#at least there was a carrot and banana

[pterribledinosaurdrawings]

Dinosaur freezes a large amount of food and considers himself very well prepared indeed to recover from surgery.

(I don't normally add patreon links to posts, but I will this time since I'm about to miss a few weeks of work. Thank you to my patrons for making that a less bad thing financially than it would be otherwise!)

[thesaintofpatience]

A non-exhaustive list of Foods in the Nine Houses (why? fucking because)

Foods that they definitely have (mentioned directly by a character/character's internal narrative)

Tomatoes (from “red sauce”), grapes (for wine), eggs, grain (of some kind, presumably wheat - for “flour shapes”, beer, Canaan House bread and also Fifth House couscous-dish), onions, carrots, pomegranates (assumed - from Fifth, cf. Abigail & Magnus' dinner party), potatoes, chocolate (Harrow mentions something smelling of 'dust and chocolate'), snow-leeks, nuts (of some kind - peanuts definitely, cf 'peanuts in an admiralty meeting'), apples ('diet comprises mainly red meat and apples'), chilli (sufficient to make the Fifth food “spicy”), sugar, ginger (god’s ginger biscuits), cinnamon (nona knows what cinnamon smells like; Palamedes recognises what cinnamon is sufficient to ask Nona how she knows that), lemons (Harrow's preserved lemon tea, Gideon mentions someone looking like a 'sack of lemons'), fish (of some kind, served at Canaan House), coffee, tea,

Foods that they may have had once and perhaps no longer (largely Lyctoral references - Valancy & Cyrus' paintings, spoken of by Lyctors)

Melons, bananas, pineapples, oranges, coconuts, pickle(s)

Foods that are up for debatefrom description/inner narrative

Mayonnaise ('mayonnaise uncle'), chicken ('chickenshits don't get beer'), duck ('you're a sitting duck', 'we tried that, duckling'), cows ('milking a large and invisible cow', 'muscular, lean-beef arms')

Why do I care? Well because food production in a post-apocalyptic world where the planets have been stripped of their thalergy is a contentious issue. I'm astonished that they have chocolate, and that the Fifth (at least) has dairy. Palamedes says 'my whole House for a reliable food source' and the level of physical weakness amongst both necromancers and cavaliers (as evidenced in As Yet Unsent by Judith's assessment of 5K times for top necro and cav Cohort recruits) suggests that it's not just thalergy depletion but malnutrition that might pose an issue to the Houses. And yet...chocolate? Lemons? Red meat? What are they eating on these installations? Where are they farming not just food (which could be hydroponically grown) but livestock?

I have no answers I just think it's very interesting what does and doesn't get mentioned

[kaiserthebiter3]

How would the l&ds men react if you told them that "the olive theory" applies on you two.

(The olive theory is in a relationship, one person liking olives and the other not liking them creates a balanced dynamic.)

Xavier , Rafayel , Zayne and Sylus x reader (separately)

Xavier

as you were trying to cook lunch for you two , xavier was standing besides you like puppy , still insisting that you let him give you a hand with the cooking , despite the amount of times you told him that his existence in the kitchen is alone dangerous.

you were cutting various types of vegetables that the dish you were making required , "come onnn" he tugs at your shirt lightly , "No" you reply sternly , "at least let me check on the chicken in the oven" he says with his famous puppy eyes that are your weakness , but you don’t surrender , "if you I give you some of these carrots would you sit there to eat them and stop nagging? " , he pauses to think about your offer for a moment , then sighs in defeat , "alright" .

as you watch him eat , you wonder how he likes those carrots , "you know xavier? I really dislike carrots I don't know how you eat them" , xavier looks up from the plate full of carrots "I know" "I always eat them for you" , and that's when the realization hit you , "omg xavier" you say with a wide smile on your face , "it's the olive theory" you say enthusiastically , xavier furrows his eyebrows in confusion "what do you mean?" "I'm eating carrots not olives" , you roll your eyes at him "that's not the point , the point is that if you're always willing to eat something I don't like that means you balance me" you say stopping what you're doing to sit next to him , "which also means we're soulmates" you say that smile never disappearing , xavier takes a few moments to process what you said then chuckles , "that's silly" he says patting your head , "do you truly believe we're soulmates only because I eat the carrots for you?" , you pout at him "yes?" , you cross your arms "I always wanted this theory to apply on us because I strongly believe in it" , he chuckles again then plants a kiss on your temple "well if you say that a carrot would make us soulmates then carrot it is" he says assuring you .

Zayne

you always had this habit of removing the fruits from your dessert , such as the cherry on top of the ice cream , or the blueberries surrounding the peace of waffle .

This time as usual with you and zayne , you were trying out this new cafe that had just opened recently in linkon city , and you were dying to try out the pistachio flavored waffle that has gone viral on social media, while zayne ordered a chocolate cake , his favorite .

but once the dishes were served you noticed the banana slices put on top of your waffles , and you sulk "I can't believe it" you say helplessly , zayne looks at you in curiosity , then his gaze shifts to your dessert and now he gets it .

"can't handle those little bananas huh?" he says a little teasing smile on his face , "well , bananas taste awful you can't blame me" you pout at him , zayne shakes his head with a sigh , "honestly , I don't know how you're surviving without eating fruits" , "that's your job you eat them for me" you say giving him an innocent look hoping he'd give up on the lecture he's about to give you about eating healthy and all.

"just because I eat them for you doesn't mean you'll get any benefits from them" he says picking up the bananas from your plate to his , "that's ok because you get to be my olive theory soulmate" you say winking at him , he raises his eyebrow in confusion , "what's that?"

you chuckle at his expression "it's when your partner eat a part that you don't like about your food so it doesn't get wasted , we balance each other out zayne" you say happily , "I'm so happy this theory applies on us" you say reaching out to pinch his cheek lightly , "well I'm not sure of the validity of this theory you're talking about" , "but I'm 100% sure that we're soulmates" he gives you that warm smile that you adore , you look down trying to hide that fact that you're blushing "yes we are" .

Rafayel

it was a quiet friday night , when you decided you'd make your way to rafayel's house with a pizza .

the sound of the doorbell echoed through house , cutting through the silence.

"heyy cutiee" rafayel reaches to hug you tightly at the door , "what's the special occasion?" he says stepping aside , giving you space to get inside , "does it have to be a special occasion for me visit my boyfriend? " you said settling on his white couch , "since we both have the day off tomorrow , I figured I'd come and spoil you with some pizza" .

"well aren't you the best girlfriend ever?" he said sitting beside eager to open the pizza box ,but as soon as he did , you gasp "no wayyy" you say in annoyance , "what?what?" he asks confused , "look at these goddamn olives"you give a disgusted face while picking up one of the olives , rafayel chuckles "cutie you know you can always give them to me and I'll eat them" , you sigh and lean back "yeah we're the perfect example of the olive theory I guess" , "excuse me?" he asks looking at you , you look at him back "the olive theory my love , the olive theory" , rafayel still giving you that confused and lost look , "it's when your partner likes olive and the other doesn't , so the one who does will eat the olives for them , and it shows that we're soulmates" you say trying to explain it in the best way possible , "ok I understand but how does that makes us soulmates again my love?" , "because if I don't have you , I will have nobody to dump my olives on" you say smiling and holding his face with your two hands "which means we complete eachother" , rafayel smiles and grabs one of your hands to place it near his mouth and give it a kiss , "I seem to really like this theory you should've mentioned it earlier" he kisses you again "although... , I knew from the moment I talked to you that we're a perfect match" he winks.

Sylus

you were lounging on the couch next to sylus ,and he was seated with a glass of wine in hand sipping and savoring it's taste , meanwhile you helped yourself with pack of gummy bears , sorting them through their colors , green , red , yellow and then ..orange , put aside.

sylus noticed the different treatment you were giving the poor orange gummies ,he took another sip of his wine watching you before finally commenting , "you've been avoiding those little orange gummy bears all night" he remarked , his tone teasing but curious "what's wrong with them?"

you wrinkled your nose slightly "ughh I hate those orange flavored ones" you explained "I don't like how they taste ...they're weird" .

sylus chuckles at your expression leaning in to pick up one of them "so you're just gonna leave them behind huh?" "what a waste" , you offer him all the orange ones desperately "here you can have them and I'll be grateful" , sylus smiles and accept them from you .

he chewed on one of them "mmm not bad ....I'd say they're my favorite actually"

"really??I'm gladdd" you sighed in relief knowing that you don't have to throw any of them anymore , a sudden realization hit you and you gasp dramatically "sylus do you know that now the olive theory applies to us??" you say with a wide happy smile , "from the show 'how I met your mother' ?" he asks familiar with the term , "yesss , we're basically soulmates , since you'll be eating the orange gummies for me from now on" , sylus laughs , his rich deep laugh echoing through the living room , he leans in and tucks a stray of hair behind your ear "you're ridiculous..you know that?" , "heyyyy" you pout offended "you should feel special not anyone gets to be my gummy bear soulmate" you say crossing your arms at him still pouting , he chuckles again shaking his head as he wrappes his arm around you pulling you closer , "my love you'll be my soulmate with a gummy bear or without it" he plants a kiss on your forehead "but I gotta admit ...having the title of the the gummy bear soulmate is quite nice".

[wolls-angel]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅flu season - j. woll⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

pairing: j. woll x fem!reader summary: It's flu season in Toronto and Joseph gets pneumonia. Oh no !! This is just a little snippet of Y/N taking care of him while his body fights against this virus. request: since woller is sick at the moment would you be able to write something where he’s not feeling well and you’re taking care of him? word count: 1019 warning(s): kinda short, not proof read notes: i had pneumonia over the summer and it was the worst experience of my life. i was dead for like two weeks and it took my 4 months to fully recover. really channeling that energy into this fic. i hope you love it !! xoxo

Your favourite grocery store was empty on this Thursday morning in January. It's cold but there is no snow on the ground. It's about 9 AM as you wander around the produce section, grabbing things to make soup for your sick boyfriend, who is currently lying at home with pneumonia.

Chicken, got it. Celery, got it. Carrots, got it. Noodles, got it. Might as well grab some cold medicine while you're here.Y ou stand in the checkout line and wait for the young girl (maybe no older than 18) to finish scanning your groceries.

"I can bag them, love, don't worry," you say, pulling out your debt card to pay. She smiles and says, "You have a lovely day".

"You too".

The drive home is long and tedious. Downtown Toronto is bustling now. People on their way to work, getting coffee, dropping their kids off at school. These are mundane moments you cherish. Dating a pro athlete is hard when all you want is some peace. He's always gone or busy. Sometimes it's nice to not have to rush home after work to head to a game or dinner or the gym.

You took work off today after Joseph's diagnosis yesterday. He was upset that he would be out of the Toronto Maple Leafs line up for the next few games. Taking the day off to take care of him was the least you could do to cheer him up. In fact, he practically begged you.

"Joey, baby, I'm home," you open the door to you shared condo and hear the tv from your bedroom. After setting down the grocery bags and your purse, you take off your coat and hang it up in the closet. Nothing has changed since you left your apartment earlier. You wander down the hall and into you bedroom, seeing Joe half-asleep, tucked into bed watching Big Bang Theory. Exactly how you left him.

He turns on his side slightly when he hears the door open. "Hmmm, you're home," he blinks slowly and smiles softly, sighing. It's good to see that he can take deep breaths without coughing a lung up. You make your way over to the bed and sit down beside him. He leans on you. "How are you feeling, sweetie?", you ask, running your fingers through his tangled hair. He just nod, "I'm feeling ok". You nod.

"Eat anything yet?"

He nods his head and points to the empty bowl on the nightstand, "Oatmeal with banana". "Good," you say in response, "I have the thermometer. Open wide". He does as he's told. The thermometer beeps after a few seconds under Joe's tongue. It reads 100.5 degrees. "Still have the fever," you say. You put your hand on his forehead, leave it for a second and then trace your fingers over his stubble covered cheek. "Ok, now antibiotics," you hand him two pills and a glass of cold water from his nightstand. He sits up a little bit and tosses back the pills. As he swallows, you give him a quick kiss on his warm forehead.

After being in a few long term relationships you have learnt a few things. One of those things being that when men are sick, all they want is someone to take care of them. They will listen to anything you say as long as you are helping them through their ailment. Whether it be a cold or cancer.

"I got your mom to send me her soup recipe. I'm gonna make a whole pot of it for the next few days," you open your phone and show him the recipe, "It's chicken noodle". He nods, "Sounds good". You get up to leave and get started on the soup, but Joe grabs your hand.

"What?" you turn, a confused look on your face. "Stay with me, baby, please," Joe looks up at you, his big blue eyes boring into your soul, like a little puppy. "I just ate. I'm not hungry and..." he fake coughs, leading him to cough very hard for real, "I'm sick".

You sigh. You really should get started on the soup, but he looks so sad and sweet, lying there waiting for you to lay down next to him. He pats the white comforter beside him as if to beckon you into his warm embrace. You smile and say, "Only for a bit, Joe. I need to start on the soup," while climbing in beside him.

About 45 minutes go by and Joe is fast asleep on your shoulder. You laugh slightly at the sight of his open mouth and the sound of his snores.

You called his mother yesterday to see if you could do anything to make him feel more at home (because Toronto in the winter is very different than St. Louis) and she said, "No, sweetheart, he just needs to rest. I'm a firm believer that sleep is the best medicine but that's especially true for our Joey. Been like that since he was a kid". Your remember the smile on your face when she said "our Joey". You had only met Shelley, his mom, once or twice, but she had been so welcoming that you felt like you'd known her for years.

Joe looks so peaceful while sleeping. He always does, but because he is sick, he looks it even more. You lean down slowly and go in to kiss him, but before you can, he wakes. "Hey there, Joey, feeling ok?" you say, with a small smile. He groans, stretching his back and arms, "Yeah. I feel better". He takes another deep breath and rubs his eyes. You smile and kiss his cheek, "Wanna come help me make the soup now?".

"Sure. Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for taking care of me. You're the greatest girlfriend ever. I'm gonna marry you one day. I promise."

You are slightly taken aback by his comment but, nevertheless, you smile. How lucky could you possibly be? Getting this perfect man and being able to call him yours. "Of course, Joe, I love you."

"I love you too, Y/N"

[banana-and-bread]

so you wanna know who the fuck these banana bread guys are?

i think the mcyt toxic yaoi/yuri poll has put a lot of attention on us bnbers (because of how hard we campaigned last round) and i wanted to make this post in case anyone was interested in checking them out!

Banana & Bread are two mcyt who share one channel together, started in 2022. they do mostly speedruns with a twist (eg sharing controls, without using a keyboard, random potion effects every minute etc.). the main appeal of them to me is that it's just two guys fucking around and having a good time! none of their speedruns are that good, all of their "speedruns" take at least an hour* (so it's not too intense if you aren't into speedrunning)

*i put an asterisk here because most of their speedruns aren't good. it is definetly worth noting that banana is an actual speedrunner, and has has 6 world records in low% and all advancements. they also have a co-op all advancements speedrun, but that one isn't very good (18+ hours), it's just a world record bc there's no other speedrun in the category. they have videos on all their speedruns if you're intrested in those!

they've got a couple of inside jokes/bits (carrot and cake, "who's that!", cursed furnace etc) but you'll get most of them through just watching their stuff. everything they have is just on youtube, and the only other place they interact with fans is through posting fanart on their instagram, so you haven't missed anything anywhere!

If you're looking for a place to start, I recommend "the kinkiest speedrun ever..." (my first video of theirs)

or if you want more toxic yaoi, "Minecraft But We Can't Jump" (trust me on this one)

ok, but who are they?

both are faceless and nameless! so they just go by Banana and Bread respectively, which are actually nicknames they have had long before the channel started. which is a fun coincidence that together they make banana bread!. they have done some irl stuff ("The WORST Valentine's Dates..." might be a good one to start with), but they don't show their faces for them.

banana has been playing minecraft for ~12 years now, and is pretty good at most aspects of the game! he's built and coded 2 minecraft maps (they have videos on these too), as mentioned before had 7 total speedrun world records, and codes pretty much any twist in any speedrun they do (where relevant). bread! only got minecraft 2 years before they started the channel and so is none of those things! he's improved a lot since they started making videos but. he's just there to look pretty /j

when watching banana bread videos, i think it is VERY important to remember that they're sitting next to each other irl on the ground playing on laptops. this is especially obvious in earlier videos.

why should i care about them?

idk! they're just two silly guys having a fun time! they feel very genuine! they have such good chemistry and you can really tell that they'd be having the same banter regardless of if they were making a video. also, i don't think they care about getting demonitised or anything they do not give a fuck if they're not family friendly. they swear and make nsfw jokes all the time which is very refreshing in mcyt. idk they're genuine feel and scuffed vibe was really refreshing the first time i watched their stuff and really helped me love mcyt again.

also they're super gay

in both their scripted manhut bts and their QnA video they bring up how a lot of people ask if they're dating or not, and then actively avoid answering the question. they're just queerbaiting us on purpose now :( i love it though it's fantastic. yes its toxic <3

anyway go watch banana bread!!!!

[luboy7rt]

What Animal Los Vaqueros (+ Valeria)   Would Randomly Bring Home To You (GN - Headcanons)

(Note: This is just what I (My headcanons), enjoy reading!)(Could be seen as Platonic, Romantic?) (GN Reader) (Alejandro, Rodolfo and Valeria)

Alejandro Vargas 

- Where did Alejandro find a literal donkey? Neither of you knew, even Alejandro himself didn't know as he walks through the front door, his arms crossed as he watched the donkey peek her head into the kitchen window, pushing her face up against it to see in.

- When Alejandro spots you, his eyes open a bit wide as he bit his inner cheek, before scrambling to make an excuse. He came up with nothing and just admitted he found her while on a mission, and she was hungry and wouldn't stop chewing on Alejandro's shirt.

- Alejandro would chuckle and ask you for some help, cutting up some apples, carrots and bananas for the donkey who tried to get through the front door. Alejandro quickly ran off to ensure she didn't do that.. moving the donkey to the backyard instead.

- He's actually pretty decent at taking care of the donkey, and teased you, asking if you want to feed or ride her. He's joking, please don't ride the donkey, if you do..  He's standing right next to you, prepared to catch you or calm the donkey down so both you and the donkey will be safe.

- Alejandro's willing to find a new farm or home for the donkey if you don't like her, he would indeed tease You about it though, you don't like that cutie of a donkey? Cue the donkey trying to get through the front door, or looking through the kitchen at 3AM, when you go down for a glass of water, you just see eyes peering at you through the window, like hey... whatcha doing here?

- If you do let the donkey stay, cool. New pet, when Alejandro's home, he does care for her, feeds her every morning, brushes her, ensures she's cared for.

- (Alejandro basically just stole a donkey from someone) he shrugs and says he Just found her wandering far from any cities, and she was now his as he didn't find any owners around back then, he definitely wasn't finding one now.

- You will hear the donkey squeal or grunt throughout the night, or early in the morning, It is annoying at first, and you may never get used to It. Alejandro would get agitated after a few mornings of being back from missions and waking up to the donkey making weird noises outside because she got used to being fed whenever she was loud enough so now it became a habit.

- Alejandro would eventually get a small stall built for the donkey, makes it comfortable but also cute looking from the outside. (Also puts extra food to just attempt for the donkey to quiet down the neighbors have complained. You might be too, Alejandro is definitely grumbley about her being so loud, but puts up with it.

- Also ensures there is plenty of room for the donkey to do what she pleases.

- Alejandro once loudly screeched in the middle of the night, you scrambled out of bed when you heard it. Finding the man murmuring in Spanish, throwing insults and curses at the donkey who had her snout pressed against the window, the moon reflecting her eyes to make it ‘scary’ looking if you weren't paying attention.

If you laugh at him he would give you an unhappy half-glare, gently pushed your laughing face away from him as he shook his head, having had thought you put the donkey away in her pen earlier as it was 2AM.

If you attempt to ‘comfort’ him, he's looking away with a tiny blush on his face while laughing, pulling you close while shaking his head, he would put his hand to the window, and knock to get the donkey to go back to her stall that she somehow escaped.

If you just stayed in bed, he's thankful, at least you didn't hear that. But also, why aren't you getting up when you hear that he screeched, he doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing, a tiny bit offended.

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra:

- Rudy was picking you up in his car, a little squirmy as you got in the passenger seat, a little blanket on his lap, murmuring quietly to himself, a little distracted.

- If you ask what was ‘wrong’ Rudy would smile awkwardly and pull the blanket back a little bit, showing the little rabbit with one ear on his lap, the rabbit fast asleep. 

- He would indeed let you hold the rabbit on your lap instead as he drives, he calls the rabbit ‘Stompy’ as the rabbit stomps around to move. He would smile at you, watching you in the passage seat at a stop sign, he would move to pat your head.. then Stompy's head then going back to driving.

- What You didn't know.. there was two more at home, waiting for you. Three baby rabbits, Stompy (who just got home from the vet due to their ear), Chirps, and Flumpy, all siblings. Rudy would give a awkward and sheepish smile while rubbing your shoulder, like a ‘Please, don't be upset with this choice I made’ look on his face.

- If you do like the rabbits, great, Rudy is happy with keeping them, he takes all responsibility when he isn't working. He smiles warmly everytime he sees them, gets a little silently giddy about the fact he was the one to save these rabbits.

- If you don't like the rabbits, he will sigh quiet, but will figure out where to rehome these rabbits, will be upset for a little while, but wouldn't take it out on you. He would still smile sadly at you, but try his best to be supportive. If you have an allergy, he feels less bad about it, and willingly brought them to a new home.

- Rudy would always place the rabbits on you, gently nudging one of rabbits snout against your cheek or your jaw with a smile, would either make a little ‘bonk’ or ‘mwah’ noise when he does.. then places a kiss on your head.

- Rudy does Make little cages for them, ones capable of being a ‘safe place’ for the rabbits, a soft little home for them in his house for then to sleep. Usually lets them ‘free’ around the house, you both could hear Stompy stomp about, always makes sure to keep an eye on the three rabbits.

- His eyes would soften every time he spots you cuddling, holding, or playing with one of the rabbits, his whole body and face relaxing as he never informs you that he is watching from the doorway, just watching quietly with a soft smile on his face.

- You would catch Rudy cutting up carrots to feed them as snacks throughout the day, quietly murmuring praise to the rabbits who followed him around, he would spot you and chuckle, looking a tad bit red as he would smile but quiet down when he was ‘caught’.

Valeria Garza:

- Valeria walks into the house confidently, smiling proudly as she holds a baby fox in her hands. Tilting her head and raising an eyebrow at you, like A silent ask I'd you were bold enough to question what she had done and where she had gotten a baby fox.

- If you don't she keeps smiling, scratching behind the baby fox’s ears, allowing you to pet him as well, but if you do ask to do so, she grabs your hand to pet the fox for you.

- Valeria illegally bought this fox, (the people who sold him have been.. dealt with as well) a beautiful little baby fox with a few small white spots on his orange fur. She held him like he was a new trophy she would bring home to you.

- If you don't like the fox, she will make a face.. Fine, perhaps she could keep the fox at her base instead of home, she will make a proper area for him, that you wouldn't be around.

- If you do like the fox, Valeria looks quite smug, humming in answer as she allows the fox to roam in the home, giving him his own little room. She would ensure his comfort, safety and also give him the best treatment no other animal would ever get.

- You often find Valeria talking on the phone with this little fox on her lap, she could go from harshly ordering people around to talking calmly as if not to scare the fox. The fox gets used to It, your hand could pet his head whilst Valeria's distracted, she would allow you to do what you please as long as you don't bring the fox outside the gated backyard.

-  Valeria treats this fox like her baby, like something that is now apart of her vast collection of things she adores.

- Valeria would randomly bring the baby fox to you, placing him on your lap and telling you to go feed him or go play with him because she's busy and unable or (she just doesn't want to) do it herself. She’d make it up to you later, perhaps a favor.. you want to be done?

- If you are holding or cuddling with the little fox, Valeria would randomly walk past, booping his nose, waiting for a moment, before doing the same to you and then going back to doing what she was doing. No questions asked, none will be answered.

[mspopstar]

Susie only eats ICE CREAM? What else does she eat then? Does she absorb sunlight like a plant? Or something dumb like drink nutritional, flavorless space juice packets?

"There... There is nothing dumb about nutritional gel! Nothing! How dare you! It's sweet, I know exactly what I'm consuming every time I eat it! It comes in fun flavors like strawberry, blueberry, blue raspberry, raspberry, vanilla, vanilla dairy, strawberry dairy, chocolate, chocolate dairy, dairy coffee, lemon, dairy lemon, lime, orange, orange cream, vanilla lemon, air and water, dairy, pineapple, honeydew melon, hazel nut, pure fat, mandarin oranges, tomato, cherry, coconut, pistachio, currant, almond, black berry, banana, banana and chocolate, banana and cream, meat, pear, cream vanilla, grape fruit, mango, dates, tangerine, carrot, cantaloupe, guava, water melon, calcium, star fruit, persimmon, cotton candy, clementine, AND SO MUCH MORE. ONLY 0.45G PER GALLON! You're the weird one! You consume food without any idea what goes into it, how its even made, and more! Meat is full of parasites, bacteria, fecal matter and more! Plant matter isn't any different either, bugs and more fecal matter from other animals! At least nutritional gel has all the exact vitamins, calories, and nutrients, I need to have a productive day every day."

-Executive Secretary of HWC, Susana P. Haltmann

[friendsinsolitude]

I need Rui to make a hundred page essay in which he lists in detail the things he considers vegetables and therefore will not eat. Cause like at a certain point “vegetable” falls apart. What about fruit? We know he considers melon to be too similar in texture to cucumber, so like all gourds are out, but like what fucking precedent does that set for other fruit? Apples, pears, I could understand being seen as similar to melon and therefore out, but what of fucking oranges? Huh? You gonna compare apples and oranges? Is citrus fine? What of mangoes, berries, bananas? Is he at risk for scurvy or what. If it’s a texture thing rather than a taste thing, then what the fuck? In what world are spinach and carrots similar in texture? Potatoes are vegetables, sure, but how the fuck do you lump potatoes in with bell peppers? What fucking similarity… and like what of preparation? Things change texture when cooked, or chopped, or grated, or blended. What the hell? Is it like an aversion to the texture of certain foods he was served often as a kid that got framed as an aversion to vegetables altogether, that then turned into a hatred of vegetables as a matter of principle rather than actual taste? There’s no way he’s tasted every vegetable ever, so at least some of it is presumption, no? You’d really consider onions vegetables in the same way broccoli is? Does he live a life without alliums…? And then what the fuck of dried or imbued stuff? Is garlic powder a vegetable? Kombu? What of broths? You’d be hard fucking pressed to find any sort of broth that has no vegetables having been in it at any point, that’s pure flavour babe. Is it the physical presence of something that can be identified as a vegetable or vegetable-like rather than the flavour or knowledge that there were vegetables involved at any point? But herbs are out, no? They’re green. No parsley, no basil, no mint? DOES HE EAT POTATO CHIPS? Popcorn? Anything made with cornmeal? At what point is corn not a vegetable but a grain? Is the distinction entirely sweetcorn? WHAT OF FUCKING POPCORN? It can’t entirely be texture or taste, it has to be principle in at least edge cases. So then what the fuck are his principles? Rui can you please write a manifesto.

[chococara25]

Thanksgiving

AU where Buck woke up, thinking about Tommy and decided to cook for Thanksgiving, baking crusty pecan pies & pumpkin pies, delicious green bean casseroles and sweet potato gratins, cheesy cauliflower cheese with turkey bacon bits, creamy mashed potatoes and the classic stuffings.

After done with baking and cooking, he realized he had no one to give it to (Everyone would just give him weird looks if he brings everything to potluck Thanksgiving dinner, plus they had forbid him from cooking) and wondering if he should donate to the homeless shelters cos at least someone can sleep warm with a full stomach when Lucy Donato texted him out of nowhere complaining how everyone is swamped in calls all day long and how hungry they are including Tommy, who came in to cover someone's shift and EPIPHANY!! He can just give them to the 217 AND check on Tommy at the same time.

He starts to pack everything before separating some food into different containers and stick a sticky note on each of them. He then unload the bread loaves and cookies he had been making for the past week into a basket cos waste not, want not right?

Tommy coming back from a weird call involving some idiots trying to make turkey barbacoa in their backyard when he saw everyone gathering around the dining table, stuffing their face, moaning about the delicious food and praising the cook.

He was confused till he turned around to see Evan of all people staring at him, unruly curls and dark circles under his eyes.

"Hey. Lucy said you guys haven't eaten all day." Evan looked awkwardly at him.

(At the corner of his eyes, he can see Lucy slunking off guiltily, carrying a whole pie and weird a plate of cupcakes with her)

Evan looked as if he wanted to say something but looked away, his lips twisted unhappily. He pushed a bag full of containers and a basket full of bread and cookies at them before running away.

Tommy hid in one of the closets, checking the bag and basket, its contents each marked by a sticky note.

The Banana Loaf - "Everytime I think of calling you, I baked instead. Now my fridge is full but I'm still thinking about you."

The Snickerdoodle cookies - "Jee asked where cool uncle Tommy was. She misses her tea party partner."

Vanilla and raspberry mascarpone loaf cake - "I can't stop thinking how you would enjoy all the cakes and pastries I made for the past few months."

green bean casserole - "I still have your clothes and I kept wearing them to sleep cos its the closest thing I have to you because I have a hard time falling asleep without you holding me in your arms"

Carrot cake loaf - "I saw a helicopter today at work and I wonder if it was you flying it. We never did have that flying lesson."

cauliflower cheese - I'm sorry I never told you I love you when I really do. I love you and I missed every single minute the moment you walk out of my life.

pecan pie - I'm sorry I said the wrong things when I asked you to move in with me. I'm sorry I too much in the end for you and drove you away."

pumpkin pie - I'm sorry you felt pressured but I didn't lie, I really admire you and your confidence made me feel safe, being with you was like waking up for the first time from the lightning coma, I could breath again and you were the one who set me free.

sweet potato gratin - "You said you were my first but not my last. Tommy, you might be my first boyfriend but you definitely my last."

stuffings - "You are my beginning and my forever happy ending. I have no interest in looking for a different happy ending if you're not in it."

By the time he reached the last container, his eyesight were blurry with unshed tears.

Brownies - "Can we try one more time? I'm not ready to give on us."

Tommy was startled when the door to the closet swung open, Captain Pruitt looming over him with a plate of pecan pie in her hands. "I saw firefighter Buckley earlier when he dropped off the food. I don't know what's going on between the two of you and why both of you decided to break up, but Kinard, that man looks as if he still in love with you."

She panicked as Tommy burst into loud tears, holding the container of brownies to his chest.

Evan was cleaning up his kitchen, he was too tired and too emotionally wrung out to stay for the Thanksgiving dinner other than dropping off the last two pies for everyone to enjoy.

He frowned when he hear the doorbell, wondering if Maddie is going to stage another intervention on him when he opened the door, before staring in surprise.

Tommy was standing in front of him, still wearing his flight suit, holding the container with brownies and the sticky notes in his arms.

"Can we talk?" He asked with hopeful eyes.

Evan pulled him into the loft, closing the door behind them.

[dp-marvel94]

Closing Time

Summary: For pricklenettle, Phandom Holiday Truce 2024

With twenty minutes left in his shift, an unseen ghost shows up to make his night harder. Tucker does not get paid enough for this.

Word Count: 2074

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Note: Happy Truce! This story is for @pricklenettle. I went with the Prompt 2: Danny being a creepy, mysterious fellow somewhere normal like a gas station. Prompt 5 inspired me to have Tucker be the pov character, though.... well, you'll see. 😉

Enjoy!

Just twenty minutes. Twenty minutes before closing time.

Tucker sighs, repeating the words in his head as he sweeps the front of the supermarket. The broom’s bristles scrap against the floor, the sound grating against his ears. Ten feet away, his manager surveys the square of self-checkout kiosks. One lone customer, a middle-aged man, swipes his chips and soda. The machine chimes harshly as it processes the man’s credit card.

The boy lifts one hand to massage his forehead. Just twenty more minutes.

The shopper exits passed Tucker and the teen’s gaze follows, trailing to the wide glass window, to the pitch-black outside. The doors slide open, the sound of rain crashing through the front with a spray of cold droplets.

Tucker winces at the sensation. Please, please let it stop soon. Fervently, he begs in his head.  Please let it stop before he has to run to the bus stop.

“Go sweep the produce section.” His manger’s nasally voice cuts through the silent pleading.

With a nod, the teen complies. He pushes the broom’s long head around the banana stand. The bristles scrape harshly as the lights illuminating the vegetable stands buzz sharply. And Tucker again rubs his forehead, gritting his teeth at the building headache.

Those stupid lights, this stupid broom. If his boss wouldn’t give him crap about it and would just let him wear headphones at work….

Tucker hums under his breath, repeating the chorus to his favorite Dumpty Humpty song in his head. Normally, that is a decent distraction from the overstimulating sounds. But this night….

The pounding of rain on the roof crescendos. Tucker shivers, suddenly cold. A draft blows through, from the outside doors at the front of the store, he assumes. The chill tickles his nose and he sneezes. Tiny, wet drops spray on his face.

Great. The boy huffs, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He’s getting the cold Danny has too, isn’t he?

At least he can go home soon and collapse on his warm bed.

Tucker goes back to sweeping, humming the same Dumpty Humpty song. He sweeps up little bites of onion peel, fallen leaves from the poinsettia display, dried mud tracked in on someone’s boots. He moves in front of the carrots and cucumbers, wrinkling his nose as water mists over the produce and sprays him.

The teen comes to the end of the produce section, to the first fridge of meat. He surveys the pork chops approvingly. Oh, those ones are on manager’s special. Maybe he should-

Suddenly, the sound of a cough cuts through his thoughts. Tucker looks up, drawn to the noise.

Two aisles over, someone about his height in a red hoodie stands with back facing him. Huh? How hadn’t noticed that person before? The clink of cans shifting in a pile sounds as they pick up a can of soup.

Tucker goes back to sweeping, eyes fixed on the head of the broom as he carefully maneuvers it between the horizontal display fridge filled with pork ribs and a shelf with an offering of barbecue sauces.

The heavy thump of a can falling and Tucker’s head jerks up again. The person in the hoodie is gone, a can of chicken noodle soup rolling across the floor.

Brow winkling, the teen approaches. He picks up the luckily undented can, returning it to the display. His head tilts, peering down the pointedly empty aisle. Where did the person in the hoodie go?

Before Tucker can contemplate the mystery, the intercom crackles. “Clean up! Aisle 10!”

Tucker sighs, rolling his eyes exacerbatedly. Really? This is the second time this shift. Please don’t be throw up again, he mentally begs. Still, he carries the broom back to the supply closet near the restrooms, collecting the bucket and mop.

The teen jerkily pulls the yellow monstrosity through the store. One of its wheels refuses to spin. “Come. On.” He mutters under his breath, annoyance growing.

He passes the lunch meat and the cheese, the butter and eggs. Approaching the aisle in question, Tucker takes a breath, preparing himself for what will hopefully be a small mess. He rounds the corner and-

Milk… all over the floor. The teen’s jaw drops. Half the length of the aisle, a good twenty feet section of the floor is covered in the white liquid.

“H… how?” He can’t help but stutter. How could someone even manage to spill this much milk?

Eyes blown wide, Tucker approaches the nearest jug. Tentatively, he prods it with his shoe. The plastic crunches at the touch, jagged cracks scrapping against each other. It looks almost shattered…as if dropped from a great height.

His eyes trail over the scene once more. A dozen more crumpled jugs litter the floor, their contents all explosively dispersed.

But…. How? How could one person do this? A flicker of unease leaps in his stomach. If he didn’t know better, he would think it was the Box Ghost’s doing. Expect these are plastic jugs, not rectangular cartons. No boxes have been touched, not cardboard the cartons of eggs come in, the microwave dinners, or the sticks of butter. And most tellingly, there are no shouts of beware.

Tucker’s nose wrinkles. It would be just his luck for Boxy to show up for the end of his shift.

The teen shakes his head, dislodging the thought. That hypothetical doesn’t matter right now. He frowns hopelessly down at the now quite insufficient mop. He’s going to need those blue absorbent puppy pads. A lot of them.

Tucker turns around, leaving the mop and bucket and starting back towards the storage room. He passes the butter and eggs again. The sign for the bathroom looms in front of him. He quickly comes to the open doorway, across from the clearance rank, and-

A puff of cold on his neck. The boy stiffens. A low whisper echoes to his right, behind him. Movement out the corner of his eye, a flicker of maroon red and neon green.

Tucker freezes, head jerking to the side to look. But… nothing.

There is nothing beside him, just the freezer of meatballs and chicken nuggets.

The lights above flicker and pop, flashing brightly at the same another whisper crackles, on his other side and full of static. Tucker’s head jerks to the sound, catching another flicker, this one of something black. His body follows the movement of his gaze, turning back the way he came.

No farther spills, no customers, no annoying boss. No one to mutter or dart passed him. The walkway is the same.

Except… a spot of neon green.

Annoyance swirling in his gut, Tucker marches up to the spot. He kneels and his brow furrows at the object. A tissue, stained with globs of glowing green.

“Freaking ghosts.” The teen curses under his breath. Of course! Of course it’s a ghost.

He picks up the tissue between two fingers, nose wrinkled in disgust. What is this? The ectoplasm looks sticky and wet, glowing between the folds of the crumpled kleenex. Like some kind of ghostly booger. From what? A ghost of the common cold?

“The store closes in five minutes!” His boss’s false cheery voice cuts through the scene. “Please bring your purchases to the front.”

Tucker groans at the words, standing. Ghost or no, he still has an aisle to clean. He hurries to the storeroom, grabbing a wad of absorbent pads. He manhandles the big black trash can with wheels, pushing it out of the closet and through the open doorway.

Then a flash of green light. A crash reverberates around the corner, back in the milk aisle.

Unthinking, Tucker takes off running. He rounds the corner, the spilled milk puddles appearing in front of him once again.  A burst of cold and his legs fly out from under him.

The teen falls, landing heavily on his behind. Sudden adrenaline pounds his heart, the sound deafening in his ears. He shivers, not just from any dread but… the cold. His hand reaches for the white covering the floor, goosebumps prickling his skin. It’s frozen.

Shakily, Tucker puts his hands under him. He rises to his feet; thank goodness he’s not hurt any more than his sore tailbone. Still, his eye dart side to side, on alert.

“Look.” The teen sighs, annoyance growing. “Whoever you are, just-”

From outside, thunder crashes. The building shakes with the sound. The lights flicker, blinking out across the store.

Great, they just lost power. It’s a fleeting thought. Except-

His eyes widen at the freezers, still humming. Their fluorescent white light eerily illuminate the aisle.

“Alright.” The boy mutters, taking a step back from the slippery floor. “Dude, just turn the light back on so I can clean this.”

Ominous whispers answer, the words lost to static. To his side, a shadow passes over the freezer’s light.

Tucker turns, fumbling in his pocket. “You know what, I don’t care about the lights!” Come on. Come on. Where is that wrist ray? “Just go!”

Another boom of thunder rattles the air. The PA system shrieks, a deafening dial tone. The boy grimaces, covering his ears. Again, a shadow flickers out the corner of his eye.

The sound cuts out. The teen jerkily swivels to face the flicker, pulling out a lipstick blaster. “Don’t make me-“

The freezer door behind him slams open, the force of the glass on his back sending him to the ground. The blaster goes off, the laser sailing through the air. Harmlessly, it pings off a bakery display. Meanwhile, Tucker’s momentum sends him sliding across the slick floor on his front.

“Dude, I just want to finish my shift and go home!” The teen complains, slamming into said mid-aisle shelf.

He rolls to his side, groaning. Those bruises are going to hurt in the morning.

Neon green streaks across his vision. Again, Tucker shoots. Again, the laser flies free. And still, it fails to impact.

In response, more glass doors fling open. Three shelves collapse, dozens of frozen meals crashing onto the floor.

“Not my Hungry Man too!” The teen cries.

Back pressed against the wooden bakery shelf, Tucker pushes himself up to sit. With frustration-gritted teeth, he holds the blaster in front of him.

Static pops, filling his ears as the hum of the freezer crescendos. The ghostly fluorescent light flickers bright and dimmer. But… no hint of shadow, no ghostly green.

Eyes still intently focused ahead, Tucker reaches for his PDA. “That’s it. I’m calling Danny.” He scowls, finger over the button. “He can deal with you-“

The PDA sparks, to the technogeek’s horror. He flings it away. At the same time, a screeching reverberates, like long skeletal fingers scratching styrofoam. A milk carton rises from the open fridge. The teen stares with narrowed eyes as the plastic warps. It explodes. Drops of white liquid hang in the air for a drawn out second, before flinging across the room.

Something in Tucker snaps. He’s cold, tired, and bruised. His head hurts. His shift is almost over. Enough is enough!

“Seriously!?” He shouts, frustration giving way to rage. “I have to clean all this up?!”

In one surprisingly fluid motion, he stands. The shadows hiss, two glowing green orbs flashing into sight. They linger, just a second. But it’s enough.

Tucker shoots the blaster. And it impacts.

A pained yelp sounds. The darkness solidifies, person-shaped between one blink and the next. The green orbs, eyes, widen.

A flash of light blinds Tucker. In the next second, the store’s lights are back. The freezer doors all slam closed.

And a boy in a red hoodie crumples, falling to his knees five feet in front of him.

“Wha- Tuck?” The boy blinks, looking up.

Tucker’s jaw drops. “Danny?”

“I was in bed. What? How did I get- Acho!” A sneeze interrupts, Danny whipping glowing green snot away with his sleeve. “How did I get here?”

Tucker stares, mind churning with surprise. Then… understanding. “You!” He points accusingly. “You did this!”

“What?” Dazedly, the half ghost looks over the destruction.

“And you were, what? Sleeping haunting?!” His hands lift, exacerbated. “This is gonna take an hour to clean up!” He marches forwards, grabbing the mop and bucket, and shoving the handle at his friend. “You’re doing it!”

“But…but…” Danny stutters, blinking disbelievingly at the mess

Still, Tucker stomps away. He doesn’t get paid enough for this.

Note: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed.

I debated whether to end it with Tucker storming off or if I should show more of the aftermath but decided the quick ending worked best with the prompt I was going for. Rest assured though, like two minutes after storming off, Tucker comes back and feels really bad about losing his temper. There are mutual apologies as both clean up. Danny flies Tucker home (yay for not having to wait for the bus in the rain!). And the next day, they're laughing about the entire thing.

[stellasettos]

in spirit of the season, i’ve thought to give my fellow, dearly beloved falsettos fans a series of less than conventional costumes. because what is falsettos & its fans if not unconventional.

•jason’s baseball uniform. you cannot wear this if you’re not going to pull your pants up to your waist.

• march of the falsettos attire. i’ll be sorely disappointed to see none of these.

•marvin’s tie.

•maybe the outfits of what a group of fours jews would wear (preferably you all are bitching).

•whatever a “banana carrot surprise” is.

•caroline.

•last but most certainly not least, The Cube.

[patchodraws]

Camp fam favorite foods / foods they hate! (Hard mode: you can't say Carob for any of them)

Darius: carob

Yaz: carob

Sammy: carob

Kenji: carob

Brooklynn: carob

anyways, my real answers!

Darius is a junk food guy, but damn if he doesn't go insane for his mom's chili. she used to make it all the time in the fall, which is also his favourite season, and he grew up sprinkling Doritos on top for an extra crunch. funnily enough, his dad is the one who taught him that little trick. As for food he hates? Well, the rest of the camp fam bully him for it, but he hates most salads. just let the guy have some carrot sticks or something!

Yaz's mom, in my headcanon, is an amazing cook who co-owns a diner with her brother/Yaz's uncle. she's gotten really good at making American-style cuisine with a Lebanese twist, but to this day Yaz's favourite is her supremely cheesy, salted crust pizza. her mom's chicken burgers are a very close second. her least favourite food is a long list, but at the very very bottom is baked potatoes. it's a texture thing.

Sammy used to love the way her dad BBQ'd ribs, but ever since going vegetarian, her favourite very quickly became a simple spicy omelet with banana peppers, cayenne, and a spritz of hot sauce. girl loves her spice! least favourite food, not including meat, is pasta salad. pasta and salad are two separate things and should be prepared as such!

Kenji's mom used to make the most amazing thai curry until she started getting sick and couldn't make it anymore. she taught their chef how to make it, but Kenji always felt it wasn't the same. he's since spent his life trying to find a thai curry that will meet the sky-high expectations set by his mother's cuisine. least favourite food is scrambled eggs because it's all he ate one summer and he vomits any time he so much as thinks about them

Brooklynn is a simple girl. give her a PB&J and she's happy! of course, to make it more complicated, she has to try all kinds of different jams, different peanut butters, different breads, adding new garnishes like sliced bananas or rock salt... she gets inventive with her PB&J's because she knows no matter what, she'll like it. she doesn't have a least favourite really, but she tried crocodile once in Australia and didn't really care for it. basically called it "gamey, watery chicken"

Ben might seem like a sucker for carob, but that's his favourite snack. his favourite food is actually dry roast beef, roasted potatoes, and gravy because it's something his family would have whenever there was a big get together and he got to see his cool aunt Alexis. it's also the type of meal that can be as juicy or as dry as you want it to be, provided you do enough with gravy. heretical as it may be, Ben's least favourite is bacon; he got told once as a kid that the grease would plug his arteries and has avoided it like the plague ever since

[ferntears]

Demon Lords Castle. MCs turn to cook!

I think about this everyday because I feel robbed of that one lesson you are at the demon lords castle for the first time and you cook for everyone.

They hate the food because apparently we made the nasty ass like McDonald's family meal or something but I wanted to list out foods that I would have made for the group.

Not to Yee my own haw, but I am a southerner in America so I'm using my knowledge of cooking and how I was raised on how I would feed these losers.

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

Drinks: considering the many personalities at this table I would pick from these drinks. Lipton iced tea sweetened and unsweetened, lemonade, banana smoothie or just plain ol lemon in water. Ide throw in dr. Pepper and Pepsi tho. (Yet personally for me I have a glass of milk with my dinner every day, I got it from my poppop.)

Appetizer: Probably loaded potato skins, or butter rolls. Ide even maybe cook a big batch of buffalo wings or even a guacamole with corn chips, and for something fresh and to balance out the rest ide make a fruit salad or a salad in general.

Sides: Everything needs a side. Cornbread, corn on a cob, steamed veggies such as broccoli, carrots and cauliflower, Mashed potatoes, Rice and butter, and maybe roasted potatoes and carrots. Yet I do like to make homemade fries so I may opt for those as well.

Main course(s); with big groups I was taught to make at least three main courses that everyone could possibly enjoy. For this group in this lesson in particular I would choose between chicken stir fry, beef stroganoff, Pancakes and waffles, spaghetti, or a casserole.

Desserts: I love to bake and I make two desserts a week irl so this I have definitely thought about.

Barbatos would have to help me because I get easily overstimulated. But anyway I would make a tiramisu, Spanish flan, Orange cake (Dairy free), Cinnamon rolls, and fresh banana bread. I think I would even try something new like a crepe cake. (I wanna try to make this so bad.)

Honestly I have no idea if any of them would enjoy home cooking or southern soul food but I am up at night sometimes thinking about how I woulda made some banger meals for my turn in cooking because I don't slack on food.

[ninaswritingstuff]

Have a little snippet of something I wrote for my TimKon Clone Baby AU. Technically it's an ABO-verse, but nothing in this snippet actually refers to that, so this could be read as a Tim-is-trans universe.

Enjoy!

The commercials always make this stuff look easy, Kon thought, glancing between the half-empty glass jar of mashed bananas in his hand and the banana mush-smeared face of his son.

Danny was apparently in A Mood this morning. It didn’t happen often, as Danny was normally a pretty agreeable baby so long as his diaper was clean and his favorite stuffed animal was in reach, but sometimes the kid just woke up and chose violence. At least Kon had yet to be hit in the face with the stuffed rabbit Danny drug around everywhere, so overall not a bad morning.

Ellie had, surprisingly, been the easy one this morning, happily taking her portion of mashed banana. Bananas were a winning strategy with that kid; pears came in a close second. Kon hadn’t realized a baby could glower with the best of them until he’d tried to feed her mashed sweet potato. She was only marginally less hostile to mashed carrots and mashed peas.

He really hoped that wasn’t a preview of coming attractions.

“What’s got you in a mood this morning, squirt,” Kon asked. “Normally you love bananas.”

“Bah,” Danny replied, sounded way too resolute for a five-month-old.

“If you’re still miffed about the formula thing, I feel you, but it’s really the only option you’ve got at the moment.”

“Bah!”

Unlike his sister, Danny had an allergy to standard formula. Thankfully, Alfred had found a soy-based alternative that Danny wasn’t allergic to, because Tim had only been able to pump so much before he’d taken off to go find Bruce and Kon had no clue how he was gonna keep his son fed while Tim was gone when he ran out of milk. Danny had not taken the switch well, and Kon had questions about that ‘seven years under a yellow sun’ thing because the strength with which his son had shoved the bottle away the first few times could not be normal baby strength.

But answering those questions involved talking to Clark, and Kon was very much not in the mood to do that. If it wasn’t for Bart agreeing to tag along with Tim since Kon couldn’t, he was pretty sure any interaction with Clark would result in someone getting socked in the face. Even with Bart watching Tim’s six, Kon still had the urge to punch Clark in the face. How exactly was it crazy to think that maybe Batman wasn’t actually dead? So what if they’d had a body to bury? Kon had left a body, and he had come back alive and kicking. Clark himself had died and left a body only to come back later alive and kicking. Was it a long shot? Sure. Kon would give him that. But no more of one than half the shit they pulled off on a regular basis.

Kon’s entire existence was a long shot. So was Danny’s. Ellie’s was, too, if you thought about it. If Jason Todd hadn’t spontaneously resurrected for no discernible reason, he wouldn’t have been picked up by the League of Assassins and dunked in the radioactive kool-aid. He wouldn’t have come back to Gotham and hunted down Tim, beating him with an inch of his life. And if Jason hadn’t done any of that, Tim wouldn’t have been put on the antibiotics during his recovery that neutralized his suppressants and birth control, leaving him heating and fertile when Kon fucked him.

Long shots were pretty damn common in their line of work.

“Well, if bananas aren’t going to cut it today, what will?”

“Ooogah ohm da!”

All of the languages CADMUS had crammed into his head, and baby babble wasn’t one of them. With a sigh, Kon screwed the lid back on the banana jar and went to see what else was available. If Danny had a thing against bananas today, he’d probably refuse to eat the mashed pears. Kon grabbed a jar of mashed peas.

“Alright, kiddo, let’s try this again,” Kon said, settling back into his seat and opening the jar. “Open wide!”

Danny watched as Kon brought the small spoon, loaded with mashed green peas, closer to his face. In a display of proof that maybe there was, in fact, a god, Danny accepted the spoonful and swallowed after a moment of mulling it over.

“Oh thank fuck,” Kon muttered, loading up another spoonful. He needed to get at least another four or five spoonfuls into the kid before he could call it quits.

Transitioning the twins to solids was way more complicated than it sounded. Everyone seemed to have a different opinion about it, offered up a different timetable, and presented different lists of which types of foods are best for babies. He was more or less splitting the difference and hoping he was close enough. It had been two weeks, and so far neither of the twins had gotten sick or shown any other adverse reactions to additions in their diet. So he was tentatively calling it a win.

It was hard to tell if Danny was being deliberately difficult or if he was just randomly pickier than usual as Kon tried everything he could think of to get his son to cooperate. Danny hadn’t flatout rejected the mashed peas, seemed to have no problem actually eating the mush once Kon managed to get it into his mouth, but the little boy kept squirming around like the world’s most active bobble-head.

He didn’t catch the set of footsteps quite as quick as he otherwise would if he weren’t running on a third of his usual sleep schedule. Dick’s footsteps were light---most of the Bats’ were, save for Red Hood---and he moved like the highly skilled acrobat he was. He was able to sneak up on him if Kon wasn’t paying attention; even Tim hadn’t gotten that good yet.

“Good morning, Ella-bean,” Dick said, bending down a bit to get on eye-level with Ellie in her highchair. “Looks like someone had fun for breakfast.”

Half of a banana had been sacrificed to keep Ellie distracted and occupied long enough to feed Danny; Kon suppressed a shudder every time he glanced over to check on her. She’d mashed the poor fruit into a barely recognizable paste and it was smeared all over her face, clothes, and hair. She was going to need a bath.

“I take it bananas aren’t going over well with Thing 2?”

“I switched to the peas,” Kon replied. “He hasn’t spit them out yet, but he’s also not really bothering to cooperate, either, so…”

“He’s probably had enough, then. I can go give Thing 1 here a quick bath if you wanna get him cleaned up,” Dick offered, already pulling Ellie out of her seat.

She squealed and flailed her tiny, pudgy arms before settling into Dick’s arms and deciding to suck on her banana-coated thumb. Kon took a deep breath and recapped the mashed peas.

“Yeah, probably a good idea. I’ll go grab a spare onesie for her.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Dick assured him. “The nursery’s on the way to the bathroom, I can just pop in and grab something. The DVR should still be set up for The Wiggles re-runs. Ellie and I will join you two once she no longer looks like she took on Condiment King.”

Kon snorted.

Honestly, Danny was only a bit cleaner than his sister. He’d probably have to wrangle him into a clean onesie, giving the smears of green on Danny’s current one. Hopefully he’d be more cooperative with that than he was with breakfast. Kon should probably send a complaint into Gerber; their commercials were full of lies. Even if none of the baby food jars in the manor were Gerber brand.

He snagged a small handful of baby wipes and set to work wiping away the smears of mashed peas and bananas from his son’s face. In keeping with the apparent theme of the morning, Danny squirmed away from the wipes and whined in protest.

“I know, I know, but you’ll be happier when you’re clean.”

“Bah,” Danny retorted.

“You are just as much of a menace as your sister,” Kon commented, a half-smile on his face. “You’re just quieter about it, huh?”

“Mah ohm bah!”

Once Danny’s face and hands were clear of mash, Kon stood up and lifted the infant out of his high chair. Danny shrieked and kicked, giggling as Kon settled him in a more secure hold. That tiny little fist of his gripped at Kon’s shirt, but he didn’t otherwise squirm.

“Alright, let’s go get you into something clean, and then we can check in on Ellie and Uncle Dick. Sound good?”

“Bah!

Kon was particularly careful when he set about getting Danny changed. He’d made that mistake exactly once. Cute as Danny was when he was giggling up a storm, he could find something else to giggle about.

[skzsauce01]

What Was I Made For

Synopsis: College is hard, but it's even worse when you're a pre-med student and it's even, even worse when you don't want to go into medicine. Fortunately, the ghost that haunts your apartment is more kind, more annoying, and more helpful than you ever thought possible. College AU, ghost AU.

Warning: alcohol, bad parental relationship, mentions of death

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: f!reader x ghost!Kim Seungmin

A/N: Good luck with exams and classes!

“Honey, I’m home,” you call. The handles of the reusable grocery bag you picked up from a club booth at the beginning of the semester are already starting to fall apart, so you’re forced to flip on the light switch with your shoulder blades. You glare at Seungmin, who is lounging on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “Could you at least pretend to help?”

“What’s the point? I can’t even eat whatever you bought.”

You sigh and set down your haul onto the tiny kitchen island that doubles as a dining table. When you make a big production of taking out your groceries, Seungmin still doesn’t look up. Despite his inability to eat food, he usually shows some interest, if only to judge your snack choices.

On the counter, bananas in a plastic produce bag to prevent fruit flies, and a new roll of paper towels. On the top shelf of the fridge, a tub of Greek yogurt that Seungmin makes fun of you for liking. Assorted salad mixes in the crisper. A whole rotisserie chicken and a carton of eggs on the middle shelf. In the cabinet goes a party-sized bag of barbeque chips, a pack of chocolate chip cookies you don’t want to discuss how much you paid for, and a box of protein bars. 

You take the last item out of the bag and hide it behind your back. You hover over Seungmin. “Guess what I got?”

“A bag of potatoes that will grow spuds because you can’t finish them all.”

“That was one time! Try again.”

He guesses wrong again and again, so after the fifth attempt, you hold your prize in front of his eyes. “A better vegetable peeler, just like you told me to. Are you proud of me?”

For a moment, his sullen eyes brighten at the memory of you struggling with your old peeler. He watched with great amusement as the flimsy blade repeatedly got caught on carrot skin and you grew more infuriated with each catch. In the end, you gave up and ate the skin, fuming with each bite of your meal. Seungmin laughed so hard, you thought he would lose control of his physical form and slip through the floor. 

He sighs, all of the joy escaping through his lips. “Yeah, sure. Sorry, it’s just one of those days.”

“We all have them. Hey, why don’t we do something tonight? I’m done studying, so we can watch a movie or play Mario Kart or something.” You plaster a smile on your face. “Fun, right?”

“You’re never gonna get into med school if this is how you work.”

Despite his admonishments, he sits up and swings his legs off the couch to make room for you. He didn’t choose an activity so Mario Kart it is. You leave your peeler on the coffee table and grab your joycons. When you flop beside him, tossing the blue one in his lap, he grumbles as he’s jostled around.

“I don’t even wanna go to med school,” you remind him. He already knows since it’s all you complain about these days as the MCAT draws closer, but that’s never stopped you from repeating yourself.

“Wow, what a problem. I’d die to go to med school.” 

Without thinking, you snort. “Too late for that.”

Seungmin has been dead for nearly two years. The old apartment complex burned down in an electrical fire, and due to the housing demand in the area, the university quickly built a new one in its place. Sure, you suspected it was probably haunted, but rent was on the cheaper side, especially for a single room, so you moved in and learned about your unofficial roommate during your first night. You thought you were going to faint when you saw a stranger leaning over your stack of practice books, and you thought you were going to be killed when he simply said, “I was also pre-med.”

“Sorry,” you meekly say. Why is the Mario Kart music so cheerful? It would be worse if it was sad, but the upbeat tune just makes your mistake more poignant. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he interjects. “Doesn’t matter. You better not pick Birdo this time.”

While you normally would have fought him six ways from Sunday for Birdo, you choose Yoshi instead and pick his favorite circuit to start off the night. He makes no comment about your sudden generosity, but you both know the reason. There’s no such thing as pity in this household, but apologies are aplenty.

When you come back from your anatomy lab the following day, whatever guilt you felt is gone when Seungmin holds up your pack of cookies with a disapproving look. You must have forgotten to put it back in the cabinet before you left. Either that or Seungmin rummaged around your belongings when the roommate contract stated that he could not and would not.

“You seriously paid for these?” he says. 

“They’re good! And artisan,” you huff as you snatch the package from his hands. You hope you didn’t crush any cookies in the process. “I support small businesses.”

“They haven’t been a small business or artisan in, like, twenty years. How did the cat dissection go?” 

You reach for an overpriced cookie and snap off a piece with more force than necessary. “Fine. A little gross, but I guess I’m used to that by now. You wanna see the pictures I took?”

He tries to feign nonchalance, but his body seems more substantial, less ghost-like as you scroll through your camera roll. Even though he oohs and aahs at the most inappropriate images—you really don’t think the digestive structures of a cat deserve that much admiration—you can’t help but smile. He hasn’t looked or sounded this lively in weeks. You thought it might have been your snark rubbing off of him, but he always has a biting remark at the ready, remedied only with his good-natured demeanor. Of course, that demeanor has been slowly crumbling, so to see him be his usual self again feels good.

Satisfied, he lets you take your phone back. “Sometimes I miss lab. I hated doing the lab reports though; have fun with that.”

And just like that, your happiness goes out. “That’s tomorrow’s problem. I should study before work. You wanna help me out? I hate physics.”

Look, if your roommate were a pre-med student, had unlimited time, and no other obligations, you would force them to help you study, too. Plus, Seungmin loves MCAT practice, so it’s a win-win.

To your surprise, he doesn’t jump at the opportunity like he typically does. Under normal circumstances, he would be scouring the living room for where he last left his flashcards. Instead, he says, “Why don’t you take a break?”

“A break? You, of all people, suggest that I take a break when you were just telling me about my bad study habits? Who are you, and what have you done with Seungmin?”

He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t realize you wanted to do physics that badly.”

“I don’t. This is weird from you though.” However, after a moment of contemplation: “Whatever. Pick a show to watch. I’m gonna draw.”

He selects House because he’s still Seungmin after all. This is the show that inspired him to go into medicine, and is, as he’s mentioned many times before, “the greatest show on the planet.” It’s entertaining, you admit, and you do like seeing all of the obscure medical cases Dr. Gregory House solves, but it’s a grim reminder of your parents’ dreams for you. With the dialogue of the characters echoing in your head, you sketch a frog sitting on top of a stack of pancakes. You initially bought your tablet for note taking, but it really is much better as a tool for art. 

“It’s always animals, plants, or dessert now,” Seungmin remarks, craning his head to get a better view while you continually pull your screen away. “What happened to your big fantasy pieces?”

“Rule one: no looking until I say so. Rule two: no questions unless I say so. Remember?”

He ignores you. “You used to do a lot of those things when you first moved in. With the crazy landscapes, guys with abs in crop tops, cat-ear ladies with fancy dresses, villains who you definitely wanted to—”

“I get it!” Your face is blazing. He makes your artistic—purely artistic—interests sound so much worse than they are. “I’ve just been busy with life, so I don’t have time to work on them anymore. Anyway, animals, plants, and desserts are cute.” In a smaller voice, you add, “And they make me happy.”

Just like pictures of a flayed cat makes him happy.

He goes quiet and lets Dr. House fill the air. While he pretends to be engrossed in the show, you turn back to your sketch to fix your frog’s eyes to be less downcast. No sad frogs allowed.

You don’t remember exactly when the dread began, but you do distinctly remember glancing over the syllabus for your genetics course and wanting to collapse. Each item was manageable by itself, but the totality of the class, of your future classes, of your future hurtled at you at full force. For so long, you convinced yourself you could do it. You would complain the whole time, but at the end, you would be addressed as ‘Doctor’ and you would be happy. Your parents would be happy, so you would be happy and realize that it was all worth it.

Even if you cried every night, it would be worth it. 

You took a deep breath, looked at the list of assigned textbooks, and pulled out your credit card. You went through more dire situations than this stupid course. This would be easy enough.

Two weeks after the art fiasco, you finally test out your new vegetable peeler on potatoes. Your friend gave you five for free since she was having trouble finishing the large amount she bought. While you stand over the sink, humming a song your neighbor has been practicing for the past week, Seungmin is hunched over the coffee table, doing something secretive with flashcards. He’s been working on a new set of them since the art fiasco, which makes no sense since you have a perfect set of a thousand that you bought online. But no, he has been toiling day and night to create handmade ones. You don’t even want to know where he got the supplies.

Well, you already know where and how, but if your neighbors come knocking, you know nothing.

In fear that you’ll “ruin the surprise,” you have been forbidden from even stepping foot onto the living room carpet. Really, there’s no point because you can get a glimpse if you lean across the island. Nevertheless, you keep your eyes on the growing pile of potato skins. You have five potatoes worth of fries to make.

Ten minutes later, when you have moved onto slicing, Seungmin declares that he’s done. He places the baking sheet you left on the island onto a chair and triumphantly sets down his masterpiece.

When you pick up the topmost one, you can’t help but smile. Alongside the words “absolute threshold” is a cartoon rabbit with alert ears. Tiny music notes are dotted on the top edge of the card. 

“To make your studies less stressful,” he says. 

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you’re always some degree of stressed but nevertheless thank him. The flashcards are adorable, even if Seungmin’s drawing skills aren’t the best. “Newton’s first law” has an indistinguishable creature kicking a ball, and “law of independent assortment” features some of the strangest plants you have ever seen.

“I love them.”

“What do you think of my art skills? Better than you, right?”

You laugh and turn back to your cutting board. “You should’ve considered art school instead of med school. Professional artist Seungmin,” you muse. “I can see you in galleries and museums.”

“Don’t forget the history textbooks. Why didn’t you consider art school? You would be perfect for video games or something.”

For some time, you did consider art school. You spent the first two years of high school daydreaming about sitting behind an easel, translating a model’s likeness onto paper. Perennial paint splatters on your jeans, permanent charcoal stains on your fingers—that was the only way you wanted to study human anatomy. 

“My parents. You know how it is. Can you season the fries in the bowl?”

While Seungmin dumps copious amounts of salt, pepper, and whatever random spices he picked from the cabinet, you reflect on your teenage self. A part of you knew that drawing would only be a hobby, but another part kept hoping your parents would come around. When Hyunjin’s parents announced he was going to study chemistry, your mom wondered why he didn’t choose art when he was such a good artist. In fact, half the neighborhood, whose children went into STEM fields one way or another, were shocked he chose chemistry. Of course, if their own kids had opted for non-STEM majors, they would have been livid. Just like your parents had been.

“Did you ever think about not going into medicine?” you ask as you add more potato slices into the bowl.

He adds a swirl of oil to the mix. “No. It’s all I ever wanted to do. I volunteered at the hospital in high school, got an internship at a clinic here. I was studying for the MCAT and then…”

And then the university’s outdated housing killed him. It sounds horrific when phrased like that, but it’s more truthful than “Promising Young Pre-med Student Kim Seungmin Dead After Apartment Fire,” as the city newspaper headlined. His student ID photo smiled earnestly at readers, and a recent picture showed him posing in a lab coat.

It hits you then. Seungmin is dead. You knew this logically; you saw the articles, passed by the vigil, and signed the student letter demanding better accommodations. Then you forgot his existence until you applied to live in this building and when he appeared in your bedroom, you forgot about his death. Despite witnessing him walk through walls and tiptoeing around his deceased status, Seungmin has never really been dead to you. He’s your roommate who sleeps in the living room, your study partner who loves all things related to biology, or your friend. He’s too alive to be anything else.

“Did you preheat the oven?” he asks, breaking you out of your spiraling thoughts. Your body went on autopilot, and now the baking sheet is covered in pale potato sticks.

You glance at the dark oven and head over to do what you should’ve done twenty minutes ago. “My bad.”

“You’re the one eating these. Can you even finish all this?”

It’s far too much, but what else were you going to do with five potatoes on the verge of going bad? You suppose you could have not accepted them from your friend. “I can try?” you say, more to convince yourself than him. “I’m no coward.”

“Really? Then why do you hide when we watch horror movies?”

“That’s different. Mario Kart while we wait?”

“I call Birdo.”

Despite his declaration, you’re the one playing Birdo while he settles for Waluigi. Seungmin gloats when he hits you with a red shell, laughs when you fall off the track, and celebrates when he gets first place. He’s practically corporeal, alight with hopes and dreams you wish were your own, but he’s only the echo of the past. Meanwhile, blood flows through your veins and oxygen into your lungs, yet you’re stuck in a potential future you don’t even want.

At the end of fall, between your human biology midterm and that stupid philosophy paper, you break. It’s during one of your MCAT practice exams, so you at least can cry at your desk. You can’t even cry without guilt; your mind immediately starts trying to reread the problem you’re stuck on through your tears, as if trigonometry will solve your crisis. 

It feels like an elephant is sitting on your chest. Every time you think you’ve calmed down enough to begin again, another wave of sobs overcomes you. Just holding your pencil makes your throat tighten.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin’s voice is slightly muffled by your bedroom door, but you doubt that a thin piece of wood concealed your cries.

You choke out, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“... No.”

You swing open your door with sardonic fanfare, spreading your arms like a ringmaster. Seungmin makes no comment about your swollen eyes or your sniffles. You almost wish he had.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks. He takes a tentative step into your room, and when you nod, he lets himself fully in. It’s been several months since he’s last been inside. Unmade bed, cluttered nightstand, paper-strewn desk—nothing much has changed. He sits on your chair, resting an arm on top of the throw blanket you’ve thrown over the back.

“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” you say after a moment of silence. “I hate class, I hate work, I hate my life. A breakdown has been long overdue.”

You stare at the floor, afraid to meet his gaze now that he’s seen you like this. Ever since you discovered Seungmin, you’ve crafted the perfect blasé attitude to accommodate your new living circumstances. He leaves you alone sometimes and stays cordoned off in the shared spaces to give you privacy, but you don’t break apart in your apartment for good reason. You’re open and raw like a bloody wound. Will he want to patch you up with bandaids, or will he pick and prod?

Pick and prod, you pray. Make some flippant remark about how easy you have it, how he wishes he could be in your position instead. Because if he does, then the situation must not be that bad.

Softly, Seungmin says, “What can I do to help?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. “I don’t know… I should probably get back to studying anyway.”

“Really? Are you serious?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” you snap. Seungmin at least has the decency to look sheepish. “The MCAT’s in July, and I don’t even understand half the things I’m supposed to know. I’m barely getting C’s in philosophy and art history because of it. That’s so humiliating.”

“Have you thought about, you know, not going to med school?”

A harsh laugh rips out of your throat. “Every single day. But it’s too late. I’ve already wasted four years, so what’s another four?” That doesn’t even include residency.

“You’d hate it.”

“Story of my life.”

The room goes quiet. Maybe you were too severe with your words, but how else do you explain it? 

“What if you became a medical illustrator?” he abruptly suggests. “You’d know exactly how to draw everything. It’s perfect for you. And it’s still STEM-related.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s in STEM. Your parents laid out your options very clearly: doctor or disappointment. Some career choices were less disappointing than others, but they would still be disappointments.

“I need to study,” you say.

He stands up from your rightful seat at your desk. Softly, so very softly, he says, “I’ll let you get back to it then.”

“Thank you.”

He shuts the door behind him and leaves you with your despair. True to your word, you return to your practice exam, this time without crying. Your mouth is dry the entire session, but you don’t dare drink any water in fear that rehydration will trigger your tears. It’s stupid but keeps you holding on. 

When you check your answers and review terminology, you refer to the set of flashcards Seungmin made for you. He didn’t expect you to use them, but his drawings have helped you better memorize the definitions. You shuffle through them, occasionally trying to figure out the relationship between whatever Seungmin drew and the word written. Other times—but not enough for your liking—you know exactly what they mean.

The rabbit from “absolute threshold” stares at you with lopsided eyes, and Mendel’s warped pea plants grow beneath your fingers. The whole world blurs.

A month after move-in, after too many beers and barbeque chips, you asked Seungmin, “Why do you haunt only me? You can travel through the whole building, but you’re only ever here.”

He gestures at the room with a sweeping flourish. “This used to be my apartment. Sort of. They changed the floor plan, but this is the approximate location of where I lived, so when you moved in, it felt like fate.”

“Ah, a med school sufferer to keep you company.”

He laughs, but it sounds insincere. “How drunk are you right now?”

You glance at the row of empty cans you lined up on the counter. One, two, three, four, five. Five and a half, if you count the one in your hand. “Pretty drunk, I think.”

“So you won’t remember what I tell you, right?”

“Probably not,” you lie. “What is it?”

With a sad smile on his face, he says, “I haunt you because it’s like seeing someone live the life I could’ve had. Would’ve had.”

Your outburst doesn’t go forgotten, but you and Seungmin dance around the topic with the grace of a seasoned ballerina. You show him your grocery hauls, he scolds you for buying expensive cookies. The two of you play Overcooked instead of Mario Kart and pretend that Overcooked will strengthen your friendship instead destroy it even further. Seungmin is really bad, embarrassingly so. 

“Are you going to the party this weekend?” he asks as he drops onions all over the floor. There’s no health department in the game.

“I would ask you to be more specific,” you say, “but we both know I’m not going to any parties. Go chop the onions.”

“You need friends.”

“I have friends. Who do you think keeps us giving us potatoes?”

He scoffs. “That’s not a friend. That’s an enemy. We need more dishes.”

While you wash a stack of dirty dishes, Seungmin dashes between prepping ingredients and watching the timer on the soups. As expected, he doesn’t take the pot off the stovetop quick enough, and soon enough the whole kitchen is in flames. You scream at him to get the fire extinguisher, he wades through the sea of onions, and the level ends with a single gold star.

You set your joycon down and lean your head back. “Three stars or nothing” is your motto when playing Overcooked, but perhaps you can make an exception for Seungmin.

“Why’d you ask me about a party?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Seems like a college student thing to ask. And a college student thing to do. Go to parties, I mean.”

“Not for us.” You stretch your arms and legs out, knocking your socked feet against the coffee table. “When have you ever seen me willingly leave the apartment?”

“Never,” he admits, “but you should enjoy your youth.”

Whatever mutual agreement you thought you and Seungmin had does not exist. You have long known that you would have to sacrifice your twenties for your future. There would be good moments among your struggles, but so many of your memories would be of test prep and studying. As your parents so eloquently put it, “You can draw after you retire.” 

“That’s funny coming from you,” you say. You wave a hand in front of his face and observe the way his eyebrows scrunch together. “Are you really Seungmin?”

“Do you know any other ghosts?”

“Do you actually regret dedicating so much time to studying?”

“No. I mean, I went out when I could, but you…” He mindlessly thumbs the buttons of the controller as he tries to find his words. “Well, maybe I do a little bit, but it was fulfilling. Or was going to be anyway. You’re miserable. I’ve never seen you without dark circles or eye bags.”

How needlessly observant of him. “Thanks. It’s the quintessential college look.”

“Take care of yourself.” He raises his joycon and nods at the TV. “Let’s go again. Three stars only.”

And just like that, you and Seungmin go back to pretending as if everything is fine, like the last few minutes were idle chatter about the weather. You yell instructions at him, and he retorts back with something snarky; all is well.

You suppose you should have realized why Seungmin asked you such out-of-character questions two weeks ago. Death anniversaries don’t typically go onto your calendar, but you could have made an exception for Seungmin. How did you forget? As you walk down the stairs, a wave of guilt washes over you.

The annual university-held vigil occurs on campus, but the apartment complex has their own small affair in the courtyard. Framed photos of the victims huddle together at the base of a half-wall. Already, there are several flowers and notes strewn about, and you add your own carnation to the pile. You have a note as well, and it burns your hand as you debate whether to leave it or not.

Twelve people died that night. “Only” twelve, as some papers reiterated. Twelve out of three hundred doesn’t seem too horrific given the state of the fire, but that’s still twelve people dead. Plenty more got injured trying to escape, and they aren’t honored at this memorial. The living don’t get commemorated—they live with the memories of the day, and that’s remembrance enough for the public.

“Hey.”

No one else is around, so you say, “Hey,” back to Seungmin. He disappeared for a few hours, and you assumed he would be gone until sunrise. In the days leading up to his death anniversary, he has grown increasingly depressed, looking vacantly out the window and mouthing words to himself. You idiotically thought he was just having one of those days.

“How are you holding up?” you ask.

“Fine, I guess. Good turn out this year,” he remarks as he kneels down to pick through the gifts. “The construction workers didn’t even show up to work because of superstition or something.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, it’s just…” You wave the folded notebook paper in your hand. Maybe you should’ve bought some stationery after all. “Read this later. I’ll see you whenever.”

You gently place it beside your carnation, return back to your apartment, and lock yourself inside your room. It’s too quiet, and you’re too restless. Your head tells you to do practice problems to burn off your energy, but all you’ve been doing as of late is listen to your head.

As you sketch an anatomical heart—underneath a completely necessary and painstakingly accurate rendering of a male torso—your bones say that this is right. 

To Kim Seungmin, a star that went out too soon—

You deserved so much more than this. I don’t even know what else to say because nothing feels more appropriate. 

I’m living in your old apartment—where it used to be, at least—and I can’t help but feel that I’m living the life you should have had. Sometimes I can feel your presence when I’m studying. I can hear you reciting definitions and shuffling flashcards. When I’m really losing my mind, I can see you sitting on the couch watching House episodes with me. It’s comforting and terrifying.

You already know this, but I don’t want to go to med school. I hate it and I hate being a disappointment to my parents, but I hate being a disappointment to you the most. You should be in my place, so I thought I should try and complete your dream for you at the very least. I’m already miserable, so I should make the most of it. For a while, I thought this would make you happy, but it’s been making you sad and worried recently. I thought if I could make you happy, then it would be worth it, but I’m realizing it’s not, but I’m too scared to leave this path. Sometimes I don’t know who I am without med school looming over me, and it 

I wish we would’ve met earlier. You’re an amazing person, full of light and kindness. The world is darker without you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done and for everything that I didn’t do because you deserve so much better than whatever you’ve been given.

“Do you want to talk?”

Seungmin’s upside down face appears between you and the iPad you have been holding up with both arms. Philosophy review is simultaneously boring and maddening, but you have a final to be studying for. You should’ve started much earlier, but twenty-four hours of cramming has not failed you when it comes to general education elective courses yet.

“Not really,” you say as you push his face out of view. He’s corporeal at the moment, so your hand meets resistance rather than going right through. “I’m busy.”

“Did you apply for a ‘biomedical visualization’ program? That’s a medical illustrator thing, right?”

You don’t need to look at him to know he’s thrilled. Since the memorial, you began looking into medical illustrators as a backup plan. You only meant to learn about the basic requirements, but curiosity got the better of you, and you attended an online informational session. Seungmin overheard bits and pieces because of how thin the walls are, you got cagey when he asked, and he put his endless hours of free time into detective work. 

“I didn’t apply. I’m just looking around. Now go away.”

“The living room is a communal space. So you’re considering it then?”

You don’t respond and bring your iPad closer to your eyes. To read the tiny notes on the margins of your classmate’s notes, of course.

Seungmin cackles and claps his hands. “You are! This is good! Why are you so morose?”

“Because you interrupted my studying? I have less than ten hours to cover three months of content.”

“You’re deflecting. Are you worried about your parents?”

“Morose and deflecting,” you murmur. “Two gold stars for your vocabulary usage.”

“Are you?”

You shut your eyes, envisioning the stern faces of your parents when you announce over dinner your plans to spend your life not being a doctor. Their expressions morph from confusion to anger to grim when they realize how serious you are. 

Are you serious about this? You’re not even sure yourself. It feels like you’re in high school again, holding onto a shred of hope for a future you aren’t allowed to have.

“What if I lie to them?” you say. “I tell them I got into a school that’s super far away, go there, and return when I’ve firmly established myself as an illustrator or whatever I end up doing. It’ll be too late for them to do anything.”

“That’s one way to do it. But wouldn’t it be better if you were upfront?”

You groan and turn back to your classmate’s notes. What is it like, you wonder, to not be crushed by the weight of approval? What is it like to know you won’t be scorned for your choices? No matter what you do, someone—your parents or Seungmin—will be upset.

“Upset” is a very mild way to describe your parents’ reactions. After six cans of celebratory beer—you passed all of your classes this semester!—you called your parents to tell them good news. Somewhere between the silent congratulations and questions of your home arrival, you blurted out, “I think I’m gonna do biomedical visualization. Medical illustration. Art. It’s still medical-related, but not a doctor.”

And after a lengthy discussion filled with shouting, you’re not allowed to come home this year or ever again. CALL ENDED flashes on your screen, but you grip your phone so tightly you can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips. Your whole body is tense, flushed with indignation and shame. No tears come. You expected something like this but nothing to this extreme. Their words echo in your ears.

Ungrateful. Selfish. Disgrace. 

Logically, you know you’re none of those things, but you can’t help but feel they’re at least a little bit right. You sink into your desk chair and wait for the inevitable knock on your door. To step out of your own accord would be mortifying. 

“Are you okay?” asks Seungmin.

“I’ve been disowned in every way except legally,” you answer as you let him inside your room. “What do you think?”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s…”

It’s not fine, but your mouth started saying so by default. You perch on the edge of your bed and stare at the stack of practice books that have been untouched for two days on your dresser. They would belong better under your bed where they’ll be out of sight.

Suddenly insecure, you ask, “You’re not gonna leave me, right? You’ll still help me peel potatoes and let me know when my artisan cookies are on sale?”

He chuckles. “The only way you can get away from me is by moving or by graduating. I’ll be here. Instead of nagging you to study, I’ll critique your anatomy.”

“That’s against the rules.” Nevertheless, you smile at the thought of Seungmin hyperfixed at your artistic renderings and comparing them against pictures from a textbook. “Thanks.”

Seungmin smiles back, and he radiates so much warmth that you forget it’s winter.

EPILOGUE

“Honey, I’m home,” you call. 

You nearly trip over the door sill in your heels but catch yourself in time. Wearing heels to commencement is a bad idea for more reasons than one. Clutching your friend’s graduation bouquet, you flip on the light switch with the back of your hand and glance over your apartment. Other than the dozens of boxes scattered across the living room and kitchen, nothing else belongs to you; goodbye coffee table you stubbed your toes against too many times; goodbye peeling school-issued couch. You half-expected to see Seungmin lying on it, staring at the ceiling like he used to. 

“Seungmin, where are you?” When he doesn’t answer, you try again. “Anyone home?”

You wander around the small apartment, checking behind doors and furniture like you’re playing hide-and-seek. He’s nowhere to be found, and you go through the apartment again in a frenzy. He could be in a different part of the building, but he always knows when you’re looking for him.

“Where are you? Seungmin, this isn’t funny! I know you can hear me.”

It takes twenty minutes, but you eventually realize he’s gone for good. No goodbyes, no hugs, no teasing—he just waved you off to your ceremony and shut the front door. You knew he wouldn’t be able to help you move out, but you thought he would still be here when you returned. He researched additional art classes for you, suggested works for your portfolio, and consoled you whenever you were overwhelmed. It’s a knife to your heart that he’s not here.

In between tears that you don’t allow to fall from your eyes, you carry your boxes of belongings to your car. You have a new place to call home, but two perfectly nice housemates and a dog aren’t good replacements for a ghost who annoyed you from sunrise to sundown.

I hope you find this note eventually. I know we have the rule where I’m not supposed to go through your belongings, but since we’re not going to be roommates any longer, I hope you’re not too mad. Completely unrelated but you’re really good at Mario Kart. So good. Birdo was designed specifically for you.

Congratulations on graduating. You’ve worked hard this year. Could have worked harder sometimes but you did it! Relax a bit during your gap year and enjoy your youth. Those art classes will be easy for you. Biomed visualization will be easy after pre-med studies.

Stop rolling your eyes and sighing. You know I’m right.

I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. I know you wanted it, but I don’t think I could have handled it. The truth is that I was ready to go a couple months ago when you started compiling your portfolio. For two years, I didn’t know why I was still here. At first, I thought my unfinished business was about the circumstances of my death. (Stop wincing. I’m dead. It’s a fact.) Then the administration stepped up. They did the bare minimum, to be honest, but at least changes were made. When you turned up, I thought I was supposed to fulfill my dream of going to med school. Turns out, I still have no idea what exactly why I was here, but seeing you live the life you want and choose the future you want makes me feel like business is finished.

To L/N Y/N, a star that will keep shining for decades to come—

I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done so far. There are so many opportunities waiting out there for you, so don’t be afraid to take any chances. I’ll be with you always.

[lemonandtheart]

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I've been having a hell of a last few weeks y'all I'm sorry, I hope this dump of pages can at least make up for it! I'm going to the doctor later today cause I feel terrible but it's something I have a real good idea of what it is and it's not contagious it's just a pain. P sure it's just something wrong with my body cause I'm allergic to *everything* and just finally got a safe multivitamin!

And by everything I mean:

Soy, Nuts including Peanuts, Shellfish, Egg, Tomato, Strawberries, Raw (specifically raw??) carrots, mango, kiwi, rhubarb, eggplant, borderline allergic to wheat, maybe banana and also coconut. I'm sure there's more but I'm very tired of it and in general cause I was vegan for years and now I literally can't be so >:(

Sorry for venting I'm just very big mad and I haven't felt good at all these past few weeks. I hope the pages make you all feel better!! <3