you. He follows you inside and zips the door before crawling on top of you, gently lowering you onto your blankets. 

“Now where were we?” He growls playfully, pulling your suit down and latching onto your nipple. 

“Hobi, don’t tease me right now. Just fuck me!” You whisper harshly, tugging his head up towards you. He leans down and kisses you roughly, biting your bottom lip as he slides back into you. You’re still filled with his cum and your own wetness, the lewd squelching sounds as he pounds into you filling the tent. 

“God, I love this. I missed you so much. Fuck. You feel so good.” he moans above you, leaning down to lick and bite at your neck. There was no way you weren’t going to have marks to cover up in the morning. 

“I can feel you tightening up on me, baby. Do you want to come?” Hosek reaches his hands up, planting them on both sides of your head. He leans his face in closer, kissing you softly for a moment. His hips kept up their rhythm, pounding into you with a hard and steady pace. You nod, and he smiles at you. 

“Come. I want to watch you fall apart.” He growls into your mouth. Like your body knows it belongs to him, you feel your orgasm take over. You arch your back and throw your head back in a silent scream as Hoseok fucks you harder and faster trying to reach his own peak. 

“Look at me.” He orders breathlessly, and you force yourself to concentrate enough to keep your eyes open. You can’t look away as you watch Hoseok come undone above you. He keeps his eyes trained on you, staring at you with a mixture of awe and lust as he fills you up again. 

He groans as he pulls out and flops down next to you, grabbing your arm to pull you in and wrap you around his chest. You both catch your breath as he hums and strokes your arm. You sneak a peek and notice his cock has still not gone down. You’d nearly forgotten about his rabbit-like stamina. Hoseok chuckles when he notices where your eyes went, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You were in for a long night. 

The rest of the weekend went much the same. Working from dawn until dusk on the commercial and various photo shoots. The nights were spent finding places to be alone as you made up for lost time. He’d usually spend the night in your tent until around 5 am, waking you up with a kiss as he got up to head to his own tent. The two of you were so caught up in each other, you didn’t notice the girl with the increasingly suspicious gaze. 

You observe the team putting all of their gear away in the vans, the view somehow symbolic of your relationship with Hoseok. It was time to put it away and go back to the real world. The world where he didn’t belong to you. As if your thoughts conjured him, Hoseok appeared in front of you, silently gesturing with his head to follow him. You look around to make sure no one was watching, then caught up to him. He led you behind the wooden building holding the restrooms, backing you up until you hit the wall. He buried his hands in your hair and kissed you. You could practically taste the despair as he roughly nipped at your lips. 

“How much more time do you have on your lockdown?” You moan, embarrassed to sound so needy, but God, you couldn’t help it.  

 “Just for another month, just another thirty days. It’ll pass by quicker this time since we know that we’re waiting for each other.” He answers between pecks. 

He stops and looks down at you, a severe look suddenly crossing his face. He swallows hard a few times, worrying you. What did he have to say that was so bad?

“I love you.” He blurts out. 

Your eyes widen in shock. You? Jung Hoseok loves you?

“What do you mean you love me?” You ask, wincing as soon as you say it. What a dumb thing to say.

“I mean that I love you.” His eyes search your face. You can feel the blush that takes over your face, and you turn your head to the side to avoid his gaze. 

“I...I love you too.” You mumble. You were probably dumb to let him know the feelings that you hadn’t even admitted to yourself yet, but now it was out there.

Hoseok grinned cockily, grabbing your chin to make you look at him.

“What was that, Sunflower? I didn’t quite catch it.” 

You sigh and kiss the palm that was near your mouth. 

“I love you too, Jung Hoseok. I’ll see you in a month.” 

You push away from the wall and go back to your van. As you slide into your seat and strap yourself in, you sneak a peek over at the BTS van. They were still loading their things in, apparently too busy to have even noticed Hoseok’s absence. He finally strolls up to the van, grabbing his bag and heads to the open doors. Before he gets in, he looks over towards you, the broad smile on his face silently conveying how much your confession meant to him. He snuck a little wave, and one of his ridiculous kissy faces before hopping into the van and slamming the door. You watch as they leave first, feeling as though he’d taken a piece of you with him.

God help you. You were in love with Jung Hoseok.

The ride back home sapped you of any remaining energy. You were bone tired as you trudged up the stairs to your apartment. You silently praised yourself for your forethought of booking Momo at the pet hotel for an extra day, because all you wanted to do now was take a real shower and go into a nice coma. 

After a thoroughly long and hot shower, you got in your most comfortable pajamas and slid into bed. You scrolled through your phone, just wanting to check that there was nothing important you’d missed while you were away. You were just about to put the phone down when a random headline reading “BTS DATING SCANDAL” caught your eye. Dating scandal? How can that happen when they weren’t even in the city? 

You load the story and just scan it. You honestly didn’t think it would be anything since the boys were always complaining about their lack of freedom. It wasn’t until your eyes caught the name Jung Hoseok that you felt a flicker of fear. 

You followed the link his name led to, your hand trembling. After reading the words, you throw your phone at the wall with a satisfying crack, before burying your face in the pillow. How stupid were you? You were a fucking idiot.   

“Jung Hoseok of BTS dating scandal. Bighit confirms a relationship with Hypnotic’s leader, Lee Jisoo.”

[for-the-night-official]

Amethyst Scales and a Hardened Heart

Ao3

Chapter Summary: 

Andrei deals with the aftermath of being kicked out of his old school.

Chapter 1: The World is a Bird Cage

Andrei bit back a sigh, leaving the principal’s office. It’s been a nice 2 months, he thought wistfully. Though it really hadn’t, thanks to all the bullying. Still, at least he got to go to school and learn things. He couldn’t say that he was surprised that he was getting expelled, but it still sucked. Oh man, what was his mom going to say? She was going to be so mad at him. What was he going to do when he got home? There was still another 3 hours until school let out, so she would definitely know something was up when he got home early.

The principal hadn’t called his mom, mainly because there was no phone to call. With all the moving around that his mom did, trying to make sure he stayed in school, they didn’t have enough money to have things like phones, or private transport, or even computers. Their apartment wasn’t the best either. It had a bedroom, a living-room-turned-bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom. All in all, they weren’t doing very well, and he had gotten expelled (again) so they were probably going to have to move (again). It sucked, but he had gotten used to it. In all honesty, he didn’t even have to pack much. He only had his clothes, bed sheets, some hygiene things, and his school supplies.

Speaking of, he thought, slipping back into his classroom. Of course, it wasn’t going to be an easy in and out. Even if all he wanted to do was grab his stuff, he knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

“My oh my, what happened?” Damien asked. Andrei was happy to see that he was sporting the beginnings of a black eye, though he was equally ashamed.

“I got expelled,” Andrei mumbled, more toward the teacher than to Damien.

“Really now!” Damien said, taking on a surprised tone. “Why is that, I wonder?” Andrei grit his teeth, knowing his irritation didn’t show on his face. He had long since learned that showing emotion simply made things worse. Ducking his head, he went to collect his things from his desk. After quickly shoving everything into his bag, he went to sling it onto his back, being mindful of his tail, when the teacher finally spoke to him.

“I hope this serves as a good lesson as to what happens when you let your anger take over you. People should really be more in control of their emotions. The fact that you let one comment get to you. I know your… species… has problems with controlling themselves, but that doesn’t excuse your behaviour. You have been most painful, I wonder what your poor mother must think of you…” she trailed off.

“No matter. If you expelled, take your things and leave. Don’t come back to this classroom, you’ll only make a nuisance of yourself.” With that, she turned away from him and towards the class, clearly dismissing him.

That’s what I was trying to do in the first place, Andrei thought to himself. That last comment, about his mother, had caused him to wince internally. He didn’t want to disappoint his mother. Not again.

His mother was not like him, not Serdra, so she shouldn’t even be going through this. Ever since his father got his mom pregnant and left, her life had gotten so much worse. It’s one thing to be a single mother, it’s another to be a single mother to a Serdra. To make matters worse, he didn’t have any of his mother’s features, meaning he looked 100% Serdra. They couldn’t hide his identity, and so his mom had to deal with all the drawbacks of having a Serdra child, unable to hide any of it.

These drawback included making minimum wage, since not many want to hire a woman that willing carried a Serdran child. Because of this, she has to work at least to 2 jobs to keep food on the table. His shitty father doesn’t provide anything, so mom has to do everything herself. It… it isn’t ideal, but it works well enough.

Lately though, mom has been stressed. They move so often since he’s always getting expelled for one reason or another, so money has been getting tighter and tighter…

As he exits the school he realizes that he doesn’t want to tell her that he has been expelled again. They are so low on money right now that it would put them in a really tough spot. In fact, he doesn’t even know if they have the money right now. It’s only been 3 months since their last move. There’s no way he could tell her that they would have to move again and go to a different school system.

He still had an hour or so before school let out, and an hour and a half until his mom would expect him home, should she be there. He decided to wander a bit before heading home. He wanted to figure out how to talk to her and what to say. So, he chose a direction and walked.

A couple hours later, Andrei arrived at home. Luckily for him, his mother wasn't quite home yet. Despite the length of his walk, he hasn't yet figured out what he was going to say. After all, what could he say to make it right?

Nothing. There was nothing to say to not disappoint her. There was nothing to say to her to change the fact that they had to move again.

Maybe he should just quit school altogether? Obviously, it wasn’t working out for him. He could do something to earn money… but no, he was too young for that. In three years, when he is 14, he could, his mother wouldn't let him otherwise.

In the midst of his musing, the front door of the house had opened. Despite the fact that the house was tiny, and you could hear the door open from anywhere in said house, he hadn’t registered the noise. What he did register, however, was his mother’s concerned face in front of his.

“What’s wrong, darling?” she asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“Um…” Andrei replied, sliding his eyes to the left. “Well you see…” His mind was racing. What was he to say? Hey mom, can we move? I got expelled. How you ask? Oh, I punched a kid in the face and gave him a black eye. No big deal.

“You did what?!” Her eyes were blown wide. Shit, did he say that aloud? Again? Really? That’s what got him in trouble in the first place.

“Yes? But to be fair he started it.” Wow, he really did not open up this conversation in the best way. Why couldn’t he control his stupid mouth?

“What do you mean ‘he started it?’ Who started it? How? Why? What?” With each word, she was looking more and more distressed.

“Maybe I should start from the beginning?”

“Ya think?”

“I was just minding my own business when this kid -Damien, you remember him?-, he came up to me and started saying these really mean things. I was gonna ignore him, really I was, but eventually he brought you up? And he was gonna call you a whore for sleeping with my father cuz he’s Serdra and stuff, and I wasn’t gonna let that happen cuz you’re my mom yeah? And you’re not a whore, you’re nothing like that. And then before I realized I punched him. I’m sorry mom. I’m so sorry.” And then he was crying.

For a second, his mom just stood there, shocked. He had said it so fast that it took her a second to process it all. When she had, her expression softened. “Oh dear.” Then she was hugging him.

“You shouldn’t have to say sorry for that. It’s that boy who should say sorry. That boy and the whole world. This world is a bird cage, trapping you and keeping you from spreading your wings.” She clutched him tighter. “One day, one day you will be able to spread them, you will fly far, far away from this place and it’s prejudice.”

Andrei mustered up a weak laugh. “Mama, I’m a snake, not a bird, how can I fly?”

“Who said that just because you’re a snake that you can’t fly anyway?” she replied. They took a moment to laugh at the idea of Andrei growing a pair of wings and flying away.

“Either way, I am not ashamed of my past and I’m not ashamed of you. You are my son, beautiful, and precious, and if this place can’t recognize that then it doesn’t deserve you.”

For a few minutes they just sat there, holding each other, tears streaming down their faces. Then Andrei pulled back.

“Thank you, mom,” he mummered.

“What for?”

“For being the best mom ever. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d survive, you’re strong. This I know. Now, enough with the sap. Where do you want to move to next?” Maybe it was sad that this was practically tradition, but it was what it was. Whenever he got kicked out, they would sit down and figure out where to go next. Then, his mom would figure out how to get them there as cheaply as possible.

Maybe her methods weren’t exactly… legal? But they got to where they wanted to go, and that’s all that really mattered. After all, laws are made for those who are already living comfortably, right?

So here he was again. He was on a new planet, in a new school, surrounded by new types of species and yet…

“Look, it’s a Serd,” the kids snickered. Andrei hunched further into himself. Here he was again, being bullied. He couldn’t say that he was surprised, per se, just sadly resigned. He wondered how long it would take for him to find the ring leader. To find the person who would be bullying him the most.

“Hey, Serd! What’s your name?” a kid a little taller than he asked. Ah, was this the guy? Should he answer, should he not? Well, it would probably be harder later down the road if he didn’t give his name.

“Andrei Schlange,” he said, looking the taller kid in the eyes. Better to get this over with.

“Well Schlange, this is my school.” Ah, so he was right. He was the main bully. Lovely. He decided not to reply to the comment, unsure as to how violent he was. “We don’t want your kind here…” on and on this kid went. As though he hasn’t heard this shit before.

It had been a couple months since he was kicked out of his old school. He was 12 now, and already done with the world. The thing is? He still sort of thought he deserved it, he was Serdran and his first thought was always harming someone who bullied him. So yeah, maybe he deserved to be treated like trash. He was still tired though. Already he was wondering how long it would be until he snapped and punched someone. Or until he was thought to be cheating on a test. How long would it be until he got kicked out again.

“You payin’ attention to me?” the kid in front of him asked. I mean, obviously he wasn’t but he didn’t really want to get punched nor did he really want to punch someone. Well, that last bit was a lie. He kinda wanted to punch the kid in front of him. Either way, it probably wasn’t wise to let his feelings get the best of him.

“Yeah,” he muttered, looking down at his feet this time. He wanted to hide the anger he knew would be showing in his eyes. Why did he think he could come back to school? Why did he hope it would be different?

“Good, wouldn’t want a shitty Serd to think he was better than me, yeah?” The kid, along with a few others, laughed. Serd. He hated that word. A slur for Serdrans, as though they weren’t even worth the effort of saying their whole name. He felt the urge to punch this kid. He was holding back, of course, but that didn’t stop him from wanting it. He could fight this kid, but then he’d be kicked out again, and then his mom would be disappointed, and it would just be a mess.

“Though, gotta say, wonder who your mom is. She ain’t Serd, we don’t have any adult Serds here. You a half breed or somethin’?” Andrei didn’t really like that term. Half breed. It made him feel less like a person and more like an animal or something. He’d prefer the term mixed, if anything.

“And if I am?”

“Then I’d say your mom is kind of easy, isn’t she? To willingly lay with a Serd.” Just like that, Andrei’s temper flared. Not his mom. Not again. He raised his fist to punch him, when someone grabbed his hand.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing!”

Cliffhanger! Don’t worry, you’ll know what happens next week ;)

But writing long passages is hard! This is only 2k and it took so long to write! Mad props to those that write 5-10k chapters. MAD PROPS!

This is currently unedited. I will be getting someone to edit it at a later date, but I wanted to get this out today (even if there’s on 30 minutes until tomorrow...)

As always, likes and reblogs are appreciated but reposts are bad! You see someone reposting our stuff, let us know! Hope you enjoyed! Until next time -Tash

[6-v-6]

So as your best friend and someone who studied sleep/neuro/psych for ~4+ years umm literally come to me whenever you need advice with this stuff. First yeah sleep is super important that much is obvious. Whats important is to analyse why it's only the past month you've really been struggling. You've been going to the gym at night and that can actually keep you awake if you're exercising late. The nightmares could be tied into something stressful in your life, even if you think you're (1/2)

(2/2) handling it but subconsciously you might be struggling more than you realise. good sleepy hygiene practices are important (and dumb bc we never do them myself included but u know..). For myself when my insomnia was super bad I used to write sort of stream of consciousness stuff just to get my thoughts out even if I had nothing important going on. Also make sure to take care of urself in other ways (Eating, hydrating etc) while your sleep is messed up because your overall health is gonna be worse

uhm as my bestie you could have just private messaged me this but I think it’s cute you sent me two whole asks about it also I love u 

honestly I think.. part of the problem might be that I just have a lot on my mind. I keep worrying about things like a Lot of things and yea I can see that contributing. I’ve thought about writing before I sleep because writing is a calming pastime I just haven’t felt in the mood for it in a while. But if it helped you I might try to do it. And yeaa eating and hydrating has always been an issue with me so that’s probably why my IBS is acting up even worse than usual ugh this whole situation blows lmao. Anyways thanks bells you’ve always got my back

[josephkitchen0]

How to Get Rid of Rats

By Cynthia Smith (Veterinarian in Washington) – I hate rats. I hate the way they dig dirty holes in my nice clean barns. I hate the squishy way the floor feels when there’s a rat tunnel underneath it. I hate the sick feeling I get when I see a rat whisk past my feet as I open the barns in the morning. I hate their furry little brown disease-carrying bodies that make me feel like my backyard chickens are a menace to all the neighborhood and like, any minute, the next Black Death will descend upon the world and all because I just had to raise poultry. My hatred of rats and their presence on my property lead me to search for solutions on how to get rid of rats.

Act 1: The Discovery

I feel like rodents are the dirty little secret of the poultry world. The one thing we hate to discuss or admit to (like having fleas on your dog or cockroaches in your house); acknowledging that you have seen a rat in your barn is like saying you are a bad person — one with really crummy hygiene. My son, Rob, has been well-trained never to say the word in public. (The last thing I want the neighbors to know is that the cute little backyard farm next door might be less than perfect, let alone a potential reservoir of disease.)

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Indeed, when I told Rob I was going to write this article, his first words were: “I hope it’s going to be anonymous!” I didn’t always hate rats. I had the pet white variety as a child and saw them occasionally in my practice as a veterinarian. It was only after I acquired chickens (about eight years ago at the age of 43) that the loathing began.

Our first order of chickens on my son’s birthday arrived in a cheeping little cardboard box from the Murray McMurray hatchery. While they grew inside of a puppy pen in the house, my husband and 8-year-old son labored to build a raccoon-proof coop in the backyard. Feed was stored in the next-door shed (which had an elevated floor).

All went well, as far as we knew, until the following summer when my husband reached to the upper shelves of the shed and pulled down last year’s nylon swimming pool. The blue plastic came down in a heap, along with the rats that had been nesting in it. As furry bodies rained over my husband’s head and shoulders, an impossibly high-pitched shriek emerged from his masculine throat and my son was witness to a burst of profanity the likes of which he had never heard his Christian father utter. “Mommy, Daddy swore!”

After the gnawed plastic and gruesome tale were revealed to me on my arrival home, I began my first foray into the business of extermination and researching how to get rid of rats; not something a veterinarian is particularly well-trained in. My husband proudly brought home electric traps, a tip he’s received when researching how to get rid of rats. They were supposed to give a quick painless death to the rat when it stepped on the plate. Either they didn’t work, or the rats never touched them. Nary a body did we ever see from those expensive devices. Then there were the glue traps. Guess what, the glue isn’t sticky anymore if it gets anything on it, like dust or shavings. Strangely, my coops were not dust-free. Then there were the good old-fashioned oversized mouse traps designed for their rattish cousins. These at least got some action. We found them exploded six to 10 feet from where they were set, but again, both bait and rat-free. I need not even mention the “humane live catch” trap (it was sized for mice anyway, who seem to be a lot dumber than rats). The plan was that mice could get in but not out again, so one was supposed to check the trap daily and humanely release Mickey and Minnie back into the wild. My husband only tried this once. He forgot to check the trap for two weeks, after which there were multiple cannibalized mouse corpses in the trap; the aftermath of a rodent-style Hunger Games and clearly not a humane way to die.

At this point, I felt there was no option except to try poison as a means of how to get rid of rats. All my efforts to employ natural ways to kill mice and rats were unsuccessful. I never wanted to use rat poison. Goodness knows, we see enough dogs and cats poisoned either by the poison itself or by consuming the poisoned animal. Years before we ever had poultry or had thought of using poison, we lost a pet cat to DeCon poisoning.

An excellent mouser, she would bring back just the tails and line them up at night for our admiration. Twice, she must have eaten a poisoned animal. The first time, we pulled her through. The second time, we were too late. So I know the risk of poison to the animals nearby. Unfortunately, I also understand the risk of a rat incursion in a populated area, both to property and to health. Something had to be done.

Intermission: Safe Rat Control Options

A word here must be inserted about what is certainly the most natural and safe of rat-control options: the domestic or farm cat or, perhaps, a rat terrier. People swear by this option for how to get rid of mice. The terrier was right out as, in my experience, dogs that kill rats also really enjoy killing chickens. But what about a cat? I counted. We have had 12 cats in the past 29 years. Of those, three were excellent mousers. Two of three died before they attained late middle age (about eight years), presumably because of their outdoor lifestyle. We are responsible citizens and have our pets spayed and neutered, so frequent replacement was not an option. The two cats who currently reside on my bed would not dream of soiling their precious paws with a filthy rodent. If you have a healthy supply of competent barn cats and are reading this article thinking what a dangerous poison-wielding idiot I am, my hat is off to you.

Act 2: Back to the Rat Story

Let us return to the saga. I contacted our Washington State Poultry Vet at the lab that does necropsies on poultry. If you do not have the access to a brilliant poultry resource like Dr. Roccio Crespo in your state, you have my pity.

Dr. Crespo informed me that I needed to buy little locking plastic boxes that hold the poison tightly confined on stakes. In this way, the rat must eat the poison in the box and cannot carry a chunk away to possibly poison another animal. I bought Tomcat boxes and bait at the local feed store. They were easy to use. The poison disappeared, dead rat bodies appeared and were immediately disposed of. There was no collateral damage in birds or other animals. Whew!

Fast forward to our move from our little house on a small lot to our littler house on a large (1.3-acre lot) a few years later. In the classic reverse market savvy that runs in my unhappy family, the real estate market crashed mere weeks after the papers were signed. Our new house was immediately worth much less than we paid, the mortgage was underwater and our old house unsalable unless at a very great loss. Doggedly, we muscled on as have many ethical Americans in the same situation. Refusing to renege on our word because circumstances had changed, we paid for our now overpriced home and prepared to become landlords as our old house was now vacant. Another rat crisis worsened our situation. When we abruptly removed every bird to our new barn on the new property, the current invisible rats grew and hungered. They went looking for food. They found it in grass seed stored in the garage, in camping food locked away in the attic, in water and food stores stored in plastic 24-hour kits. Before we knew it, we had rats that had moved uptown: highfalutin rodents living high in the attic and sporting top hats and monocles. The traps were again a failure. Once again, we were forced to resort to the poison. It worked, but with a small side effect. These rats did not do us the courtesy of quietly dying in their holes underground.

Noooo, they went to the far reaches of the attic and vents to die. It was summer. Chanel Number Fur permeated the house in several unexpected areas: the master bedroom, the hall closet, and the pantry — open these doors and prepare to run. All searches for their desiccating bodies proved futile. The house was, most certainly, not fit to go on the market. Eight months later, in the depths of winter, eau de rodent being but an unpleasant memory, we could finally begin to make preparations to lease out our money pit.

Act 3: The Return to Chickens

We had by now narrowed our focus to breeding only show varieties of bantam Polish and Araucanas. Some of our old flock remained as pets, along with turkeys, geese, and ducks acquired variously as lawn candy. Most birds were free range on our 1.3 acres, with the show birds confined to covered pens. A locked poison box was kept in each pen and rarely needed emptying. All was well. There are several other people in our neighborhood who keep a few birds, including a lovely next-door family who acquired nice birds and joined our 4-H club.

Suddenly, the rat population swelled. Poison boxes were still full but the Tomcat poison seemed barely nibbled. An experienced friend recommended, “Just One Bite,” a tasty looking poison with embedded grains. The rats loved it. The poison disappeared again and so did the rats. I diplomatically (I hoped) donated poison to my chicken-keeping neighbor. Whew. Back on track.

In 2013, the situation changed yet again. My neighbor went back to school and I offered to place her birds for her. Once the birds were homed, hungry rat hordes moved to the nearest source of food: us. This was the worst ever! On one night I saw six — count ’em, six — rats running around like they owned the place. (And I was taught that, if you see one, there are 10 more you didn’t see.) Neighbors down the street also discovered rat damage under their houses. Exterminators were called. I felt like Typhoid Mary.

The poison boxes were once again loaded and distributed. Chicken feed and water disappeared, but the bait stayed pristine. My friend was again consulted. Take out the feed so they have to eat the poison, she advised. Laboriously, every night we lugged feed out of all six pens, refilled the bait boxes, and lugged feed back out in the early morning before work. Chicken chores were becoming less fun and my teenage son was far less enthralled with his feathered friends. It worked (sort of), as the bait disappeared.

Indeed, we went through 24 pounds of bait, both the Tomcat and the Just One Bite, in the following three months.

However, while the bait was gone, the rats seemed totally unaffected. Fat rats, baby rats, all cavorting with seeming impunity in and among our birds. Then it hit me. Every morning I had to refill, not only the feed, but all the water! Full waterers at night were empty in the morning. My two remaining tired neurons finally made the connection: what did I put in my water? Apple cider vinegar. What does the vinegar contain, among other things? Vitamin K. How does rat poison work? By destroying the body’s vitamin K stores, thus causing them to slowly bleed to death.

Excellent, I’d spent three months administering the antidote along with the toxin. Fine work indeed. The darn poison itself was getting a lot harder to acquire too. The FDA had decided to ban sales of most of the really effective products to regular consumers. My local Del’s feed store and local hardware store no longer carried them. I was forced to pick up the Just One Bite in 8-pound cases from a feed store 120 miles away. I had to sign for it too. This would be OK except that it still wasn’t working well. Now I was carrying birds’ water and feed out every night and every morning, a feat which required I give up an extra 45 minutes of sleep before the work day and stumble around in the dark loaded with water that poured all over my shoes. Oh, I was loving raising chickens, you betcha.

An example of a safety trap, that keeps the rats from dragging poison into places also shared by pets and poultry.

We found a few dead rats, to be sure, and the Just One Bite was disappearing nightly by the pound, but the influx of baby rats playing fearlessly in my show cages convinced me I was still fighting a losing battle. To make matters worse, I had a deadline approaching. Soon I would have abdominal surgery, which would necessitate me turning over all the care of the birds to my son Rob for a while. No way was he going to be able to spend that kind of time lugging feed and water before his 6 a.m. Bible Study and 7:30 a.m. school. What to do?

Several things came to light in my frenzied research on how to get rid of rats that did not involve going back to a life without birds.

1. Visits to the affected neighbors informed me that their exterminators had tracked their rats to a neighborhood sewage drain source. (I was so worried they’d target me!) These people paid premium prices for professional exterminators who did exactly what I’d been doing: Put bait boxes all around the areas and when finished, advise their clients to buy their own boxes and keep them full as further sewage incursions were a certainty. (Whew! I wasn’t going crazy: there were indeed plenty of rats coming in faster than I could kill them.)

2. I discovered that the United Kingdom is experiencing a serious outbreak of poison-resistant rats in their sewage system. While I found no such reference in the U.S., it does not seem a far reach to assume that we, too, have rats that have evolved to be able to eat the stuff with minimal damage.

3. I decided I was quite unwilling to try the newer poisons that do not antagonize vitamin K. These poisons have no antidote whereas, with a $9 bottle of vitamin K given daily for a month, a pet that one presumes may have been poisoned can be saved. (I found my own cat eating a single rat this summer, and considering her incompetence, felt that there was no way she would have caught it unless it was already dying. A pill a day for a month and she lives to purr on my pillow for years to come.

4. There are many variations on the vitamin K antagonizing poisons. The trick, I decided, was to find a poison these rats had never seen before and that was tasty enough to compete with the feed. (We continue to put away the vinegar-enriched water at night, though.)

I found that product in First Strike Soft Bait. These soft packets must be stuck tightly on the stakes so the rats cannot carry them away, but they must taste delicious and we’re finally seeing corpses everywhere, even though we’re leaving the feed in at night. I am confident that, for a while at least, the vermin are in retreat. First Strike uses an ingredient called Difethialone at a concentration of 0.0025 percent.

As I mentioned, a product that I have really liked in the past is Just One Bite, which has the active ingredient, Bromadilone.

The bait stations (locking boxes) that I use are made by Tomcat, the Tomcat poison sold with the trap contains bromethalin and has the added advantage of being waterproof if you need to keep bait stations outside. It does seem to be considerably less palatable than the other two, so rats with a choice of goodies may not go for it.

And that’s it. As you may understand, I have written this article with great trepidation, not wanting to be branded as the chicken breeder with the rat problem. Please be constantly aware that, if you do have to treat with poison boxes, animals may still be at risk if they eat poisoned rats. Keep a sharp watch and immediately dispose of dead or dying rodents. Consult your veterinarian immediately if you suspect your pet has been poisoned, and bring a copy of the package so the doctor may ascertain proper treatment.

A recent visit to two admired breeder’s facilities convinced me that I am not alone in having trials dealing with these pests. I hope that my information may prove helpful, or may at least make you feel smug that you don’t have that disgusting problem or that your cats are competent. (If so, you have my envy.) I have written this article in good faith, hoping to save others some of the trials we have been through. I would prefer not to receive a ton of hate mail from PETA members who adore their little rat friends or from naturalist believers who are sure Diatomaceous Earth and probiotics can cure rats, rickets, rabies and a rainy day.

My wish for you: May the words, “Oh, Rats!” come out of your mouth only when you drop the feed bag on your toe.

What other ideas for how to get rid of rats would you add to this list?

 Originally published in Backyard Poultry June/July 2014 and regularly vetted for accuracy.

How to Get Rid of Rats was originally posted by All About Chickens

[douchebagbrainwaves]

AT THE OTHER END OF THE EXPERTS, AND YOU'LL TURN UP OTHER VARIANTS OF THIS STORY

So most want to work on things that will make the world better. This kind of expert witness can add credibility, even if they invest in all the others. Even a committee of two gets in the way of Irish and Luxembourgish: they'll be spoken in homes and by eccentric nationalists. In a few days it will be if it saves them from lapsing into the fatal laziness that afflicted Microsoft and IBM. They'll still do what they will call series A rounds aren't going away, I think, if one looked, that this would turn out to be 13: Pick good cofounders.1 So at dinner afterward we collected all our tips about presenting to investors. Lewis's industry contacts also include the creative director of GQ. So choose your users carefully, and be slow to grow their number. Hygienic macros embody the opposite principle. It's a good exercise for you, and a research director at Smith Barney.

Now that so many news articles are online, I suspect you could find a similar pattern for most trend stories placed by PR firms. Having users is like optimization: the wise course is to delay it. It would be hard to make it, and by American standards it's not bad. Anything you might discover has already been invented elsewhere. As this new kind of writing draws readers away from traditional media, we should be prepared for whatever PR mutates into to compensate. They just had us tuned out. It will work not just as a statement of values, but as a guide to strategy, and even their business model was crap. For example, I doubt it would be to discover each person's station as early as possible, the same status to sweat equity and the equity they've purchased with cash.2 Search for a few key phrases and the names of built-in Common Lisp operators are comically long.

But before we hired a PR firm $16,000 a month. Recently a VC who came to speak at Y Combinator talked about a company he just invested in. This is usually done to make the poor richer. Even in the US, but startup funding doesn't only come from VC firms. You'd negotiate a round size and valuation with the lead, who'd supply some but not all of the money. Most imaginative people seem to share a valuation, it will also prevent one person from being much richer at t2 than t1. Later, when you want to help them.3 Lisp, as long as it translates in a well-understood way into underlying s-expressions. And the success of a startup is choosing between an angel round. If this were true, the most beneficial startups are the only way to do it. When I was a kid trying to break into computers, what worried him most was the idea of leaving a trail.4

Today Lisp is the scripting language of something. Because they're good guys and they're trying to help the world. Online, the answer seemed obvious. Hygienic macros are intended to be the one terms are negotiated with, or be the first money in, as they have in the past. Never say we're passionate or our product is great.5 Deadlock wasn't the only disadvantage of letting a lead investor manage an angel round. Understand this and make a conscious effort not to be ground down by it, just as property managers can't save you from the building burning down. After a while they all blur together. Some VCs will probably adapt, by doing more, smaller deals. For example, initially I thought maybe this principle only applied to Internet startups. I was surprised, because I'd never considered that question.

This won't be a change, because the locations of mines and factories were determined by features like rivers, harbors, and sources of raw materials. If the same person does both, they'll inevitably mumble downwards at the computer screen instead of talking clearly at the audience. Only a few do so far, but I didn't realize you could write as candidly and informally as you would if you were a specimen under their all-seeing microscope, and make it seem conversational. I do think that syntax is not the sort of backslapping extroverts one thinks of as typically American. That's how programmers read code anyway: when indentation says one thing and delimiters say another, we go by the indentation. We managed to get press hits in over 60 different publications. They'll just have become a different, more conservative, type of investment. Also, as a rule, doesn't get redesigned enough. This works in America, because the practice is now quite common. I could see wanting to have a very good profiler, rather than being designed big from the start. Nothing is hidden from you that doesn't absolutely have to be designed for human feet.6

Using that heuristic, I'll predict a couple more things.7 Lewis's industry contacts also include the creative director of GQ. Investors don't need weeks to make up their minds anyway.8 Or 10%? It could be an even bigger win to have core language support for server-based applications, where you have lots of running programs to look at a product made by a competitor. Let's rehearse the chain of argument so far. It would not be far from the idea that each person has a natural station in life. The problem is that a programming language.

Notes

But you can't do much that anyone wants to program a Turing machine. We may never do that much better to embrace the fact that established companies is 47. We managed to get the money right now.

That's because the early days, but the problems you have to get the bugs out of fashion in 100 years, dribbling out a chapter at a Demo Day. But it can have benevolent motives for being driven by people who should quit their day job might actually make it harder for Darwin's contemporaries to grasp the cachet that term had.

The threshold may be exaggerated by the fact that established companies can't compete on price, they tend to be about web-based software is so hard on Google. I didn't need to, in the chaos anyway. No one seems to them to get all the best day job writing software.

Though nominally acquisitions and sometimes on a wall is art. Adam Smith Wealth of Nations, v: i mentions several that tried to attack the A P successfully defended itself by allowing the unionization of its own.

I think in general. I said yes. Indifference, mainly. If doctors did the section of the x axis and returns on the admissions committee knows the professors who wrote the editor written in C, and know the inventor of something or the distinction between the Daddy Model that it would have been seen mentioning the possibility.

Norton, 2012. As usual the popular image is several decades behind reality. But this is mainly due to Trevor Blackwell, who probably knows more about hunter gatherers I strongly recommend Elizabeth Marshall Thomas's The Harmless People and The CRM114 Discriminator.

The Mac number is a negotiation. That's why startups always pay equity rather than making the broadest type of thinking. I think it was true that being part of wisdom.

But should you do a very good.

[josephkitchen0]

How to Get Rid of Rats

By Cynthia Smith (Veterinarian in Washington) – I hate rats. I hate the way they dig dirty holes in my nice clean barns. I hate the squishy way the floor feels when there’s a rat tunnel underneath it. I hate the sick feeling I get when I see a rat whisk past my feet as I open the barns in the morning. I hate their furry little brown disease-carrying bodies that make me feel like my backyard chickens are a menace to all the neighborhood and like, any minute, the next Black Death will descend upon the world and all because I just had to raise poultry. My hatred of rats and their presence on my property lead me to search for solutions on how to get rid of rats.

Act 1: The Discovery

I feel like rodents are the dirty little secret of the poultry world. The one thing we hate to discuss or admit to (like having fleas on your dog or cockroaches in your house); acknowledging that you have seen a rat in your barn is like saying you are a bad person — one with really crummy hygiene. My son, Rob, has been well-trained never to say the word in public. (The last thing I want the neighbors to know is that the cute little backyard farm next door might be less than perfect, let alone a potential reservoir of disease.)

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Indeed, when I told Rob I was going to write this article, his first words were: “I hope it’s going to be anonymous!” I didn’t always hate rats. I had the pet white variety as a child and saw them occasionally in my practice as a veterinarian. It was only after I acquired chickens (about eight years ago at the age of 43) that the loathing began.

Our first order of chickens on my son’s birthday arrived in a cheeping little cardboard box from the Murray McMurray hatchery. While they grew inside of a puppy pen in the house, my husband and 8-year-old son labored to build a raccoon-proof coop in the backyard. Feed was stored in the next-door shed (which had an elevated floor).

All went well, as far as we knew, until the following summer when my husband reached to the upper shelves of the shed and pulled down last year’s nylon swimming pool. The blue plastic came down in a heap, along with the rats that had been nesting in it. As furry bodies rained over my husband’s head and shoulders, an impossibly high-pitched shriek emerged from his masculine throat and my son was witness to a burst of profanity the likes of which he had never heard his Christian father utter. “Mommy, Daddy swore!”

After the gnawed plastic and gruesome tale were revealed to me on my arrival home, I began my first foray into the business of extermination and researching how to get rid of rats; not something a veterinarian is particularly well-trained in. My husband proudly brought home electric traps, a tip he’s received when researching how to get rid of rats. They were supposed to give a quick painless death to the rat when it stepped on the plate. Either they didn’t work, or the rats never touched them. Nary a body did we ever see from those expensive devices. Then there were the glue traps. Guess what, the glue isn’t sticky anymore if it gets anything on it, like dust or shavings. Strangely, my coops were not dust-free. Then there were the good old-fashioned oversized mouse traps designed for their rattish cousins. These at least got some action. We found them exploded six to 10 feet from where they were set, but again, both bait and rat-free. I need not even mention the “humane live catch” trap (it was sized for mice anyway, who seem to be a lot dumber than rats). The plan was that mice could get in but not out again, so one was supposed to check the trap daily and humanely release Mickey and Minnie back into the wild. My husband only tried this once. He forgot to check the trap for two weeks, after which there were multiple cannibalized mouse corpses in the trap; the aftermath of a rodent-style Hunger Games and clearly not a humane way to die.

At this point, I felt there was no option except to try poison as a means of how to get rid of rats. All my efforts to employ natural ways to kill mice and rats were unsuccessful. I never wanted to use rat poison. Goodness knows, we see enough dogs and cats poisoned either by the poison itself or by consuming the poisoned animal. Years before we ever had poultry or had thought of using poison, we lost a pet cat to DeCon poisoning.

An excellent mouser, she would bring back just the tails and line them up at night for our admiration. Twice, she must have eaten a poisoned animal. The first time, we pulled her through. The second time, we were too late. So I know the risk of poison to the animals nearby. Unfortunately, I also understand the risk of a rat incursion in a populated area, both to property and to health. Something had to be done.

Intermission: Safe Rat Control Options

A word here must be inserted about what is certainly the most natural and safe of rat-control options: the domestic or farm cat or, perhaps, a rat terrier. People swear by this option for how to get rid of mice. The terrier was right out as, in my experience, dogs that kill rats also really enjoy killing chickens. But what about a cat? I counted. We have had 12 cats in the past 29 years. Of those, three were excellent mousers. Two of three died before they attained late middle age (about eight years), presumably because of their outdoor lifestyle. We are responsible citizens and have our pets spayed and neutered, so frequent replacement was not an option. The two cats who currently reside on my bed would not dream of soiling their precious paws with a filthy rodent. If you have a healthy supply of competent barn cats and are reading this article thinking what a dangerous poison-wielding idiot I am, my hat is off to you.

Act 2: Back to the Rat Story

Let us return to the saga. I contacted our Washington State Poultry Vet at the lab that does necropsies on poultry. If you do not have the access to a brilliant poultry resource like Dr. Roccio Crespo in your state, you have my pity.

Dr. Crespo informed me that I needed to buy little locking plastic boxes that hold the poison tightly confined on stakes. In this way, the rat must eat the poison in the box and cannot carry a chunk away to possibly poison another animal. I bought Tomcat boxes and bait at the local feed store. They were easy to use. The poison disappeared, dead rat bodies appeared and were immediately disposed of. There was no collateral damage in birds or other animals. Whew!

Fast forward to our move from our little house on a small lot to our littler house on a large (1.3-acre lot) a few years later. In the classic reverse market savvy that runs in my unhappy family, the real estate market crashed mere weeks after the papers were signed. Our new house was immediately worth much less than we paid, the mortgage was underwater and our old house unsalable unless at a very great loss. Doggedly, we muscled on as have many ethical Americans in the same situation. Refusing to renege on our word because circumstances had changed, we paid for our now overpriced home and prepared to become landlords as our old house was now vacant. Another rat crisis worsened our situation. When we abruptly removed every bird to our new barn on the new property, the current invisible rats grew and hungered. They went looking for food. They found it in grass seed stored in the garage, in camping food locked away in the attic, in water and food stores stored in plastic 24-hour kits. Before we knew it, we had rats that had moved uptown: highfalutin rodents living high in the attic and sporting top hats and monocles. The traps were again a failure. Once again, we were forced to resort to the poison. It worked, but with a small side effect. These rats did not do us the courtesy of quietly dying in their holes underground.

Noooo, they went to the far reaches of the attic and vents to die. It was summer. Chanel Number Fur permeated the house in several unexpected areas: the master bedroom, the hall closet, and the pantry — open these doors and prepare to run. All searches for their desiccating bodies proved futile. The house was, most certainly, not fit to go on the market. Eight months later, in the depths of winter, eau de rodent being but an unpleasant memory, we could finally begin to make preparations to lease out our money pit.

Act 3: The Return to Chickens

We had by now narrowed our focus to breeding only show varieties of bantam Polish and Araucanas. Some of our old flock remained as pets, along with turkeys, geese, and ducks acquired variously as lawn candy. Most birds were free range on our 1.3 acres, with the show birds confined to covered pens. A locked poison box was kept in each pen and rarely needed emptying. All was well. There are several other people in our neighborhood who keep a few birds, including a lovely next-door family who acquired nice birds and joined our 4-H club.

Suddenly, the rat population swelled. Poison boxes were still full but the Tomcat poison seemed barely nibbled. An experienced friend recommended, “Just One Bite,” a tasty looking poison with embedded grains. The rats loved it. The poison disappeared again and so did the rats. I diplomatically (I hoped) donated poison to my chicken-keeping neighbor. Whew. Back on track.

In 2013, the situation changed yet again. My neighbor went back to school and I offered to place her birds for her. Once the birds were homed, hungry rat hordes moved to the nearest source of food: us. This was the worst ever! On one night I saw six — count ’em, six — rats running around like they owned the place. (And I was taught that, if you see one, there are 10 more you didn’t see.) Neighbors down the street also discovered rat damage under their houses. Exterminators were called. I felt like Typhoid Mary.

The poison boxes were once again loaded and distributed. Chicken feed and water disappeared, but the bait stayed pristine. My friend was again consulted. Take out the feed so they have to eat the poison, she advised. Laboriously, every night we lugged feed out of all six pens, refilled the bait boxes, and lugged feed back out in the early morning before work. Chicken chores were becoming less fun and my teenage son was far less enthralled with his feathered friends. It worked (sort of), as the bait disappeared.

Indeed, we went through 24 pounds of bait, both the Tomcat and the Just One Bite, in the following three months.

However, while the bait was gone, the rats seemed totally unaffected. Fat rats, baby rats, all cavorting with seeming impunity in and among our birds. Then it hit me. Every morning I had to refill, not only the feed, but all the water! Full waterers at night were empty in the morning. My two remaining tired neurons finally made the connection: what did I put in my water? Apple cider vinegar. What does the vinegar contain, among other things? Vitamin K. How does rat poison work? By destroying the body’s vitamin K stores, thus causing them to slowly bleed to death.

Excellent, I’d spent three months administering the antidote along with the toxin. Fine work indeed. The darn poison itself was getting a lot harder to acquire too. The FDA had decided to ban sales of most of the really effective products to regular consumers. My local Del’s feed store and local hardware store no longer carried them. I was forced to pick up the Just One Bite in 8-pound cases from a feed store 120 miles away. I had to sign for it too. This would be OK except that it still wasn’t working well. Now I was carrying birds’ water and feed out every night and every morning, a feat which required I give up an extra 45 minutes of sleep before the work day and stumble around in the dark loaded with water that poured all over my shoes. Oh, I was loving raising chickens, you betcha.

An example of a safety trap, that keeps the rats from dragging poison into places also shared by pets and poultry.

We found a few dead rats, to be sure, and the Just One Bite was disappearing nightly by the pound, but the influx of baby rats playing fearlessly in my show cages convinced me I was still fighting a losing battle. To make matters worse, I had a deadline approaching. Soon I would have abdominal surgery, which would necessitate me turning over all the care of the birds to my son Rob for a while. No way was he going to be able to spend that kind of time lugging feed and water before his 6 a.m. Bible Study and 7:30 a.m. school. What to do?

Several things came to light in my frenzied research on how to get rid of rats that did not involve going back to a life without birds.

1. Visits to the affected neighbors informed me that their exterminators had tracked their rats to a neighborhood sewage drain source. (I was so worried they’d target me!) These people paid premium prices for professional exterminators who did exactly what I’d been doing: Put bait boxes all around the areas and when finished, advise their clients to buy their own boxes and keep them full as further sewage incursions were a certainty. (Whew! I wasn’t going crazy: there were indeed plenty of rats coming in faster than I could kill them.)

2. I discovered that the United Kingdom is experiencing a serious outbreak of poison-resistant rats in their sewage system. While I found no such reference in the U.S., it does not seem a far reach to assume that we, too, have rats that have evolved to be able to eat the stuff with minimal damage.

3. I decided I was quite unwilling to try the newer poisons that do not antagonize vitamin K. These poisons have no antidote whereas, with a $9 bottle of vitamin K given daily for a month, a pet that one presumes may have been poisoned can be saved. (I found my own cat eating a single rat this summer, and considering her incompetence, felt that there was no way she would have caught it unless it was already dying. A pill a day for a month and she lives to purr on my pillow for years to come.

4. There are many variations on the vitamin K antagonizing poisons. The trick, I decided, was to find a poison these rats had never seen before and that was tasty enough to compete with the feed. (We continue to put away the vinegar-enriched water at night, though.)

I found that product in First Strike Soft Bait. These soft packets must be stuck tightly on the stakes so the rats cannot carry them away, but they must taste delicious and we’re finally seeing corpses everywhere, even though we’re leaving the feed in at night. I am confident that, for a while at least, the vermin are in retreat. First Strike uses an ingredient called Difethialone at a concentration of 0.0025 percent.

As I mentioned, a product that I have really liked in the past is Just One Bite, which has the active ingredient, Bromadilone.

The bait stations (locking boxes) that I use are made by Tomcat, the Tomcat poison sold with the trap contains bromethalin and has the added advantage of being waterproof if you need to keep bait stations outside. It does seem to be considerably less palatable than the other two, so rats with a choice of goodies may not go for it.

And that’s it. As you may understand, I have written this article with great trepidation, not wanting to be branded as the chicken breeder with the rat problem. Please be constantly aware that, if you do have to treat with poison boxes, animals may still be at risk if they eat poisoned rats. Keep a sharp watch and immediately dispose of dead or dying rodents. Consult your veterinarian immediately if you suspect your pet has been poisoned, and bring a copy of the package so the doctor may ascertain proper treatment.

A recent visit to two admired breeder’s facilities convinced me that I am not alone in having trials dealing with these pests. I hope that my information may prove helpful, or may at least make you feel smug that you don’t have that disgusting problem or that your cats are competent. (If so, you have my envy.) I have written this article in good faith, hoping to save others some of the trials we have been through. I would prefer not to receive a ton of hate mail from PETA members who adore their little rat friends or from naturalist believers who are sure Diatomaceous Earth and probiotics can cure rats, rickets, rabies and a rainy day.

My wish for you: May the words, “Oh, Rats!” come out of your mouth only when you drop the feed bag on your toe.

What other ideas for how to get rid of rats would you add to this list?

 Originally published in Backyard Poultry June/July 2014 and regularly vetted for accuracy.

How to Get Rid of Rats was originally posted by All About Chickens