Fun fact about covid and cilantro. After covid cilantro stopped tasting like soap. Now I like it. I wonder what that means

you can enjoy more tacos clearly

Apologies, reasons, c-c-cancer?!?, future plans, etc.

HELLO FRIENDS, it's Mel. It's been a very long time since I've posted here, and I feel I owe all you lovely folks who supported me in years past an explanation (whether or not you even remember me because it has been years now) SO, let me tell you what's been going on (under the cut):

Back in 2017, my mental health hit an all-time low that resulted a suicide attempt and subsequent hospitalization. Thankfully, my time in the hospital set me on a path that led me to receiving the care and medication I needed! I started on a mood stabilizer that truly changed my life around. . .

But, because my period of positive self-growth coincided with staying offline and not drawing as frequently as I used to, a misguided part of my brain began associating these things with that awful mental state that almost killed me. I never, ever wanted to feel that awful again, so I started to shy away from sharing and making art until avoiding it completely.

Furthermore, many of my pieces had been fueled by pure mental anguish and, once that pain was alleviated by the proper medication, I found myself struggling to find the motivation to create anything. . . My mind was so much clearer and I could come up with concepts for stories and characters better than ever, but actually getting these ideas down on paper became difficult. For most of my life, I had overrelied on frantic emotions and the idea that my life was not worth anything beyond what I created whenever I made art.

Now that I've realized that yes, my life is valuable and yes, I want to live it, my old approach to art was rendered defunct. I became distracted by new hobbies, since I was able to actually Enjoy Things properly for the first time in my adult life. . . And also because I was avoiding art, which had become a source of frustration and embarrassment for me. I felt like I was a different person than I was before, and the old me was a mess but DAMN they could draw.

I believe it's possible for me to rekindle my passion for creating stuff and discover a reason to draw that isn't unhealthy! But it will require a LOT of focus and energy from me, involving a lot of aggravation and disappointment because FUN FACT when you don't draw for months at a time, you get rusty as hell.

Thus far, I haven't been able to manage the sustained effort required to remember how to draw because, despite being far more mentally stable nowadays, the the last six years have been very. . . Unstable. . . I've lost beloved pets and family members, had to support both parents with major surgeries on several occasions, deal with multiple drawn out court cases (one involving a police officer with a vendetta against my brother trying to get him put in jail, LONG STORY. . .), keep my house from falling apart without having nearly enough money to properly fix the staggering amount of things wrong with it, the persistent cold (and sometimes very hot) war between my immediate family members, and so on. . . My minds been so preoccupied with a constant stream of disasters in my household that it's been VERY EASY to justify a continuing avoidance of art.

I was hoping this year would be the one where I'd get back on track, but instead it turned out to be the year where the old track violently explodes and now I have to build a WHOLE NEW TRACK. So, for now, I have to focus on preventing the derailed train that is my life from jettisoning off a cliff.

Back in December 2022, I discovered a lump in one of my breasts. Considering my age and the fact that it was actually causing me discomfort, I figured it was a benign cyst. Got a mammogram and a biopsy to make sure! IT WAS NOT A CYST. I was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer, which tends to be the type of breast cancer that folks under 40 get. It's often connected to genetics, but I tested negative for all relevant gene mutations and no one else in my family has even had breast cancer. IT FELT LIKE A VERY SOAP OPERA-ESQUE TURN OF EVENTS AFTER EVERYTHING ELSE THAT'S HAPPENED, not very realistic plot progression on Life's part, 0/5 stars.

Triple negative is unfortunately one of the most aggressive types of breast cancer and, since the "triple negative" refers to the tumors lack of hormone receptors and the HER2 protein, it does not respond to most targeted breast cancer treatments. But because triple negative tumors are nasty, fast-growing little fuckers, Classic™ chemotherapy works wonders on 'em!

Thankfully, despite all the doctors suspecting otherwise, my nearest lymph node tested negative! Makes a huge difference in treatment, likelihood of recurrence and metastasis, and my chance of surviving this ordeal. The amount of chemo I have had to endure has sucked hardcore and will continue to suck. I finished 12 weekly infusions at the end of May, and I started the last 4 bi-weekly infusions in June. The last four doses include a very friendly, fun-loving drug nicknamed "the red devil". :’)

The silver lining of this whole mess is that I FINALLY GET THESE TITS TAKEN OFF AND I DON'T EVEN HAVE TO PAY OUT OF POCKET. . . As you may or may not know, I'm nonbinary. I've never had any desire for HRT, but god, GOD, my boobs have given me hardcore dysphoria since puberty willed them into existence. I'm not very comfortable talking about my identity with family and acquaintances irl, so the fact that I don't have to explain myself to nosy relatives now is a relief. WOULD HAVE DEFINITELY PREFERRED HAVING SOME AWKWARD CONVERSATIONS INSTEAD OF FUCKING CANCER, but at least I get some kind of reward at the end of all this.

As someone that's been (physically lol) healthy their whole life, this has been a difficult journey. And, this is wicked cheesy, but the amount of strength I've been able to scrounge up? SHOCKING. I'm proud of how I've managed to grow as a person since 2017. Back then, I could've never pulled this shit off. 2023 MEL IS THE MOST POWERFUL MEL YET, BUT. . . THIS MEL NEEDS TO CHANNEL THEIR NEWFOUND TEMPERANCE INTO THEIR ART AFTER GETTING THROUGH THIS. . .

I actually had this fairytale idea that I'd draw during my chemo sessions and ~rediscover my passion~. . . But I qualified for a cooling cap program (helps with the hair loss, trying to retain as many follicles as I can cuz they play the lead role in my physical presence ok!!!) and the headache you get from encasing your skull with ice is not exactly conducive to productivity.

SO, for now, I need to focus on beating the shit out of cancer and recovering from the treatment beating the shit out of me. But because this experience has made me hyper aware of the fact that we do not get an infinite amount of years to do all the things that we want to do in life, I WILL RETURN. . . Because I have stories to tell! With shitty characters that have shittier lives! I didn't devote 30% of my grey matter to this stuff just to take it with me to the grave, man!!!

ALSO, A REMINDER: if you ever feel like there's something off with yourself, health-wise, do not hesitate to get yourself checked out by a doctor. Whether it's a tiny lump, a persistent dull pain, or anything else. . . Find out what, exactly, it is. I caught this cancer right in time! At this stage, the survival rate for triple negative breast cancer is a little over 90%. Had I waited to get checked out, had I given it enough time to matastize to a distant part of my body. . . My chances of surviving would've dipped to about 12%. That period where I was waiting on tests to confirm whether the cancer had gone anyplace else was absolutely terrifying. SO PLEASE, DON'T FUCK AROUND WITH YOUR HEALTH (OR YOU MIGHT FIND OUT).

It's that time again for the summary of art! 2022 is on its way out and it was certainly a year...

This was the year of the water tiger in the Chinese Zodiac. I enjoy using Zodiac things as prompts AND my birth year was of the tiger, so that is January's image. I used the lasso tool for a lineless look, it was fun.

February's image is a bunch of air type raptors of a species I have been thinking of for a while. I was trying to flesh out what markings they would have and what kinds of color morphs might exist. (front to back: rare (sunset), common (blue-jay), melanistic (dark), leucistic (light), and albino) Of course they are not finished (I guess headworlds are never really finished) but I would like to someday update my websites bestiary with all the characters and species I've created and these would be one of the featured ones.

March's image is for an Ovipets challenge that I won! It is a Catus with butterfly wings looking at butterflies in a field of clover.

In April I made a bunch of shuffle-style icons and little sprites for my characters for things like their toyhouse pages or my website... so basically a bunch a stuff that won't get posted by itself.

For May here is a sketch of Fulvina from Spectrobes (the thing my Fulvina is named after! I had to draw it eventually, but) I didn't finish it at the time because I was having trouble with the lines, though I do plan on finishing it. Spectrobes as a whole could use some more love!

June's image is Amdy as a Unicorn, as I was seeing Junicorn challenges but didn't want to draw something every single day. I also chose this because well, why do I have so many so-called shapeshifters yet I only draw them in one form? I should show what else they can do!

July is ArtFight month and this time around I found some very cool characters to draw including a dragon named Colors! This was very fun to draw.

August I created a character called Daemon, seen here. Haven't really fleshed him out much though XD.

September Flight Rising released a gene called Soap that makes the dragon extra shiny, and I knew I had to draw it. What better than a vaporwave dragon? Flight Rising has released a LOT of stuff this year now that I think about it!

For October, a WIP of Alban... didn't finish much this month. I wanted to draw some Halloween images and make a bat-sona but that didn't happen in time. Somewhat related, this is the third year in a row I started to feel depressed beginning in October and into the winter, DESPITE loving Halloween and colder weather, so I'm wondering if that's a sign of seasonal depression or something? Yeah.

November's image is more Ovipets, this time dogs (Canis and Lupus) playing in fallen leaves. Used lots of different CSP brushes in this one. (For the single purchase version, of course... as if I'd deal with a monthly subscription for an art program... I don't know who thought THAT was a good decision)

December I finished this piece of Cygnet. I was going to try to draw more for December, but the sheer cold of this country wide snowstorm(!) seems to have put me in hibernation mode, so I'm gonna go ahead and finish with this.

Now's also a good time to say that I still don't mess with ΝFТ's or АI art, (I don't consider either of these things to be “art” and I don't have the energy to argue about it) so I've been experimenting with new watermarks to try and combat that in a subtle way... still watching Twitter catch fire. Still wearing a mask (end date: undefined). Still love playing Legends Arceus... STILL too shy to socialize!! Come on, that's gonna end up being my new year's resolution for like, every year! Gosh XD But I must continue to try... I must..!

As always, thank you for coming by and reading. :3

I really hope your pain lessens soon. What you’re going through is very difficult and you have every right to cry, feel angry, and resent the world. Soon this period of feelings will simmer away like a dying flame. It’ll take strength to embrace the world and all of its dark sides, but from what I can tell you’re a very strong person who’s more than capable of it. You are a person with many faucets and great creative energy. I truly appreciate everything you bring to this world, your dedication to art inspires me. Please stay safe<3

Oh gosh and here i thought I was done crying for the night ;u; I feel really shitty for uh well Having A Public Episode, kinda thought i was over having public mental crises on tumblr but, I guess, I dunno how to phrase this without sounding conceited, 'I guess most of you can tell I'm going through a lot of shit right now and hopefully will be mostly okay with the fact I brought up an extremely upsetting subject' but also I just. Feel really bad for making anyone really worried. I wonder if I should delete the posts and asks but also I feel like the conversation around it is important? Does thst make sense. I'm way too obsessed with how you guys probably see me after this, honestly, becuase it isn't like this is the first time I've needed some sort of help. I still feel bad for needing money when I was homeless. People gave money for Allister to get his surgery. And I internalize a lot of guilt whenever I need help and I guess that's part of the trauma i need to work through, somehow.

Anyways it also makes me really happy for you to bring to bring up like my creative hobbies and stuff too. I've been meaning to get back into my writing but I've also been wanting to pick up like, craft skills? Like my work was selling this little activity kits and I bought one for soap making and one for embroidering because I thought they would be fun to learn. And that's kind of something I feel like I should be trying to be pursuing more in my free time is how much I like to make art and create thing and I've kind of. Fallen into a hole a little bit. And I'm honestly starting to wonder if its because I'm forming a really horrible relationship with weed. I basically smoke before any pleasurable activity so I enjoy it more and sometimes I just sit and get so fucked up I wind up getting distracted and doing something else or I like, have to sleep, or, I spend too much time and have to go to work the next day or bed or whatever. And sometimes I say "oh ill smoke or drink before I write so im more inspired and like, yeah, it can help, but its gotten to the point where I refuse to try without and that's obviously. Not normal. I obviously inherited my father's addiction genes 💀💀💀

Wait i somehow circled back to being negative! Key points are im trying to do more things i enjoy even though I've been doing not so great mentally and I do enjoy creating things and sharing things and I hope to do some of that more in the future. Maybe I'll buy some paints and some small canvasses. I liked to paint when I was in the hospital because I didn't own any paints or materials to do so at home so it was fun to experiment and for some reason its like, a fond experience for me despite rhe fact I was in the big house

Oh god did I ever show you the time I like. Deadass painted Prospit and. What was rhe blue place. Either way that fucking dates me so hard. My cringe paintings from my fail childhood 🤣

Kale’in Me Softly

➜ Words: 17.1k

➜ Genres: 90% Fluff, 9.5% Angst, 0.5% Smut, Farm!AU

➜ Summary: After your grandfather's passing, you decide to take over his farm and plant the trendiest vegetable: kale. It's a struggle to be in the countryside when you've always been a city girl. But there's someone less than sympathetic — a grumpy farmer across the acres who's constantly trying to pick a fight with you.

➜ Warning: Strongly implied smut

cr.

Home — you left it all behind for this.    The tractor chugs and wheezes. Its wheels roll over the craggy and unpaved road, making you feel every bump and pebble through constant jolts and bounces. The sweltering heat of the scorching sun was already making you break into a sweat and you sigh, listening to the buzzing of cicadas and the sputtering engine.   But otherwise, it was quiet. More than what you were used to. There isn’t any traffic, honking, construction or the noise of motorcycle engines or sirens of ambulances. There’s just the rustle of leaves and the swaying of grass strands.   “I can’t believe Old Man Seok had such a pretty granddaughter.”    A laugh bubbles out of you. “It’s all in the genes. Did you know my grandfather?”   “Everyone knew Old Man Seok. Everyone knows everyone here. But it sure helps that our farms are next door to each other. Just down yonder.” The middle-aged farmer grips the steering wheel. A good-natured aura in spite of his intimidating disposition, he feels like a strict but caring father figure. “He was very kind even to the end of his life. Offered my family a lot of jam throughout the years. A good man through and through. My condolences.”   Your smile softens. “Thank you.”   “I gotta say, it’s nice to have a new face around these neck of the woods. Doesn’t happen often.” The corner of the man’s mouth pulls and the wrinkles by his eyes crease. “You should come meet my son sometime.”   “I wouldn’t mind.” The tractor pulls up to the worn house you’ve seen in your mother’s childhood pictures. “I always love making new friends.”   You hop off the tractor the moment it comes to a stop and the man wishes you luck before you thank him again and he’s on his merry way.   With only one packed suitcase in hand, you walk up to the house and push your Gucci sunglasses to the top of your head to get a better look. The fence, door and roof are made with a cherry wood that compliments the forest green walls. The patio, on the other hand, is out of oak that matches the rocking chair in the corner. There’s white trim lining the rectangular windows, giving you a peek at the purple, paisley curtains inside.   The house looks tattered through time, but cozy.   “You’re leaving?!” — “Do you really think this is a good idea, Y/N?” — “Do you even know what you’re going to do there?”   The voices of the friends you left behind echo in the recesses of your mind while you fiddle with the hem of your dress in the shade of classical blue — 2020’s pantone colour and a fantastic fashion statement. It’s not farm-appropriate, but better than most of the things in your closet.   You went shopping for the last time before you packed your one pink suitcase, but you’re starting to realize those tight, denim overalls might not work like they do in the movies.   “You think you can run a farm?!” — “I didn’t raise you so you could go back to the countryside!” — “You don’t even know what you’re doing, Y/N! Grow up already and stop being ridiculous.”   An exhale squeezes out of you as you dispel away your family’s discouragement and you grip your grandfather’s letter as you finally muster the courage to approach the house.   When your grandfather passed away, you inherited ten thousand dollars and his five acre farm. It’s small. Nothing worthy of bragging about and one of the hundred of reasons everyone thought you would sell it. They even urged you to, so they could get a split of the money. But they never thought you would refuse. That you would leave everything behind and come all the way here.   It’s a mess.   Thick layers of dust coat the antique furniture and peering out from the kitchen window, the field is littered in leaves and twigs, wooden planks and debris. A sense of guilt overwhelms you.    You can’t believe your family let it become this way.    You set down your belongings and almost immediately, you begin to look around. Pacing the backyard, the field, the barn, trying to figure out what is what. And it’s not long before a dark-haired man with doe eyes and a permanent dear-in-headlights expression finds you.   He nearly startles you to death with his timid greeting. “H-Hi...”    “Holy shit!” You press your hand to your chest, spinning around and he boyishly grins. “You scared me!”   “S-Sorry…my bad...” Boots, jeans and a white shirt, he looks like a newly graduated high school student who stumbled into the wrong place. “Are you Y/N?”   “That’s me.” You wonder if he’s here to kill you. The farm setting was the perfect location after all and serial killers these days have the potential of looking as cute as he does. “You’re...?”   “I’m Jungkook. I used to work with Old Man Seok. My mom told me you’d be comin’ today and that I should show you around, so….” He scratches the back of his neck, oddly endearing for how awkward he is.    You let him guide you despite having already gotten the chance to peek at almost everything — a detail you leave out to spare him from being disheartened. But with Jungkook here, he has the strength to widen the doors of the old shed out back and you get a better look at the storage and old equipment.   “God.” You cough and bat your hand from the dust piles arising. “It’s so dirty.”   “Yeah. The tractor needs a bit of fixin’ up which I can help you with, if you need.”   It’s clear that towards the end of your grandfather’s life, he was too weak to properly take care of his property. You can tell by the way the field is in tatters, all his crops long dead and his machinery is in desperate need of repair. But as you gander at the space, you discover that there’s everything you need right here. Shovels. Wheelbarrows. Sickles and spades.   “Thank you. I would appreciate that.”   Jungkook nods, wearing a small smile. “Your grandpa used to help me out a lot, so it’s the least I can do. If you ever need any help, I’m down a few acres West by the market. Just give a holler.”   Your cheeks warm, realizing he’s not as young as he appears to be. “I will.”   After a while longer, Jungkook leaves you to get settled down and you bid him farewell. You know it’s going to take a bit of time for you to get used to this change, but with a sigh, you try your best to familiarize yourself with the land and surrounding climate.   //   Back in LA, you were a fashion design marketer.   Originally, you set out to fulfill your childhood dream of being a top designer for a big brand like Chanel or Dior, but along the way, you ended up in the marketing sector. It wasn’t as bad as what people thought. A kind of niche you actually quite enjoyed and while you might've left it all behind for the farm life, you know the first step to starting anything is doing market research.   So at nine in the morning sharp, you enter the farmers’ market.   Open every Sunday, there’s a certain bustle and liveliness in the atmosphere. People from surrounding communities and even far away cities have come to get their fresh produce and dairy products. The market place is held in an open building with doors and massive garages wide open, practically held outdoors itself, and as you walk along the stands, you notice goat milk to beeswax lip balm being sold. There’s everything someone could ask for, bath salts and herbal soaps, baked goods and handmade aprons and quilts. You didn’t know farmers’ markets had so much to offer.   “Would you like to try some raspberry jam, darlin’?” A plump lady offers you a spatula.    “Sure. Thank you.” The sweet taste ends up bursting on your palette and you hum at the taste, considering buying a jar for breakfast. But she interrupts with a curious stare and a bigger smile.   “I haven’t seen you around before, dear. Did you come from somewhere far?”   “Oh no, I just moved in. My grandpa was Seokjin….”   “You mean Old Man Seok?” Her entire spine straightens, face lighting up. “I never knew he had a granddaughter!”   You warm, proud that your grandfather’s made such a lasting impression. “I just moved in a few acres away.”   “Taking care of your grandpa’s farm?” she asks and when you nod, the woman practically swoons. “Why, what a gracious thing you’re doin’! Old Man Seok would be proud to have a granddaughter like you! Keepin’ his legacy alive like that. Heaven knows I can’t even get my boy up to milk the cows!”   You laugh and she ends up handing you a small jar of raspberry jam for free, wishing you the best of luck.    Apparently word spreads fast in this place. After ten minutes of exploring the market, kind and overfamiliar strangers approach from behind their stands, greeting you and taking your hands. Some muse how similar you are to your grandfather while others happily send you some cheese and bread. By the time you’re at the end, it looks like you went grocery shopping.   But in the midst of it all, you get the chance to talk to some customers. Making conversation with a pregnant woman, an elderly man, and a little kid overly excited to use his allowance for some candy. People are receptive and friendly, more than what you’re used to back in the city. But you study what they purchase, their spending habits, what people seem to be interested in.   Then, your attention is caught at a cute honey stand — jars of honey sealed being sold with beeswax candles tied with pastel yellow ribbon. More importantly, you recognize the doe-eyed boy at the cash register.    “Jungkook!”   He greets you with a big smile. “Oh, hey, Y/N! I didn’t expect you’d be here.”   With your previous lifestyle, the attention of a cute boy like Jungkook isn’t enough to make you bashful — a few years too late on that — but you can still appreciate how endearing he is. “I’m just taking a look around. Thought I should get to know the place since I might be here soon.”   “How’re things going? Did you settle in yet?”   “I did actually.” It wasn’t in the realm of your expectations to make friends so quickly out here, but to have such pleasant small talk with Jungkook proves your anticipations were wrong. “It took a lot of time to clean the house, but totally worth it! I strung polaroids above the mantle and I found a vintage armchair that’s really in style, so I’d say things are going pretty well.”   The boy grins from your enthusiasm. “It sounds like you’re adapting better than I would.”   “I’m trying.” Your smile becomes sheepish. “I’m still figuring out the fields and the land. I haven’t even gotten started in clearing out the shed yet.”    He nods, lips parting to respond. But then there’s a call of his name behind him and he sighs before sending an apologetic expression. “Sorry. My ma has more honey to unload from the truck. I gotta skedaddle before she yells, but I’m glad things are working out for you!”   Jungkook’s undoubtedly cute, even when he says goodbye and promises to catch up with you soon. You don’t dwell either, continuing to parade through the market by yourself and discover all the places you missed on your first walk that was overwhelmed with others intercepting.   What piques your curiosity this time is a wooden stall with a soft green cloth draped over the flat surface and a sign that reads ‘Romaine with Me’. What’s offered in the crates are lettuce. Lots and lots of different heads of lettuce lined in rows like plush animal prizes on display at carnival games.   You don’t pay much mind to the man behind the stall that’s sleepily blinking and leaning his head in his hand, elbow propped up and figure slumped over. He looks like he’s dozed off but somehow kept his lids peeled back.   You approach and read the labels underneath. Red. Green. Romaine. Boston. Bibb. Arugula. Batavia. Radicchio. Iceberg.   “I didn’t know there were so many types of lettuce,” you mutter to yourself.   “It’s two dollars for each bundle or head,” the man suddenly pipes up in a raspy tone, nearly startling you to death. You realize his pupils have darted right on you and that’s he’s not in fact sleeping with his eyes open. “Romain is three. And there’s a sale on the radicchio.”   The man has an oddly intimidating disposition for looking so tired. He has tender features and seemingly soft skin that makes you wonder about his skin care routine. Yet, his hair is as dark as his cat-like eyes that have narrowed in on you. You suddenly feel pressure to make a purchase lest you waste more of his time.   “What are the differences?” you ask, studying the lettuces in front of you.   “Iceberg, romaine and radicchio are crispy. But iceberg has a clean and fresh taste. Romaine is more bitter and radicchio is a bit bitter and spicy. Boston and bibb are butter lettuces which are softer and have a sweet taste. Boston's leaves are wider and lighter green than bibb's. Arugula is peppery. Batavia is your usual with more crinkled leaves. Red and green are your standard.”    The man breathes the explanation out with only one lazy inhale in between and when he’s done, he gives you a look as if asking if you’re satisfied. But you’re more than that. You’re genuinely impressed.   He spat facts at you and you’re not sure what to do with the information.   “You know a lot about lettuce.”   “I’m a lettuce farmer,” he deadpans.   “Really?” The corners of your lips pull, even more intrigued than before. You didn’t take him for much of a farmer. The man has a kind of bad-boy vibe that you’re accustomed to and without much thought, the clumsy words stumble out of your mouth— “I thought farmers were dirtier.”   “What?”   “Like sunburnt, straw hats, overalls.” You nod, studying the produce and missing his offended expression. “Like that’s totally the farmer’s aesthetic.”   “Aesthetic?”   “Yeah,” you hum, not realizing the man was glaring holes into you. “I’ll take a bundle of the romaine, please.”   You end up going home shortly after, trekking underneath the sun with recyclable bags full of food that fills your fridge, sure to be enough for a whole week. You’re not sure what to exactly do after that — there’s plenty of tasks and jobs to be done, but you’re not certain where to start.   So you decide to take a break — partly to relax and partly to procrastinate. With your sweat wiped away and a fan whirring in the corner, you plop down into the vintage armchair and grab one of the magazines you brought with you. But it isn’t a good read, not when you had already looked at most of the pages on the plane ride over here….   Your mind ends up wandering, considering what you should do with grandfather’s land, if there was anything new you could offer at all. And at the same time as you’re flipping through the magazine, you stumble on a particular page. A recipe for an avocado kale poke bowl.   You skim it and your eyes stop at a single word. Kale.   Kale. It sticks to you like glue and you squint at the text, the four letters in print. Your mind searches and it hits you that kale was never sold at the farmers’ market. There was everything, every fruit, every vegetable. But not kale.    A smile stretches across your face, determination blooming in your chest. Organic kale was a total new fad. Good for you. Healthy. Sought after in the city, but yet to be prevalent in the countryside. It was a perfect opportunity, one that was sitting right in front of you this entire time.   Relief overwhelms you as you make a decision on your niche: kale.   //   It starts off with books.    Gathering as much information as you possibly can, you also learn through guides and internet articles on your chosen crop. You find out that kale becomes bitter over the summer, sweetest in the Fall after being touched by a light frost. It bolts in Spring, so sowing seeds is most appropriate around April to May while they can still be planted throughout the seasons. It provides a yield between late September to early May, direct seeds maturing in fifty to seventy days while transplants take a bit less than half the time.   You learn how to protect seedlings from pests, purchasing lightweight fabric to cover rows, and you begin to plow the fields.    It takes time to clean up, to get your grandfather’s equipment fixed, to become financed. But you start right away and soon, you’re sewing the seeds eighteen to twenty four inches apart. Getting transplants. Watering them appropriately. Working day and night.   You’re not exactly sure if you’re doing this right. Especially on hot days when you’re sweating buckets, dirt has marred your skin and your lower back screams. But you know that even if you fail and have to pack your bags, the effort of trying would be enough for you to feel satisfied.   So, you persist.    And day by day, the seeds begin to sprout. The dirt is littered with tiny green specks and you feel thrilled that it’s actually growing. Slowly, but surely, you would return this farm to its former glory by your own hands.   //   It’s another Sunday when you take a trip to the farmers’ market.   In spite of having only been here for a short amount of time, you’ve become acquainted with the market. You don’t get lost anymore in the bustle and many like to stop you to ask about your day. It’s a hospitable place, never making you feel uncomfortable or awkward, and you feel relieved that your grandfather was surrounded by such warmth till the end of his life.   You’re also starting to become familiar with one particular wooden stall and the sleepy man behind it.   No matter what week it is, he’s always there, wearing the same loose flannels but in different colours, flipping through a pamphlet or dozing off. He only looks up when someone comes to buy lettuce.   But today, he’s joined by an older man that recognizes you all too easily. “I almost didn’t see you there without being so gussied up in those city clothes. Looks like you’ve gotten yourself comfortable with farm life. Almost reminds me of Old Man Seok back in his heyday.”   Immediately, the younger lifts his head up, brow cocked. “You know her?”   “She’s Old Man Seok’s granddaughter. I gave her a ride to his farm when she first came,” Mr. Min introduces and his son gives you a better look, one that’s ridden with a modest amount of distaste. “Y/N, this is my boy, Yoongi, that I was talking about.”   It never occured to you how similar they are. Their husky voices and quiet yet intimidating dispositions are unparalleled. But the older seems more open and friendly than the younger who has a blank expression and his eyes narrowed in at you. Although you don’t get much time to dwell, ask him that the issue might be or if that’s simply who he is.   Some people naturally have a resting bitch face and Yoongi might be one of them.   “How’s the countryside life doing for you so far?” his father asks and you smile, attention redirected.   “It’s not too bad. But the sun’s hot and I didn’t know farming could be so hard!” Your head quirks to the side, still awed that this was the lifestyle of so many. “I always thought it would be easy cause the organic edamame plant back at my apartment wasn’t so bad to take care of.”   Yoongi scoffs.   “Yep, it’s difficult alright.” Mr. Min’s engrossed and asks, “What’re you growing?”   Enthusiasm and a sense of pride makes you exclaim the answer— “Kale!”    Yoongi winces at the volume of your voice while his father is made even more curious.    “Kale?”   “I was thinking about what wasn’t being sold at the farmers’ market and I found that kale was underrepresented,” you rant, “Kale’s totally the new wave. It’s a trendy, super food and packed with antioxidants. Did you know that kale is among the most nutrient-dense foods on the planet?”   “Can’t say I knew that.” Mr. Min has his mouth upturned into an amused smile. Yoongi, on the other hand, sighs. “I’d love to hear more about it. My wife’s quite passionate about these kinds of things too. She practically runs the entire farm! You should come over for dinner sometime, Y/N.”   “She should?” — “I’d love to!”   Both you and Yoongi talk over another, but you don’t hear him. You’ve never been invited to this kind of thing before and your family rarely ate together. So, the aesthetic of sitting down for a countryside meal with a farming family, like it’s Thanksgiving, is a fantasy you’re eager to fulfill.    //   Unfortunately, dinner at the Min household has to be held off when your first harvest comes.    Finally after a month of waiting, there’s actual kale out in the fields that are ready to be collected. The leaves are small, a little bitter and it’s not a large yield — but it isn’t bad for the first time. You’re happy enough that you’ve grown something, so you don’t nick pick for now.   Instead, you focus on wrapping up the bundles, on preparing a stall, on organizing a spot at the market to sell. And when the days of busy work and high pressure accumulate into the first Sunday of the month, you’ve arranged crates of freshly washed, organic kale ready for purchase.   It’s exciting. One week you’re walking around as a customer and the next, you’re on the other side of the stand as a vendor. You get to witness the behind the scenes of other farmers, the doors opening at nine sharp, the increasing bustle of the market.   But for some reason, you only have a few people who stop by and only one who buys a bundle.   “Don’t be worried,” Jungkook comforts, having stopped by once he noticed you. “People tend to buy what they’re used to, so just wait a while. You’ll eventually get your own set of customers!”   You can only hope he’s right.   By five in the evening, it’s over and you hold in your sigh. You wonder what you should do with the abundance of kale you have left, but you try not to linger as you close shop and the market shuts its doors.   Everyone seems to disassemble their stalls with ease, carrying crates to their cars, collecting their earnings. Most are gone within ten minutes but you struggle, unable to keep up when it’s all too new to you and before you know it, you’re the last one left in the space that’s still cleaning up after yourself.   The only person you catch is Yoongi who’s walking off, passing you with a crate of two lettuce heads, having already sold most of it. You notice he’s in one of his open flannels again, this time it’s yellow and gray, and you send a friendly smile. But he doesn’t say anything or make a change from his indifferent expression.   But then he stops. Five meters away.   “You should stop treating this like a joke,” Yoongi deadpans, swiveling around on his heel.   You freeze, halfway from grabbing the mason tip jar that you decorated with washi tape the night before. You blink, not sure if Min Yoongi is actually and willingly uttering words to you or if it’s your imagination. “What?”   But it isn’t. He is very much talking to you. “The market isn’t here for someone like you to play games.”   Now, you’re just confused. “But…...I’m not playing games...?”   “It’s obvious you’re not serious about this.”   You scoff. You’ve had your fair share of running into mean girls in the fashion industry and in High School, the ones who are snarky and make passive aggressive insults that are disguised as compliments. You just never expected to run into something like that here.   And in such a straightforward way too.   Usually people are more subtle when they show that they don’t like you.   “You can’t accuse me. You don’t know anything about me!”   Yoongi stares at you boredly. “You’re making a mockery out of people’s livelihood.”   “I’m trying to learn.” You cross your arms, standing your ground.    You suppose from his perspective it might be off-putting that you’ve come from nowhere and you’re trying your hand at the farm life. But you swear you haven’t been condescending nor have you ever looked down on anyone. At least you hope it hasn’t come across that way.   “I don’t know what I’m doing, but if it seems like I’ve been mocking you then I’m sorry.” This isn’t just a hobby to you nor is it a spectacle for your amusement. You’re serious. Even if you might come across as ditzy, insincere and inexperienced. “But you don’t need to go out of your way to insult me. I already know I was stupid for coming here. Why do you think I came alone? This is a whole new world for me and I’m trying, so I’d appreciate some empathy.”   Yoongi stares at you. You stare at him.   The two of you have your eyes locked in one another’s, and you want to throw hands, but then he suddenly walks away as if he didn’t hear a word you said.   You glare at his backside, huffing out in frustration.    As if your day wasn’t bad enough, he had to make it worse.   //   “Stop being ridiculous, Y/N!”   Your mom’s voice is jarring on the other end of the line. It’s grating to your ears. There’s a strong urge to hang up, but you’re not sure if she’ll call again. You’re surprised she called you in the first place — the likelihood of a second time is slim.   “I’m actually doing well, thank you very much.”   She ignores you. “Sell the land and come home. Do you really think you can do this?!”   Tears sting your eyes against your will. You inhale to keep your voice even and steady. “I do actually. I’m learning while I’m out here and it’s not as hard as I thought it would be.”   “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. You had a high paying job. An apartment. Clean water to drink. Lots of food to eat. You were comfortable! And you gave it all up, why?!”   “The air’s fresher here,” you quip much to your mom’s chagrin and frustration. “I’m a grown woman, mom. I can make my own decisions.”   “Until you make others pick up after you!”    You wince, hand tightening on your duvet. You try your best not to cry. She doesn’t need to know that you’re running out of money, that your kitchen is filled with leafy greens you couldn’t sell, that your back aches from working out on the fields. “Don’t come running to me when you finally get bored or you’re halfway to starving to death.”   You know they think sooner or later, you’ll show up back home with your packed bag. But you refuse to give in. You’ll prove your friends and family wrong — you’ll follow through with this.   If there was one thing you were good at, it was being stupid. Being stupid made you at the bottom of the class, it made you have friends who used you, it made you struggle. And it made you resilient. It made you know what working hard to get to where you want meant. It made you determined.   And you’re gonna fucking give it your best! Even if the smarter route would be to give up!   So with your sleeves rolled up to your elbows, you brace yourself and enter your kitchen full of kale. If you can’t sell it raw, then there are other things that you can try.   //   “Get your kale kombucha! Your kale smoothie! Full of vitamins and nutrients!”   You’re holding a tray of paper cup samples, voice loud with a wide smile. A woman who’s looking at your stand curiously passes by and you steal the chance, smoothly intercepting her way. “Would you like to try one, ma’am?”   “Sure.”   She takes a sample and once she sips, her eyes light up and her expression becomes inquisitive. The woman approaches your stand, looking over the products you have. “It’s really delicious. How much is it for a smoothie?”   “The three sizes are here.” You gesture to the display and she hums. “Two dollars for a small, two fifty for a medium and three for a large. We also have salted kale chips, kale guacamole and kale pesto.”   “Is this all homemade?”   “It is!” Your enormous smile is proud. “I grew the kale organically and made these with fresh ingredients.”   “I’ll take a large smoothie, this guacamole and a bundle of just regular kale then.”   “Coming right up!”   You’re no stranger to the art of advertising — it’s one of your strengths with your marketing background. You’re pretty sure the chalkboard signs are doing a good job of directing attention to your stall and the samples are certainly going a long way too.   “Can I try one, miss?” A little kid tugs on your green apron and you lower yourself down to their eye-level, happily handing them two.   “Of course you can!”   Sunday after Sunday, you do better and better.   Of course, it’s not without constant trial and error, honing in recipes and packaging, learning how to keep products as fresh as possible. But the improvements make the labour all worth it.    You notice how Yoongi watches you across the floor and when you smile, he immediately looks away. But there's little time to pay attention to him when the lineup at your stall gradually becomes longer and longer. Jungkook helps you out when he can, whether that’s manning the register beside you or handing out samples to draw in curious customers.   “You’re gonna run me out of business soon, Y/N.” Jungkook says in the midst of a slow down when you’re finally able to catch your breaths.   “Please,” you giggle. “I’m sure you’re the one drawing in the business. Weren’t those last two customers trying to get your number for the past ten minutes? Last time they kept on asking me about you too.”   The boy laughs shyly and it’s all too endearing. “They’re just bein’ nice. If anything, you’re the one drawing in the customers since you’re so pretty and all.”   More giggles bubble out of your throat and you lean closer to him. “So you think I’m pretty?”   Jungkook realizes what he said and his face reddens. He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “I mean...isn’t that a fact?”   “You’re too sweet, Kook,” you sigh wistfully. “Thank you for helping me.”   “Anytime, really.” Jungkook’s smiles softly and his lips part, but before he can say anything, his peripheral vision finally catches the weight of a third party’s stare. His eyes travel across the market floor to the wooden stall of lettuce — right on the man behind it who’s rolling his eyes.    You follow his line of sight and a knowing smile appears on your features. “Jungkook, can you hand me the sample tray?”   You might not be the brightest crayon in the box, but you’re not that big of an idiot. For the past two weeks, you’ve noticed how Yoongi keeps staring at you. You don’t suspect it to be sudden infatuation either. Most likely, it’s surprise that you’ve proven him wrong or reluctant admission that you’re on your way to success, or perhaps passive aggression too.   Whatever the case is, you approach him and witness him visibly stiffen as you come closer.   Your smile remains bright when you ask, “Is everything okay, Yoongi?”   “I’m fine,” the man deadpans. “You should move. You’re blocking my customers.”   “You have no customers.”   “I would if you weren’t standing there.”   You scoff. “You are not cute.”   Yoongi’s brow lifts, amused at your comment. “Excuse me?”   “I want to make peace,” you outright declare, having no shame with confronting him. “I’ve had my fair share of drama back home and I’m not looking forward to picking fights here, so I forgive you.” Yoongi snorts as you raise your sample tray as a peace offering. “I know you’re curious, so you try one. My kale kombucha is my most popular item. It’s a fermented tea that has lots of healthy yeast and bacteria.”   “No.” The dark-haired man rejects without needing to blink. “Kale is disgusting. There’s a reason no one sells it here.”   You’re shocked, not knowing where to start. But there’s no point in arguing with him and spewing nutrition facts. Your pride is much too high to insist too, so you merely lift your chin. “Fine. Suit yourself. But one of these days, you’re going to fall in love with kale, Min Yoongi.”   It’s a challenge — but a one-sided one. Yoongi simply sighs as you strut away, feeling more tired than he did before.    //   The engines of the moving truck rumbles and coughs as it rolls down the dirt road.   It’s drawn the attention of several, including his dad and mom. They’re peering out the front window, curtains tugged with their noses pressed to the glass. Usually, Yoongi doesn’t care much for what the neighbours are up to or keeping up with community gossip, but for some reason, his curiosity is piqued enough that he glances out as well.   “What’s going on?”   “There are trucks coming back and forth from Old Man Seok’s land.”   Yoongi wonders if you’ve given up and you’re moving out. He wouldn’t be surprised.   But suddenly, before he can walk off and mind his own business, his mother whirls around. “Yoonie, go check up on our new neighbour.”   He exhales exhaustingly. “Why?”   “Well, you’re friends, aren’t you?”    “We’re not.” It’s a firm fact, but his mother doesn’t hear him. She’s already moving into the kitchen and making him follow her. He knows arguing is futile — once she’s set on her mind on something, no one can change it.   “Go on and deliver some cheese too.” She hands him a paper bag. “We haven’t welcomed her properly yet and it’s customary to at least give a greeting and gift.”   Yoongi begrudgingly obliges and minutes later, he finds himself making the trek across the acres to the cottage that always reminded him of Christmas with its cherry red roof and forest green walls. The polluting trucks drive away in the meanwhile, wheels turning against the gravel fading, and the countryside returns to its quaint atmosphere. As he comes closer, Yoongi notices the wooden spools on your lawn and some barber chairs littered around, akin to a dumpster yard, but he avoids them and walks up the porch, knocking twice on the door.   He can imagine thrusting the bag in your hand, muttering a greeting and question or two before getting back to the farm. Yet, what he doesn’t anticipate is silence and then noises farther away.   The man sighs and decides to follow the sounds lest he spends the rest of the afternoon waiting at your front door.   He rounds the house to the backyard.    “What are you doing?”   Yoongi discovers mason jars, picnic blankets, wooden crates sprawled all over on the grass — things he guesses the trucks brought over — and he finds you on a ladder with fairy lights tangled around your limbs.   You jolt. In horror, Yoongi watches the ladder dangerously wobble back and forth, but luckily, it steadies and you twist yourself around. “Holy shit! You almost scared me half to death!”   “What are you doing?” he repeats, more urgently and concerned than before.   “I’m setting up fairy lights obviously.” Your smile is big, cheeks swelling with it. “I’m gonna decorate part of the land with hipster furniture and channel the farm aesthetic. It’s going to become an Insta spot. Hashtag kale-in-farm.”   Yoongi doesn’t understand half of what you just said and he’s not sure if he should even ask.   “What’s a hashtag?”   “You don’t know what a hashtag is?” Your eyes are perfectly rounded, looking at him like he’s an alien and he chuckles. The irony isn’t lost on him. He isn’t the weird one — you are.   “Should I know what it is?”   You don’t answer, merely climbing off the ladder and his breath hitches at how you don’t watch your step.    Yoongi doesn’t get stressed easily, but he swears he’s going to get a heart attack looking at you.   You pull out your phone suddenly from your back pocket and after some tapping, you thrust the screen in his face. “This is Instagram, see? It’s an app where you can follow people and see the pictures that they post. An Insta spot is a place where you can take good Instagram pictures. Hashtags is a way to label the posts, so others can see and search it up. Or at least that’s what I think it is. It’s kind of hard to explain, it’s one of those things that just catches on and you get after using it. This is my page, see?”   You’ve given your phone to him and Yoongi eyes your bikini photos before handing it back.    “Uh-huh.”   “I can’t believe you don’t have an Instagram. You should make one and add me!”   “No thanks.”   You huff, pouting at him and Yoongi’s mouth twitches as he resists the small smile. There’s something in the way you react to him being mean to you that makes it all too entertaining.   “My mom wanted to give you some cheese.” He hands the paper bag over and you excitedly peer inside. “It’s just goat cheese. Usually she makes a cherry pie as a housewarming gift, but today….was a bit last minute.”   Yet in spite of the measly present, Yoongi’s taken aback at how happy you seem. “This is so sweet! Tell your mom I said thank you! I should probably give her some kale—”   He lifts his palm, stopping you in the middle of your sentence. “There’s no need.”   “Well, tell her I said thank you.” You put it down on the wooden patio steps and move towards the ladder. Then something by his foot catches your eye. “Oh, can you do me a favour and put that typewriter on the wooden crate?”   Yoongi doesn’t know why you have a broken typewriter, but he follows your instructions. His eyes travel to several worn bikes you have leaning against the railing. It’s strange considering you don’t seem like the type to bike.   As if reading his mind, you laugh. “They don’t work. It’s just for the aesthetics.”   “Uh-huh.” He turns back, about to bid goodbye and leave this mess behind him. But as he turns away, he witnesses you step on the highest prong of the ladder. The part you’re not allowed to step on. With the danger warning signs plastered on it that says ‘STOP’ in big, red letters.   Yoongi’s breath hitches and he lurches over, grabbing the ladder to steady it as it wobbles.   “Woah!” You regain your balance and turn to grin at him. “Thanks for that. You saved my life!”   “Get off.”   “What?”   “Get off the ladder before you die.” His stern command has you obeying and you come down to the ground again. Yoongi sighs and takes the lights from you. “I’ll do it. Tell me where you want them and hold the bottom rung for me.”   You’re bewildered, but you don’t reject his offer of help. Yoongi follows your instructions too, working quickly and more efficiently than when you were, and you can’t help but giggle as you watch him string the fairy lights.    He glares at you. “What?”   You look up at him, beaming a grin. “For being such a mean, old grump, you’re actually pretty reliable and considerate, Yoongi.”   He diverts his vision elsewhere. “Whatever.”   But it’s all too true.    In many ways, Yoongi reminds you of peppermint candy. Hard on the outside but with just a bit of melting, all too sweet and sugary on the inside.   //   It starts off with you.   A post, a cute caption, the hashtag. You manage to get Jungkook to follow suit and then it’s a group. A person who shows up with their friends, stopping by to enjoy your kale farm and haphazardly filming their adventure to put onto their social media. Then it’s three or four, more and more of the hashtag being used, of pictures being taken, of others catching wind of the trendy new place to take photos, of fresh kale being harvested and kale kombucha being sold.   It’s an exponential growth and before you know it, there’s a bustle at your farm.   Strangers that park in the designated area, families enjoying the picnic spots, young adults posing for photographs underneath the strung fairy lights after dark. Your kale chips and smoothie sales skyrocket and after constructing a website, you know you’ve made a name for yourself.   You hire Jimin, Jungkook’s cousin, to help you out. Recently turned eighteen, he’s gentle and luckily attentive. He excels in customer service and in between selling your products and doing measly tasks to upkeep the farm, you know you’ve finally found a sustainable income aside from the farmers’ market alone.   “This ‘s what I call innovation,” Yoongi’s dad muses as the two of them stand near the tractor, looking over the field to the figures prancing on your land and listening to the laughter that leaks over. “It ain’t often a smart woman suddenly shows,” he says, glancing at him. “You should take advantage of it.”   “It’s not smart.” Yoongi turns away. “It’s dumb luck. There’s nothing impressive about it.”   His dad sighs at him, but as they retreat home, Yoongi can’t help glancing over his shoulder.   //   Yoongi has accepted that you’re a complete wild card — when he thought you were making a spectacle of this rural life for your own amusement, you make a whole declaration about how serious you are. When he expects you to move out, you instead bring bits and bobs to your farm. When he expects you to completely and utterly fail, you thrive.   Yoongi always thought that he was the enigma — hard to understand, hard to get to know, one of the many reasons he isn’t particularly close to anyone. But in reality, you are. At surface level, it looks like you’re simple-minded, overly enthused, optimistic. Yet you continuously defy his expectations.   And he has to applaud you for it.    But of all things, Yoongi most certainly did not expect to see you on his porch one afternoon.   “I got invited by your mom for dinner,” you explain with another infamously bright smile and your arm lifts with a bag. “I brought kale!��   “You did.” He holds in his sigh.   “I don’t know how you want to eat it, so it’s raw….unless…..do you not have electricity? I can go back to prepare it.”   “What?”   “You know, electricity.” When he stares at you, you begin explaining to be helpful. “The stuff that gives you light and power and you can turn on the stove—”   “I know what electricity is!” Yoongi shouts. He’s almost always calm, but you have a talent for being condescending without even realizing.   “What’s with all the noise?” His mom emerges and her face immediately lights up, lips forming into a warm smile. She wipes her hands on her apron and comes to embrace you. “Y/N! I thought I heard your voice! Come in, come in! Oh my word, what’s this? Kale? Thank you! Was the walk here long?”   “Not at all.” You smile, being ushered in the kitchen. It still amazes you how much Yoongi looks like his mom. They both have tender, soft features. Albeit, the male took on his father’s personality and characteristics, his physical appearance compared to his mom is nearly a carbon copy. “It’s only a few acres away. I love your home, by the way. It has a good energy to it.”   Yoongi wonders when you got so comfortable with his parents.   “I’m preparing dinner right now. Should be done fairly soon, but Yoonie! Why don’t you show dear Y/N around the farm?”   Yoongi knows he doesn’t have a choice and you hold in your giggle at his dejected expression. It’s not often you can witness him being obedient and when he takes you through his backyard, you can’t help poking fun at him. “Yoonie?”    “It’s a childhood nickname,” he grumbles.   There’s an urge to squish his cheeks together. They’ve always reminded you of jello or bread loafs, but for the sake of not being slapped, you control the desire.   The Min property is vast.    Chicken coops and several sheds are close to the house, but in the distance, cows and goats graze in the open pastures. The lush fields seem to stretch to the horizon, only broken up by the occasional tree left to grow in peace. It’s a tranquil landscape and there’s an urge to sit back in a rocking chair and knit. Even though you don’t know how to knit.   “How big is the farm?”   “It’s a hundred acres.”   Yoongi says it like it’s nothing impressive, but it’s still fifty times the size of your own farm.   “Is that all lettuce?” You look over the plowed fields filled with green.   “Some of it is asparagus and carrots, but it’s mostly different kinds of lettuce,” he explains, “We don’t sell all of it at the market. We got a few contracts from grocery stores and those get shipped out, so we’re always busy year round.”   You’re amazed. His family manages to do a lot more than you and you already feel swamped half the time. But you suppose you still have a long way to go before you can call yourself a real farmer.   The pair of you approach the fence and you watch the goats chewing on their grass, bleating at you. You grin and mimic their noises, oblivious to the way Yoongi steals a glance at you. “What do you do with all the animals?” you ask.   “They’re for personal usage. We eat chicken eggs and my mom makes cheese a lot.” Yoongi diverts his vision at your intense stare and clears his throat. He didn’t know all of this was so interesting to you. “Have you ever milked a cow before?”   “No!”   “Do you want to learn how?”   “Yes!”   This time, Yoongi can’t hold back his chuckle at your childlike enthusiasm.    He leads a smaller cow into the stall, introducing her as August, and you help him brush her down. Yoongi shows you how to wash August with warm, soapy water, how to clean her utters and let the milk down by relaxing her. He demonstrates as well, clamping the top of the utter between his thumb and first finger before squeezing.   You follow his instructions, mimic his movements and milk squirts into the silver pale successfully. “It feels kind of weird.”   The corner of his thin lips pull. “Is it supposed to feel nice?”   When your hands get tired, Yoongi leans over to help you out, explaining how often someone can milk cows for, where August came from and how long she’s been around. You never expected how awfully endearing it would be to listen to a farm boy talk about his precious cow, but it is. Or maybe that’s just Yoongi being Yoongi. Everything that comes out of his mouth is interesting to you.   “—months ago and…..are you even listening?”   “Of course I am!” You totally weren’t and he doesn’t seem to believe your assertion either, so to divert his attention, you turn the direction of the utter and squeeze. The line of milk squirts directly at Yoongi’s kneecap, dampening his jeans and you laugh at his scandalized expression.   “What the fuc—!”   “Stop! Stop!” You stand, giggling incessantly while blocking your arms up when Yoongi lunges down and squeezes two utters at you. The milk is warm and sticky against your skin. “I’m sorry!”   “Too late!” His cheeks are swollen with a gummy smile, happily taking his revenge.   Before any of you have realized, the sun has gone down and there’s a lingering scent of milk on your clothes. But no one other than you and Yoongi notices or at least his parents don’t say anything.   “How are things going, dear?” his mom asks you with a satisfied smile as she watches you devour her dessert apple pie. Dinner at the Min’s was all too cozy and welcoming. Food had filled the rounded table and the family, albeit only three members in total, had gathered together.    For the past few months, you’ve been eating by yourself with a magazine by your side or in front of the old television with some obscure show on. You missed having conversations over delicious meals and part of you wonders how you’ll return to your regular routine after tonight.   After a taste of the forbidden fruit, you’ll wish every night was like this.   “Better than expected actually. It’s a learning process, so it goes up and down, but everyone’s been so helpful to me that it hasn’t been bad.”   Yoongi’s father nods solemnly. “All on your own too.”   You become shy under their praise. “It’s nothing, really. I just wanted to preserve the memory of my grandfather and all I have is his land, so....”    Sometimes you lay awake thinking about how much your life has changed. A year ago, you were still in LA in a high rise apartment working, and in an effort to connect with your family roots again, you left it all behind. But you don’t regret your decision whatsoever.   From the moment you came here, no matter what challenges you faced, it all became worth it in the end. It’s a hard life, but a peaceful one. A simple and serene way of living that you always needed.   “Bless your heart,” his mother swoons and you realize Yoongi’s gazing at you too — with an odd sense of gentleness that you aren’t used to. Or maybe that’s merely the dim lighting of the small dining room. “You are the hardest working, gosh darn smartest young lady I have ever met.”   You look away from Yoongi, face warming at the compliments. “No, I just try my hardest.”   “And try hard you do!” His mom leans across the table, eyes bright. “Don’t you think so, Yoonie? Isn’t Y/N marvelous?”   You turn to him expectedly, but Yoongi’s eyes are suddenly down at his empty plate. “Well, there’s nothing else to do out here but work, so isn’t that the default?”   You scoff and it takes his attention. “You aren’t cute at all.”   The corner of his mouth tugs. “Excuse me?”   “Don’t pay any attention to him, Y/N.” His mom bats at your arm. “He’s too much like his dad.”   “You mean, he took after my best traits?” The older man at the table has his brow cocked and you smile at the banter, but the woman beside you doesn’t entertain it.   “He took after your temper and grumbling.”   “Which is why no one ever bullied him.” Yoongi’s father slaps him on his back and he sighs.   His mom turns her head to continue, “Never mind them. I swear, Yoonie used to be the cutest kid in the whole country. I don’t know when he changed. Do you want to see his baby pictures?”   Your spine straightens and your eyes widen. “I would love to—”   Suddenly, there’s the ear-piercing noise of the chair leg scraping against the wooden floorboards. Yoongi has stood up and tosses his napkin down. “It’s getting pretty late. Probably time to go home, right?”   You laugh, but oblige only because it gives you reason to come over again. Yoongi’s mother at least assures as much, promising that next time you’ll be able to see all the albums and photographs of that time he cried while being chased by a goose — something you’re looking forward to, much to Yoongi’s dismay.   He’s just too much fun to tease.   The more and more you get to know Yoongi and the people in his life, the better you’re coming to realize that he’s not that much of a grump at all. It’s a facade, really. A thin curtain that hides how soft and pouty he actually is. Less like the bad boy you initially thought. More like a farm sheep.   “You didn’t need to walk me home, you know.” You turn to him, glancing at his profile. “It’s only a few acres away.”   “Yeah, but then I would never hear the end of it from my mom. It’s dark out anyway and it’s not like I mind.”   You nod and the pair of you fall into a comfortable lull. There’s a lot from tonight that you have to think about and it’s not just about Yoongi and his family. After seeing how they run their farm and how much they’ve expanded, you wonder if you’ll ever get to that size too.   “What do you think if I started growing quinoa and soy?”   He gives you an incredulous look, still visible in spite of the darkness, and it makes you laugh.   “What would you do with quinoa and soy?”   “I don’t know. Make different smoothies or flavours of kombucha? I would have to look into it. But it’s just a thought for no—” The pitch of your voice raises as you lose your footing, about to plunge. But then Yoongi yanks your arm back, steadying you before you trip in the ditch. “Oh my god! I almost died!”   “Watch where you’re going, woman,” he scolds and his hand boldly wraps around yours, palms clasping together firmly. You glance down, foreign to the feeling of his affection and Yoongi notices. He looks straight ahead, but quickly explains, “If you die and haunt the farm, that’ll bring down the value of the land nearby.”   You scoff. “You’re lucky you have a cute face, Min Yoongi.”   His lips curl. “I thought you said I wasn’t cute.”   “Your personality isn’t, but your face is alright.” If anything, you’re downplaying it, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Out here, you’re a good eight, but where I’m from, maybe you’re a six and a half.”   His laugh is mellifluous, and it infects a smile on your own features. “What about you?”   You look down to where you’re joined at the hands and muse how much larger his palm and fingers are to you, how his skin is calloused from working the fields, how warm and secure it feels.   “Clearly, I’m a ten wherever I go,” you quip. “Can’t you see?”   Yoongi apologizes, “I’m sorry, I might be blind then ‘cause I can’t see you as attractive at all.”   Another scoff tears from you, a lighthearted one that makes his grin widen. “You know what? I take it back. You aren’t cute at all. Not even your face can make up for your sour personality.”   Yoongi chuckles, squeezing your hand, and it’s awfully unfair how your face heats more.   //   Despite how busy you get managing the Insta spot, planting and harvesting kale, and cooking and packaging products, you never fail to find time to be at the market every Sunday. While your other sources of income are slowly increasing more than what you get from the farmers’ market, the atmosphere and sense of community is enough for you to scrape up time out of your week to set up your stall.   And it’s often the time that you get to have your conversations with Jungkook too.   “So….did you try it out?” Your eyes glisten, locked into his. “What did you think? Did it work?”   The boy scratches the back of his neck. “I...don’t think kale shampoo is it, Y/N.”   You deflate, keeping your sulking to a minimum. It didn’t work for you either, but you were trying to see if it was just your hair that was the strange one. “Really? But it looks soft.” You reach over and plant your hand in his black bed of hair. To your surprise, it’s even silkier than it appears.   “Woah! It’s soft!”   Jungkook ducks his head, colour blooming on his cheeks. He doesn’t bat your hand away nor does he lean into your touch when you pet him incessantly. “It isn’t that soft…”   “What shampoo and conditioner do you usually use? It feels so nice, Kook.”   The both of you are oblivious to the flannel-wearing man from across the market who’s glaring above the heads of lettuce. He bores his gaze into you, wondering what the hell you’re doing in the middle of the farmers’ market and putting on a show for all the older ladies to watch. Don’t you know how gossip and rumours start at this place? Merely chatting is enough to grab attention, but to be outright flirting like this was downright reckless.   His jaw ticks, nostrils flaring. He’s uncomfortable. It isn’t any of his business, but Yoongi feels an urge to do something. It’s utterly irrational. Completely out of the norm of his usual behaviour.   But somehow, he finds himself abandoning his stall and crossing the floor.   “What the hell are you two doing?”   “Yoongi!” You turn, greeting him with a big smile and suddenly that irrational emotion is replaced with something else that sits at his chest. To have your attention, he feels…..satisfied. Even if it’s childish. “I was just talking about the kale shampoo I made, but I think it’s an idea I’m going to have to scrap.”   “Shampoo?”   “It left a sticky mess on my head and took me ten minutes to wash it off,” Jungkook tells and his smile softens at your sigh. “Sorry, Y/N.”   “Maybe kale conditioner would work better....”   At the same time, Jungkook’s name is called by his grandma nearby, so he bids goodbye and a see you later to the both of you. It’s a slow down period right after lunch, so there’s fewer people around and with Yoongi here, you take the opportunity. “Can you watch my stall for me?”    “What?”   “I need to go to the bathroom.” You clasp your hands together and bat your lashes, trying to appeal to him. “Pretty please, Yoongi? I would really, really appreciate it.”   He exhales and waves his hand boredly, not sparing you a glance. But you already know he’s relinquished before he says it. “Fine.”   You jump up with a smile. “Thanks! You’re the best!”   In the next three seconds, you’ve jogged away and Yoongi’s left standing at the market, watching your stall and his stall from across the floor that he abandoned. He wonders how he got into this predicament, but doesn’t dwell when his eyes stray to your bottles of fancy kombucha on display.   He picks up a bottle, curious as to how you made these fancy labels, and he snorts when he notices in tiny text it says, ‘don’t kale me’. You’re such a dork, it’s impossible to believe. Then again, his mom decided to make a pun for the lettuce stall too, so he’s not one to talk.   For a moment, Yoongi ponders what the hell this kale kombucha tastes like.   He got a chance to try it before when you waltz up to him all those weeks ago with a tray of samples, but he denied you out of pride and stubbornness. He knows it must taste somewhat decent if you’re making all those sales. He’s seen people drinking it as they walk around too, but he’ll be damned if he actually went up to you and bought one. He’s sure you’d throw a celebration and do the whole ‘I told you so’ dance if it was actually delicious.   Relinquishing, he places the bottle back on the display.   But then the awful happens. Time slows — there’s a noise and the entire dainty shelf is collapsing. Yoongi is helpless to the way the bottles collide against the ground deafeningly, how the dark green liquid splatters on the concrete, to the way the glass shards spray. He cusses and manages to catch one bottle before turning around.   There are people staring at him — customers alarmed and vendors sympathizing.   But more importantly, you’re standing meters away, returned from the bathroom.   He catches your shock, your confusion, and then the heartbreak — even if it only lasts for a blink before you’re smiling again.   You come over, looking down at the mess. “I didn’t know you hated me this much to sabotage my stuff like this,” you quip jokingly. But there’s no banter or excuses being made. There’s silence. And you lift your eyes to meet Yoongi’s, realizing how mortified he is. “Hey, it’s alright. I knew the shelf had a few loose screws, but I didn’t know it would fall like that. I should’ve fixed it sooner.”   “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”   “You don’t really need to do th……”   “I’ll make it up to you,” Yoongi states more firmly than before, eyes darkened and you swallow hard. He knows you’re trying to cover up how hurt you are, how you’re trying to save face and not only is he embarrassed, he’s guilty. “You were supposed to sell all this, weren’t you?”   You give in and Yoongi grabs a broom, aiding you in cleaning up the mess. You’ve never seen him so serious and solemn before, but it makes you glad that he’s the one here to help.   //   At six in the morning, you wake up and less than ten minutes later, you hear the wheezing engine of a truck out front.   The sun was barely on the horizon, but when you walk out to the porch, you discover Yoongi shutting the door of his vehicle and coming up to you. He’s dressed in an oversized purple and black plaid flannel and gray shirt underneath, black hair flopping to the side, features softer than usual. He’s yawning and rubbing his eyes, all too endearing that you have to admit it.   “Mornin’,” you greet with a grin and he merely grunts, gesturing inside your house. A laugh draws out of you and you open the door for him. “You didn’t need to do this, you know. I told you I was totally fine.”   “Just accept my help, lady,” he sighs and looks around your living space, glancing at the polaroids strung above the brick mantle, the recycled jar of flowers on the kitchen counter, and the couch cushions made from flour sacks you reused. You grow warm under his scrutiny, realizing that no one has ever entered your home before. But while you expect to get criticism, Yoongi instead says, “I like what you did with the place. It’s cozy.”   You smile, still a bit self-conscious. “Thanks. Do you want tea? Coffee? Kale juice?”   “I’m fine.” He follows after you, stepping into the kitchen. The space is crowded or maybe it’s just you feeling small with him so close. “I’m here to help. What do you usually do at this time?”   “Well, I usually start by harvesting whatever kale I can. The weather seems good today too and there are some fields that need to be plowed, so I should do that and then plant some seeds…”   “Okay.” He’s already tugging his sleeves up. “Let’s get to it.”   It’s unusual to have someone join you during your morning chores, but it isn’t unwarranted. Granted, you have to teach him a little on the way you do things, but he already knows a lot from working on his own farm and you find Yoongi is a great listener. He might have a blank expression and be exceptionally quiet, but his occasional questions are insightful and he’s attentive when he mimics you.   It’s peaceful — the sun not yet sweltering in the sky or giving an unbearable heat that makes it hard to work, the animals in the far distance not awoken, the breeze curling through your hair. When you look up from your spot, you see Yoongi working as hard as you are and it tickles the corners of your lips into a subtle smile.   Things finish twice as fast and then you’re taking a break, making breakfast for Yoongi.   His company is nice at the table, even when he complains that your sunny side up eggs are too overcooked and you threaten to throw him out. It’s a kind of banter that doesn’t so much irritate you — rather, it keeps you on your toes, making you giggle at witty remarks while he rolls his eyes.   After breakfast, Yoongi insists on washing the dishes and succeeds when he whines and feigns annoyance on how you don’t trust him to clean your plates. He ends up fixing a light fixture in your kitchen too after you mention that it sometimes flickers off and startles you.   He’s helpful and handy, more than you thought he would be, but you try not to get used to it.   “This is where you keep your kombucha?” he asks as you show off the pantry that you’ve practically changed into a cellar.   “Yep.” You tap one of the large jars on the shelf. “It takes five to seven days for it to ferment after I make it. Then, I have to add in the kale and let it ferment for another three days. These babies will be ready for tomorrow. But I have to make a new batch today.”   “That’s a lot of work,” he comments.   “Oh. You haven’t seen it yet.” You brush past him, smirking.   Yoongi looks all too cute in the pink apron. It’s a comical sight and albeit, isn’t actually a part of your usual routine to wear one, you made it up on the fly just to see him wear it and he’s too cute.    “What?” His head whips up, brow cocked at the way you’re grinning.   “Nothing. Hand me that bowl.”   It’s a bit of an irony that Yoongi hasn’t tried any of your kombucha, but is first to learn the recipe from you. You show him how to brew the gallon of black tea, how to add the cup of sugar in and allow it to cool before pouring it into the jar.    “What’s that?” he asks when you’re sticking a rubbery flab into the jar.   “It’s a scoby. It has a bunch of yeast and bacteria that helps with fermentation. It’s made from kombucha, sugar, black tea.” You seal off the jar and Yoongi goes quiet. You look up at him, discovering a thoughtful expression on his face as if he’s impressed you know what you’re doing. “I’m not completely stupid, you know. I know I come across as—”   “I never thought you were dumb,” Yoongi suddenly states without missing a single beat. Your eyes become rounded and the corner of his mouth pulls. “Maybe insensitive and ignorant, but not stupid per se.”   “Hey!”   “There’s a difference,” Yoongi laughs and insists, “Being ignorant means you just haven’t learnt yet, but being stupid means you can’t learn at all.” He ducks when you half-heartedly swing and more chuckles fill the home, including your own. But Yoongi’s right. You had no clue what you were getting yourself into when you first arrived. Everything’s been a learning process, but it finally feels like things are falling into place.   Yoongi helps you wash the kale out back and stays by your side, peering over your shoulder, as you make the kale chips, guacamole and pesto. He stirs and gets ingredients when he can, and you find he has quite a knack for packaging things neatly. He’s somehow careful yet efficient.   “I didn’t know you did so much.”   “Yeah.” You wipe your sweat with the back of your hand. “I try to space everything out, but sometimes everything falls on the same day and I’ve been running low on products, so I can’t put it off.”   He hums, sealing the jar of pesto shut and then working on smoothing the label on the surface.   It’s mid-afternoon already. You didn’t realize how quickly time was going. The golden sun is already coming through the windows of the kitchen as you and Yoongi work across from one another, falling into a lull. You turned the staticky radio on, but it often acts as background noise when either of you start another conversation.   You giggle and he tilts his head up at the noise. “What? Did I put the label on upside down again?”   “No.” You shake your head, smiling to yourself. “It just kind of feels like we’re a married couple, that’s all.”   Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi freezes. But then he eases, the corner of his own mouth tugging.   “You’re not trying to seduce me, are you?”   “Seduce you?!” You scoff, looking up to see him focused on tying the ribbon around the jar. “I have higher standards than that, Min Yoongi.”   “Says the one who’s been flirting with me all morning.”   “I’m not flirting with you.”   “Uh-huh. Don’t tempt me with the suggestion of marriage then. I might actually do it.”   You’re baffled, made speechless with how he twists his words and how sweet he can talk. Your face heats and you know that if you open your mouth, you’ll blubber and make a fool out of yourself. So you opt for a huff and silence which only spurs on his chuckles and inadvertently makes you sulk harder.   If anything Yoongi was the flirt. But you’re not about to declare it in case he asks if that means you’re affected by it. Because you are.   The rest of the afternoon is spent finishing on packaging and storing away the products to sell tomorrow when the Insta spot opens and the following day at the farmers’ market. But as you dust off your hands, you feel the gurgle of your empty stomach and you offer to make him an early dinner.   “Is there anything you want to eat? My cooking skills aren’t that great—”   “Clearly.”   You glare at him. “—but I can look up any recipe you want.”   Yoongi makes a disgruntled noise and he leans over to open your fridge. You peep over his shoulder and at once, blood drains from your face.   “There’s nothing in your fridge, Y/N.” He turns around with puzzlement on his visage. “How did you make breakfast this morning?”   “I….used the last of my eggs to make breakfast. I didn’t think you would actually stick around long enough for dinner.”   “And what would you have eaten tonight if I did leave?” With one foot keeping the fridge open, he starts taking out several things like a maid cleaning out your kitchen. “The strawberries have gone bad...and there’s….mold on the bread. How do you live?”   “My budget was a bit low for this week and I underestimated how much groceries I would need.” When he pulls out the drawer with bundled kale, you stop him. “That’s for me to sell.”    “You don’t eat what you grow?”   “Not really,” you admit. “I don’t actually eat much kale….I brought lots of instant noodles from the city, but I ran out two weeks ago….”   He shuts the fridge. “I’ll talk to my mom and bring more eggs and milk to you more often.”   “You don’t need to do that.”   “No, but I want to.” Looking at you, Yoongi realizes that you’re really just a girl who came from nowhere to start a whole farm. Partly hopeless and causing an urge in him to take care of you, but for some reason, he doesn’t seem to mind as much as he thought he would. “Move. I’ll make dinner. You have some iceberg lettuce and kale that I can work with.”   He starts rolling up his sleeves again and you don’t let your eyes linger on his exposed veiny forearms for long.   You feel a bit embarrassed that you didn’t prepare more and that he caught you at a struggling week. But more than that, guests are supposed to be treated better. “I’m sorry, Yoongi.”   “Don’t be.” As he passes, he plops a hand on your head and you look up at him, surprised at the unusually affectionate gesture. “I’m quite the chef, you know. I make better breakfast than you do.”   Yoongi probably does, but your pride won’t let you admit it. “Psh. You haven’t started yet. Don’t get so cocky.”   You help by setting the table and then pulling a stool to watch him cook. Maybe it’s a bit lame, but you’re impressed at his knife skills and how fast he chops the lettuce and kale into thin strips, keeping a constant rhythm and never once stopping. You scoff when he glances at you with a smirk, but there’s little you can say, especially when he sautes it in a pan with oil and half an onion you have left.   The house is filled with a mouthwatering scent and it’s even more delicious than expected once the plate is plopped down in front of you and you get a taste.   “Oh my god….how did you make this?”   Yoongi smugly shrugs. “I made it up on the fly. Can’t help that my talent is inborn.”   You’re too busy eating to retort with a snarky comment. “Maybe I should marry you.”   He laughs and quickly eats before you steal his own portion.   The sun eventually goes down and it’s hard to say goodbye after one of the best days you’ve had since coming here, but you know you’ll see Yoongi tomorrow and the next day — whether that’s across the acres and through a giant wave or arguing as you do at the market.   He’s always been around, an addition to the farm life itself, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

When Yoongi returns home, he announces that he’s back. There are storming steps, his mom enthusiastic and racing down the stairs to ask him how it went. His dad looks around the living room corner as well, and he sighs at their intrusiveness.   “It was fine.” Yoongi tosses the keys aside, scratching the back of his neck. “She’s actually a lot more hard-working than I expected.”   He walks off before they can bombard him with any more inquiries, but they understand their son well enough and they exchange knowing smiles.

You never expect to see Yoongi awkwardly lingering on your porch like a car salesman, especially considering you were once doing the same thing at his house not long ago. But while he’s here just to deliver some apple pie his mom made, you eagerly pull him inside.   “Why? Why?” he whines childishly, but stumbles after you anyway.   “I need you to try something for me.”   It was an Insta spot day, cars filled in the lot you designated, people from the city out in the back and the chatter loud enough to leak inside the kitchen. Families were strolling about, children picking kale, young adults posing for countless pictures by the picnic blankets and decorations. Yoongi can’t quite understand what their fixation and fascination is to drive all the way out here for such frivolous things, but if it works then it works, he supposes.   You set the apple pie on the table and notice Yoongi peering out of the window, primarily watching the brunette boy fussing about and working the register behind the cute stall you made.   “Oh, that’s Jungkook’s cousin, Jimin,” you tell him, even though he probably already knows. Everyone knew everyone around here. “I hired him to help out.”   “Doing well enough to hire people?” he asks, brow lifted and a smile raising on his cheeks.   “I guess you could say so.” Your pride is supported by the bustle outside the window. “I need all the help I can get.”   “Are you trying to get me to help out too? Because I don’t work for free, lady.”   “Pft. No. I thought you might want to try out the kale kombucha you made with me last week. You came right in time actually. I just got it packaged and everything. Wait here. I’ll go grab a bottle.”   Without another word, you pull the door open and Yoongi sighs with a softened smile, watching you march across the land to chat with Jimin. But within seconds, his attention is taken away by the squeak of the door and a middle aged woman sticking her head through.    “Excuse me,” her voice is shrill, “is there a bathroom in here?”   “Uh…” He’s fairly certain you don’t let anyone inside your house and that he caught sight of fancy porta potties you set up on the side. “No. If you turn the corner, there’re some bathrooms you can use.” Yet, she blinks blankly at him and Yoongi holds his long exhale in his nose. Whatever your intentions are, it seems like he’s working for you anyhow. “I can show you.”   Yoongi hopes he’s not wrong or it’ll be terribly awkward, but luckily for him, there’s indeed bright blue stalls and the woman thanks him as she waddles off. But he can’t take refuge inside your home when he’s interrupted by someone again.   “Excuse me!” This time it’s a group of girls around his age giggling with caked makeup and dressed in short rompers. They thrust their phones forward before he can utter a word. “Can you please take some pictures for us?”   “Uh, sure.”   Yoongi feels out of his depth. Embarrassed. While you knew nothing about farm life, he knows nothing about city life. You might’ve disproved a lot of prejudices and stereotypes he held, but he still feels awkward and out of place in their scrutiny. Like he’s part of a completely different world, and he’s not sure what to say or how to act.   But he still tries and crouches down, trying to frame the photo and catch the trees in the back with the stringed fairy lights above. “One. Two. Three. Smile.”   “Thanks!” The girl comes forward to look, but before he can ask if it’s good enough, her friend comes up to him with another phone.   “Can you take another one?”   “Alright.” He gets back into place and times it. “One. Two. Three.”   Yoongi hands back the device and is about to duck his head and seek refuge no matter who calls out to him, but the girl stops in front of him with a brightened smile. “Is it alright if you take a photo with me? I’ve never had a picture with a farmer before!”   Yoongi sputters, speechless. For one, he hasn’t taken a photo in years, much less for a stranger’s personal collection. And secondly, he’s not some spectacle to be gawked at. He’s not some dancing monkey or clown. Not a poster boy or a cardboard cutout. This is his life—   “I’m sorry.” A voice calmly cuts through his annoyance and Yoongi feels a hand against his shoulder. You’re beside him with a polite smile. “Staff aren’t allowed to be photographed.”   “Oh. Okay.”   They walk off and resume their activities. You take Yoongi’s hand and tilt your head towards the door. “C’mon. Let’s go back inside.”   He feels safe inside your house again when he can remain an observer and not a participant.   “Sorry about that. Some people can be a bit insensitive, but most of them have good intentions.”   “It’s fine.”   You pour out the bottle of amber liquid into a tall glass. “They probably just wanted a photo since you’re good-looking.”   “What?” Yoongi snorts and turns around with a grin. “So you think I’m good-looking?”   “Isn’t that a fact? That’s why people were staring at you. The whole rugged look works well for you.” You plop down the glass in front of him before you can think twice about the honesty that just unabashedly spilled from your mouth. “Try it. You had a part in making it, so it’s only right, right? And if you like it, I’ll even let you bring some home.”   He rolls his eyes at your mischievous smile and lifts the glass to his lips. It’s fizzy, and the taste is both tart and slightly sweet. It reminds Yoongi of sparkling cider, but with a herbal hint that he assumes is the kale. He doesn’t utter a word, even when you’re watching him intently. But after Yoongi smacks his lips together, he goes for a second sip.   And you take that as a positive sign. “You like it?!”   He’s startled at your overly excited voice. “It’s not bad.”   “See?! I knew it! All you needed to do was to try my amazing kombucha recipe and your mind would be changed. Didn’t I say that? I totally told you I would get you to like kale!”   “Hold on, hold on.” Yoongi stops you in your ramble. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I only said it was decent.”   You laugh. “Sure. Whatever you say.”   He sighs, but ruffles your hair as he walks past, already bidding goodbye. “Get back to work.”   “Yes, sir.” You dramatically salute him and he leaves through the front door. But then it hits you a moment later. “Wait a minute….”    This is your farm. Not his.   //   You’re thriving in more ways than one. Aside from your personal projects on the farm, you’ve gotten yourself established at the market, like one of the decade long vendors who’ve spent their whole lives here. After a few months of setting up your stall, now everyone knows you by first name basis. A few older ladies even gave you the nickname of Sunshine and it only makes you love them more.   “You’re staring at her a lot, Yoonie.” His mother nudges him and he tears his eyes away from you across the market floor.   “No, I’m not.” He’s not sure why he bothers. Yoongi feels like a child trying to deny the obvious.   “Go talk to her. Lookin’ is not gonna do you any favours, young man. You have to talk.”   Yoongi already knows — he doesn’t need his mother to tell him.   “She’s busy,” he grumbles, “I’ll talk to her later.”    Fortunately, a customer comes up and Yoongi takes the opportunity to escape the conversation, immediately moving to ring them up and leaving his mom with a hopeless sigh.   At the same time, someone approaches you. After taking a sample from the tray, she decides to purchase a whole case of pesto much to your delight. “I actually bought smoothie and kombucha from you last week,” the lady mentions as you’re packing it up for her and you nod.   “I know. You bought two large smoothies and half a case of kombucha, right?”   Pleasant surprise takes hold of her expression. “How do you remember? Don’t you get a lot of customers?”   “I remember most of them, but I especially remember your Chanel classic handbag,” you point out with a smile. “The medium pink is a rarer one, plus it’s not the kind of thing lots of people wear in this sort of place.”   “You have a good eye,” the lady notes and you take the compliment. “It’s the only flashy thing I own and I have no other place to wear it aside from running errands.”   “Oh trust me, I’m like that too.” You grin, finishing up and passing the machine card for her to tap and pay. “I find that as long as you have confidence, you can pull anything off and it makes running errands a lot more fun.”   The lady laughs and easily agrees. She takes the box you offer her, but lingers. “Your kombucha and your smoothies are delicious by the way, and the pesto seems pretty good too.”   “Thank you. It took me a while to narrow down the recipe, but I think I nailed it.”    “You did.” She affirms and then out of the blue, asks, “Would you be willing to sell your products at the supermart? It’s a local grocery store I run with my husband, five miles from here, just down Imlings road.”   You’re speechless, blinking twice at her as your mouth opens and closes. The older woman waits patiently with a smile and you muster a half-coherent answer. “I-I would definitely consider it!”   “Great.” She smiles and then reaches over to her pocket. The woman hands you a business card. “Some folks around here have contracts with me too, and I’d love to add your products on the shelf. Give me a call some time tomorrow and we can chat about the details.”   You’re stunned and only broken out of your trance when a customer comes up and clears their throat.   It’s a triumphant day. You feel like you’re floating, walking on clouds — and Jungkook notices how you’re humming to yourself too and boyishly grins. “Something good happen, Y/N?”   The pair of you are walking out, Jungkook carrying your boxes as you lug your totes with you while waving goodbye to the other vendors that were leaving for the evening. “Just everything. I feel like things are going right for me, you know? And that’s kind of rare for me.”   “No, I get you. Pop always says there are rainbows after the storm. Then again, he always says how the Kim’s are running around like chickens with their heads cut off.”   That makes you laugh, but then the two of you interrupted by a sharp cry of your name. “Y/N!”   You witness Yoongi running up to you, completely out of breath.    “Hey. Are you okay? Where did you even come from?”   “Never mind that.” He straightens out. “Let me drive you back.”   “Oh, Jungkook was just going to….”   “Nah.” He insists and takes the boxes from the younger boy. “Our houses are closer together anyway. I don’t mind.”   “What about your mom?”   “She’s already left since she’s having dinner with a friend.”   You look at Jungkook who’s wholly confused, a deer in headlights and you decide to spare him from the trouble. “Well, alright. Thanks then.”   It feels a bit odd, but you take him on the offer and bid Jungkook a goodbye. The rest of your kale and belongings are packed into the back of Yoongi’s truck before you’re getting in. It’s old and worn, but the vehicle feels like it’s full of memories. You buckle yourself in and then he’s driving off with the fuzzy radio playing in the background as the golden sun sets over the horizon.   “Jungkook ain’t shit,” Yoongi suddenly pipes up after a moment. You glance over to discover him looking straight out the windshield, hands gripped on the steering wheel. And you burst out laughing.   “What?”   “He was seeing Aria for a while and then left her for the hills, so he’s got a reputation around here. I thought I should let you know.”   You see him peek at you in the corner of your eye, but you can’t repress your grin. “You sound like a boyfriend.”   “Yeah, well, I’m actually a good one.”   “Oh yeah?”   Yoongi’s knuckles are white and with the way his tongue peeks out to lick the seam of his lips, you wonder if he’s nervous. “I could show you.”   A giddy giggle that belongs to the sixteen-year-old you bubbles out. “And what would dating Min Yoongi look like?”   Yoongi plays off of your playful tone. “For one, I haven’t gotten to show you around properly yet and you still haven’t gone to one of Taehyung’s bonfire parties. He’s the guy with the strawberry farm. And I have access to his exclusive parties cause we went to school together, so you could use me to get in.”   “Hmmm….you drive a hard bargain, Min Yoongi.”   “I know how to cook a mean dinner if you give me real ingredients too.”   You laugh again, leaning your head back against the seat. “You’re too good at sweet-talking. Does your mother know you chat up girls like this?”   “Maybe. But I only really sweet talk you.”   He’s bold tonight and it’s not doing good things to you.   Your face is heating and you’re incessantly tapping your fingers against your leg. Beneath the lighthearted flirtation was a sort of simmering nervousness that’s filled with questions of if the line is going to be crossed and when that would be, and who would be the first to make the move.   Yoongi parks the car in front of your house and pulls the keys out of the ignition.   The pair of you naturally shift and look at one another. Your gazes lock together and there are three seconds of tense silence — neither wanting to get out, to break the rather intimate moment. Where you muse how brown his eyes are and Yoongi, himself, hitches his breath.   And then you’re lurching over for a kiss.   It’s all mouths and noses bumping together, obscene and sloppy, but a long time coming. His lips are softer than expected, only chapped at the corners, but you don’t get to think about it for too long or deepen the kiss. Not when you’re too busy giggling and laughing against him.   You pull apart, hands grasping onto the collar of his loose flannel. “You’re so eager.”   It’s a bit unusual to see Yoongi be anything other than annoyed or composed, but you soak it up as much as you can. The sunset is painting his skin golden and the car smells like him too. It seems like you’re surrounded in Min Yoongi and it’s fully welcomed.   “You are too,” he retorts on an exhale, hand skimming down to the dips of your waist. But then Yoongi swallows hard and retracts. He leans his arm on the steering wheel and looks out the window in disappointment. You wonder if you did something wron— “I can’t stain the truck. My mom has hawk eyes and she’s gonna know if we do something, and I’d rather she not.”   You scoff and lean forward, swift enough to plant a kiss on his cheek and pull away. “For such a good talker, you sure are stupid, Yoongi. There’s a whole house behind you and no one in it.”   A gummy smile spreads into his face and you feign a tired huff, lifting your chin and sticking your nose in the air. You add, “But for your information, I only give people the time of day when they make it worth it for me.”   He’s already opening the door and accepting the challenge before you can finish.    “Oh, I’ll make it worth it alright.”   You find out that Yoongi has a dirty mouth and an even nastier tongue. Part of you always wondered if he hated your guts, but you couldn’t be any more wrong.    You’re tugging on the strands of his hair, chest rising and falling as you pant. “W-Where did you learn how to do that?”    The bastard shrugs with a smug smile. “I might be unlikable, but I’ve had plenty of practice before.”   “Oh yeah?” The corner of your own mouth tugs. “With who?”   Yoongi grins and lifts himself up to plant a sweet kiss against your lips. “You wouldn’t know them. But they’re not as important as you are.”   “I’m going to choke over your greasiness, Min Yoongi.”   “Good. Choke.”   “You’re gonna have to stuff me with your cock first.”   Yoongi laughs at how you’re desperately tugging him closer to you, but he easily agrees with one condition— “Only if you’re good for me.”   The pair of you are sweaty when you finish. You thought the old bed frame was going to give up mid-way. Luckily, it held up even with all its loud squeaks and creaks. But you wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a dent where the headboard slammed against the wall.    But you’ll count your losses later. You’re just relieved that there was no one in the house.   While Yoongi might’ve been all soft groans and rapid exhales, he made you absent-minded to your own noises that somehow leaves your throat sore. You’re sure anyone who would’ve stood by your porch would’ve heard and been scandalized for the rest of their life.   “You know.” You turn to Yoongi, having stared at the ceiling. His eyes meet yours. “You’re pretty good for a farm boy.”   The playful quip ticks him off enough that he does it again. Yoongi pins you underneath him and is merciless. Your bubbling giggles turn to tears leaking down the side of your face from overstimulation, but you climax again through a moaning apology.   When you’re spent, Yoongi collapses next to you.    You’re surprised at how cuddly he is, how he naturally reaches for you, torso molding against yours and arms wrapped around your waist. In spite of feeling hot and sweaty, Yoongi holds you against him and you relish in it. “How is it possible that no one’s snatched you up yet?”   “Maybe it’s because I’m known to be standoffish.” He smiles against your temple, soothed by the way you run your fingers through the strands of his hair. “And what about you? Do you have a boyfriend or a husband I don’t know about that’s waiting in the city?”   “No. No one’s drawn me in quite like you have.”   Yoongi’s smile pulls into a grin, and the pair of you are lulled by each other’s inhales and exhales, unintentionally falling asleep in one another’s embraces like lovers underneath tree canopies on a Summer afternoon.   It’s some of the most peaceful sleep you’ve had, but then you’re shaken awake by a rattle and an ‘ow’. Your eyes open to find the other side of the bed empty and Yoongi nursing his hip after presumably bumping into your nightstand. You sit up, disoriented as he’s hopping up and down, barely getting his pants on.   “I need to get home before my parents find out I was gone the entire night and start asking questions.” His voice is thick and husky, hair in a disarray, eyes bleary and barely awake.   His panic makes you giggle and you watch him struggle to put on his clothes. Peeking outside, the sun isn’t up yet and the clock reads that it’s five in the morning. “Are they even awake this early, Yoongi?”   “I don’t know. Sometimes.” He fiddles with his flannel, putting his arms through the wrong holes, and even when he figures it out, he doesn’t realize it’s inside out. “I’ll...see you later?”   “Wait. Yoongi.” You stop him for a second and he turns around. It feels awfully juvenile, like you’ve reverted back into your sixteen-year-old self that giggles over crushes, but Yoongi always seems to make you feel that way. “Are we….dating now?”   “If I didn’t make it any more clear last night and by sleeping over, then I don’t know what else to do.”   It takes a beat for the words to sink in, but once it does, a bright and overexcited smile overcomes your features. Yoongi snorts before the corners of his own mouth tickles.   When he’s gone, you discover that you miss him already.

The morning alarm rings at six. But by then, you’re already up.   You’ve fallen into a natural schedule, a cycle that your body has picked up on and has awoken before anything needs to call you. And after brushing your teeth and running a comb through your hair, you’re taking care of your farm. Plowing fields. Harvesting kale. Having breakfast.   You also package the last of the pesto and guacamole, pouring the kombucha into the bottles with the proper labels. Some of which are prepared for the grocery store to pick up while others are packed for tomorrow. Afterwards, you come to the farmers’ market and meet Hoseok, a boy you’ve hired to help you take over. He helps you man the stall and the cash register, giving you the freedom to chat with customers and other vendors or complete other tasks with Jungkook.   By afternoon, you come back to the farm to check out the Insta spot and aid Jimin in running things smoothly.   “This is beautiful, Y/N.” Today, you’re graced by a few friends from the city. They drove out here after you reached out to them again and you couldn’t be more pleased from their genuine reactions. “When you said you were coming out to start a farm...I didn’t imagine this.”    “It took a lot of work, but it’s not half bad, right?”   Mina leans in, eyes flickering around. “Where’s this infamous Yoongi?”   A laugh spills from you. “He’s busy. You’ll see him next time.”   “I keep hearing about him, but I haven’t even seen him or his picture once,” Tiffany huffs. “I’m beginning to think he’s fake.”   You grin and insist, “I promise you he’s real.”   “Oh my god!” Yeri startles the group by the sheer urgency in her voice, but when you all swivel to her, she has her phone held in the air, screen directed to her face. “This is the perfect lighting! Guys, come here and take selfies up before the sun moves!”    You can’t help smiling as you watch them, matching their footsteps as they approach the fields. You can tell that they’re still surprised, that they love what you did — and you couldn’t be prouder.   At ten at night, the last people have filtered out and you bid them goodbye.   “Great job, Jimin. Thanks for the help as usual. It didn’t get too busy when I was gone, right?”   “Not at all.” The brunette with the polite smile shakes his head. “Oh, but the customer feedback box was full. I put it in the living room for you.”   “I saw that. Thank you. I’ll take a look tomorrow.” Looking ready to go, you walk him to the door. “Rest up then! I’ll see you tomorrow.”   “Goodnight, Y/N.”   But as one man leaves, you catch another down the road. The familiar truck is chugging, head beams piercing through the darkness settling across the horizon. Jimin recognizes it too after months of the same routine and smiles at you before he’s on his way.   The truck is parked on your lawn and the dark-haired man in the flannel is already smiling when he catches you through the front windshield. He opens the door and slams it shut as you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed and the screen door held behind you.   “Well, well, well. Look at what the cat dragged in.”   Yoongi chuckles and grabs a crate from the back of his truck. “It’s groceries from my parents.”   He meets you at the porch and plants a chaste kiss on your lips as a greeting. You follow him into the kitchen as he beelines to it. It’s almost like this is his home — an idea that tempts you greatly.   “Aw, she packed me more pie.” There’s goat’s milk too and you store it in the fridge as Yoongi organizes your cabinet, making sure there’s enough sustenance to keep you healthy for the week. You’ve already told him that you could take care of yourself, but he’s stood firm and you didn’t argue. It was a guilty pleasure to be pampered by Yoongi after all, and you weren’t about to refuse it.   “My parents want you to come over soon. They keep asking me about you.”   You nod. “I’m happy to come over whenever they want. But I should probably bake something. Your mom always makes me food.”   “Nah. She does it cause she likes to. How about Tuesday?”   “That works for me.”   “Have you eaten yet?”   One shake of your head leads to him cooking and then the pair of you sitting at the table across from one another and sharing a warm meal. You ask Yoongi about his day and he tells you about bailing Namjoon and Taehyung out of jail. Apparently, they landed themselves into trouble after they lost their cow and went looking for it. Yet somehow, they ended up miles away on an orchard farm where they had a confrontation with an old grump and got arrested for trespassing.   But as exasperated as Yoongi likes to act, the irony isn’t lost on you how he drove that far out to bail them out and keep the secret from their parents. He’s the kind of man that conveys his feelings through his actions instead of his words and you’ve come to endear that quirk about him.   After dinner and cleaning up, you turn on the twinkling fairy lights strung along the backyard and stand on your patio, leaning against the banister. The land and rows of kale are strangely bare without people and the ruckus of crowds, yet there’s a certain peacefulness of the uncertain horizon.   “What’re you thinking about?” A husky voice sounds beside you as Yoongi meets your side.   “Nothing.” You shake your head. “All day I’ve been feeling proud of myself, that’s all. I think...my grandfather would be proud of me too.”   “Of course he would be.” Yoongi drapes his arm around your shoulder. “I’m proud of you too.”   As calm and detached as Yoongi may be at times, he still has the effect of catching you off guard when he sweet talks. And it’s a kind of duality that makes you adore him even more.   You wrap your arm around his slim waist, grinning and he plants a wet kiss at your forehead.   “Hey, Yoongi. Since you love me….does that mean you love kale too?”   “Those things are mutually exclusive.”   “But kale is my lifeblood.” You look up at him. “You can’t love me without loving kale.”   He scoffs at your ridiculous argument, but it’s pointless back and forths like this that you enjoy the most. Especially when Yoongi gives in. “Fine. I love kale. But for the record, I love you a lot more.”   You laugh and lean your head on his shoulder. “I’m glad I came here.”   You’re glad you never gave up or gave in to the discouragement of your family, the apprehension of your friends or the voice inside your own mind.    You’ve finally found your place.   “I’m glad too.”   There’s no need to go home when home is right here.

The image of Levi tenderly peppering kisses all over Hange's face is living rent free in my mind. Him kissing her hooked nose and the soft look in his eyes as he takes off her eye patch to stare at her lovingly. Then he gently kisses her scarred eye.

Agh I'm so mushy rn.

Just me writing a drabble after reading Second Chance by @fanmoose12 for the 1234567890th time. 

This drabble is set right after the fic.

Realization came as a sudden burst of energy, a refusal to allow the trappings of sleep to once again take over. Or maybe it could have been the Ackerman genes. 

It was too late at night though for Levi to have pondered such an idea. Since the end of the war, the he sustained those injuries that had left him blind in one eye and unable to walk, Levi had been sleeping earlier and earlier. 

That night though, with Hange sleeping next to him, her face illuminated by the moonlight on the window, for the first time in so long, he could not sleep. 

How long had he been staring at her? Levi wasn’t sure of when exactly he had fallen into that trance. As he allowed himself to be a little more conscious of the birds chirping just outside his hospital window and the soft blue that was slowly starting to blanket of his stale white recovery room, he once again became aware of the passage of time. 

Nights though have always been surreal. Nights encompassed those few moments when people can wonder if there was really more to the world than what reality offered them and as the birds chirping only got louder, as the contours of the room started to become a little more visible to his one good eye.

As the view of Hange’s peaceful sleeping face which for so long, yet for so short of a time was illuminated by the bright moonlight, a beautiful yet stark contrast to the darkness in the room, Levi felt all the more compelled to grasp that moment as his. 

For who knows, if he hesitates, they might just take her away again.

That first movement he forced out of himself could have been an act of desperation, or it could have been an eager grip on the reality which for the first time was finally giving him what he so wanted. His joints screamed, his insides went about their violent protest as Levi reached out his one arm and pulled her sleeping form closer. 

The way her head thudded on his shoulder, sent a few chilling pules of a dull pain with them. And Levi wondered if he had hurt her in the process. He had been too preoccupied, processing the way it had rocked his body for a second and pushed out of him a soft whimper. 

A soft whimper, he only noticed yet so quickly brushed away, when once again Hange stared at him. The Hange illuminated by the soft white of the moon under the night sky was still there, yet from his view, the wide window to his back, Levi could see the beginnings of a soft blue, and maybe a little pink. 

The sun was about to rise. 

That view would forever be etched in his mind. It would have been criminal though to have left it for just his eyes to enjoy Levi pulled her close, so close that her scents brought him back to the laboratory of so many years ago. To the nights he had spent bathing her. To the nights he had spent drenched in titan sweat and blood. 

For the first time, he was happy to have picked up such a scent. As if by instinct, he held her face closer towards his and kissed her. 

Once. Then twice. Then Levi stopped counting. Instead he focused on the way the scent had lingered on his dry lips. Then he tasted it. A saltiness, a tanginess yet underneath it all, a familiar scent. 

Underneath it all, she smelled like him. “Are you using my soap?” 

“You noticed?” 

As Levi pulled himself back, far enough to see her expression, he did see her hazel eyes were open. The way her eyes had quickly adjusted to the dimly lit room, Levi could have sworn she had been awake for some time. 

Levi let out a painful chuckle. “Don’t scrub yourself too hard. I might just miss your scent.” 

“I feel like this is the first time I’ve heard you say that.” 

Levi didn’t say anything more, letting his next few actions speak for him. Once again he grabbed her close and buried his face into her hair. The soft white of the room shifted to a pale blue then before when Levi looked up once again everything from the vase, the flowers, the door and the wallpaper were starting to take upon themselves their original colors. 

Ironically, it was at that exact moment, that Levi’s eyes were starting to flutter close, and a wave of exhaustion at an almost sleepless night came over him. Possibly from instinct though, despite the fatigue, despite the dull aches of his body and the painful protests of his joints, Levi was in no hurry to let go. 

He had hesitated once before in the forest. He had hesitated that other time in the harbor. 

Levi had learned his lesson though. He wasn’t making that mistake a third time. 

I’m not letting go.

Coffee shop au (Doppo x Reader)

A/N: decided to do a little scenario for the birthday boy Doppo! Hope yall enjoy :)

Word count: 1798

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You were a literature student at university. Every morning you see this man come into the coffee shop around 8 o clock. 'Poor thing, always looks so tired and rundown.'

One morning was particularly busy. You overheard his order from one of his many visits and decided to pay for it. He comes in an hour later frantically looking around, wondering if he should leave the line. One of the employees waves him down and gives him his order. That lady over there paid for your coffee. He looks completely baffled and turns to see you waving. He thanks the barista and walks to your table.

"Hi um, thanks for paying for my coffee miss." He scratches the back of his head nervously. "No problem. My name is Y/N by the way." You extend your hand to shake his. "Oh! I'm Doppo." "It was busy today and I figured you always look so busy." His eyes widened. "You can tell from just that huh?" You nod. "Well, it's true I don't have much time to myself outside of work..."

"What do you do? Oh, I'm a salaryman." "Ah, I see. Must be pretty tiresome work." "It would be alright if my boss didn't give me so much to do." His fists clenched. "Oh, I'm sorry for rambling." "It's alright." "I actually have to get going. I can already feel my work piling up." He shoots you a bemused grin.

"It was nice talking to you." "Would you have time to chat over coffee on the weekend? Seems like you have a lot more to say." "Maybe! Uh, I'll be back tomorrow." "Alright, see you." He waves and scurries out of the cafe. "What an odd guy. I hope he's not overdoing himself too hard..." You continue your writing.

The next day Doppo joins you for coffee. "So Mr. salaryman, how goes life?" You sit down at the same table you were at yesterday. "Oh uh, I'm kind of always on the go." "Do you have any hobbies?" "Well, I do have a few houseplants. I keep a bunch of cute little succulents around my place like a salad bowl, giant velvet rose, it's actually just a small one, and a tiny cactus-" He stops there because he feels the conversation dragging.

"What about friends?" "Hifumi has been my friend since elementary school. Despite everything, I'm glad he's still around." "That's nice to hear." You smile. "Oh! I've been so busy talking about myself I never asked about you." " Well, there's not much to know." "Nonsense, what do you do? I saw you with your laptop yesterday." "I'm a literature student at ___ University." "So you're a writer? That's pretty interesting."

Over the next few months, you became fast friends. Doppo would join you in the morning for coffee and a small chat then dash to work.

(Insert clever transition here)

"Doppooo." You call out to him and wave your hand in front of his face. "Doppo?" He snaps back into reality. "Hmm? What is it y/n?" "Are you alright?" "I'm f-fine. Why do you ask?" You shake your head. "It's ok to have a break every now and then y'know. You've been spacing out all day." "Yeah, sorry y/n. I guess I just have a lot on my mind." "Why don't we do something?"

"Would you like to go out? Hang out I mean! Somewhere else! Anywhere! You can choose!" "Hmm, I think a walk would do us both some good." "Uh yeah s-sure." Doppo sweats a little.

"Hey uh y/n, I'm not a very athletic person as you can probably tell..." "That's alright, It doesn't have to be a long one. Why don't we just walk down to the park at our own pace?" "Oh, o-ok sure."

Leaving the cafe you walk about 15 minutes to the nearest park and sit down on a nearby bench. You turn to face him. "I'm worried about you Doppo. Are you taking care of yourself?" "I'm just hanging on like I always do..." He gives a nervous chuckle. "You didn't answer my question." He hangs his head and sighs. "What's the point?" "The point is your wellbeing Doppo. Here." You pat your lap. "Just take a little rest. "N-no I shouldn't-" "I don't mind." Hesitantly he lays down on the bench and rests his head on your lap, blushing.

It didn't take long for him to immediately fall asleep on your lap. You laugh to yourself. 'He looks so peaceful like this, just like a cute little man child.' You carefully stroke his hair making sure not to wake him up. A small blush forming on your cheeks.

After a while, he awakes and rolls over. His sleepy teal-blue eyes meeting yours.

"Y-y/n!" He sits up abruptly, a bright red blush flooding his cheeks. "I-I'm so sorry! How long was I asleep?" "Not long, you could have napped longer if you wanted to. It looks like you needed the sleep." "Erm, yeah. thank you." His cheeks still burning red. "You can lay back down if you want. You still have a few hours before you have to go to work right?" He considers, thinking how comfortable your thighs were cradling his head. "I-I don't want to be a bother..." "Just lay on my shoulder then. We can both take a nap." "Okay."

Doppo leans on your shoulder and closes his eyes hoping that you didn't notice his quickening heartbeat. Resting your head on his crimson locks you close your eyes and fall asleep into a short slumber together.

t-t-t-transition---------

"What would you like to eat?" "Anything, I'm starving." You giggle. "I was going to make some omurice~" He visibly perks up. "I'd like that very much." "Omurice it is! Topped with some cilantro." You lick your lips. "U-um. No cilantro for me thank you..." he winced trying not to gag.

"Oh no, you have the cilantro hating gene, don't you?" "Yeah, it kinda tastes like soap." You dramatically toss your hand to your forehead. "That's so tragic. I wish your taste buds could appreciate the fresh springy sprigs that are cilantro. But alas! I'll just top it off with chives."

"Y-you can have cilantro! It's not a problem if you want to!" "I don't want to make you sick with the aroma." "I'll be fine as long as I don't eat it! Really!!" "Ok ok. I'll do both." "Do you want some help? Omurice is one of the only things I can make..." his head hangs a little. "Sure! I could always use some help chopping some veggies."

You were coming over to Doppos place every weekend now to make sure he was eating well and getting enough sleep.

After prepping the vegetables and cooking the rice, you dice up some chicken and mix in the vegetables and spices, also adding some ketchup. Then whisking an egg with a little milk you cook the omelette and add the chicken, veggies and rice. Folding the egg over you make a little ketchup smiley face with dimples on the side of his plate and top it off with some chives. Then do the same with yours.

"Here you go!" Doppo's eyes light up when you hand him the plate. "Waaaah, it looks so professional! Let's dig in!" You watch as he smiles while eating, savouring every bite. "Oh y/n this is so good." "Thank yourself, you helped make it too." You smile. "Yes but mine never tastes this good. It must be something you did!" "You'd be surprised what difference a little salt and pepper can make."

You both watched a show while eating, Doppo went back for seconds.

"Thank you for the delicious meal y/n. You've been doing a lot for me, I appreciate it." "Of course! I'll always try and be there for you when you need me." "Would you really?" Doppo's palms get sweaty as he turns to you with his head down. "Would it be so wrong to think that there's something between us? I-I know I'm a pessimist and an overall mess. You basically take care of me like I'm your kid- Oh, who am I kidding you don't want me... I'm a ball of anxiety and-" you put a finger to his lips and he blushes immediately.

"I like you too, Doppo." You smile. "Y-you do?" He sighs visibly relaxing. "I thought I really blew it there... but I'm glad you feel the same." You place your hand over his. "I care about you Doppo."

After a few more shows and an awkward silent stroll, Doppo walks you back over to your place and says goodnight.

"Thanks for everything y/n." Knowing he wouldn't be the one to make the first move (in this case anyway) you lean over and kiss him on the cheek. He looked so cute with his flustered expression and blushed cheeks. "Night Doppo."

When you lay down on your bed for the night your heart races and butterflies dance in your stomach. Then your phone pings from your nightstand.

"I had a really great time today! Not like I don't any other time! But today was special! The texts came flooding in one after the other. You beam and reply "Yes today was fun. Now please get some sleep. You need it." "I'll try!"

Epilogue I guess---------

Even though you move in with Doppo quite quickly it turns out to be the best thing for the both of you. He does his best to look out for you and you look out for him.

In the morning you both wake up, he boils water for coffee and you make breakfast. You'll still visit the coffee shop every now and then, but there's nothing quite like having breakfast in bed with your partner.

You always call him during lunch and inbetween to make sure he doesn't forget to eat. When he comes home he'll help you with meal prep if he's not too exhausted. Then you'll eat dinner in front of the tv and watch a show.

After dinner, you both wash and dry the dishes then sit down on the couch and cuddle. On a good day, you watch a few episodes of your favorite show together. But on an exhausting day, Doppo falls asleep within the first 10 minutes. But you don't mind. You simply flip the station and admire his sweet peaceful face as he lays his head on your shoulder.

If it's late you wake him up with head pats and guide him to bed in a half-asleep stupor joining him soon. When you're in bed he always has one arm around you. Usually, your back to his front or the both of you facing each other in an embrace until you wake and the cycle begins anew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading!

Daily skin care routine for oily skin

Were you aware that your skin is a natural source of oil? Yes, the skin contains oil-producing glands called sebaceous glands. The natural oils formed by these glands aid in the retention of moisture and the hydration of your skin.

Excess sebum or oil produced by the sebaceous glands results in oily skin. Oily skin can also be caused by influences outside of your power, such as your genes, stress, humid weather, and hormonal changes.

If you suffer from oily skin on the daily, continue reading to learn more and discover the best skincare regimen for oily skin.  

How can I take care of my oily skin daily?

If you experience an extremely oily skin, creating and committing to a new skincare regimen focusing on moisturizing and hydrating your skin will provide excellent outcomes.

Segregate your everyday skincare regimen for oily skin into 2 components: a morning skincare schedule and an evening skincare schedule.

On one hand where a morning skincare schedule protects your skin from harm caused by the sun and other environmental contaminants, an evening skin care schedule will help repair the harm done to your face's skin throughout the day.  

Use Kiaa Republiks’

Ubtan Foaming Face Wash

for Deep Cleansing, De-Tan & Skin Clarity

This foaming facewash from Kiaa Republiks’ contains potent antioxidants, UV protectors, and melanin blockers, which help to maintain excess melanin under control and improve your skin's radiance.

It aids in the reduction of spots and poor skin tone. It is a skin-reviving facewash that gently removes the coating of dead skin cells from your face to refresh tanned, stressed skin. It is ideal for your skincare regimen since it is one of the finest skincare items available.

Why use Kiaa Republiks’ Ubtan Foaming Face Wash for Deep Cleansing, De-Tan & Skin Clarity?

Kiaa Republiks’ Ubtan foaming face wash contains a scientifically formulated blend of natural ingredients in proportionate levels that acts as the ultimate remedy for treating oily skin. Some of those ingredients are:  

Orange oil

The rind of the sweet orange, Citrus sinensis, is used to remove the orange essential oil. Its sweet smell is joyful, uplifting, soothing and stimulating all at the same time. Orange oil can help to reduce oily skin, which can aid in acne reduction. Orange oil helps to lessen pain or inflammation while providing relief. It is a perfect ingredient for treating oily skin.

Saffron

Saffron acts as an organic skin lightener. It lightens the color of your skin while enhancing your inherent natural glow. After washing your face, applying some saffron oil all over your face and body can work wonders for your skin.

Patchouli oil

Dermatitis, oiliness, and dry, cracking skin are some examples of skin disorders that can be treated by Patchouli oil. Reducing the severity of symptoms such as acne, dullness, and breakouts could alleviate skin distress and provide sensations of calmness via skin relief  

Turmeric

The anti-inflammatory properties will target your excessively active pores for soothing your skin. Acne can be reduced by using a turmeric face mask. Turmeric is well-known for its antibacterial effects, which aid in the maintenance of a clean and clear skin. Turmeric reduces oil secretion from the sebaceous glands and aids in the prevention of infections.

Ylang Ylang oil

Ylang Ylang essential oil has a lovely floral, and sensual fragrance. It's an outstanding oil for managing oily skin. It is ideal for treating sensitive yet oily skin.  

How to control oily skin?

Washing regularly can reduce the amount of oil on the skin. The following methods are recommended for washing oily skin:

Wash with a gentle soap and warm water.

Avoid soaps with fragrances, added moisturizers, or harsh chemicals, which can irritate or dry out the skin, making it respond by creating more sebum.

Washing your face on a daily basis will help to minimize the levels of natural oils produced in your skin. For cleaning oily skin from deep within, the following instructions are recommended by top dermatologists:

Use a soft soap and warm water to clean your face off all dirt and grime.

Reduce harsh products loaded with fragrances, artificial moisturizers, or hard chemicals, which can aggravate or dry out your skin; causing it to produce more sebum.

Avoid using rough washcloths and loofahs because the increased friction can stimulate your skin to produce more oil.  

If this does not work, other medicated products meant to cure acne can. These medicinal products have acids that can help with oily skin, such as:

salicylic acid

lactic acid

alpha-hydroxy acid

Benzoyl peroxide  

Any skin type can be irritated by such acids. When introducing a new medicinal product in your skincare regimen, test it on a tiny patch of skin and see how it responds.

Choosing the best facial cleansers can be beneficial for certain individuals. According to a 2015 study, a mild facial cleanser containing sodium lauryl carboxylate and alkyl carboxylates was successful for treating moderate facial acne, despite increasing sebum formation in certain patches of the face.

Many people with oily skin who do not suffer from acne vulgaris can benefit from a cleansing routine consisting of fragrance-free glycerin soap and hot water.

Alternatively, you can also try Kiaa Republiks’  range of excellent facial cleansers available in its online store.

Homemade skin care routine for oily skin

The face masks given below are simple to produce, and the constituent ingredients are likely to be found in your kitchen. So you shouldn't have a reason for skipping these face masks from your everyday skin care regimen for oily skin.

Banana Face Pack

Ripe bananas are very good at curing oily skin. Bananas boast anti-aging effects that can enable to get clear of dark spots while brightening your oily skin. To produce a paste of banana face mask, mash a ripe banana and add 2-3 drops of lemon juice. Apply it to your face and allow it to dry. Then, to enjoy the softness and freshness left behind by your home-made banana mask, clean your face with lukewarm water.

Aloe Vera Face Pack

Aloe vera is an excellent moisturizer for dry skin since it reduces inflammation and avoids pore clogging. Aloe vera is suitable for all skin types because it contains anti-inflammatory properties that cure a variety of skin problems. To make a face mask using this wonder ingredient, combine aloe vera and honey, apply evenly and rinse after drying. Face masks made from aloe vera work wonders for oily skin.

Gram Flour (Besan) and Curd Face Pack

It's an age-old remedy for curing excessively oily skin. Gram flour, also known as besan, is an anti-pimple and anti-aging tan reduction product that decreases your skin's oiliness. When used as a face mask, besan combined with curd will make your skin shimmer with radiance and liveliness.

Cucumber Face Pack

Cucumber is a fantastic natural product for treating oily skin. It lightens dark spots and helps the skin appear radiant and youthful. Cucumber hydrates the skin without causing it to get sticky. Its inherent astringent properties reinforce pores while also removing excess oil, dead tissue, and dust. Using cotton balls, rub cucumber juice all over your skin. Allow it to dry before rinsing with warm water.

Summer skin care routine for oily skin

Come summers and those suffering from oily skin start buying one product after another to combat their skin conditions. We’ve rounded up some of the best tips for summer skincare routine for those of you suffering with oily skin.

Buy a set of blotting papers

This does not imply that you should go all out for purchasing blotting papers almost every other day. When used excessively, they will absorb even the most necessary oil levels from your skin and stimulate unnecessary sebaceous gland behavior. Gently dab the pad on the greasy patches of your skin either once or twice every day to eliminate extra sebum.

Try Micellar Water

This latest arrival to the cosmetics industry has made life even easier over the summer season. It is portable and does not need rinsing with water immediately after application. Micellar water is an excellent option for cleansing and removing extra oil and dirt from your skin.  

Make Sure You Apply Sunscreen

Sunscreen ought to be a component of your daily skin care routine at all times of the year. The sun's harsh UV rays can cause excessive skin damage. If you suffer from oily or acne-prone skin, wearing sunscreen is a must. This will protect your skin from exposure to the sun and the resulting breakouts.

To avoid sun damage and its resulting blemishes, use a broad-spectrum, parabens-free sunscreen. During the summer season, dermatologists advise on using a sunscreen or sunblock with an SPF of at least 30. They also recommend reapplying of sunblock after every two hours.

Use a mild moisturizer

Moisturizers are important for all skin types. However, if you suffer from an excessively oily skin, dermatologists advise on using a mild, hydrating moisturizer to save your face's skin from getting too greasy by mid-day. Are you thinking whether you need a moisturizer even when you have a lot of oiliness on your skin? Moisturizers help keep your skin hydrated. They reduce sebum usage, which can aid in the prevention of acne breakouts.

Conclusion

Several home remedies for treating oily skin have been thoroughly researched, and some have been shown to be reliable by clinical evidence.

A personal experience is the primary measuring stick for efficacy. You should establish and adhere to a routine that works the best for them.

The best approach may be to contact a dermatologist and collaborate with them to make a list of everyday habits and conditions that may reduce the emergence of oily skin.

It is important to try any product or procedure on a small patch of your skin first to observe any adverse skin reactions. If a substance causes a negative reaction on your skin, it should never be used again, and you should contact an expert for other alternatives.

If you suffer from excessive acne and oily skin, you should consult a dermatologist first to determine the safest way to protect your skin for avoiding serious skin problems or scarring.

Share a Lair 06 || Sharing His Space

Max surfaced some time in the afternoon. Jasper and Henry were sitting at the island, eating plates of food whenever he walked into the kitchen and smirked to himself when he saw them. Charlotte’s face brightened up as soon as she saw him. That made him break out into a wide smile. “Morning, Charlotte!”

“Morning? Try maybe three hours ago, Friend.” She laughed and he came over to where she was standing near the stove and leaned against the counter, “You cook?” He asked.

“Oh, no. I didn’t have time, but my Uncle Roscoe is ALWAYS concerned that if the whole family doesn’t have greens and black eyed peas that the year won’t go right. Despite the fact that he’s been cooking and eating this every year himself for ages and I haven’t seen him have a year that I thought went right in my entire life.”

“Can I have some?” Max asked.

“You ask for things nicely?” Henry asked.

“He asks Charlotte things nicely,” Jasper said. The two of them smiled at each other and she furrowed her eyebrows. What the heck did they mean by that?

She ignored them and told Max, “Of course you can. There’s greens and black eyes peas that he gave me entire pots of. All I had to do was warm it on the stove. And also a whole meat pan of ribs, and I may have shot my shot with his cornbread recipe.”

Max grabbed a plate, “So, your family has like a FEAST for New Year’s Day?”

“Kinda,” she said. He just smiled at her.

Jasper watched them carefully and wondered, “Is there something going on here?” Max realized that he was standing extremely close to Charlotte, practically in her personal space and they were just smiling at each other. They both got some distance at Jasper’s question, and he said, “Nevermind.”

Max sat at the table and ate, then had seconds and thirds… Henry’s eyes were wide, “You can really put some food away, huh?”

“I’ve got superpowers,” was all that Max said.

Charlotte, having been finished eating a while ago, but was still in an apron, now nursing a cup of tea sat down and said, “Right, your biology is a little bit different than ours. Like, your scans and vitals and stuff register differently, so of course, your metabolism and probably other functions would too. Plus, with the range of powers that you have, your natural internal processes are probably so different from ours that our estimations can’t really comprehend it!” She sounded so interested, but also, Max almost felt like she was speaking about some bizarre creature.

“I’m human. I have human functions, but yes… my genes do some things differently.”

“Yeah, I mean, yes - obviously you’re human, but you’re superhuman. It’s not exactly the same.”

“I mean… It’s not, but it is!” He said, kind of irritated. Something about the thought of her seeing him differently was troubling for him. Henry grabbed his empty plate and gave Max a weird look as he went to make another plate for himself.

Charlotte said, gently, but sternly, “I wasn’t trying to upset you, Max. I’m trying to understand.” She shrugged her shoulders and left it alone. He obviously didn’t care to talk about this.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” He wondered. “We got back here pretty late and you called me this morning.” Great. Subject change. She nodded.

“I got about 4 hours of sleep, no… 3.” She sipped her tea. “I’ll probably crash tonight as soon as my head touches my pillow.”

“I wore you out last night, I’m sure,” he said. Jasper choked on his food and Henry snorted laughter. Charlotte’s lip dropped. “Grow up. I only meant I kept her out all night, party hopping.”

“What else would he mean? Because everybody here knows that nothing else would have ever happened between us! I’m not… That girl.” He thought about last night’s little kiss… Actually, he hadn’t stopped thinking about it. He’d been thinking about it from the time it happened, even through the dream portion of his sleep. He couldn’t believe that something that lasted so short in real time was having such a lengthy after effect. But also, she clearly didn’t want her friends to know that it even happened.

He got up, collected his plate and tossed it in the sink. “Henry, don’t forget that you or Jasper have clean up duty for the next two months,” he said and retreated back into his chambers.

Charlotte asked, “You lose a bet or something?”

Henry and Jasper both stammered over word vomit, avoiding admitting that they sold her out with house chores. She put her tea cup away, went to Max’s door, and pressed the button that she guessed worked like a doorbell. His voice came through the speaker, “Yes, Charlotte?”

“Hey… Are we okay?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know. You seemed… different… than last night…”

He was quiet for a while and she wasn’t sure if the connection had ended, but he sighed and said, “I’m not the only one.”

She whispered, “Okay, sorry. I will loosen up more. Like last night… Well, maybe not like last night, but…”

He heard him chuckle, “Okay, Charlotte. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

.

Charlotte was more at home in the place than Henry felt lately. He was usually trying to be more mindful about the shared space, considering that he had to be the one to clean it up for now, while she just sort of chilled. She would straight up go into the shared spaces without checking in with Max anymore. She’d pretty much made herself at home.

She even started to wander in wearing night clothes or bringing some to change into, at times. That started, she claimed at Max’s suggestion.

It was the third weekend in January and she staggered out of the tower, exhausted beyond imagination and almost didn’t even notice that Max was outside. When she did, she yelped and startled him. “What is your problem?” He asked, with his hand over his chest.

“What’s yours? What in the world are you doing out here at this time of night?” She asked.

“I live here. I can be out here at whatever time of night I feel like it. What are you doing out here?”

“Getting ready to go home!” She said, a little snappy. “It’s the MLK Weekend and if I miss ANY of the festivities, my parents will have a long, civil rightsy fit. So, I am about to try not to fall asleep as I head back to Swellview so that I can hopefully get a few winks of it before the parade tomorrow morning. Why are you outside of the tower, though?”

This was the best spot for testing out his experiments when he went outside, because the opening was larger than on the other side of the lair. But, he was more concerned about what she’d said before that. “Should you be driving, if you’re this tired? I mean… You could just crash here and meet your folks in the morning, right? Or at least take a nap or something before you go?”

“It sounds like you’re worried,” she said amused.

“You’re the only thing that keeps my housemate and I from battling to his death,” he joked. “But, seriously, it’s dangerous, not just to yourself, but to others on the road.”

“I don’t have much of a choice. Captain Man and Kid Danger didn’t finish their assignment until a few minutes ago, and I can’t sleep in my day stench and old clothes. Gross.”

He sighed, frustrated, but forced a smile that she could see perfectly, even with just a few lanterns and the moonlight. “How about this? Tonight, I can lend you overnight clothes and my shower and stuff and the next time you come around, be sure to have a weekend bag, in case your shift goes too long.”

“Max, I could’ve inconvenienced Henry this way, but I’m not gonna do that to you.”

“It’s not an inconvenience. I’m gonna be way more inconvenienced by wondering if you and the other people on the road made it home safely when I should be testing out this awesome new hoverboard. And Henry? Don’t make me laugh. I feel like I can confidently assume that you wouldn’t be caught dead using his bath products.”

“He uses the same soap for everything.”

“There’s a special place for people like that,” Max said.

She sighed. She really didn’t want to make that drive. “Well… if you’re offering, it’d be rude of me to decline, especially since you’ve made such valid points. But, first thing’s first, lets see what’s so special about this hoverboard.”

Max LOVED when Charlotte was around for one of his inventions. She was one of the few people who he felt genuinely was curious, interested, and impressed by them from the moment she first heard about or saw them. He explained to her about the issues that previous hoverboards ran into and how he made this one with adjustments to those problems and also what he added to make it even better. She totally understood. Whenever he got on it to test it, it took off way faster than she expected and she gasped, but then laughed with excitement at how fluid he seemed on it, even when he did tricks and stuff. Like… WOW. She knew he was athletic, but dang… Ugh… He looked so cool doing stuff on that expert equipment. He pulled back in next to her, kicked an end of it as he leapt off and caught it and placed it under his arm. “I’m gonna be bringing this baby into battle with me. Can you imagine me fighting someone with the aid of this?” He was truly excited, and she was too.

“I can imagine it. I am imagining it, and I will download and save any Hero Tracks that capture it…” He put his free hand in the small of her back and walked her back towards the front entrance.

That night, she realized that his provisions were DEFINITELY more reflective of his work than she would’ve imagined. When you first entered his chambers, there was a long hallway and she noticed that he was deactivating stuff as they walked it, casually speaking and flicking his fingers. So, the lead up must’ve had some great security. Then, they came to what looked like an elevator and he moved his fingers, like he was pressing a code, but of course, didn’t need to actually touch the keys to do so. She worried. Was this going to be like Ray’s elevator? Because she wasn’t sure her head could handle it. But, when it opened, he opened a trap door in the floor and said, “Okay… This slide is really intense. You want me to hang on to you?”

“What? Slide?” She laughed. He sat down and reached for her. “Dear God…” She didn’t know what to pray as she climbed onto his lap and he smiled mischievously before pushing them off with one hand and holding on to her with the other. She. Screamed. This… might have been WORSE than Ray’s elevator. It was like one of those super slides from a water park, but no water and a terrifying drop down. Whenever they came out on the other end, they were practically shot out of the tunnel and floated for a moment as the gravity level of the room accommodated their safety. Her screams should have woken up the entire neighborhood. His laughter was a little bit louder, though. Then, they were released onto a landing pad. He smiled at her as she caught her breath.

“I… That was… Really fun!” She cackled and covered her face. “Oh my God. Is this how you always come home?”

“Usually I cross my arms across my chest like an X, slide down like a boss and control my own landing, but the slide sensed another body and tripped the gravity field control.” Now, she got up and looked around. She never thought that she would be here. He wasn’t a very open person and this was his most private space. It was very dark and mysterious, but also… not creepy, weird, or scary. More like… deep and tranquil. She explored, and to her pleasant surprise, he didn’t stop her. He let her meet his current Venus fly trap, showed her a few gadgets that he was currently working on, and such, and warned her which things to be careful around, because they were either weapons in disguise or guarded possessions with safety systems attached or nearby.

“How do you never accidentally set things off yourself?”

“Gifted, I guess,” he said, grabbing a onesie for her. “Here,” he said and tossed it to her.

“Why do you have a bunny onesie?” She asked, chuckling.

“I can’t wanna be cute and cuddly sometimes?” He gave her a washcloth and a drying towel and said, “Soap and stuff’s in there. Nothing hazardous. The one place that’s completely harmless.”

Charlotte stepped in and asked out loud, “What did they give him the prefect’s bathroom?” She studied the bathtub… She wasn’t really a bath person, but the stuff that was there for a nice long soak might be good for her, and she could always get into the shower afterwards, which there was a little walkway with drains leading to. She went to look at the shower. It had what seemed to be music settings, steam settings, aromatherapy… This bathroom was like… she didn’t want to leave it, to be honest. Henry’s bathroom had your traditional two in one bath/shower and the tub wasn’t even half as big as Max’s. Also… while he just had a toilet, Max also had a bidet! She was gonna have to light a fire under Henry. He would have to work his chops off if he wanted to get some good funding. He probably couldn’t really catch up to Max, but he could maybe at least upgrade a little. “You okay? I don’t hear anything…” Max called from the other side of the door.

“I am fangirling over your amazing bathroom, if that’s okay?”

He laughed. “Carry on. Also… The bathtub has a hot tub setting. If you need it.”

“Oh my God, can I come work for you, instead?” She joked.

“I don’t need any staff, but if you just wanna use my bathroom sometimes, I can grant you an access code.”

And he did! She didn’t tell Henry and Jasper, because, well… it wasn’t their business. And whenever she got up in the morning, having slept in Max’s bed, he was asleep on the landing pad beneath his slide with a sleeping mask on. She wasn’t sure that morning how to get out of the place, so she unfortunately had to wake him up. He ripped off his sleeping mask, alert and practically ready to fight, until he saw her. “Oh… Hey… Morning.”

“Sorry. I don’t know how to get back to the surface.”

He pointed to a door that looked yet again like an elevator, but whenever she opened it, it was an escalator. Okay. She got on, thanked him and left. He dragged himself into bed and laid down. His pillow smelled like her hair. He couldn’t help but to smile about that. He hugged it close and kinda wished it was her. He could’ve possibly made a move last night, but… then she might have thought that he was only nice to her for that. He didn’t want to scare her or make her distrust him. Besides, it was cool kinda building a friendship with her. They didn’t HAVE to be more… Probably wouldn’t be.

.

But, whatever they were, Henry knew that Charlotte had some type of… power in this house. Power that he didn’t seem to have. “Char… You think that you could get Max to agree to some more living room time?”

“I’m not his housemate, Hen. You are.”

“I know, but he likes you, though.”

Her face got warm, “What? No he doesn’t! I mean, we respect each other. We have a sort of rapport that we’ve managed to develop. But, that’s it. Besides, I told you which of those tower rooms you can make into a wonderful living room within your chambers.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have the SAL swag that is in our shared living room.”

“Technically… That stuff belongs to both of you, or it’d be in Max’s chambers. Believe me, his space is SUPER luxurious.”

“You’ve… been in there?” Henry asked, shocked. “This is what I mean! He let you into his chambers. He would never let me or Jasper in there… Maybe he does like you.”

“God, Henry, not everybody is like you. Some people can just be nice because you’re friends, colleagues, or kindred souls. You don’t have to like everybody that you’re nice to!”

“You’re acting so weird about this. Can you please just get me the living room for the last weekend of this month slash first weekend of next month for a videogame tournament?”

“Ohhhh… He’s having that here, with his friends. You can probably come.” She laughed and waved a hand, “You live here. Of course you can come!”

“His friends? He… Has friends?” Henry said.

“The guys from his high school band, Billy and Nora, and maybe Phoebe? I can’t remember who all was tagged in the post.”

“He… You were tagged in a post invited here, where I live, and I wasn’t even so much as spoken to about it?”

“I didn’t think to…”

“I have to try to get a new housemate,” Henry said, shaking his head.

“Henry…”

“No. I don’t care that in the past couple of weeks he’s become your buddy or whatever is happening there. I work hard too and he can’t treat me like an unwanted guest in my own lair that I share with him.”

“I’m just going to tell you that if you file for a transfer, it’s a lot of paperwork and they ask you to try a number of roommate reconciliation tasks and morale building before they determine that indeed you can’t live with the person that they placed you with. He can’t be that bad, Henry.”

“He is, though. He’s the absolute worst. I’d rather live with Ray.”

“Shameless lie, huh?”

“It felt differently before I actually said it.”

“Tell you what… I will talk to him and if he doesn’t care, then we start looking into some of the SAL reconciliation tasks.” Henry gave Charlotte a big hug, lifting her off of the ground and kissed her hard on the cheek.

“You’re the best, Char!”

“Yeah, every time you need something,” she teased and gave him a shove.

Veto- Chapter One

To Genevieve, morning always seemed to be the cruelest part of the day.

Nighttime was easy. Any and all responsibility was just beyond her apartment door, the only thing left up to her at that point being what she was going to feed herself and what kind of alcoholic beverage she was in the mood for. Typically it was something mixed with vodka and some sort of take-out, or food brought home from work. She could just settle down into her worn couch, lint pebbling on its almost too-comfortable surface, and tune into the blue light that was her TV. The perfect evening to shut out a usually less than perfect day. If that wasn’t exactly the speed she was going for, she would let that responsibility tap it's probably clubbed foot on the outside of a club entrance, Genevieve dancing on top of a table with her best friends while they took turns taking shots. This of course added to the pain of mornings, her hangover rearing its head as soon as she opened her eyes. That was what made this one in particular so gruesome. 

She blinked her eyes open, immediately squinting at the light drifting in through her window. She had blackout curtains for this reason exactly, but last night in her drunken haze she had forgotten to close the blinds in order to protect herself from this exact occasion. She knew she was paying for it now, burying her nose back into her pillow and letting out a strong exhale. Outside she could hear the construction crew that was already bang-bang-banging on the complex that was being built next door. While the noise bothered her to no end in the beginning of her lease, she had grown used to it and knew that it was the reason her rent was so cheap in the first place. Even the catcalling had become white noise, but she still held up a middle finger most days when she walked by to do her laundry. This morning the jackhammering reminded her of the pile overflowing from the basket, and she let out an audible groan before pushing herself up and out from under the covers.

Six months ago she had dropped out of school, packed up all her shit, and moved to a place just outside of Malibu. Cecilia, her best friend from high school, had moved there immediately after graduating with her boyfriend at the time. While they ultimately ended up breaking things off, she stayed there to work and enjoy the sun and freedom that came along with the California heat. When Genevieve had called her for probably the thirtieth time, having an anxiety attack about not being happy or knowing the true direction of her life, Cece had suggested that she move down to the West Coast to figure things out. Within a week she had officially unenrolled from the business school at NYU, dyed her brown hair blonde in a Tesco bathroom, and packed her tan colored 2007 Subaru Forester to trek across the country. She camped in her car along the way, grateful for the couple before her who had tinted the windows. She didn’t tell her mom what she had done until she was pulling onto the Pacific Coast Highway, receiving an earful that ultimately ended as soon as her back tire popped and she had to pull over. She didn’t see why it mattered anyways, leaning against the dirty vehicle while she waited for the AAA guy to pull up and save her ass. Her mom couldn’t afford to help her with school, and so really the only money at stake was her own. That was a whole other tier of stress on her shoulders; the student loan debt that she still had to pay off despite her lack of degree. She was relieved to get her own place after staying with Cece for two weeks, but even after she pushed open the door to her new apartment, the discontentment that she had felt in New York lingered in her head like a fog. It was bearable now, though, and so she took that as a sign that she was taking the right step.

She stands on the cool linoleum flooring designed to look like hardwood, stretching her hands into the air and hearing her spine pop. The rush of blood circulating through her body makes her head throb, causing her to release a pathetic whine and hold her hand to her forehead. She grabs her glasses from her nightstand, putting them on and pulling open the drawer to find god’s gift to the earth. The bottle of Tylenol rolls to the edge of the drawer, it’s only occupant besides an Altoids tin with condoms in it. She grabs the bottle and pops it open, shaking out two pills before throwing her head back to toss them in. She pops her head under the sink in her bathroom to swallow them down, wiping the bit of water that escapes with the back of her hand. Genevieve then gets ready for the day, peeing and brushing the fuzzy feeling and stale alcohol from her teeth. After getting dressed in a somewhat-clean Led Zeppelin t-shirt and shorts she grabs her laundry basket, her keys, and heads out of her studio onto the walkway outside. 

Hidden Hills apartment complex was an old motel that had been converted into a low-income housing space, which had then just been converted into the complex that it was today. It was really nice for the price point and the area, and Gene was incredibly grateful that she had found it while it was still available. When she had moved in the owners had just finished remodeling and had begun work on the buildings that were going up now. Apparently they had knocked down the walls in between two motel rooms to create each space, making it a decent size for one person or a couple. The more expensive suites had become two bedroom apartments across the parking lot, so there were a few small families that lived there too. For the most part, though, it was people just like her who were calling it a rest stop on their way to something better. 

When she walks into the small laundry building attached to the main complex, she’s greeted by an older man in his early sixties hanging up colorful speedos to air dry in the corner. Victor was two doors down from her, and had lived here for at least the last two owners as far as she knew. He never really disclosed how long he had been there, though, which was very purposeful on his part. It wasn’t because he was ashamed by his living situation, being the oldest in the complex by at least thirty-five years. Victor absolutely romanticized the mystery he had created, introducing himself as a flaming homosexual from the south who had participated in the Stonewall Riots of 1969. When he found out that she had moved from New York City herself, he immediately took her under his wing and became the strange gay uncle she never had. Other than his horrible habit of sunbathing in the nude on his balcony, she really liked him and valued his insights and advice on life in general.

“Well would you look at who the cat dragged in! You look something horrible, Genevieve.” He says when he sees her, crossing his arms over his wife beater and kimono. He had on bright yellow swimming shorts too, which were inappropriately small for anyone other than him. She winces at his voice, wrinkling her nose while she puts her basket on top of a dryer.

“Don’t talk so loud. I just woke up.”

“My lord Jesus almighty, honey, it's past noon.” He turns back to his pile of wet clothing, pushing them into a dryer. He starts it and watches it spin for a second before leaning against the white metal, turning to look at her. “Have a good night?” 

“I’m not sure. Can’t exactly remember all of it.” Gene rubs her temples, putting in her laundry soap and starting the load.

“Those are the best kind.” He smiles at her. “You know, Genevieve, I’m very glad that you’re not a prude introvert who just stays in all the time. Have fun while you can, enjoy that hot, young body of yours to the fullest!” He shimmies his shoulders at her while she rolls her eyes. Despite being a very progressive LGBTQ+ man, he was old fashioned in that he didn’t call her by anything other than her full name. He was firm in his belief that a name was important and said a lot about a person, that it was their identity and was a part of them. Whether the name was given or not, he always called everyone by their name even if they introduced themselves with a preferred nickname. There was a guy that had moved out a few months ago, whose name was actually just Nick, but Victor called him Nicholas anyways. He felt it suited him better, and was more classy. He claimed he would get further in life as a Nicholas over just a Nick, but never really got the chance to find out. Which was just as well.

“Being a prude introvert is not a bad thing.” Gene points out, raising her eyebrows at him. “Isn’t the whole point of personality and sexuality that it’s your own?”

“Aha, my child, you’ve learned so well. I’m giving myself teacher points for that. I’m just merely pointing out that I saw a very good looking young man leaving your apartment at the asscrack of dawn two weeks ago-”

“A month ago.”

He ignores her. “-and I’m very proud of you for embracing this youth that you’ve been blessed with! Not everyone is so intelligent, Genevieve.”

“I hardly think sex is a factor to intelligence.” She laughs, hopping up onto the washer to sit.

“Perhaps not, but it's exercise, and a healthy body is a healthy mind.” He taps his hairline to emphasize his point.

“So are you keeping a healthy body for your healthy mind?” She teases, kicking her legs back and forth.

“Oh pish. Don’t trouble yourself with an old man’s sex life. That’s the last thing you want to hear about.”

“Then stop meddling in mine!” She laughs, reaching her foot out to tap his side affectionately. This draws out a smile, a chuckle escaping his lips wrinkled from thousands of Kent cigarettes.

“You don’t have to do what I say, sugar, but listen just to humor me, alright?” Gene can tell by his tone that this would be something she would want to hear, so she shuts her mouth and does as she’s told. “I’m very glad that you’re so confident in yourself. Even if you don’t think so, you’re more secure in your body and in your looks than the kids your age I’ve met. Definitely more so than I was. But maybe that's because you’re straight.” She cracks a smile at that, and he puts his hand on her knee. “That being said, honey, I don’t want you to shy away from love when it lands at your feet. Take it from an old man who has made many-a-mistake in his lifetime. When something falls in your lap, take it, run with it, and don’t let it go. Don’t chalk it up to a random hook-up just because that’s what you’re used to.”

She recognizes his seldom solemn face, nodding her head. He returns it with a tight-lipped smile, squeezing his hand. “I’m not saying don’t have casual sex, because that would make me a hypocrite. Just… when something comes along, and you can’t quite put your finger on what about it makes it so special… don’t let go, alright? Even if it scares you. Promise me.”

“I promise, Victor.” She puts her hand over his, smiling at him genuinely.

He seems to accept her sentiment, shaking his head with a small smile and moving to grab his laundry basket. “You know sweetheart, I’m going to be very sad when you become too good for this old shack.”

“Please. Even when I do manage to get out of here, I’m comin’ back to visit you and drink all your wine.”

“That’s a girl. Next time let me know when you’ve got back home safe, okay? I worry about you when your car’s gone, honey, it’s not safe for pretty young girls in the dark of the night. You know that.”

“I will. If you don’t sunbathe naked anymore.”

“Unfortunately, Genevieve my dear, you cannot ask an old man to make promises when he’s already set in his ways.”

D-Views: Muppet Treasure Island

Hi, everyone! Welcome to another installment of D-Views, my on-going written review series for films that fall under the Disney umbrella, as well as those that were influenced by those films! For more reviews for movies like Mary Poppins, Treasure Planet, and The Prince of Egypt, please consult my “Disney Reviews” tag and, of course, if you enjoy this review or any of the others, please consider liking and reblogging!

Today’s film is one of my childhood favorites, starring a cast of some of my favorite people, as well as frogs, pigs, and even whatevers. This is Muppet Treasure Island! (Thank you for your votes, @the-alexandrian-alchemist, @silvvergears, @extremelybears​, @livinlifelikeishould​ and @karalora​!)

Ever since 1976, the characters of the Muppet Show have been American pop culture icons. The show itself won a total of 21 Emmy nominations and four television awards over its long run, and by 1990 its cast had also starred in several critically acclaimed films (The Muppet Movie, The Great Muppet Caper, and The Muppets Take Manhattan) and the very popular animated TV show Muppet Babies. And all of that wouldn’t have been possible without the Muppets’ creator, Jim Henson.

Like at the Walt Disney Company, the loss of their leader in 1990 hit Jim Henson Productions very hard. One silver lining, however, is that just like with Walt Disney, Jim Henson was memorialized not just by the characters he created, but by his many achievements and the many friendships he’d made in life. He received a Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame alongside Kermit the Frog; was inducted into the Television Hall of Fame; earned a memorial in his hometown Hyattsville, Maryland; was posthumously named a Disney Legend; was the focus of the heartfelt TV special The Muppets Celebrate Jim Henson; and was laid to rest with two formal funeral services complete with performances of some of his favorite songs. And just like the Walt Disney Company, even after the death of someone who meant so much to them, Jim Henson Productions got back up and promised to do more in the memory of their lost leader. Jim’s son Brian Henson took the reins and directed the Disney-co-produced Christmas movie The Muppet Christmas Carol in 1992, before he moved on to their next project and today’s subject, Muppet Treasure Island.

So, here’s the thing -- I have a LOT of nostalgia for this movie. I will be upfront about that. But even with that acknowledged, I was sort of stunned when I found out how lukewarm the reaction to this movie was, when it was released in theaters. Sure, I knew it hadn’t broken the bank, but even if it earned about $34 million worldwide, it received no honors or awards, only hit third at the box office opening weekend behind the movies Broken Arrow and Happy Gilmore, and even now only boasts an average 73% rating at Rotten Tomatoes. Critics at the time criticized how it was more “Treasure Island” than “Muppet”, with Roger Ebert calling it “less cleverly written” and Gene Siskel even more coldly deeming it “boring.” Although I’ll readily acknowledge that reading those reactions makes me want to run outside and scream “FUCK YOU, GENE SISKEL” at the top of my lungs, I promise to give a more rational review of this movie instead, one hopefully that acknowledges any possible shortcomings, but also will celebrate this film and how completely NOT boring it is.

One of the best things about this movie hits us in the face right off the bat -- the music, written by scoring giant Hans Zimmer and Nick Glennie-Smith. As much as I enjoy a lot of Muppet musicals, I attest that Muppet Treasure Island has the most cohesive score overall of any Muppet production. The Muppets were always creatures of the short, sweet vignette -- of the variety show -- of many disparate pieces sewn loosely together into a whole like a patchwork quilt. Even though The Muppet Christmas Carol’s soundtrack comes very close in its cohesion and I would say The Muppets (2011) -- my personal favorite Muppet movie -- is truer to the spirit of the Muppet Show in its music while also paying tribute to old-fashioned movie musicals, Muppet Treasure Island just paints a full-bodied picture from the off-set, building on refrains that return and morph over the course of the picture. From the very beginning, we get that this venture is NOT a standard Muppet movie. Like The Muppet Christmas Carol, the Muppets’ humor will only be part of the story told -- in TMCC, it takes a backseat to sincere emotions like love and redemption, while here in MTI, it takes a backseat to adventure and swashbuckling action.

The score also seamlessly flows into our first song, “Shiver My Timbers,” which just screams “pirate!” I’ve loved pirates ever since I was a little kid, and Muppet Treasure Island was one of the main reasons why. I was okay with Peter Pan, but Muppet Treasure Island was what really got me excited about pirates. They were rough, ruthless, and dangerous, but it was exciting to face off against them in an epic musical adventure, even if your only weapons were a couple of artfully thrown starfish. In the 90′s, pirate films weren’t really “in” -- it wouldn’t be until 2003 with the release of Pirates of the Caribbean that they became popular again -- but I think Muppet Treasure Island, through its music, really embraces the fun, action-packed thrills that Disney would later capitalize on in the Pirates films.

After our prologue, we meet Billy Bones (played by the perfectly cast Billy Connolly) and, of course, our hero, Jim Hawkins, played by newcomer Kevin Bishop. Kevin was the very first of a hundred kids who showed up for the audition to meet the casting agents, and he was selected for the part then and there. Sadly post-Muppets he moved on to stage and television, but for what it’s worth, I quite like Kevin in the role of Jim. He’s distinctly depicted as a boy, complete with a pre-puberty “boy soprano” singing voice (which I acknowledge is an acquired taste, but I personally enjoy), but that characterization only serves to accent how large of an arc he goes through over the course of the film. He starts off as smart, sincere, honest, and dreamy, but also very innocent and trusting, and over the course of the story, he learns to ground himself in who he is and what he believes in, to the point where he has to sever ties with someone he once considered a friend and mentor. Accompanying Jim in his journey are Gonzo and Rizzo, who largely serve as comic relief but do still serve as good friends and companions to Jim, as evident by the three characters’ “I Want” song, “Something Better.” Yes, Gonzo and Rizzo are sidekicks, but they’re still distinct personalities that bounce well off each other and “straight-man” Jim. Originally the filmmakers had considered simply having Gonzo and Rizzo being two characters called “Jim” and “Hawkins” respectively (splitting the part in two, not unlike what they did with Statler and Waldorf in The Muppet Christmas Carol), but due to concerns that the choice would result in a lack of heart in the finished product, that idea was scrapped. I think it ultimately was the better decision to leave the drama to the humans -- it’s not that the Muppets can’t conjure sincere emotion (just look at “Pictures in my Head” or “Man or Muppet”), but I still think having any of the existing Muppets fulfill the “coming of age” narrative the original Jim Hawkins goes through would’ve been a bit of a stretch. Even in The Muppet Christmas Carol or non-Muppet-show Jim Henson production Labyrinth, the main characters with a story arc are played by human actors who are able to ground the picture despite the cast of colorful, irreverent characters.

One of the main criticisms that critics of the time lobbed at this movie is that it feels more “Treasure Island” than “Muppet”, and in a way it’s a decent point, if not phrased very badly. Unlike in other Muppet projects, the humor plays second fiddle to the plot and the characters are not the characters we know from the Muppet Show with their Muppet Show backstories and consciousness. In The Muppet Christmas Carol, the film could very easily be seen as a “production” being put on by the Muppets, even if it’s never overtly stated as such, thanks to Gonzo (as Charles Dickens) constantly breaking the fourth wall. In Muppet Treasure Island, however, Gonzo and Rizzo have their own non-Muppet-show history as friends of Jim Hawkins way before ever meeting the other Muppets like Kermit and Sam the Eagle, and Kermit and Miss Piggy have a whole soap-opera romance that involves a wedding and getting marooned by pirates (we’ll get to that later). So yes, this is more “Treasure Island,” but it’s not less “Muppet” -- it’s less “Muppet Show.” These Muppets have different histories, but they’re the same characters despite this. Gonzo is an eccentric thrill-seeker -- Rizzo is a cowardly cynic -- Kermit is a soft-spoken pacifist -- Fozzie is a lovable dimwit -- Piggy is a self-centered diva. Think of Muppet Treasure Island as a Muppet AU fanfiction -- these may not be exactly the characters you know, and yet...they are! They’re the exact same big personalities with the same quirks, strengths, and weaknesses, just in an alternate universe. And honestly, I think it’s really cool, to see these sorts of characters so exclusively used for comedy in a world that’s not flat-out comedic -- one that’s kind of dirty and rough around the edges, with swashbuckling action and real danger around every corner.

The nice thing is that although yes, the comedy isn’t the central focus anymore, there is still really good humor in this film, a lot of it thanks to the shift in tone. There’s just something so very, very funny to me about Billy Bones’s death scene being followed up by Rizzo, Gonzo, and Jim just flat-out freaking out and dashing out of the room screaming like stupid kids, or the tense action scene where the pirates storm into the inn being punctuated by Rizzo trying to help Gonzo load the gun, only to spill the bag of bullets, or the epic entrance of the illustrious Captain Smollett’s carriage ending with the tall, solemn coachman stepping aside to reveal the Captain himself, played by Kermit the Frog. I think it plays into the ideas of subverting expectations and building up a punchline properly before delivering the joke -- as each scene is built up, we’re left constantly unsure if the film’s going to play things straight or just be completely irreverent, and the contrast is what can make a joke much funnier than in a purely, solely humorous scenario. There are a few points where the contrast can become a bit labored, but I laugh so much more during this movie that I ever have watching my favorite reruns of the Muppet Show, no matter how much I enjoy them. It’s something that, again, the Pirates of the Caribbean films would capitalize on much later. (Too bad they couldn’t incorporate that humor into any catchy musical numbers! Disney, where’s my Pirates of the Caribbean musical?)

Aha, and now we come to the brightest of the shining stars in this film -- our villain, Long John Silver, played by the amazing Tim Curry. I’m sorry, it’s an incontrovertible truth that Curry is a unique, magical ingredient that, when added to any movie, just elevates the cinematic dish to a whole new level and leaves you drooling for one more scene with him. I remember someone once saying that Curry is sort of like a Muppet in human skin thanks to his outrageous, yet likable acting, and...yeah, it makes it so that he fits perfectly in this movie, where he has to interact so closely with the Muppets. The nice thing is, though, that he also has a lot of chemistry with his human co-star Kevin Bishop, to the extent that you sincerely feel for the relationship that forms between Jim and Silver even if you know Silver’s intentions from the start. I particularly like their exchange in the ridiculously catchy “Sailing for Adventure,” as well as their scene at the front of the ship where they discuss their fathers and the stars.

Just as the adventure is getting going, however, it stops dead with the wind’s abandonment of the Hispaniola. Out of nowhere, the ship breaks out into the most ridiculous, most “Muppet” of all of the musical numbers, “Cabin Fever.” The song was one of my favorite parts when I was little and it’s always made me laugh, but it’s definitely the biggest detour of the movie that up until that point lived in its own pirate-centric world. It’s a very short-lived detour and as I said, it’s ridiculously funny, but it doesn’t have any bearing on the plot and I could see how people might find it kind of pointless, particularly since it doesn’t even feature three of our main characters, Jim, Silver, or Smollett. One other critique I will give the film is that some of the effects nowadays don’t look very real, like the Hispaniola being composited over still matte paintings -- there are points where the production values remind me a bit of the old Wishbone TV series, where they have to angle the shot just so or get creative just to try to make the ship look as big as it should be. But honestly, there were points where Wishbone impressed me with those same sorts of layering and green-screen effects despite its limited budget, and those cheaper effects don’t look tacky or out-of-place, so I personally don’t mind them that much.

Because this is a Muppet movie, it’s unsurprising that our Mr. Arrow (played by Sam the Eagle) isn’t really killed, instead just being tricked off of the ship by a manipulative Silver, but it says something that, even with that softened plot turn, the stakes are not completely dismantled. We still see the pirates as a legitimate threat when they kidnap Jim and take over the Hispaniola, even when they burst into song. Tim Curry’s “only number,” “A Professional Pirate,” is a perfect expression of his expert, charming showmanship, which in my mind truly can’t be matched by any other performer in Hollywood, past or present. No one gives a performance like Tim Curry. It makes it so that even when I was a bratty kid getting irritated about Silver calling privateer Sir Francis Drake a pirate and using “buccaneer” as a synonym for “pirate,” I would sing this song at the top of my lungs, trying to even reach 75% of the energy Curry put into his vocals.

At long last, Miss Piggy makes her grand debut as “Queen Boom Sha-Kal-a-Kal,” a.k.a. Benjamina Gunn. Although the diva doesn’t end up getting much screentime, she certainly gets a grand entrance, complete with an elephant steed decorated with flowers and a full musical number complete with a tribal chant and ethereal vocalizing. And true to form, when she lays eyes on her one true love, Kermit...she smacks him so hard that he’s thrown backwards off his feet and into a gong. What’s particularly interesting about Piggy in this movie is that although she and Fozzie are voiced by Frank Oz as always, both she and Fozzie were actually puppeted by Kevin Clash, as Oz was unavailable during this film’s production, and Oz’s vocals for both characters were added in post-production. Despite the difference in puppeteer, however, both characters are just as likable as ever -- I’d honestly had no clue that they weren’t performed by the same person! The film even got to use the full-bodied remote-controlled puppets for Kermit and Piggy for the love duet “Love Led Us Here,” which is kicked off by an Evita joke I never got as a kid but as an adult makes me grin like a friggin’ idiot. Fortunately the duet is inter-cut with Silver and the pirates finding the treasure, rather than it being chock-full of romantic flashbacks or prolonged looks between the two lovebirds, giving it a lighter tone than it would’ve had otherwise.

With a much reduced crew comprised only of Rizzo, Gonzo, Squire Trelawney, Dr. Honeydew, Beaker, and the newly returned Mr. Arrow, Jim comes to Benjamina and Smollett’s rescue and returns to Treasure Island to face Silver and the pirates. The action scene is full of humor, but because of the world established in the rest of the film, I would argue it still has stakes. The blows still hurt and there’s still a threat of defeat and danger, most notably when Long John Silver prepares to fight. Even if you don’t think the Muppets are going to die persay, you still feel the suspense in wanting to see what’s going to happen next. And when Silver surrenders, he himself can see the real treasure Jim found on his adventure -- a family...a group of people Muppets who will support him and encourage the very best in him.

Silver’s escape scene is a beautifully heart-wrenching scene -- one that could only have been earned by two excellent performances over the course of the film by Kevin Bishop and Tim Curry. Even though both Silver and Jim know that they’re different people and they could never walk the same path, it doesn’t mean that they don’t still greatly esteem and care about each other. In Jim’s case, it’s especially difficult, given that in parting ways with Silver, he has to cut loose of a very poor potential father figure who would’ve only dragged him down in the long run, but who was so likable in his own damaged way. It proves to be a very bittersweet scene sprinkled into a very happy, cheerful ending, complete with the chipper island-inspired end credits bop “Love Power.”

Muppet Treasure Island is -- in my opinion, at least -- one of the best Muppet movies ever made. It broke away from quite a few Muppet conventions, like the characters breaking the fourth wall and being aware of themselves being in a movie or TV show, and embraced a much less humorous tone in both its writing and cinematography. Yes, it reimagined a classic book like The Muppet Christmas Carol did, but this movie took the next step, embracing the world of the original novel as well as the set-up and immersing the Muppets’ cast of characters in it. Although I can see why some people would be more partial to the original Muppet movie formula and love it a lot myself, I really, really respect Brian Henson and the rest of this film’s crew for taking the Muppets in such a different direction. It was an entertaining, action-packed, funny pirate movie before those sorts of movies became popular again, and it remains my favorite “pirate” movie of all time, as well as my personal favorite incarnation of the Treasure Island story (barely beating out Treasure Planet). I know childhood nostalgia can play a role in what media can give you joy as an adult, but I truly don’t think it’s the only factor here -- it’s also just a really good movie, and I can only hope that more people will consider giving it a chance and have just as much fun Sailing for Adventure as I did!

Sharing His Space

I have to edit whenever I get up. Well, not so much edit as you know, the italics and ish that gets lost when you switch to Tumblr. Knocking out soon. @chenoahchantel @adorkable-blackgirl @kiddangers @henryhearts

Share a Lair 6

Max surfaced some time in the afternoon. Jasper and Henry were sitting at the island, eating plates of food whenever he walked into the kitchen and smirked to himself when he saw them. Charlotte’s face brightened up as soon as she saw him. That made him break out into a wide smile. “Morning, Charlotte!” 

“Morning? Try maybe three hours ago, Friend.” She laughed and he came over to where she was standing near the stove and leaned against the counter, “You cook?” He asked.

“Oh, no. I didn’t have time, but my Uncle Roscoe is ALWAYS concerned that if the whole family doesn’t have greens and black eyed peas that the year won’t go right. Despite the fact that he’s been cooking and eating this every year himself for ages and I haven’t seen him have a year that I thought went right in my entire life.”

“Can I have some?” Max asked.

“You ask for things nicely?” Henry asked.

“He asks Charlotte things nicely,” Jasper said. The two of them smiled at each other and she furrowed her eyebrows. What the heck did they mean by that? 

She ignored them and told Max, “Of course you can. There’s greens and black eyes peas that he gave me entire pots of. All I had to do was warm it on the stove. And also a whole meat pan of ribs, and I may have shot my shot with his cornbread recipe.”

Max grabbed a plate, “So, your family has like a FEAST for New Year’s Day?” 

“Kinda,” she said. He just smiled at her. 

Jasper watched them carefully and wondered, “Is there something going on here?” Max realized that he was standing extremely close to Charlotte, practically in her personal space and they were just smiling at each other. They both got some distance at Jasper’s question, and he said, “Nevermind.”

Max sat at the table and ate, then had seconds and thirds… Henry’s eyes were wide, “You can really put some food away, huh?”

“I’ve got superpowers,” was all that Max said. 

Charlotte, having been finished eating a while ago, but was still in an apron, now nursing a cup of tea sat down and said, “Right, your biology is a little bit different than ours. Like, your scans and vitals and stuff register differently, so of course, your metabolism and probably other functions would too. Plus, with the range of powers that you have, your natural internal processes are probably so different from ours that our estimations can’t really comprehend it!” She sounded so interested, but also, Max almost felt like she was speaking about some bizarre creature.

“I’m human. I have human functions, but yes… my genes do some things differently.”

“Yeah, I mean, yes - obviously you’re human, but you’re superhuman. It’s not exactly the same.”

“I mean… It’s not, but it is!” He said, kind of irritated. Something about the thought of her seeing him differently was troubling for him. Henry grabbed his empty plate and gave Max a weird look as he went to make another plate for himself.

Charlotte said, gently, but sternly, “I wasn’t trying to upset you, Max. I’m trying to understand.” She shrugged her shoulders and left it alone. He obviously didn’t care to talk about this. 

“Did you get any sleep last night?” He wondered. “We got back here pretty late and you called me this morning.” Great. Subject change. She nodded.

“I got about 4 hours of sleep, no… 3.” She sipped her tea. “I’ll probably crash tonight as soon as my head touches my pillow.”

“I wore you out last night, I’m sure,” he said. Jasper choked on his food and Henry snorted laughter. Charlotte’s lip dropped. “Grow up. I only meant I kept her out all night, party hopping.”

“What else would he mean? Because everybody here knows that nothing else would have ever happened between us! I’m not… That girl.” He thought about last night’s little kiss… Actually, he hadn’t stopped thinking about it. He’d been thinking about it from the time it happened, even through the dream portion of his sleep. He couldn’t believe that something that lasted so short in real time was having such a lengthy after effect. But also, she clearly didn’t want her friends to know that it even happened. 

He got up, collected his plate and tossed it in the sink. “Henry, don’t forget that you or Jasper have clean up duty for the next two months,” he said and retreated back into his chambers.

Charlotte asked, “You lose a bet or something?” 

Henry and Jasper both stammered over word vomit, avoiding admitting that they sold her out with house chores. She put her tea cup away, went to Max’s door, and pressed the button that she guessed worked like a doorbell. His voice came through the speaker, “Yes, Charlotte?”

“Hey… Are we okay?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know. You seemed… different… than last night…”

He was quiet for a while and she wasn’t sure if the connection had ended, but he sighed and said, “I’m not the only one.”

She whispered, “Okay, sorry. I will loosen up more. Like last night… Well, maybe not like last night, but…”

He heard him chuckle, “Okay, Charlotte. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

.

Charlotte was more at home in the place than Henry felt lately. He was usually trying to be more mindful about the shared space, considering that he had to be the one to clean it up for now, while she just sort of chilled. She would straight up go into the shared spaces without checking in with Max anymore. She’d pretty much made herself at home. 

She even started to wander in wearing night clothes or bringing some to change into, at times. That started, she claimed at Max’s suggestion. 

It was the third weekend in January and she staggered out of the tower, exhausted beyond imagination and almost didn’t even notice that Max was outside. When she did, she yelped and startled him. “What is your problem?” He asked, with his hand over his chest.

“What’s yours? What in the world are you doing out here at this time of night?” She asked.

“I live here. I can be out here at whatever time of night I feel like it. What are you doing out here?”

“Getting ready to go home!” She said, a little snappy. “It’s the MLK Weekend and if I miss ANY of the festivities, my parents will have a long, civil rightsy  fit. So, I am about to try not to fall asleep as I head back to Swellview so that I can hopefully get a few winks of it before the parade tomorrow morning. Why are you outside of the tower, though?”

This was the best spot for testing out his experiments when he went outside, because the opening was larger than on the other side of the lair. But, he was more concerned about what she’d said before that. “Should you be driving, if you’re this tired? I mean… You could just crash here and meet your folks in the morning, right? Or at least take a nap or something before you go?”

“It sounds like you’re worried,” she said amused. 

“You’re the only thing that keeps my housemate and I from battling to his death,” he joked. “But, seriously, it’s dangerous, not just to yourself, but to others on the road.”

“I don’t have much of a choice. Captain Man and Kid Danger didn’t finish their assignment until a few minutes ago, and I can’t sleep in my day stench and old clothes. Gross.”

He sighed, frustrated, but forced a smile that she could see perfectly, even with just a few lanterns and the moonlight. “How about this? Tonight, I can lend you overnight clothes and my shower and stuff and the next time you come around, be sure to have a weekend bag, in case your shift goes too long.”

“Max, I could’ve inconvenienced Henry this way, but I’m not gonna do that to you.”

“It’s not an inconvenience. I’m gonna be way more inconvenienced by wondering if you and the other people on the road made it home safely when I should be testing out this awesome new hoverboard. And Henry? Don’t make me laugh. I feel like I can confidently assume that you wouldn’t be caught dead using his bath products.”

“He uses the same soap for everything.”

“There’s a special place for people like that,” Max said. 

She sighed. She really didn’t want to make that drive. “Well… if you’re offering, it’d be rude of me to decline, especially since you’ve made such valid points. But, first thing’s first, lets see what’s so special about this hoverboard.” 

Max LOVED when Charlotte was around for one of his inventions. She was one of the few people who he felt genuinely was curious, interested, and impressed by them from the moment she first heard about or saw them. He explained to her about the issues that previous hoverboards ran into and how he made this one with adjustments to those problems and also what he added to make it even better. She totally understood. Whenever he got on it to test it, it took off way faster than she expected and she gasped, but then laughed with excitement at how fluid he seemed on it, even when he did tricks and stuff. Like… WOW. She knew he was athletic, but dang… Ugh… He looked so cool doing stuff on that expert equipment. He pulled back in next to her, kicked an end of it as he leapt off and caught it and placed it under his arm. “I’m gonna be bringing this baby into battle with me. Can you imagine me fighting someone with the aid of this?” He was truly excited, and she was too.

“I can imagine it. I am imagining it, and I will download and save any Hero Tracks that capture it…” He put his free hand in the small of her back and walked her back towards the front entrance. 

That night, she realized that his provisions were DEFINITELY more reflective of his work than she would’ve imagined. When you first entered his chambers, there was a long hallway and she noticed that he was deactivating stuff as they walked it, casually speaking and flicking his fingers. So, the lead up must’ve had some great security. Then, they came to what looked like an elevator and he moved his fingers, like he was pressing a code, but of course, didn’t need to actually touch the keys to do so. She worried. Was this going to be like Ray’s elevator? Because she wasn’t sure her head could handle it. But, when it opened, he opened a trap door in the floor and said, “Okay… This slide is really intense. You want me to hang on to you?”

“What? Slide?” She laughed. He sat down and reached for her. “Dear God…” She didn’t know what to pray as she climbed onto his lap and he smiled mischievously before pushing them off with one hand and holding on to her with the other. She. Screamed. This… might have been WORSE than Ray’s elevator. It was like one of those super slides from a water park, but no water and a terrifying drop down. Whenever they came out on the other end, they were practically shot out of the tunnel and floated for a moment as the gravity level of the room accommodated their safety. Her screams should have woken up the entire neighborhood. His laughter was a little bit louder, though. Then, they were released onto a landing pad. He smiled at her as she caught her breath. 

“I… That was… Really fun!” She cackled and covered her face. “Oh my God. Is this how you always come home?”

“Usually I cross my arms across my chest like an X, slide down like a boss and control my own landing, but the slide sensed another body and tripped the gravity field control.” Now, she got up and looked around. She never thought that she would be here. He wasn’t a very open person and this was his most private space. It was very dark and mysterious, but also… not creepy, weird, or scary. More like… deep and tranquil. She explored, and to her pleasant surprise, he didn’t stop her. He let her meet his current venus fly trap, showed her a few gadgets that he was currently working on, and such, and warned her which things to be careful around, because they were either weapons in disguise or guarded possessions with safety systems attached or nearby. 

“How do you never accidentally set things off yourself?”

“Gifted, I guess,” he said, grabbing a onesie for her. “Here,” he said and tossed it to her.

“Why do you have a bunny onesie?” She asked, chuckling.

“I can’t wanna be cute and cuddly sometimes?” He gave her a washcloth and a drying towel and said, “Soap and stuff’s in there. Nothing hazardous. The one place that’s completely harmless.” 

Charlotte stepped in and asked out loud, “What did they give him the prefect’s bathroom?” She studied the bathtub… She wasn’t really a bath person, but the stuff that was there for a nice long soak might be good for her, and she could always get into the shower afterwards, which there was a little walkway with drains leading to. She went to look at the shower. It had what seemed to be music settings, steam settings, aromatherapy… This bathroom was like… she didn’t want to leave it, to be honest. Henry’s bathroom had your traditional two in one bath/shower and the tub wasn’t even half as big as Max’s. Also… while he just had a toilet, Max also had a bidet! She was gonna have to light a fire under Henry. He would have to work his chops off if he wanted to get some good funding. He probably couldn’t really catch up to Max, but he could maybe at least upgrade a little. “You okay? I don’t hear anything…” Max called from the other side of the door.

“I am fangirling over your amazing bathroom, if that’s okay?”

He laughed. “Carry on. Also… The bathtub has a hot tub setting. If you need it.”

“Oh my God, can I come work for you, instead?” She joked.

“I don’t need any staff, but if you just wanna use my bathroom sometimes, I can grant you an access code.”

And he did! She didn’t tell Henry and Jasper, because, well… it wasn’t their business. And whenever she got up in the morning, having slept in Max’s bed, he was asleep on the landing pad beneath his slide with a sleeping mask on. She wasn’t sure that morning how to get out of the place, so she unfortunately had to wake him up. He ripped off his sleeping mask, alert and practically ready to fight, until he saw her. “Oh… Hey… Morning.”

“Sorry. I don’t know how to get back to the surface.”

He pointed to a door that looked yet again like an elevator, but whenever she opened it, it was an escalator. Okay. She got on, thanked him and left. He dragged himself into bed and laid down. His pillow smelled like her hair. He couldn’t help but to smile about that. He hugged it close and kinda wished it was her. He could’ve possibly made a move last night, but… then she might have thought that he was only nice to her for that. He didn’t want to scare her or make her distrust him. Besides, it was cool kinda building a friendship with her. They didn’t HAVE to be more… Probably wouldn’t be. 

.

But, whatever they were, Henry knew that Charlotte had some type of… power in this house. Power that he didn’t seem to have. “Char… You think that you could get Max to agree to some more living room time?”

“I’m not his housemate, Hen. You are.”

“I know, but he likes you, though.”

Her face got warm, “What? No he doesn’t! I mean, we respect each other. We have a sort of rapport that we’ve managed to develop. But, that’s it. Besides, I told you which of those tower rooms you can make into a wonderful living room within your chambers.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have the SAL swag that is in our shared living room.”

“Technically… That stuff belongs to both of you, or it’d be in Max’s chambers. Believe me, his space is SUPER luxurious.”

“You’ve… been in there?” Henry asked, shocked. “This is what I mean! He let you into his chambers. He would never let me or Jasper in there… Maybe he does like you.”

“God, Henry, not everybody is like you. Some people can just be nice because you’re friends, colleagues, or kindred souls. You don’t have to like everybody that you’re nice to!”

“You’re acting so weird about this. Can you please just get me the living room for the last weekend of this month slash first weekend of next month for a videogame tournament?”

“Ohhhh… He’s having that here, with his friends. You can probably come.” She laughed and waved a hand, “You live here. Of course you can come!”

“His friends? He… Has friends?” Henry said.

“The guys from his high school band, Billy and Nora, and maybe Phoebe? I can’t remember who all was tagged in the post.”

“He… You were tagged in a post invited here, where I live, and I wasn’t even so much as spoken to about it?”

“I didn’t think to…”

“I have to try to get a new housemate,” Henry said, shaking his head.

“Henry…”

“No. I don’t care that in the past couple of weeks he’s become your buddy or whatever is happening there. I work hard too and he can’t treat me like an unwanted guest in my own lair that I share with him.”

“I’m just going to tell you that if you file for a transfer, it’s a lot of paperwork and they ask you to try a number of roomate reconciliation tasks and morale building before they determine that indeed you can’t live with the person that they placed you with. He can’t be that bad, Henry.”

“He is, though. He’s the absolute worst. I’d rather live with Ray.”

“Shameless lie, huh?”

“It felt differently before I actually said it.”

“Tell you what… I will talk to him and if he doesn’t care, then we start looking into some of the SAL reconciliation tasks.” Henry gave Charlotte a big hug, lifting her off of the ground and kissed her hard on the cheek. 

“You’re the best, Char!”

“Yeah, every time you need something,” she teased and gave him a shove. 

"Person A placing their hand on Person B’s forehead to check if they have a fever" for Higgs and Gene please! :') And I'd be delighted if the sick one would be Higgs :S

@argetlam007 I always get excited when you send me shit darling here ya go fam :D!

Higgs relaxed in the warm water of the bathtub in his and Gene’s home. The tub was just a smidge too small, causing Higgs’s legs to dangle off to the side towards the end as he sunk below, the water going over his mouth as he closed his eyes for a moment. The pulsating headache in his frontal lobe making him wince as he tried to concentrate on the heat coursing through his body. 

Higgs had the chills for days now, his muscles were tender, and his nose was runny. He was in denial he was sick until Gene proved her point by getting him so tired he nearly collapsed while they had a friendly competition on who could run all the way to the springs and back. That childlike behavior was gonna get him killed one day, Higgs thought to himself amusingly as he rose up from the water and let out a content sigh. He bowed his head forward as he brought his legs up to his body, arms wrapping around his form as he trembled. 

Higgs didn’t hear Gene come in, so when he felt a cool touch to his shoulder, Higgs jumped and looked up at her in shock.

“Didn’t mean to spook you.” Gene said softly as Higgs smirked, scoffing a little.

“I don’t get spooked missy.” Higgs said point-blank, Gene rolling her eyes. She knew he was just trying to put on a brave face considering Higgs probably felt like utter shit. 

Gene sat down on the ledge of the tub, carding her fingers over Higgs’s back as he let out a content moan. The sensations soothing his aching flesh as he leaned back into her touch. 

“Let me check your head.” Gene said and reached her free hand over, feeling Higg’s forehead while moving some wet strands of hair from his face. She sighed as Higgs tilted his head back playfully to look at her upside down. 

“Think you’re gonna have to take me out back with the twenty-two and put this old dog out of his misery?” Higgs chuckled as Gene flicked his forehead, causing Higgs to feign she had hurt him bad as he recoiled, tilting his head back up. He quickly found himself leaning back into Gene’s gentle touches as her palms went over his shoulders and tattoos, smoothing the water droplets out on his skin. 

“If you keep this shit up, I just might,” Gene said with a sigh. “I swear you act like a child when you get sick.”

“Only because you take care of me so damn well.” Higgs countered with a smirk, glancing over his shoulder at Gene momentarily before he groaned, eyes shutting as Gene massaged a rough knot in the muscles of his lower back. 

“I’ll make it up to you when I’m better.” Higgs said, piquing Gene’s interest as she looked mildly shocked as her hands cupped some water from the tub and poured it on his hair, massaging his scalp now as Higgs shuddered in delight. 

“You still owe me for the last time you were sick.” Gene said as a matter of fact, causing Higgs to go silent for a time. She felt proud of herself, smirking that she stumped him until Higgs cleared his throat. He almost sounded like he had a frog stuck in there causing Gene to stifle a laugh. 

“I’ll give you a two in one deal.” Higgs said playfully, then slowly began to adjust his body so he was somewhat laying on his side in the tub, facing Gene as she caressed the side of his face, fingers going through the patches of scruff on his jawline as Higgs sighed contently. 

“What kind of two in one deal did you have in mind?” Gene asked as Higgs shrugged. 

“Still working out the kinks, but I’m sure you’ll like what I have to offer.” Higgs said with a smirk, his tone flirtatious as Gene shook her head, trying to suppress a smile but to no avail. Even when he was sick as a dying horse, Higgs never lost his charisma. That was something Gene admired him for. How he could keep being himself despite his body’s protests. 

“I wish you were feeling better. I hate seeing you like this.” Gene said sincerely, as Higgs tilted his head a bit to kiss Gene’s hand that was caressing him.

“I’m already a hell of a lot better when you’re around me.” Higgs said honestly as Gene smiled. They stared at each other for a while, looking at one another’s facial features. The little nooks and crannies on their skin, the little imperfections that made each other perfect. Higgs would have given anything then to have the strength to pull Gene into the tub and mess around with her, but he relented. The thought going back burner as Gene spoke up.

“With how sappy you’re getting, you could write cards.” Gene snorted as Higgs splashed a bit of water at Gene, causing her to playfully yelp as she fell backward and onto the tiled floor. Higgs was trying to suppress a laugh as Gene got up, cackling as Higgs shook his head at her in disappointment. 

“And you are turning into an ungrateful bitch by the day.” Higgs teased as Gene’s mouth dropped.

“You did not just go there you twat.”

“Language darlin’, don’t want to taint that pretty mouth of yours. Also, you can do better on the insults, c’mon.” 

“Fuck you!” Gene laughed, chucking a bar of soap at Higgs that she found on the floor. It bounced off his head, as Higgs let out a yelp. He then took in a deep breath after settling and a predatory gaze filled his eyes as he stared Gene down. She slowly began to back up, chuckling nervously as Higgs forced himself up from the tub and used whatever strength he had to lift up Gene. She flailed about like a fish out of water as Higgs threw her body over his right shoulder and began to walk down the hallway and up the stairs with Gene as if she were a giant piece of game he got on a hunt.

“Hey! You’re sick, put me down! You’re gonna regret it! Your body is gonna give out Higgs!” Gene exclaimed as Higgs shook his head, his hand holding onto Gene giving her bottom a few light taps.

“Not before I make you give out first.” Higgs teased, his tone gruff as he went into their room and tossed Gene onto the bed. Gene barely had time to register much as Higgs crawled on top of her, his mouth latching onto her neck as he kissed and suckled along her flesh. Gene groaned loudly, her hands carding down his spine as Higgs bit down on a sweet spot on Gene’s throat that he was all too familiar with. Her body arched into his, causing Higgs to moan from the friction until he stopped and got up, heading for the door and leaving Gene a flustered mess. 

“Now where the hell do you think you’re going after that?” Gene asked breathlessly as Higgs shrugged and waved, his expression smug as Gene leaned up from the bed and looked at him, her mind putting the pieces together.

“I’m gonna go enjoy the rest of my bath in peace. I’ll check on you later.” 

“Higgs don’t you fucking dare–!”

“Too late!” Higgs exclaimed in a playful laugh as he locked the door to their room from the outside as Gene tried at the last second to get up and stop him. She pounded on the door a few times then relented, not before shouting at Higgs. 

“I hope you freeze to death in the tub!” Gene exclaimed as she could hear Higgs cackle, his expression causing Gene to smile big despite being frustrated at the situation. 

“You’ll keep me warm later! Love you darlin’!” Higgs replied back, followed by a series of drawn-out coughs. He was right back at square one, but as he got back into the tub, Higgs was looking forward to playing their little game again. 

**A link to my ko-fi account. If you enjoy my content and want to support me getting my monthly medication for fibromyalgia and arthritis, I would be eternally grateful. It is NOT a requirement however! All my work is free to read!**

Who is Ben? Have you talked about this character before?

Ben is my sole survivor, and my longest standing oc. I’ve posted a LOT of art of him but I’ve always put off talking about him at length but now I’m out of the rough when it comes to having the will to do anything, ill talk about him!

Frank (Benjamin) Romara was born in 2044 in Arkansas to African/Italian parents. When he was 13, he, his parents and his younger brother Gene were uprooted to Boston under absolutely no single good reason given at the time from his father. His dad died probably not a year later, and combined with the massive change of life Ben’s education went down the shitter, and he had to repeat freshman year. At the end of what should have been his sophomore year he got put in a program for “at risk youth”. 

[Detail about him, about Nick Valentine and Fallout Lore etc under the cut!]

The program was basically about increasing the amount of people entering government related jobs, because due to rising contempt less and less people were going down that path, and that’s bad for a whole lot of reasons, for the government at least. When it was first conceived of, it was more of a support scheme for kids not going onto greater things, but it expanded to where it was mandatory for any teen that met the requirements to be put through the system and spat out with more allegiance to their country. Ben checked off a lot of boxes, being poor, having bad grades etc. And at first Ben didn’t really mind all that much, given his lack of direction it was comforting to know that he’d be able to find a stable job to support his family, and that was exactly what seemed to be promised to him. He hadn’t yet gained a fervent desire to see the government crumble, the only part of it he hated being cops, who brushed his dads murder off like it didn’t matter. plus, the program offered extensive healthcare (a leftover enticement from when the program was optional), and it looked like the only way he’d be able to transition.

It wasn’t long, however, before it became increasingly apparent how insidious the program really was. For one thing, he was to be put into work (or training for whatever he will be assigned) at 18, meaning he’d have to leave high school with a sophomore level education. This was, of course, by design to keep the kids entering the workforce in that same workforce. When he was 17, he took a GOAT and got given two options: enter the police force or the US army. He didn't want to do absolutely either, but he picked the former, just because it seemed like his only shot to stay with his family. By the time he was 21, he’d become a detective, and before he could ever start to work on his own soil he was transferred to Chicago due to lack of workforce there.

And all over again, he’d been plucked out of what he knew and dunked somewhere else, and worse yet, he doesn’t even have anyone he knows to help him go through it. Most of the people at his station don’t really want anything to do with him, but he gets on with his job (his efficacy depending on whether or not he thinks hes doing the right thing), and quickly becomes the new hotshot ass hole there for his attention to detail, if not his actual ability to decipher motivations and piece things together. And this caught the attention of Nick Valentine.

Nick was the original hotshot ass  hole ofc, and it was owed to this that Ben, despite being to be shown the ropes, that he didn’t partner with the new guy despite being the only person there who could have helped him out. Nick was very, very good at his job, and due to his insecurities he wasn’t about to stop being the best and give people the chance to realise he doesn't get better than how effective he is at his work. I won’t get into the root of his insecurities, but he genuinely believes that he would lose all respect and that if he ever stopped being a try hard people would lose all reason to bother with him at all, and all he wants is for others reach out and be a friend to him. hes dealing with a lot of the same loneliness Ben is, but so long as he doesn't lose the facade of being a fully functional adult with a good job and a ‘loving’ wife he wont have to introspect and face who he thinks he is deep down (i.e. a man incapable of loving his wife romantically because of some personality fault he cant comprehend of how to fix as opposed to him just being gay and having a lot of internalised homophobia).

It takes Ben and Nick both reaching the point where they snap under the weight of the world they live in and the people who occupy it for them to come together. Nick ended up actually asking to take Ben on as a partner, and it took a lot of the load off of emotionally crippling work (serving a government neither of them believed in but being wholly incapable of escaping it, status quo being almost the only thing keeping them in place as opposed to trying to physically escape what they're doing together) but better yet, for nick, Ben helped bring out a side of him that wasn’t so afraid to be known by others, and he started opening up to other people at the same time as growing closer to him. (I think its important to like.not that nick doesn't wholly rely on Ben for all of his self esteem etc Ben is just a positive impact who gives him a space where nick can learn for himself that his worth doesn't depend on other peoples perception of him.) Nick realises that a lot of his negative perception/jealousy/etc of Ben when they first met was because he saw a lot of himself in him, Nick was in more or less him when he started some 5 or so years ago, and Nick helps Ben out in the way he wished someone had been there for him because he cares a hell of a lot about him and wants him to have the best chance at things.

And they grow into better people and just at the pique of things, where Nick is enjoying not being in an abusive relationship and staying with Ben while he gets back on his feet, Ben gets drafted and is trained at first to become a power armored foot soldier (standing at nearly 6′6″ he’d be a monument of fuck you to the enemy) but do to his deliberately bad aim with weapons, hes instead trained to pilot a vertibird, where hes then shipped off to anchorage. its there that he goes MIA after going against orders with his co pilot to provide medical assistance to a group of people stranded off from communication he spotted in flight earlier. Ben ended up glad later on that he and his co pilot were shot down, because for all 25 hours he was left dying in the snow, it meant that he didn't have to justify him going against orders by bringing back Chinese soldiers who’d end up a lot worse for wear than him. By the time his KIA status was revoked (they weren’t about to announce the miracle of his survival before they knew he’d survive lol) he’d already had a funeral, which Nick had attended, because I write like everything's a soap opera. but yeafksf him dying and attending his funeral left nick in a lot of grief, because he’d thought he’d have forever with Ben to go slow with him into being in a relationship and now Nick thought he’d never get that chance. and when they meet back up after it all when Ben returns it’s romantically charged to say the least.

Obviously I haven’t been sticking entirely to lore with this but the lore presented in fallout 4 is fucking bullshit so. i hesitate to call this a fix but i need to put in this disclaimer before i start spouting off. hey how about instead of nicks fiance getting iced jenny lands was actually his partner once he transferred to Boston to be with his husband to be, and she was cruelly twisted against her own intentions to try and kill nick because Eddie winter put her family in jeopardy and Eddie doing this was a coordinated attack towards them both that hes not just powerful enough to get revenge he can do it in such a way that they cant even trust the people around them. And nick got his mind juices squeezed or brain scanned whatever because of the resulting trauma of being shot by his best friend jenny. and also ‘Shaun’ is Ben and Nicks kid Max and upon learning later as a gen 2 that his son is the leader of a great source of trauma for nick hes forced to introspect in ways that have more tangible effects because his ability to decide who he is as a man ties into immediate problems  And nick doesn't have to focus on revenge disguised as justice because he has a responsibility to live in the here and now.

Thank you for this ask!! I hope that was coherent enough to understand kjdsf if you have any more questions about him or anything else I talked about I’d be flattered to hear them!

Alpha/Omega/Beta Headcanons|MHA Headcanons

Letting you know now I pretty much headcanon everyone as an alpha, most of the characters in MHA are strong and brave, which meet the qualifications I have for alphas. Also, males are more likely to be alphas than omegas. Which is why they are all alphas here. Females are more likely to be Omega/Betas, etc... (Also The majority goes as follows. A-B-O. Alphas and Betas are more prevalent than Omegas. (At least the way I headcanon it! :3))

This "-" is what their scent is like!

Enjoy! ~Momma Cat

❤️💞❤️💞

Midoriya: I like to think that he was a Beta before he received One for All. Almost like getting a quirk triggered his same gene that dictates his scent and presentation. So he switched to an alpha presentation. (I'm not too firm on that one tho.) He'd probably end up with an omega he saved.

-Lavender, spice and peaches.

Bakugou: The second he presented as an alpha, he tells everyone. He puffs out his chest and struts around like the proud fucking peacock he is. He probably tried to sniff out any presenting omegas, so he could try to scent them and claim dominance. (He fails)

-Smoke, cologne and sweat.

Kirishima: Such a sweet alpha. Literally what most omegas dream for in alphas. When he presented he probably was surprised since he was initially thought to be a beta. Turns out he was only a late bloomer. Omegas practically flock to this poor man. He will either end up with a beta or omega. He doesn't judge.

-Ginger, pine and coffee

Todoroki: He is an alpha, though he isn't to happy to be one. He had been wanting to be omega, so as to not play further into his father's plans, but that didn't appear to be in the cards for him. Unfortunately...

I also headcanon that his scent is very strong and attracts alot of omegas. He may end up getting together with anyone. No matter the rank. He would doesn't really care what his Father thinks of you.

-Citrus, smoke and honey

Shinsou: Since he is so laid back and relaxed, people often think that he's a beta. In reality his scent is rather mild compared to most alpha scents. At first he hated this part of himself, but after studying under Eraserhead, he learned that this could actually be a real asset to him. In example, he can sneak around hideouts and hotspots without anyone knowing he's there. He's rather picky when it comes to people he hangs around, so someone with a relaxed and soft scent is ideal. (Omega)

- Mint, cotton and vanilla

Aizawa: He is pretty much in the same boat as Shinsou. He's an alpha, yes, but one with a lighter and less intense scent. It's helpful on low profile missions, but not so much when attracting a mate. He pretty much stopped trying a long time ago. He also figured his life was too dangerous for an omega nowadays anyways.

-Chocolate, cologne and freshly washed clothes.

Toshinori: (1# hero? More like 1# Daddy) I hereby headcanon that he smells SLIGHTLY different and his scent is weaker in his smaller form. Everything is enhanced as All Might. Which helps to explain why no one realizes that they are one and the same alpha! I also think that he has had several omegas in mind in the past, but all of the relationships fell through.

- Cookies, cologne and spices

Endeavor: Alpha male. ALERT alpha male. ALERT. Y'all know I like him so don't look at me that way! (If you didn't like him you would have scrolled past so I'm assuming you are someone who indeed likes him, so I'm gonna throw out that he is suuuch a daddy. 💦💦 Can I get an amen?) Anyways. So, Yeah, Enji is an alpha. He knew he was meant to be an alpha, even when he was younger. I'm sure like 70% of his fanbase is made up of thirsty hoes. (Like me)

- Smoke, cologne, hickory

Muscular: (Ah Yes, my third alpha Daddy. LOL) Alpha male, blah blah blah, he's a hottie, even when missing an eye. His scent is strong like most alphas, and he doesn't usually have a hard time finding omegas to partner with every once in a while. He has no qualms about what status his partners are, be they omega, alpha, or beta. Although that's typically looked down upon.

-Musk, rosewood and lemongrass

Iida: One LITERAL by-the-book alpha. He is strong, has a hefty thick scent, is a gentleman, is respectful to his elders and incredibly fast. He is a hero and a leader; both incredibly sought after traits in alphas nowadays. He isn't currently looking for an omega or beta to partner with, but is willing to become friends with one if they catch his interest.

-Coffee, Lime and soap

Ojiro: A rather calm alpha compared to most in his class. I like to think that there is a particular omega civilian that he has interest in. He's probably pretty particular with how he smells to others; he probably takes baths alot.

- Shampoo, patchouli and oranges

Shouji: Oh! My many armed boi! Once again, you guessed it, alpha! His scent is rather powerful like most alphas, and he would probably have no problem finding a mate. I like to think that some of the other alphas go to him for advice on how to talk to omegas, since he never seems to have an issue being around them.

-Rosewood, musk and frankincence

Kaminari: He strikes me as a beta, but I could also see him as a weaker/ditzy alpha. I can totally imagine him getting frustrated that omegas aren't really into him, and would rather date someone like Iida. He'll probably end up with a beta.

-no scent

Tokoyami: He is... The night. Lol jk. I was going to say beta, but I changed my mind since his quirk was so powerful. He probably gets super nervous around omegas, especially the cute ones. All they have to do is look over at him and smile, poor bird boi doesn't know what to do with himself. He has trouble with talking to them, but is too prideful to ask for advice.

-Jasmine, cedar and vanilla

Sero: A relaxed, and chill beta. Yup. I can't really see him as an alpha. He exudes a rather playful and fun personality rather than a strong leader. At least to me. Despite this, a decent amount of omegas are still interested due to his charms.

-no scent

Koda: I was going to make him an Omega, but a shy beta seemed better. Yes, he's not a confident person, but I can't see him being an omega. I like to think that he knows he acts omega-like, but he can't really help it. He probably appreciates his lack of a scent for multiple reasons.

- no scent

Sato: Ahhh! Alpha! I decree it! (Also there aren't enough fanfics for the sugaboi) He probably has a strong scent, but omegas are usually hesitant to be around him due to his threatening smell. He's rather irritated that he smells that way even though he's a really nice alpha. Thankfully, when he bakes, the scent of cookies and such will stick to him, which makes him less threatening smelling to omegas.

- Chocolate, pumpkin and spice

Jiro: I can never ever see her as an omega. She doesn't strike me as an alpha either, so I went with beta instead. She probably gets annoyed at how much better alphas say they are, but fail to follow through. I think Jiro prefers to date an omega, but with some cruel twist of fate ends up with an alpha.

-no scent

Mineta: Beta. Ends up with no one. (Dies)

- no scent

Momo: Alpha Girllllllllll. Honestly alot of omegas like her. She exudes a motherly type of atmosphere, and even though her confidence needs work, the omegas fawn over her alot. She makes all the other alphas jealous even though she doesn't try. They are constantly trying to prove themselves better than her, and if she loses, the omegas will console her.

-Vanilla, apples and black licorice

Aoyama: I was gonna say alpha but, he's too fabulous for that lol. Probably a beta but I could see it if someone thought he should be an alpha. He probably thinks he's VERY attractive to omegas/betas when in reality...... Not so much.

- no scent

Hagakure: Hurray! An omega, FINALLY! This girl is omega 110%. She knows it, her teachers know it, the fucking cats outside know it, and her class knows it. She fully accepts it too. She is also exited to be one of the few Omega Heroes.

-Lavender, Shea and caramel

Dabi: C'mon. We all know this guys an Alpha. Like, is there even a debate about it? Sure he may not be the strongest alpha out there, nor the most handsome or cunning or have a great scent... But he is one.

-Smoke, cypress and Perubalsam

Shigaraki: He's an alpha, but he doesn't act like one. He acts more like a pup than an alpha. His scent probably smells intimidating to all omega's except 'the one'. (Which will be the reader, when I write a oneshot for him. :3) I think he probably dislikes most omega scents anyway.

-Musk, Sweat and ginger

Twice: Alpha because I fucking say so. (All the hot Bois will be alphas. >:D) He probably has an amazing scent, and attracts a decent amount of omegas. I headcanon that he is rather shy around omegas. Until he finds a cute omega hero that catches his interest. Fortunately for Jin, she likes his scent too.

-Citrus, hay and cinnamon

Mirio: NO ONE CAN TELL ME THIS BOI ISNT AN ALPHA. Y'all should know I headcanon him as an alpha. (I really need to work on that Alpha! Mirio story.) He is an EXTREMELY popular alpha for omegas to swoon over. Like All Might honestly. He's everything alphas try to be. His sweet temper and heroism make him a popular love interest for all the rankings.

-Blue Cypress, myrrh and pepper cloves

Asui: Beta through and through. She definitely uses her beta role to calm down situations alot. And she probably doesn't care which rank her partner has. She'll probably end up with an Omega due to her calming effect.

- no scent

Mina: I can see her as all of them really. A laid back alpha, a happy go lucky beta, or an excitable omega. So I guess I'll go with beta. She's really active, so she may end up with an alpha who can keep up with her energy.

- no scent

Present mic: Hizashi knows omegas and betas like his scent, so he doesn't understand why omegas get scared when around him. (Poor bby) He probably has trouble finding a mate that can stand his energy and intensity. Ironically he loves shy omegas.

-Red Grapefruit, honey and Clary sage

Midnight: I was gonna say beta, but we all know she's not. What's the use in trying, eh? Omegas, betas, and even alphas fawn all over her. She has probably paired up with all of the rankings at one point, but she's still looking for the perfect little omega to fall in love with. ❤️

-Nutmeg, Maple and roses

Tamaki: He has the undertones of an alpha and no one can change my mind. He is constantly confused with being an omega or beta because of his demeanor, but he has no idea how to change it. Probably has a crush on a the happy-go-lucky omega across the street. She probably is the one to ask him out.

-Strawberries, popcorn and Almonds

Uraraka: I think she's an omega, but her scent isn't as nice as some other omegas. She only notices this because of a fellow omega trying to become a omega hero like her. She notices how nice the omega scent is and gets an instant crush. (Squeals)

-Mint, candy and cranberries

Toga: She's an utterly insane omega. She will literally nest anywhere and everywhere. Rooftop? Nice breeze! Her gruesome murder scene? She loves the smell! In the cabinets? It's so comfy! Her alpha crush's closet? She likes being close to him!

- blood, copper and apples

Kurogiri: Poor guy is just an alpha in a sea of hormonal alpha/omega teenagers. He (like most alphas) prefers an omega. Preferably one with a calm disposition. He has trouble finding an omega that isn't intimated though.

- Spices, Musk and soap

Future Skin Care Purchases  - work in progress

Updated as of 02/28/2019.

These are products I have not yet purchased, but I am highly interested in, and may or may not purchase, depending upon funds.

Oil Cleansers; Jullai Super 112 Bounce Cleansing Oil

Cleansers; Secret Nature Volcanic Ash Cleansing Water, Blithe's Anti-Polluaging Himalayan Pink Salt Cleansing Water, BENTON Tea Tree Cleansing Water, By Wishtrend Green Tea & Enzyme Powder Wash, Glow Recipe Blueberry Bounce Gentle-cleanser

Toners; Pyunkang Yul Essence Toner, ACWELL Licorice pH Balancing Cleansing Toner, I'm from Rice Toner, BONAJOUR Green Tea Water Bomb Toner, BONAJOUR Eggplant Daily BHA Toner

Mists; Glow Recipe Watermelon Glow Ultra-Fine Mist, KLAIRS Supple Preparation Facial Toner

Masks; MANEFIT Natural Gift Green Tea Pore Care Sheet Mask, I'm From Series (Mugwort, Honey, Vitamin), Skinfood series (Egg White Pore, Freshmade Watermelon), Isntree Real Rose Calming Mask

Essences; NEOGEN Real Ferment Micro Essence, ATRUE Real Black Tea True Active Essence,

Ampoules; Yuripibu's Amaid Ampoule

Eye Creams; MISSHA MISA Geum Sul Giyoun Eye Cream, ERBORIAN Seve de Bamboo Eye Matte

Eye Masks; Secret Key Gold Racoony Hydrogel Series Eye & Spot Patch Set (Gold, Marine, Rose)

Moisturizers; Graymelin Black Food Nutry Cream, BONAJOUR EGF Time Recovery Solution Cream, Glow Recipe Watermelon Glow Pink Juice Moisturizer

Sleep Masks; BONAJOUR Bio Active Resurrection Plant Night Cream, Glow Recipe Avacod Melt Sleep set

Lip Masks; KLAVUU Nourishing Care Lip Sleeping Pack

Body wash; KLAIRS Manuka Honey & Choco Body Soap, BENTON Dear My Best Friend Bar Soap, Isntree Tea Tree Therapy Body Wash

Lip Blams; HOLIKA HOLIKA Good Cera Super Ceramide Lip Oil Stick, innisfree Green Tea Lip Balm, innisfree Canola Honey Lip Balm

Currently researching DECIEM products because I really want to add them to my routine. But this is what I got thus far. The site is just SO confusing, with all the fancy names and ingredients.

NIOD is also a money pit, so once you dive into one product, I am sure you get the urge to get the whole lot. It is very much an investment, and will take me a long time to save for a bulk order (since they sell sets), or one at a time, while crying that I want the rest.

Hylamide;

SubQ Eyes; I have some serious dark eye circles, so I am always willing to try something to minimize this, and this looks interesting. I am slightly more interested in the NIOD version, but because of the pricing, would try this one first, unless I am feeling funds ballsy and jump into the other one first.

NIOD;

Copper Amino Isolate Serum; From reviews, this is supposed to be one of the best selling products from this line and concentrates on your overall skin's health. I confused it for the harmful copper, but this is supposed to be different, so after some research, I am more excited to try it.

Multi Molecular Hyaluronic Complex; I am assuming this contains the same ingredients as the Marine Hyaluronic and Hyaluronic Complex with B5 from my Google research, just into one bottle. May be worth purchasing this to bulk them together, instead of individual bottles. Seems to offer more benefit, even with the price tag, seems more cost effective in the long run. Since I seem to do fine with the MH, I will be replacing it with this, when I am done with the bottle. I can’t wait!

Modulating Glucosides; I have issues with sensitivity, irritation and itchiness, so this product seems interesting to help with those issues.

Flavanone Mud & Myrrh Clay & Mastic Must & Voicemail Masque; Fancy masks are fancy.

Lip Bio-Lipid Concentrate; Looks like some serious lip oil treatment, and I do have some majorly chapped lips, despite my heavy water drinking. It may be because I am on diuretics.

Low-Viscosity Cleaning Ester and Sanskrit Saponins; Having released there own version of the double cleanse, I may give this a try - only if I have extra funds, and I am not enjoying my current routine.

Ethylated L-Ascorbic Acid 30% Network; I am still confused about Vitamin C, and wonder if this is quite different, can use at same time, better, or worse then what I am using now, which is the COSRX Typle C Lightning Liquid.

Fractionated Eye Contour Concentrate; May be an upgrade from the SubQ Eyes, and honestly, for the price, it better raise Jebus. If the other doesn't work, I may be desperate enough to attempt this one for my dark circles.

Non-Acid Acid Precursor 15%; Supposed to be an alternative to peeling without using acid. I am still up in the air about trying this one out, because I am afraid of trying the more serious peels.

Superoxide Dismutase Saccharide Mist; Looks like a good, antibacterial, inflammation, hydrating mist. I was thinking of removing mists from my routine, since I can’t mist throughout the day because of sunscreen, but this actually looks like it would be more beneficial in conjunction with all the other products, even if used once during your regular routine.

Re: Pigment; This has mixed reviews and is quite pricey, but I heard good things about this particular line and would be willing to give it a shot, as I suffer from a lot of hyperpigmentation.

Chemistry Brand;

Hand Chemistry, Extreme Hydration Concentrate, Heel Chemistry, Hyaluronic Concentrate, HA3 Hand Hydrator, Retin-Oil;

The hydrating hand and body oils seem to be the only interest for me in this line. I suffer from severe dry hands during the winter that can lead to Dyshidrosis, if I don't treat it properly. I often break out two times a year in the winter with this. Otherwise, I never had any issues with body/hand dryness. So I may opt for these products during the winter. I do suffer from hyperpigmentation from acne scarring on my back, and other parts of the body from scarring (I did a lot of rescue work for cats). I feel the Retin-Oil may help with this - but honestly, I am a big tattoo buff, so everything for me will eventually be covered by tats, so I never really invested in body care in terms of visual appeal. I just use regular ole black african soap lotion, and or Gold Bond for Excema, worked just fine to help with any pain for dryness.

As for their “reduce hair” line - I would never be interested in that (face, leg, arm pits). I was born with lucky genes I guess - which is quite odd, because all of my female Filipino relatives had insane body hair. But me... never had that much hair growth in the first place. Then I was placed on Spironolactone, and that almost obliterated the little growth I did have. I am talking about, I can go six months without shaving my legs, and it looks like I haven’t shaved in two days - very minor hair growth!

Fountain; I honestly don't take supplements, I only recently decided to do a multi-vitamin and take zinc for my acne. I also do Kachava shakes, and that has a lot of good protein.

AB Crew; This honestly just overall confused me and I don't think I would use any of these products. Though the AB Carving Gel and Shredding Oil look interesting if you wanna strut your stuff along the water. I do have issues with cellulite and stretch marks, but I feel their aren't any topical products that could ever correct this issue, you would have to get it surgically done. Many products claim to rid these, but it is just not possible without a professional. I am sure with long term use, you can diminish it - as I tried to do once with coconut oil when it was all the rage - but I never saw much difference, even after a few years - I used pure virgin coconut oil as well.