#quarantine recipe

[seokmashu]

Zeroses~ I'm doing well with Taerae so you don't have to worry about us ❤️ Tomorrow is Sunday! I ate pancakes every weekend in Canada I want to recommend it to you! [Gyubin says I can't cook ㅠㅠ ] Cooking with Matthew 👨‍🍳: - pancake mix - Water (or for a richer taste use almond milk) * mix until the texture is thick (if the batter is too watery the pancake will fall apart) - make sure to have a nonstick pan and put heat to medium * try to only flip pancake once!!! Then they taste better * Lots of trial and error needed to learn kekeke My favorite toppings on 🥞 - Banana 🍌 and peanut 🥜 - Strawberry 🍓 and whipped cream 🍦 - Nutella and a side of maple syrup Dessert: - mix frozen blueberries🫐 with yogurt 😋 If you eat it like this, your stomach will be happy. If your stomach is happy then you will be happy and then I will be happy too. So let's always be happy hahaha I love you~

Seok Matthew — Twitter Update 230805

[haunthouse]

would love to do research into just how much of an uptick theres been in haunted house horror content since the pandemic started, like, numerically

[desperatepleasures]

well I've still got all these potatoes and onions. omce I finish this batch of soup there is simply nothing stopping me from going to the store and buying more leeks and parsley and stock and making More potato leek soup...

[house-of-crows]

These were all made in Quarantine with 2 Natives; one Midwestern meat-bicycle wielding anti-industrialist dude & one Rich Girl type; a burned-out white-girl-with-dreads "hippie" (who turned hyper-conservative during quarantine and left the house so she no longer had to keep the bubble), an Alt NB Queer who ran the local Queer Goth Prom, and a Queer DID-Having former party bitch (moi) and our semi-autonomous BIPOC housemate who mostly kept to himself and did not participate in our shenanigans.

The Anti Industrialist used to steal my Java Monster to use as milk replacement when his quarts went sour and enjoyed tormenting us with odd concoctions (he cooked amazing food to make up for the prank drinks though and we loved him for it) and he wrote half of these so... consume with caution

--- CURSED DRINKS OF THE REALM ---

The Bleach Shot:

1oz Vodka 1oz Gin 1oz Everclear, garnish with lemon twist

---

The Four Horsemen:

1oz Scotch or Bourbon 1oz White Wine 1oz Vodka or Pink Whitney 1oz Midori

---

The UWU Shot:

1 shot of Kahlua topped with Tequila Rose

---

Then Perish:

2oz Fireball 1oz Vodka garnish with a hot sauce & rock salt rim

---

The Double Dog Dare aka Liquid Anti-Christ:

1oz Vodka 1 oz Everclear 1oz Gin 1oz Bourbon 1oz white wine

Top with as much offbrand Blue Typhoon Hawaiian Punch as the glass will hold, and remember... if you spew you lose.

ACTUALLY DECENT, JUST LOOKS AWFUL:

Ditch Water:

1 32oz can of pineapple juice 1 2L of Canada Dry ginger ale 1 375ml of Seagram's Extra Dry Gin Half bottle of Apple Wine and/or Hard Cider

Top with crushed mint and a hint of basil, fresh strawberries, and a mixed bag of frozen fruit as ice cubes.

Looks like hell, but it tastes amazing.

anyways . who wants to see some atrocious cocktail recipes i came up with running on 2 hours of sleep.

[redvelvetcupcakes21]

For @v88sy

"Nothing beats a real 3 alarm fire, right Bobby?" Chimney joked as he and crew started to make their way out of the trucks.

They were covered in grime and soot after dealing with said 3 alarm fire at a shipping distributor. The fire took nearly 4 hours to put out, fortunately for the 118 they didn't lose anyone but a lot of workers were critically injured.

Despite the rough call, Bobby felt invigorated. It was only his fourth shift back as Captain but he felt like it was his first day ever as Captain. The same energy he felt decades before buzzed through his veins as he watched his team tiredly make their way to the showers.

"You guys did great." Bobby noted to his team, "Hit the showers and I'll whip something for us for a late lunch. We're off the roster for an hour."

Bobby was ready to hit the showers himself when he noticed a few folks were sniffing the air.

Bobby inhaled as well, face scrunching in confusion as he smelled something spicy but sweet.

"Unless we're all having a collective stroke, I smell barbecue." Eddie said excitedly, already running up the stairs to the loft, followed up by the others and Bobby.

Bobby half expected Athena to be up in the kitchen, but instead he saw a familiar 6' 2 frame standing over the oven.

"Tommy?" Buck was all smiles as he rushed over to his boyfriend, pulling in the man for a kiss and causing both men to laugh as the soot from Buck's face transfered over onto Tommy's face.

"What are you doing here, man?" Chimney asked, patting the other man on the back. Eddie pulled Tommy in for his own hug along with Hen.

Tommy shrugged, nudging his chin towards the multiple items on the stove top. "I heard about the massive fire you guys had to deal with. Figured I could come by and give Cap and Evan a break in cooking for you guys."

"Tommy, you didn't have to do all this." Bobby looked at the multiple dishes, "i know how busy the harbor team gets, you should be enjoying your time off."

Eddie had already opened the over and took a dramatic deep inhale. "And if in his time off he enjoys making us delicious barbecue, who's to say we shouldn't accept?" Eddie clapped his hands and rubbed them excitedly, "All this gonna be ready after we shower?"

Tommy laughed, catching how annoyed Buck was looking at Eddie. "Yeah, you guys go shower." He turned to Buck, "I got it from here."

Buck stepped closer, a playful smirk was all Chimney and Hen needed to see before declaring "No! No hooking up in the showers!' Chimney reminded the younger firefighter who only looked sheepishly over at fed up Bobby.

"We know that look Buck." Hen reminded him teasingly.

Buck let out a frustrated loud sigh as he pouted at Tommy. Tommy was all smiles though, he pulled Buck by his turnout coat and kissed him quickly.

"I'll be back." Buck promised as he followed the others down the stairs to the showers.

That only left Bobby.

"I didn't know you knew how to cook." Bobby mused as he watched Tommy start to pull out the larger serving dishes from the cabinets. Bobby was even more surprised that Tommy remembered where everything was still.

"Yeah," Tommy rummaged around the drawers for serving utensils, "Learned off and on over the years, picked up on cooking mostly during quarantine. I figured might be fun to learn new recipes during the lockdown so I got really into smokers and barbecue so..." he waved serving tongs over the trays of chicken and ribs. "Voilà, I guess." He laughed.

Bobby raised a brow, not at the food but at Tommy.

This definitely wasn't the same man who worked under Bobby years ago.

This Tommy was definitely more confident and self-actualized. There was an easiness to Tommy that wasn't there before.

Tommy caught him staring, "Foods gonna be ready in a minute Cap, go ahead and shower."

Before Bobby could respond Buck came running up the steps, freshly showered and in clean clothes.

It occurred to Bobby at that moment he had never seen either men smile that brightly before. Buck was looking damn near giggly as Tommy's eyes gave away on how gone Tommy was for Buck.

"Ready to help." Buck smiled bashfully as Tommy pulled on a still wet curl hanging over Buck's forehead.

"God, you're cute."

That was Bobby's cue to leave.

By the time Bobby came back the loft, the food was already dished out and the crew was already seated. Bobby figured the cheers was more so about the team being finally able to eat rather then Bobby finally sitting with them

Eddie was the first to go at the food. "Buck," Eddie's eyes were all stars as he grabbed at everything, already drooling. "You should know, if you and Tommy were to break up, he gets me in the divorce. Ankles be damned."

"Me too." Hen moaned as she started to eat. "Tommy, where the hell did you learn how to make this?"

As Tommy and the others started to talk about cooking, Bobby caught Chimney’s sad smile.

"You good Chim?"

Chimney nodded, looking wistful as he told Bpbby in a low voice. "I guess I just realized how stuck Tommy was back in the day." Chimney took a moment to stare at Tommy who was whispering something to Buck that had the other man turn bright red and laugh, the reaction had Tommy looking all too pleased.

"Gerrard used to bug him about bringing over his girlfriend over so she could cook for us. Tommy would make a bunch of excuses about why his girlfriend never showed to the station or to the bar after work."

Bobby nodded, understanding where Chimney was going with this.

After dinner Bobby insisted that Tommy let the others clean up, with Buck pushing his boyfriend to sit and relax with Bobby.

"You're good for him." Bobby told Tommy in a matter of fact voice.

Tommy looked taken back, Bobby caught the flicker of worry and something else that was too familiar for Bobby. That certain fear of not being enough.

"You honestly think so?" Tommy asked softly, his eyes following Buck around the kitchen.

Bobby didn't want to jump to conclusions or anything, but he knew love when he sees it.

"I know so." He patted the younger man on the back. "It's nice having you back here, Tommy."

Tommy's smiled bashfully towards the ground before looking up. "It's nice being back, honestly." He promised.

Bobby clapped him on his back, "Good."

[whore-ibly-hot]

How would Mr. Critch, Mr. Murphy, Evan, and Carter react to Y/n getting sick?

(love your boarding school btw❤️)

(also I'm sick with a cold😫)

ARGHAHAHAHGG7RURH I LOVE SICK FICS!

Mr. Critch: He'd be extremely cross with you, what nerve of you to skip his class, is it because you think your special, being the head masters kid? He pulls Harrison aside, and demands the boy tell him why you aren't present. When Harrison explains, he scolds him harshly for not having you 'quarantined'. He quickly moves you to the nurses ward, wanting you to be away from contaminating others and full focused on making up the work you are missing. Still, he's oddly doting. He makes sure you're eating healthy, checking your fever and assuring you stay alongside him. He wants you obedient. He knows what's best, just let him treat you. He'll keep track of all your medicines, and the moment you're better he promises you can go back to your room with Harrison. He enjoys this quiet time with you, and a part of him, the one who reads to you while you try and sleep, wishes to imagine this moment as domestic.

"The fever should be breaking soon, it's okay." He dabs at your forehead. "I'll find a way to get you cleaned up after. I promise." He assures.

Carter: Much like Mr. Critch, he's strict about what you can do. As class president, it's his duty to prevent an outbreak. He'll bring you to the nurses office, and ensure you keep up with your studies. He's more condescending, constantly reminding you of how kind he's being, taking time out of his day to care for you when he could be working. You should be able to care for yourself, he'd say, but when you'd send him away, he'd refuse to go. He takes a little extra time 'diagnosing' you, it would help him for biology class, he claimed. He'd run his hands over your neck and shoulders, touching your chest and working his way down. He'd gently feel your head for fever.

"What?" He scoffs, looking at you with annoyance. "The nurse is far too busy to give you the treatment you need, I'm making sure you aren't worsening. Lift your shirt a bit, let's just continue the exam."

Evan: He's pissed. He just got out of a great fucking game, and you weren't even in the crowd, not even for Harrison. His cock was aching, he'd planned to drag you to the after party and get his dick into you, but you didn't show. He'll practically kick down your door, and he's quick about it once he realizes you're sick. He doesn't want Harrison being a bitch and trying to keep you in his room. He gets you to his dorm, gives you some cough syrup and an edible he snagged from Pez, to keep you mellow. If he can't fuck you, he's at least going to keep you around. You're still got, even with a red face and stuffy nose. He won't exactly be doting, you'd have to ask two or three times before he'd get you anything but water, but he does like the feeling of control he's got over you. He'd put on a movie and keep you on his lap, assuring you he's not gonna get sick. Let him kiss you while your sleepy, let him grope you while he changes you from your uniform to one of his oversized jerseys. And most importantly, he expects you to care for him when he gets sick from swapping spit with you.

"God, you're burning up. Good thing I brought you in here, huh? Wouldn't want that shit head roommate leaving you to suffer alone in your room when you got a big strong stud here to look after your sick ass." He groans, adjusting you so your head lays across his chest.

Mr. Murphy: Absolute caring bear man, you're immediately moved to wherever you feel safest, preferably his apartment at the school, but the nurses office or your own dorm works. If you choose his apartment, he'll be thrilled at spending the time with you, even though seeing you as a sick little thing makes his chest ache. He'd stand over the stove for hours, digging through old recipe cards from his mom. He's usually more of a meat and potatoes guy, but he'll try his mommas soup and roll recipes, just for you. He makes sure you take your medicine, but nothing you don't want to take. He refuses to let you think about your school work, and insists he'll excuse you and talk to Critch (he thinks that guy has a major stick up his ass). He's got the coziest place by far, thick quilts and a cozy plaid couch.

"Easy, kid, easy." You're desperate to chug down the soup, but he's pacing you. "If you do throw up cause of this bug you've got, that's fine, but I'd rather my cooking not be the cause. You've got all the time in the world to eat it, and I'll always make more if you want." He takes a spoonful from his bowl. "Don't make me feed ya now." He teases.

[robsdiary]

GOOD LOOKIN’ GIRL

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

INCLUDES: loser!ellie, black!reader, masc!reader, fluff, ellie has NO game

You’d been working under your uncle, Seth. Ever since the pair of you arrived in Jackson. The late hour shifts of you two fooling around making new recipes. He had a knack for sandwiches. It was mind blowing how he’d be able to make a turkey sandwich different from the next ten times.

He wasn’t truly your uncle. He’d found you on your lonesome years ago. You were malnourished, one hand broken and damaged, the other clutching on an empty pistol like your life depended on it. Your nose bloodied, all you had to your name was bright yellow rain boots and a jacket large enough to be considered a dress on you, and your thick curls in a frizzy uncared for bun. It was astonishing you managed to last that long.

Deciding to take you along with him in pursuit of finding a place of his own. You were a tough case.

You never talked, face always holding a blank stare. You’d seen things, Seth knew, and he didn’t pry. Your eyes carried a haunted shine, something you could never shake. Being alone most of your life is just what you’d gotten used to. Your parents had decided to flee from the Louisiana Quarantine Zone. They’d been shot in the process. Your father killed on impact and your mother lasted long enough to get to the next town over. You were only ten.

You wondered in solitude with your fathers pistol. Slowly making your way into Arkansas. Being forced to use your fathers pistol for your own safety. Gunning down two runners and a man that’d been charging at you. Five bullets.

It’d been about a week. You ducking behind buildings, scavenging for anything edible. Having to narrowly escape hungers or hordes, surviving off pure perseverance and fumes clearly didn’t prove helpful for a 10 year old. You collapsed, face up at the scorching sun, you didn’t cry, just stared. Staring at nothing in particular you stomach felt as if it were twisting itself inside out. A soft groan leaving you lips as you slowly faded into unconsciousness.

Eyes opening one last time to see a figure with a beer gut standing over top of you.

So here you were. Wrapping your hundredth sandwich of the day. Handing them off to people preparing for patrol. That’s how you met Jesse.

Over a while, you began to break from your shell. You kept a small circle, a few people who volunteered to work in Jackson’s theater, putting on plays and performances when the movies available got stale. And Jesse. He mocked you for your accent, you mocked him for his, you’d sneak him extra food, have arm wrestled over the freshly polished wooden counters, and banter. You couldn’t ask for a better friend that understood you.

Your uncle seemed to think the opposite.

“You and that Jesse seems to be getting along swell.” He muttered quietly. Peeling potatoes hurriedly.

The Tipsy Bison was quiet. The wooden floorboards creaking intermittently whenever someone took a step. It was just the two of you. Prepping for open, you’d rather be doing anything else.

“He fine.” You shrugged dismissively. Washing the used cutlery and beer glasses.

“Look out for that boy. You know their type only want one thing.” He huffed. Wiping his nose against the sleeve of his shirt, continuing to peel the dirty skin.

You bit your cheek. Keeping quiet as a soft exhale left your lips. Blinking slowly, divulging into thought. Jesse was an alright guy, they got along, had fun hanging out. But you never considered him in such a way. It made you snarl and cringe at the thought, gross.

The door to the establishment opened slowly. Your head quickly wiping to the entrance. Ready to cuss out the same alcoholics that kept entering every ten minutes to question if you were open. But it was someone completely different.

Taking notice of the shorter girl who’d found her way inside. Short auburn hair being put into a lazy low bun, clothes randomly mismatched, and impressively dirty converse, soft freckles peppered her face. Her eyes quickly flickering from your face to look down at the polished table.

An uncomfortable silence fell between the two of you. Your brow furrowed in confusion. Waiting for her to state her business.

“Can I help you?” You questioned snappily. Cocking your head to the side, coming off more unpleasant than intended.

Her head swiftly came up. Seeming to come up from whatever daze she’d been in. Gulping and nervously clearing her throat.

“Two sandwiches, please?” She asked quietly, sounding more of a question than a order. Her voice cracked and brittle, a clear anxiousness on her face. A shake in her tone. Looking down at her hands as she played with them.

“We’re clo—”

“Nah it's good. Maria gave special orders for them.” Seth interrupted from the kitchen.

“Ellie.” A pale hand met your field of vision. Apparently so, you were left with her.

You returned the shake. Exchanging names with her. Returning back to your duties, a look of disinterest on your face. Scrubbing away at the cutlery.

Clearly, the situation was somewhat awkward. Ellie nervously shifted on her heels as your eyes bored through her soul. You weren’t one to catch onto social cues.

“So you’re friends with Jesse?” She piped up. Returning your gaze, anxious to look a way.

“We hang out time to time.” You responded dismissively. Unsure as to why she cared, specks of water from your scrubbing splashing onto your cheeks and the table

“Yeah. I see the two if you together all the time.”

“You’ve been watching me?”

You questioned. A stern look on your face as your jaw clenched. Head tilted as you watched her body language. Watching how her eyes nervously darted around the room to avoid yours. Taking a long exhale.

“I’ve just seen you around, I dunno, you seem cool.” She shrugged, a light tinge of pink on her cheeks

“I am?”

Time felt impossibly slow. Seth was able to make a sandwich in less than three minutes. It felt torturous as to how long it was taking him.

“Some friends and I were planning on sneaking out..” Ellie whispered, wide eyes peering up at you with hope.

“Jesse’ll be there…”

You choose to stay quiet. Not used to being around much people. You weren’t the social setting type. But that and spending your off week peeling potatoes and washing dishes. The choice was clear.

Uneven footsteps could be heard from behind you. Seth lugging two sandwiches in his hands. A thin lipped smile as he handed them off the the auburn haired girl.

“Two steak sandwiches.”

“Thanks, Joel will love ‘em.”

Silence fell between the two of you. Ellie biting her bottom lip, Seth standing wide with both hands on his hips, and you, straight faced and stiff.

Seth looked between the pair of you. Analyzing the both of you, Ellie’s poker face subpar at best.

“Right. Well, best get back to work.” He smiled at Ellie, softly patting your shoulder and turning away.

Ellie watched intently as Seth hobbled away. Turning her attention back to you as he turned the corner. A shy smile on her face as she looked up at you expectantly.

“Think about it. Alright? You could bring your boyfriend or whatever, and it’ll be fun.”She nervously stammered, voice slowly trailing off. Waiting for you to acknowledge her not so subtle inquiry.

“Boyfriend?” You questioned, tilting your head cluelessly. Your tone dull.

It was hard for anyone to truly have a conversation with you. A difficult girl to crack. The tension between you was palpable. You on the other hand, none the wiser.

“I’ll come.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up. A dorky grin etching across her face. A soft uncontrollable giggle leaving her lips

“Alone.” You clarified. Arms crossed against your chest defensively, for what? You weren’t sure.

She smiled like a child. Feeling giddy enough to race around the bar. Settling on controlling herself.

“Okay, i’ll see you around— tonight! I’ll see you tonight and around.” She placed an emphasis on the ‘and’. A blush creeping across her face as she slowly crept towards the door.

“Bye..”

“Bye, Ellie.”

She pushed open the door. Scurrying out of sight. You watched from the windows as she walked to the stables. A small pep in her step.

You felt.. odd. Blinking irregularly, you’d never interacted with a person like this. It felt nice, enjoyable even.

Hearing familiars rough footsteps heard from behind you. A calloused hand landed on your shoulder. Seth’s eyes following yours.

“I know a cat fight when I see it.” His voice rasped. Eyes narrowed as he watched Ellie practically skip away.

“Don’t fight over that, Jesse. There’s better guys here, you’ll find the one.” He gently patted your shoulder, walking off.

You shook your head in amusement, Gripped the dish rag tightly. Brows knit together. Something that could be considered a smile etching across your lips.

You looked forward to tonight.

[coff-in]

Andrew Graves x Sister reader inspired by another ask:

Rather than the reader pushing and pushing Andrew mentally and then being hatefucked it’s the reverse. Andrew’s older twin sister who never saw him beyond her younger baby brother. Always treating him like a little kid and then shutting him and Ashley down as soon as she realized their true intentions. What happened with Nina completely disillusioned her + staying with them in the house 24/7 during the quarantine, their constant clinginess all those factors leading to her finally snapping and fucking Andrew while Ashley is sleeping right next to them on the couch and he can tell it’s not out of lust but pure fucking hate. He sheds a few tears even though he finally got what he wanted.

Ty for listening you’re the GOAT 🦧🦧🦧

notes from coff-in: thank you 🦧

[fem] reader-insert, older sister graves reader, nsfw, incest

i enjoy the trope/concept of "sibling who is normal or indifferent about siblings affection" x "incestuous sibling". anyway

[reader] being disillusioned by them killing nina is so neat cause it also enforces the idea that even though she knows that they are fucking awful, she still wants to be with them. she always there for them, out of love yeah, but also out of obligation? she's the oldest so she has to set the examples for them and then there's the added gender norms/expectations for her to be the emotional, sympathetic caretaker and it mixes up a beginner's recipe for attachment

andrew doesn't have the same hold on [reader] as he does with ashley mostly due to the fact that [reader] is older than him, so he can't exactly guide her into being the type of girl he wants. that doesn't mean he can't control her though. with subtle hints of her acting more like mom or dad, he can have her bending a bit more to his will. surely she wouldn't want to be like their parents would she? abusive, neglectful, hated by them both? that would be awful...

being trapped for three months with andrew and ashley has [reader] so pent up and anxious, like i can see her practically clawing her eyes out hoping to get away from them for more than five minutes. to be fair, i'm pretty sure while andrew's the most incestuously inclined sibling, he's also really flippy floppy with how obvious he shows it

i can imagine [reader] getting on his lap and whipping his cock out, riding him so aggressively, glaring down at him, "happy now? this is what you wanted, right? couldn't go long enough without getting your dick wet so you need to take care of you, huh? you better. fucking. enjoy it."

and andrew's crying a bit while gripping [reader]'s hips, face red and biting his lip to stay quiet because ashley's right there next to them. he hates that his big sis hates him but god does she feel so good right now. it's like a weird monkey's paw or a wish gone wrong, he can fuck his sister now but she fucking hates him (and hatefucks him, lol)

this is all before decay route too. suddenly jumping off of the balcony doesn't seem so bad now

----

coff-in

[twst-drabbles]

Floyd and Grim 1

Summary: One of Floyd’s favorite words beyond your name was ‘Seal.’ Whenever you hear it, it’s not because he’s seeing the actual animal, it’s because he saw Grim and is chasing him around the yard.

(Floyd being a little shit is always fun.)

“Seal!” A high squeaky voice almost pierced your ear as you fumbled with your newspaper, “Seal seal seal! Oomph… Seal!”

A wet flop, almost like a small body fell into mud before the yelling started up. Uh-oh.

You place your paper down on the table and got up. Seems you were sitting for too long because some of the bones in your spine popped. You ignored the slight pain. There are more important things to focus on. “Alright, what’s Floyd up to now?”

Seal was... an odd choice of a word for that cat. Why seal? Because he's gray and round? Probably. You don't really know any other cat that his specific shade of gray. Or has fire on the ears.

The stray cat that’s comes around, Grim you named him, has been hanging out more often in the garden. Probably because he’s figured out the little pet door you installed in the back. You’re pretty sure he comes inside to sleep in the corner, since there’s some scorch on the kitchen tiles and little bits of gray fur.

You haven’t put anything in his corner yet, not out of apathy but out of knowing the sensibilities of cats. The minute you put in something new in their territory, they either never approach again or they pee all over it. You don’t like either choices, so you just don’t.

You open the door and were not shocked by what you saw.

“Floyd!” You yelled out, knowing it was vain now that Floyd was up and chasing the yowling Grim around the yard. “Oh boy…”

From one side of the yard to the other, Floyd chased after the flame-eared cat with no regard for his distress. His ears flared brightly while sharp teeth and too-strong jaws opened wide and clipped just an inch away from Grim’s tail. No matter how fast Grim ran, Floyd was just an inch away from chomping on him.

In fact, Floyd was keeping up so well that Grim basically has his butt scooting against the floor. A weird little crab run, almost. A furry ball.

Floyd was clearly dinged up with bumps, bruises and cuts. Completely slathered in mud from the neck down but he didn’t care. Not when he’s running on the high of the chase.

How the cat hasn’t started a wild fire in your backyard is beyond you. Well, probably can’t on the account of what happened last time he did that. You can tell that thistle-like collar was not comfortable.

“Alright!” You stepped in just as they were in front of you and captured them both, Floyd by the tail and Grim by the scruff, “Stop.”

Floyd, upside down, swung himself back and forth violently, swiping his little claws right at Grim to try and grab him. “Seal! Seal seal!”

Grim practically retracted further into your hand, hissing. Seems he fears the little eel more than he hated you. Huh.

You walked to the tallest boulder and plopped Grim on top of it. And, of course, the minute you let go, the cat showed you his attitude by sniffing the air and raising his nose high in the air, as if none of you were worth his time.

You ignored him with a turn of your back. “So, Floyd.”

Grim, behind you, started a meow but choked on his saliva.

Floyd went limp now that his entertainment was gone. He stuck out his tongue at you and gave you a raspberry.

“You’re going in quarantine.” All those scraps and cuts along with the mud is a great recipe for infection.

Floyd whined at you, sticking out his grabby hands, demanding for cuddles like that’ll somehow make you forgive him.

“You don’t get cuddles Floyd. You get a bath.”

He sputtered angrily at you as you walked back into the kitchen.

“Hate you.”

“I know.”

Oh, he learned some new words. Interesting. You can’t help but wonder who taught him those.

[magpiepills]

Under The Weather

I’m sick and feeling sorry for myself so I decided to repost my HCs for when a few Pedro characters are sick. If you want a sick HC for another character, tell me who in the comments and I will tell you what he’s like. I’m sure he is unbearable, whoever he is.

Javi

Uses whiskey like it’s cough syrup. Insists on home remedies involving whiskey, peppermint, garlic, and an orange. Pouts, misses his mother, tries to get you to make the recipe she used to make for him, is a baby about his covid test.

Frankie

So obnoxious. Lays on the couch so you’ll be sure to hear him moaning and coughing. Needs all of the mucinex, the vapor rub, the humidifier, an extra blanket, asks you to take his temperature, feels certain this must be pneumonia. Eats the soup you make him like it might be his last meal.

Joel

Deny, deny, deny. If he doesn’t acknowledge the flu, it’s not happening, right? “Don’t need to see a doctor. ‘m fine.” Will try to carry on with a handkerchief and a couple cough drops in his coat pocket. Actually has pneumonia.

Dave

Takes some DayQuil and moves to the spare bedroom. Texts you to say he won’t be by this week, and works from home. Feels sorry for himself but won’t say so.

Ezra

Somehow looks more pallid than usual. Knows where to buy antibiotics over the counter. Holds his chest like he’s dying when he coughs, and you wonder if he is actually dying. Is diagnosed with a rare illness that everyone thought was eradicated in the 1800s. Flirts with the nurses.

Max

Coughin’ in his coffin. Nonplussed when you offer him the whiskey/peppermint/garlic/orange remedy you heard about. You google local blood banks, and assure him that if he lived through the actual plague, a common cold won’t be the thing that takes him out. You consider suggesting that he turn into a bat so you can take him to a vet. Can he do that?

Dieter

Panics at the first sniffle, begs you not to make him quarantine. “Babe, I can’t.” He wants you to stay in bed with him while he convalesces. Likes how his voice sounds deep and gravelly after he coughs. Records some lines to send to his agent, then takes a handful of pills and sleeps it off. He wakes up looking refreshed.

[naughtystiel]

DEANCAS AU FIC REC MASTERPOST II

Here's another list of fics that I've read! They're all amazing, but the first two? They hold a special place in my heart because of how tender they are. If you decide to read them - prepare for an emotional rollercoaster.

You can check out the previous fic rec list here.

Happy reading! ♡

Restless wanderer

Just west of the town Porthgwarra, Cornwall, Robert Singer’s farm lies, a mess of ravaged land gaping out onto a fretting sea. Robert's orphaned godson, Dean Winchester, is named sole beneficiary of the farm - and though he hasn't seen his godfather in fifteen years, he travels across the Atlantic with his brother and half brother to care for Singer in his old age and tend to the farm. All of them hope to leave behind the squalor and famine of their old life.

What Dean meets is the bird-infested home of a widowed eccentric, and a new shepherd whom he can neither stand nor see any use for - stoic, rude and conceited, Dean plans to fire the mysterious and wandering Mr Novak the moment he comes into legal possession of the farm. But upon the shepherd's offer to teach him the trade, in anticipation of Dean replacing the man himself, Dean finds in the wild and roaming man a steadiness and certainty his own life has never yet contained. And one day Dean will have to ask, not tell, the shepherd to stay.

Down by the water

AU, set in 1853 — When Castiel loses everything dear to him due to a botched river crossing, including his supplies, livestock, covered wagon, and even his wife, he has no where to turn, no way to survive stranded in the middle of his journey. That is, until he meets Dean Winchester, who offers him a life saving deal: in exchange for help on his farm, Dean offers to provide much needed room and board. But how will this decision affect Castiel as he moves through his grief, and discovers feelings he never would have expected? Fighting with injury, pain, grief, and even the threat of death, Dean and Castiel find themselves in the one place they would have never expected: down by the water, struggling to accept their unforeseen love.

Dark side of the moon

Five months into his six month mission, an accident leaves Flight Engineer Dean Winchester stranded on the moon. It comes down to a man he has never met to bring him home.

Angel in the iron mask

Finally free of his actual shackles, Castiel finds himself in a situation a lot worse than being locked in the dungeon with an iron mask to conceal his face. The intrigues of the court will make his head ache, but it would all be worth it if he could just find a way to save the omega that had been enslaved to him.

Protect and serve

Sam Winchester is America's newest sweetheart. An in-demand actor and all around Boy Next Door. However, with his fame comes the need for protection. And Sam only trusts his older brother, and former beat cop, Dean, plus his best friend, Castiel Novak, to keep him safe. However, Castiel and Dean share not only a desire to keep Sam safe, but also a lot of friction between them. In an attempt to smooth the edges, Sam pleads with them to find a way to make things work. Castiel thinks Dean needs discipline. Dean thinks Castiel needs to lighten up. Together, they discover a lot more about each other than anticipated.

Playing with fire

When two best friends foray into a supposedly no-strings sexual relationship, someone is bound to catch feelings, someone is bound to fuck up, and someone is bound to beg for forgiveness; because that’s the recipe for a romantic comedy.

But life is not a romantic comedy, no matter how much Dean Winchester secretly wishes it was.

Instead, we present: Boy finds out boy, who has been his best friend for over twenty years, is secretly a Dom. Boy then sorta tricks boy into taking him on as his new sub. Boy discovers a side of himself he never knew existed. Boy is in way over his head.

Quarantension

In which Dean and Cas weather quarantine together like any Good Friends would — by developing outstanding skills in self-deception and providing all the casual affection and strictly platonic* orgasms the other could possibly need to make it through.**

 

*Really not platonic

**Spoiler: They need a lot.

Expectations

For centuries, the Winchester princes have taken omegas from the northern town of New Eden to bear the royal heirs before exiling them to the countryside - a punishment for a past dispute caused by the town's strict beliefs. When Prince John marries Lady Mary of Campbell and puts a Queen on the throne, however, most people assume the tradition has been set aside.

Thus, it's a complete surprise to Dean when he's sent to New Eden to retrieve the girl they've arranged for.

Cas, as a male omega in backward New Eden, has been ostracized and condemned by his town since he presented. To make matters worse? His sister is being given away to the crown prince of Winchester, never to return.

But when the morning before the prince's arrival dawns and Anna is nowhere to be found, the town's council decides there’s only one thing for it:

They’ll simply have to give him Cas instead.

It's the end of the world (as we know it)

The year is 1996, and Dean’s stuck in Kankakee, Illinois while Dad’s on a long-haul hunt. It’s not too bad. He’s even got a friend, now—even if Cas is a weird, gawky loner kid who gets way too intense about his sci-fi novels and doesn’t know how to stop staring. Just business as usual.

Until his dad comes back, and it isn’t.

The year is 2011, and the shadows known as ‘angels’ and ‘demons’ are falling from cracks in the sky, raining death, destruction, and monsters where they pass. When the Joint Task Force asks for their help in stopping the end of the world—John Winchester, his sons, and a ragtag band of hunters—well, that’s just business as usual, too.

Until Dean meets the cold blue eyes of their team liaison—Dr. Castiel Novak.

The meaning on my skin

Castiel Novak never wanted to be a Dominant. Living with the mark on his skin that designates him as one has haunted him every day of his life, and he goes to great lengths to avoid the part of his biology that he hates. When he makes the decision to get a tattoo with the intent of hiding his mark away, he meets Dean Winchester: tattoo artist and confident submissive.

Dean turns Castiel’s world upside down and subverts every expectation Castiel ever had about himself and his designation. Will Dean be able to teach him how to be comfortable in his own skin?

Roll with it

For two years, Dean’s been slaving away beneath his boss – many label him a secretary, but he fucking hates that and feels like it only applies to someone wearing a pencil skirt, so he insists on his title of Executive Assistant. And for what? In the vain hope that one day he’ll manage to become an editor for Sandover Publishing, and that he’ll see the manuscript that he’s slaved over since college finally realized in print.

That’s the dream, anyway.

Right now, he’s fucking late.

Dean wants to be an editor. Castiel just wants to stay in the country.

‘The Proposal’ – as you’ve never seen it before.

Stay in my arms (if you dare)

Grammy award-winning singer/actor Dean Winchester is on top of the world. His latest role has him tipped for an Oscar nomination and his life is damn good, thank you very much. That all comes crashing down after a series of death threats forces his manager, Bobby Singer, to hire a bodyguard. Bobby knows just the man for the job. Castiel Krushnic, former CIA field agent and the only person Bobby would trust to protect Dean.

Tensions are high and personalities clash from the first meeting, with Dean unwilling to change his lifestyle and Cas just wanting to do the job in peace. A series of events turns the pair into reluctant friends while both try to ignore their growing attraction for each other.

Dream house

Castiel Shurley and his best friend Dorothy Baum have decided to move in together. After his aunt assumes they are dating, she offers them money for the house, but only if they apply for a famous reality show ‘Dream House’. Since they could use the money and he doesn’t want to come out to his aunt, Castiel and Dorothy agree to fake date for the show. But things go wrong when Dorothy falls in love with the show’s producer and Castiel starts to develop feelings for one of the hosts.

Dean Winchester is a co-host of ‘Dream House’, along with his brother. Sam, being a realtor, finds a fixer-upper and Dean turns it into a perfect house for their clients. Even though he has what most people only dream about, Dean is incredibly lonely. He had bad experiences with relationships in the past and he doesn’t think he will ever meet anyone who can earn his trust. Until he meets Castiel.

I'll be good

Dean has always been the good guy. He made the hard decisions and rose to the occasion whenever his family needed him. He became a parent way too soon after the deaths of John and Mary Winchester along with Sam’s big oops moment. Resettling his entire life to Beaufort, NC for the sake of those he loves the most.

Now at 25 an opportunity to finally be good to himself has been delivered in the form of one gorgeous Castiel Novak. The new arrival to town is the worst driver Dean has ever seen. As the eldest Winchester strives to overcome several bumps along the road of life can he also help Cas to steer towards a happily ever after with him or will Novak’s turbulent past cause them to crash and burn?

In other words a BDSM love story.

Shatter me

Dean Winchester started his day in seven easy steps.

Step one: Survive attack from a giant drool monster

Step two: Shower and shave

Step three: Suck down a cup of coffee while walking the drool monster to her favorite tree

Step four: Feed and water the drool monster

Step five: Have a balanced breakfast of microwaved egos, six medications, and two more cups of coffee

Step six: Check his email and schedule for the day

Step seven: Pack the pup and himself a hearty lunch and leave for work

In none of these steps did it say: meet your soul mate, hate them on sight and cause bodily harm…. and yet.

Crashing in

Castiel Novak is convinced he’s the last unwillingly single person in Lupine Cove. Even Gabriel, his perpetual bachelor brother, has found love. It’s probably because Cas leads the most boring life in existence. He’s a gay man living in a rented, one-room cottage in the same small coastal town he grew up in, just getting by as the owner of the same convenience store he was practically raised in. The most excitement he gets is chatting with the locals or maybe, if he’s unlucky, oversleeping and rushing to work. So when a baby is left at the Safe Haven drop-off at the local fire station, he takes the opportunity to step in for the child temporarily, at least until suitable parents, plural, can be found.

Life certainly gets more interesting.

And it gets even more interesting when a handsome man comes crashing—literally—into his life.

Partnered

Dean didn't think that his life as a detective could get much worse after Castiel was promoted to lieutenant.

Castiel was a stickler for the rules, had no sense of humour, and never seemed to give Dean a break, even though they used to be partners.

But then, despite all of their questionable history, the two are asked to go undercover on a case in the wealthy suburbs of California. . . as a married couple.

Lead by your beating heart

After a night of celebrating (heavy drinking) with his brother surgical intern Dean Winchester discovers that his resident, talented Cardio surgeon Castiel Novak, is...well a huge douche bag...kind of hot but still a huge douche bag. A douche bag that he's stuck with for the rest of the year, that's if he survives the year without Castiel killing him and making it look like an accident. So why is it that an easy friendship forms between the two men that swiftly becomes something Dean never expected to find when he moved to Chicago.

Bold will hold

All Dean Winchester wants is to open his own tattoo shop, which is why he signs up for Tattoo Gods, a tattooing reality show with a $100,000 grand prize. He also wants to avoid making an ass of himself on national TV, and he definitely wants to avoid falling for Cas Novak, another artist who’s not only his direct competitor, but someone he’s had an unspoken rivalry with since before he started apprenticing, and is just as ridiculously talented as he is stunning (and, as Dean comes to find out, kind and funny and passionate and sincere). Is that too much to ask?

Apparently, yes. Yes, it is.

Breathing into you

‘Beware the deep sea, that’s where the monsters come from.’ Dean had heard these words since birth, his father’s warnings shaping him into the man he is today.

That’s not the root of Dean’s hatred for merpeople, though. Twenty years after the day tragedy had touched the Winchesters’ lives forever as well as the end of the Great War between humans and mer, Dean is still haunted by that moment. But loving the sea is just as much a part of him as the dread for the merfolk, so when he isn’t working at the local bar, he is there, underwater, immersed in the vast blue his mother used to speak of in her bedtime stories.

Dean knows, however, that the sea can be as ruthless as it is soothing. When he is caught in the middle of a storm and faces the anger of the waves, the mysterious appearance of a stranger with blue eyes as clear as the waters Dean loves losing himself in forces Dean to question the truth behind his father’s old mantra.

Hot water

Castiel hated public showers.

In which Castiel is forced to use the company shower after hours and ends up doing unspeakable things he never thought himself capable of...

AU-fic containing mystery attractions and a lot of hot water.

I can make you scared

So this is how it goes. Best day of Dean Winchester’s life. Loses his job, finds out he’s been cheated on, gets dumped, all in the course of one fucked up Thursday. Drinking himself into oblivion is the natural response, right? A chance encounter in a dingy dive bar gives Dean a new friend who sees his problems and likes him anyway. Now, as Dean struggles to pick up the pieces of his life, Castiel just might help him put them back together in a way he never expected.

Fear of falling (apart)

In a world where D/s relationships are the norm and Chicago is caught up in a three-way mob war, Russian mob boss Castiel Krushnic makes John Winchester an offer he can't refuse: one that will make Dean Winchester his own.

Cuffed to an angel

Dean Winchester has a lot going for him: he's beloved by his students, he's finished writing his first book, and he's living comfortably in New York City. The only problem is... he's single. That wouldn't bother him much if his family wouldn't be visiting for the holidays. With cuffing season over, Dean has to face his family alone... or will he?

Castiel DiAngelo is a simple detective who hasn't really celebrated Christmas in over 9 years, holidays and family being a sore spot for him. But after taking Dean up on an offer, he finds that you can't really avoid the holidays.

Will these two be able to pull off a seminal holiday trope? Or will certain developments get in the way...

(don't) stop texting me

Castiel Novak is relatively happy living his solitary life as a Starbucks Barista. He lives alone with a cat named Hamburger, and he has one (1) emotional support friend, Gabriel.

Unfortunately, he is plagued by the fact that some guy (see: a random hot dude named 'Dean') is giving out Castiel's phone number as his own. And he's been doing it for months.

So, of course, when Castiel's at work and a hot stranger gives him his own phone number for the Starbucks Rewards Program... well... it doesn't go well.

Sweet boy

NOTE - nothing sexual happens between them until Dean's 18

Dean's sixteen when he meets John's well-to-do boss, Castiel Novak, and he's quick to develop a crush during a time where he's only begun to discover his preferences. He dates the beautiful Lisa and practically raises his younger brother Sam, because it's what John expects. But Castiel appears to see Dean in a way no one else does, and despite him knowing there's no way anything can happen between them, he relishes in the idea that Castiel cares at all for his well-being.

Between mounting pressures from a teenage Sam that no longer wants a caretaker, John's nudging for Dean to follow a career path he doesn't want, and a mysterious check for the exact amount of one semester at the school Dean had been eyeing, Dean finds himself reconnecting with Castiel.

And Castiel has a very interesting proposition for him.

Down time

It’s been said that Dean Winchester is a bit uptight but in his opinion being focused on producing quality work is nothing to be ashamed of. He would grudgingly admit he tends to get too worried about his work and schedule and that it’s beginning to wear him down. In a fit of work induced exhaustion, he decides to indulge in a deeply buried desire of his…

[cinnajun]

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: cooking with zb1

a/n: i’m not the greatest cook myself so apologies if some of this is terribly misinformed, but i can bake okay (during quarantine i’d bake when in class sooo)

notes: yujin is not included due to his age!

wc | 1.4k

jiwoong is a monster when it comes to cooking, but NOT baking. give this man a grill and a slab of meat and you have a masterpiece, but give him a mixing bowl and a recipe and he’s clueless. as such, assuming you’re a good baker, you and jiwoong are the perfect summer barbecue couple, and the ideal dinner party couple. but, i think the real fun is when you make jiwoong bake with you—you offer as much help as you can, but let him take the wheel. he can make it through brownies and cookies, but his weakness is bread—he doesn’t like how long he has to wait. he also doesn’t understand why he has to punch the dough???? i also think he doesn’t understand why you need to make it yourself when you can just go to the store…and when you say you can buy cookies at the store too, he says it’s “different.” okay then!

zhang hao is a princess and therefore does not cook or bake. and, when he does, it is a meal only HIS taste buds enjoy…my reference is whatever he was doing in camp zb1 with that soup. the nice thing is that he loves whatever you make, no matter what it is. you could put slop in front of him and, as long as it was constructed by you, he would eat the entire bowl. hao feels very loved when you cook him a meal or bake him a little treat, especially when he comes home to it. there’s no better feeling (in his opinion) than opening the front door and immediately smelling a batch of cookies cooling on the kitchen counter. because he’s far from home, i think hao will feel especially warm when he comes home to you making any sort of food he had often back home—so perhaps give his mom a call and ask for some recipes.

sung hanbin can’t cook very well, but can bake okay! perhaps you’ll be gifted some cold toast from time to time, but at least it comes with the opportunity to look at his face. but, if you ask hanbin for a fun drink … THAT is a different story. sung hanbin is the god of fun drinks, so if you’re a beverage person, he’s the exact right guy for you to date. he has a million fancy drink tools in his kitchen (an espresso machine, a high-tech blender that costs an arm and a leg, etc) and can make you anything you want. he also can make a MEAN shirley temple, which is an essential quality in a person. hanbin’s absolute favorite thing to do though is have you bake some fun dessert that he can make the perfect drink to pair it with—whether it be bitter coffee or a sweet smoothie, it brings him a lot of joy. it also brings him a lot of joy to enjoy both of the creations with you while you tell him all about how your week went.

matthew can do everything in the kitchen. say what you will, but MAN, matthew can make a MEAL. i mean the fries he made on camp zb1 looked so delicious and he straight-up did that himself. i think your favorite pastime in a relationship with matthew is watching him cook because he will roll up his sleeves and chop away at whatever he’s making, making the muscles come out. especially if he’s dealing with anything that might be sort of tough, and he often is because he likes to show off—if you ask him to make you an apple pie, he will rip the apples in half in front of you. i also think he likes to narrate what he’s doing like he’s on a cooking show, and will proceed to tell you that there’s going to be a test on what he taught the next day. matthew loves cooking for you, so make sure you let him know that you love what he cooks with a kiss on the cheek and a big “thank you” :)

taerae is decently good at both. he’s not exactly the best cook or the number one baker, but he knows enough to make some good food. i think he’d prefer cooking/baking with you rather than by himself, and you pretty much do, too. one of you will pick a recipe and assign tasks to the other, whether it be chopping up a carrot or grating some cheese. sometimes, he’ll jokingly pretend like he’s gordon ramsey and sarcastically joke about how “bad” you are at skinning the potato, and other times he will shout these bizarre “you’re doing great!” messages while he’s trying not to burn himself taking something out of the oven. then, when you’re close to finishing the food, you’ll sometimes throw together an easy dessert, like brownies or mug cakes, which will be done right as you finish eating. together, the two of you can make pretty good meals!

ricky is solidly okay at cooking, and not as okay at baking. i don’t think it’s intrinsic to him, though, he just never really tried to teach himself how to do either. he can boil water and make himself instant noodles, but he’s not crafting a perfectly cooked salmon over the most delicious rice you’ve ever had. there are other things ricky would instead dedicate himself to, like dancing or upgrading his wardrobe, so he’s never tried to upgrade his cooking skills. in fact, he’s kind of glad he never did, because now he can force you to teach him all that he wants to know. he basks in the light of your complete attention as you help him peel a potato, your hands over his as you drag the peeler across the vegetable. then, when you finish the meal, he revels in your praise as you compliment his “newfound skills” in pasta making. just make sure not to tell him you know what he’s doing.

i think gyuvin would be good at both!! judging by his snack bag, he cares a lot about yummy food and thus can carry himself in the kitchen. although, i think he’d be a lot better at baking than cooking. it’s just easier to follow a recipe to a t, and once you teach yourself how to gauge whether or not something is over-mixed, it’s smooth sailing from there. from soft and custardy lemon bars to hard-headed creme brulee, gyuvin loves gifting you with little sweet treats every week. when you were in high school, he’d bake you a treat and give it to you every friday, loving how your eyes would light up at the sight of his mom’s purple tupperware. in particular, i think gyuvin would be a good cake baker, and he absolutely goes all out for your birthday. flowers crafted with icing, any flavor your heart desires, and the most beautiful array of candles he could find—it makes you happier than you can describe. and then he gets you a super lame gift because he spent all his money on cake supplies lol

gunwook is a cook, but decidedly not a baker. his specialties happen to be any sort of stir fry and really good instant noodles, and his weaknesses are anything that requires him to stick a knife in to check if it’s done. he refuses to learn how to bake, too, because the idea that he isn’t immediately good at something terrifies him to the core and makes him feel a little sick to his stomach. the thing is, though, you don’t even know gunwook is a terrible baker for at least a year of your relationship. you automatically assume he can bake yummy cookies just from how delicious the meals he makes for you are. so, when you ask him to make you cookies and he says no almost instantly, you’re absolutely shocked—and then he lets it slip that he can’t bake for the life of him. you then learn that he hates it when you bring it up, so you stay quiet and let him sulk on his own, enjoying the taste of his yummy pork stir fry.

thank you for reading !

tags: @happysmileybee @wtfhyuck

[ingydar-phan]

i was JUST going to ask what your favourite amazingphil quarantine era video was bc those are absolute comfort content for me, literally watching the baking my birthday cake without a recipe rn and he’s just so incredibly endearing in it. i think the ginger quiff is his most underrated hair it’s so good

I can’t pick just one!! Probs Dan haircut, Phil ate glue, catching Steve the pigeon (an absolute fav for sure), awkward stories from the closet, and the weird bath chamber thingy. But also like a shit ton of them like ❤️❤️❤️

My fav hairs are the ginger bangs fringe thingy (my absolute fav), the black quiff (he looks so adult??), and the phlonde

I have a thing for gingers (sorry yall, most ppl close to me know this) soooo that’s prob why

[astranite]

Love is Stored in the Pasta

Scott, John and pasta.

This started off from a tumblr post 'cause somebody needed to cook that guy some pasta!!

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, really very mild scott is hangrysad, ft john's space issues, Chronic Illness, as thats what im treating it as and its not the focus here he's just living with it, Scott Tracy has ADHD, this is important, Autistic John Tracy, lowkey here but also Important to me, this is fun and fluffy and i love them, i hope this is like a warm comforting bowl of pasta to you too

---

“We need to talk,” John said.

On the other side of the call, Scott’s hologram slumped over his desk, his head landing in his hands. “Oh God.”

“I found your search history…” John began.

Scott peered out sheepishly from behind his fingers. “I can explain!”

“It’s just pages and pages of pasta?” 

John was puzzled, honestly. Five to ten recipe blogs and that was Scott trying to decide what to make for dinner during a meeting or while he was struggling to concentrate on work. During lulls between callouts, he and John would sometimes debate options together. More than forty separate sites visited at 3:12pm on a Tuesday afternoon and Eos had flagged it for John, on suspicion that Scott’s computer had been hacked by a malicious entity or some other AI virus.

Scott went from double facepalm of despair to full on faceplant, his head hitting the desk with an audible thunk.

“Why so much pasta?” John questioned. Now his curiosity was piqued, he couldn’t let it go or he’d be doing EVA work later, still turning over possibilities in his mind, which wasn’t conducive to the constant concentration needed while floating around in the vacuum. Outside, any misstep would be your last.

“I dunno. I just feel like pasta,” Scott mumbled into the wood.

Scott sounded…weird. Like he was about to start laughing, or coming down with a cold.

“Scott? Are you okay?”

It had better not be another flu; corralling Scott to take care of himself was hard enough even if he wasn’t feverish. John wouldn’t be able to come down either, quarantined up in Five unless he already had it. Was the slight tug of a headache at his temples from his sinuses beginning to clog up too?

Scott hadn’t looked up yet; his shoulders were shaking. John wiggled his fingers anxiously.

“Scotty?”

Big brother’s head shot up at the nickname John so rarely used. Had John intended to provoke that reaction? The name had been a slip of the tongue but if he was was honest, he sort of had meant to jar Scott out of his thoughts. He never called Scott, Scotty unless he was scared though. And Scott not answering him did tick tick tick up his system from yellow alert into red.

“I’m fine, it’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” Scott’s words ran over each other in an attempt to come first. His voice sounded oddly wet.

Tears, yes those were indeed tears dulled by holographic format, tumbled down Scott’s cheeks.

As soon as he saw John looking, Scott turned away.

Suddenly, John landed on the spark of insight that he had a hunch would crack the code to his big brother’s distress. “Have you eaten anything all day?”

Scott dug around for tissues in a drawer of the desk and gave a half shrug. “I guess not—not really? I tried to before you say anything. Got a mouthful of breakfast in and then there was a call out. Lunch didn’t happen, there was a meeting, I had to make coffee, I ran out of time. I don’t really feel hungry though…”

That did explain a few things. It was well known family lore that Virgil and Alan got hangry, and Gords went all sad and mopey. Scott and John himself though, they got …really, unstably emotional. 

So yeah, hence the unexpected bursting into tears. John got the whole shit interoception and not even noticing if you needed to eat while you were buried in work thing; Scott was way too used to ignoring his body too. 

John took a deep breath. “Scott, and I’m one-hundred percent serious about this, do you want me to come down there and make you some pasta?”

Thunderbird Five systems whirred around John in the quiet as Scott hesitated.

“Maybe,” he whispered. “Or you don’t have to, I’ll wait, Virge’ll be doing dinner in a bit anyway.”

“Virgil won’t be up until past sunset after the hours Thunderbird Two was out yesterday and into this morning,” John said gently. “You need to eat before then.”

Nor would an overwhelmed Scott and the kitchen be a good combination at this point, and John saw the moment Scott realised this, while fidgeting with the rubix cube on his desk. 

“I want to do this for you,” John told him.

Scott dashed at his eyes, sniffled a few times and finally capitulated. “Okay. Thanks, Jay.”

John smiled and signed off, heading for the space elevator. He was usually so far away, he was right now, but it was in his power to close off that distance when he needed to and today he could use that. 

He farewelled Eos; she so often missed him but the opportunities to run the space station on her own that weren’t emergencies where he was incapacitated excited her. They showed how much he had come to trust and rely on her. Plus she got full reign of their virtual chess set.

On Earth, Scott was waiting for him as the elevator docked, his hands stuck casually in his jeans pockets but looking as pale and wobbly as John felt. His face was still tearstained.

“Hey.”

“Hey to you too.” John took a few heavy steps before throwing himself at Scott, wrapping his arms around his brother tightly, all the while careful not to knock him off balance. Scott stiffened then melted into John. 

Usually that interaction went the other way around. 

Scott used the extra height space gave John to rest his head on him without having to duck down like with everyone else. John hugged him close and comfortingly as his fingers tap tap tapped their rhythm at Scott’s shoulder. All of it meant I love you.

“Pasta time?” John said eventually.

Scott nodded silently, following when John started off towards the kitchen. The raw rock wall of the hanger was rough and vividly solid in its three dimensions, as John ran his hand along it for balance as he walked that initial part. He was touching the Earth, he was in the Earth, he was on Earth.

With cold water from the fridge dispenser and the fizzy, brightly coloured tablets shook out of their tube, John made up lidded cups of electrolyte drink for himself and Scott. John needed to be sculling the stuff perpetually to stay upright down here, and he would not be at all surprised if Scott was dehydrated too. It might to something for John’s headache, could go either way for the nausea coming on.

He put a large pot on the heat. One advantage of having a stove so high powered that it could nuke anything it touched was that any volume of water boiled fast. 

An entire packet of fettuccine got tipped into the enthusiastic cacophony of bubbles. John poked at it with a pasta scoop, regretting that he hadn’t snapped the long pieces to actually fit in better. Ah well. 

He shook in an excessive-to-anyone-not-him amount of salt with a shrug ‘cause he needed it, before having another go at separating the pasta. The pasta scoop was quite an effective implement for that, there were reasons after all it was Gordon’s favourite utensil as John remembered from previous discussions. One could also use it to mash potatoes when held vertically, if one so pleased. His second favourite was the tongs as they could be clicked like crab claws and used to pinch unsuspecting siblings. 

Scott watched from his place slumped over the kitchen bench on a stool, chewing on the ragged skin at the edge of his thumbnail. He was trying to work on a couple of screens pulled up as holomonitors, as unsuccessfully as could be expected. John came over and hopped up to sit on the bench, clipping through the projected email inbox and meeting minutes so Scott dismissed them. It was with a sigh of relief.

They smiled tiredly at each other.

The pasta! John tapped at his uniform comms watch. “Eos, set a timer for the pasta, please?” John shaved the minute that had already passed off of the box time and then another couple to ensure it wouldn’t come out mushy.

“So what sort of stuff on pasta do you feel like? There’s a good lot of options you were looking at earlier.”

“We don’t have the ingredients for most of those, I checked. No eggs and no mushrooms so no carbonara. Technically that wouldn’t be authentic carbonara though. No cream cheese. We missed this week’s supply run so we don’t even have any frozen peas!” Scott threw his hands up in the air.

“Hmmm. You feel like something creamy?”

“Yeah. Honestly at this point I’d eat anything.”

John swung his legs and tapped his fingers on the counter while he thought.

“I believe some bacon is hiding in the bottom of the freezer so that’s something. And…” he trailed of as he moved his head too fast and set off a wave of dizziness as he looked around the kitchen.

“Avocado!” Scott exclaimed.

“Avocado?”

“Funny story, we ended up with several cases of them after that rescue on that farm where we saved the whole village and nearly all their trees from catastrophic flooding. They really need eating too and there’s only so much toast you can stand.”

“I have heard theoretically of putting avo on pasta and it does sound good. Mmmm bacon and avocado, John hummed. “Worth a shot?”

Scott reached towards the fruit bowl in answer, grinning at John. “Soon we will have pasta!”

John peeled off the upper half of his uniform and tied the arms around his waist in preparation. In the subtropical summer down here he was already getting too hot and while the temperature regulation built into his suit would do its best to make up for his own body’s lack thereof, it felt weird to have everything covered up from fingertips to neck down here while he was cooking.

Scott began to giggle.

“Huh?” John said, extremely eloquently.

Scott gestured at him. 

“My suit?” Was something up with his suit? The full gloved hands and sleeves flopping about without John in them had been known to amuse the lot of them on occasion, ever since he’d used the empty suit as a phoney decoy of himself to trick Eos. It was pretty funny now no one was in mortal peril and Eos was his friend.

“Your face!” Scott exclaimed.

“What’s wrong with my face?” 

John frowned. Was it his fringe that never could survive true gravity? He hadn’t gotten freckles while he’d been down all of half an hour and inside, had he? Then he looked down.

His t-shirt had a photograph of his face printed on it, and across the chest, emblazoned in neon orange read the words ‘Space Face’, courtesy of one particular fish brother. Ah yes. That.

John sighed, resting his chin on his hand to hide the smile he couldn’t quite control. “Not exactly subtle, is it? In my defence this was the only one in my closet that was clean and you can’t exactly see it beneath my suit. It’s all Gordon’s fault anyway!”

Scott was still laughing, albeit a touch hysterically and at him, but John took it as a win regardless.

Eventually Scott grabbed himself a cutting board and knife to get to work on the avocados as John carefully slipped off the bench, steadying himself on the counter as his ankles went noodley so he could handle the bacon. 

Bacon, bacon, now where had he seen that bacon? He had the image of it in his head, but that was only one piece of the puzzle, a photograph, humanly imperfect, memory woven out of instinct. Digging about in the deep freeze which the evidence pointed to as best John could tell had his fingers feeling like he’d stuck them out in space with out gloves on. They ached sharply as John cursed his crappy circulation. 

He gladly found the bacon though, lurking at the second darkest depths. He would not be willing to venture into the midnight zone of Unidentified Frozen Objects and charred dinner leftovers put away for ‘later’. He chucked the packet into the microwave and thawed out his hands by running them under lukewarm water, wincing all the while. If he’d thought this through, if he’d been smart enough, he would’ve put his suit gloves back on—his space rated, cold proof, most definitely impervious to domestic appliances gloves— and saved himself the pain.

Scott came over to rinse his avocado green hands. He dried them off then wrapped his arms around John’s waist so he could lean on him, giving in for a moment in face of daunting gravity. With Scott, he could because Scott got him; they both could.

“You alright?” And there was big brother smotherhen coming out.

John flexed his defrosted fingers. “I will be.” He turned and smushed his face into Scott’s neck for a little bit, hugging back, Scott rested his head on John’s, and they stayed there for a while.

They were both fading. The pasta would help with that, Scott really needed to eat and so did John at this point, the half a dry bagel for breakfast and another at lunch hadn’t really been enough. The trick now was finishing the task that felt as if it expanding faster by the second than the Universe, as measured by the Hubble Constant was. They could do this though. Together.

Scott chopped up the bacon roughly and John cooked it, hissing back when it spat hot oil at him. 

When Eos notified them the timer had gone off, and John had very scientifically tested the pasta was done by nomming on a bit, he called Scott over carry the large pot to the colander in the sink to strain. 

“Gravity plus boiling water plus my space noodley arms are probably not a good combo,” he laughed. 

He was getting better at knowing his limits. Scott’s smile was small and proud, he saw John.

Scott stared at the bacon with the intensity of a starved wolf with its mouth watering, then stole some pieces hot from the pan and burnt his mouth. Scoff Tracy strikes again. 

They dumped the pasta in a big mixing bowl with the mashed avocado, a little lemon juice, the bacon, and a whole lot of salt, pepper and parmesan cheese, mixing it together with the big pasta scoop.

John swayed on his feet then, grabbing onto Scott to stay upright for long enough to decide actually the best place for him right now was sitting on the kitchen floor just here. John folded himself down to the ground in a slithering pile of too long, too bendy limbs, Scott wordlessly guiding his descent. 

“You want me to grab some sporks to eat with?”

“They’re splayds, technically,” John remarked. He gave Scott the thumbs up anyway, while he rested his spinning head on his knees.

Scott waved about his ‘sporks’ acquired from the cutlery draw with a victorious grin before he sunk to the ground to join John.

John took one, passing the pasta to Scott once he was settled, lanky legs stretched out for miles, bumping into John’s.

“We forgot plates,” Scott said.

John shrugged. “At this point, who cares. We have pasta.”

“We do.” Scott blinked for a moment. “I didn’t before and I wouldn’t’ve but now we do.”

He hugged the warm pasta bowl to his chest, and when John observed more closely he saw the tears collecting on Scott’s eyelashes, sparkling in the kitchen light as he looked up at John.

“Thanks. I love you so much, Jay.”

John gave him a gentle smile, ducking to knock his forehead against his brother’s shoulder like a cat. “Love is stored in the pasta.”

Scott smiled back at him and they both dug in.

It was good pasta.

Really good pasta, because he was here with Scott and through everything they had made it, together.

[folkwhore1998]

I had a feeling so peculiar, that this pain would be for...evermore

Evermore!!!

Amazing! How lucky are we to live in a world where we get to experience evermore. Imagine being bored in quarantine and being able to just create an incredible work of art.

(in my opinion) We did not get an evermore long pond studio sessions because of the editing on folklore versus evermore. folklore had some vocal editing that didn't capture her voice the way evermore does. go listen to august on folklore and then august on LPSS. numerous songs on folklore have that editing style, but nothing on evermore does.

Evermore is so beautiful and one of my favorite aesthetics. Evermore is a late November-December vibe. I wonder how many songs Taylor actually made during quarantine. Do you think that evermore are the vault tracks from folklore? (As in the songs that just did not quite make it onto folklore)

I actually had a very hard time ranking these songs. I didn't really think I was going to have as hard of a time as I did. I have a pretty consistent ranking of the albums in general and evermore is pretty high up there, but maybe it should move up on the ladder because these songs are just so beautiful.

happiness is an incredibly emotional song that people seem to skip all of the time. In my personal experience, when I've been in long term relationships, I almost become disconnected with the version of who I was prior. When I've broken up these long term relationships, I've have to leave it all behind to rediscover the happiness we held before them. When I've felt so much pain from loss, I can get so blinded by the fact at one point in my life, a person or situation may have been good for me, in a black and white thinking sense. happiness has honestly helped me process hurt and loss, and has helped me to lean into the idea not everything has to be black and white. No one talks about it enough.

I really need to address the performance of evermore on the eras tour. Literal chills. It was one the best live performances she has ever done. I need a live version released on Spotify BIBLICALLY. I wish it would have made the cut for the eras tour movie.

evermore (the song) was one i kind of looked over for awhile. I honestly could not put my finger on what it was for me. After hearing Taylor Swift perform it live at the eras tour... my entire brain chemistry changed. I'm not even being dramatic. It was breathtaking and I cannot believe how quiet the crowd was in all of the videos i have come across. I love that there is a collective agreement that everyone was fucking stunned at how incredible it was.

Here are my rankings of evermore:

marjorie

coney island

happiness

right where you left me

evermore if it is taylor only

tis the damn season

champagne problems

tolerate it

long story short

it's time to go

willow

evermore if it is with bon iver and taylor

gold rush

ivy

dorethea

closure

no body no crime

cowboy like me

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

CHILLS.

I am so surprised that this marjorie made it onto the setlist, but I am so happy it did.

So eloquent- actually the first time I am seeing this.

Check out some of these awesome small businesses on Etsy!

Here is a cutting board with Taylor's chai cookie recipe: Chai cookies just have such an evermore vibe. I gotta get my hands on one of these!

Here is the link to a cowboy like me necklace: Forever is the sweetest con.

@taylornation @taylorswift

[dear-ao3]

Katya's chaotic enough that I regularly fool myself into thinking you're the sensible/normal one and then you go and post something and I realize my folly

oh yeah i’m a little unhinged at times

i am very sensible and can smart my way in and out of situations and i can send a banger corporate email but if you know me very well oh damn

i have (and also this blog low key has) the combined energy of four influencers:

-b dylan hollis

the tiktoker making the old recipes. he knows a weird amount about niche history topics, has general unhinged energy, and a slightly niche sense of humor. he also likes to fuck around in the kitchen and has a pretty generic Why Not Do It For The Bit vibe. his tiktok was also a quarantine project that got out of hand, much like this blog

-joanna ceddia

a youtuber who dropped off the face of the earth a few years ago and deleted her channel but holy hell her content was up there. we tell stories very similarly like very similarly and she was dramatic as all hell. her scammers video was textbook same energy as anything i post on here. she was also doing her own thing, had relatively few friends and was god tier levels of unbothered. max fuck it why not energy.

-micarah tewers

the youtuber who claims to make sewing tutorials but makes anything but. crafty, believes she can do anything with some fabric, a sewing machine and a hot glue gun (same). she does stuff to do it and has the biggest How Hard Could It Be gene that i’ve ever seen. also she tells stories in the same roundabout way that i do. distracted easily but does the stuff in the end

-the sturniolo triplets

those tiktok/youtube triplets that make the car videos. cursed sibling energy to the max, tangents left and right and vague threats but they love eachother at the end of the day. they also like calling out their fans and lurk on their own fan accounts which is the same vibes as katya and i calling you all out occasionally and reading through our notes and stuff. as with everyone else i’ve mentioned they have an unhinged way of telling stories. katya and i also have unhinged sibling energy but me and my own sister have it more