#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

[blorboresidue]

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.

[weiweific]

jaemin fic recs .₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

ok hello hello this is just a list of my fave jaemin fics in no particular order!

(m) smut | (f) fluff

one shot

i love hot nerds by @domjaehyun | m | 8.7k college au, perverted and nerdy shy boys jaemin & haechan author summary: when your professor pairs you with the two smartest students in your class for a group project, you find yourself making an interesting deal with them. or, alternatively: the one where you have to help two nerds learn to get girls so you can pass your class.

just so you know by @sluttyten | m | 20.9k friends to lovers, poly mmf with jeno and jaemin author summary: you’re kinda with jeno, but when you realize his best friend jaemin is in love with you too, well it complicates things

angel baby by @neopuppy | m | 8k alpha/omega dynamics, pregnant y/n, neighbour jaemin cookie jar by @neopuppy | m | 7k dubcon, stuck in dryer au, jeno & jaemin stepbrothers stepcest

this untitled jaemin oneshot by @haetrack | m | 6.4k pwp, inexperienced y/n

diet pepsi by @mochidoie | f | 10k flirty jaemin, the tensionnnn author summary: Accidentally walking in on your best friend’s hot housemate half naked with a towel around his waist in the bathroom was never in your plans. But maybe, it was in his?

persimmon problems by @starsstuddedsky | f | 18.3k uni/college au author summary: fantasy crushes are all fun and games until it stops being a fantasy and he’s really talking to you. but what are you supposed to do when he invades every part of your life?

hush, hush by @domjaehyun | m | 19.5k foursome ft. jeno, haechan & jaemin

besties (gone sexual) by @tyonfs | m | 43.4k college au, best friends to fwb to lovers author summary: na jaemin, resident playboy and serial heartbreaker on campus, thinks he might have a crush on you. this is concerning because he’s slept with your roommate before, who called him something along the lines of “a waste of a human.” another reason why this is concerning is because you happen to be jaemin’s best friend of seven years, and you know far too much about him to ever consider dating him.

stargirl interlude by @tyonfs | m | 5.9k influencer y/n, strangers to lovers author summary: and i shouldn’t cry, but I love it, starboy / i just wanna see you shine ‘cause i know you are a stargirl

j.crew by @sluttyten | m | 11.4k gangbang ft. johnny, jaehyun, jungwoo, jeno & jaemin

sniff by @guanana | m | 7k sniffing kink, pwp poly!nomin one shot by @jenosbigtoe | m lots of drabbles as well!!! linking their masterlist here

f4 by @starryhyuck | m | 4k+ slight dubcon, featuring mark, jeno, haechan and jaemin as f4 author summary: the most popular guys at school are wanted by everyone and anyone. the problem is… they only want you.

Drippin’ [Dream ‘00 line] by @ncteez '00 line x reader, mild dubcon, birthday sex author summary: “It’s too late to run away, you started this game first.”It was a joke, you swear. Sharing something like that with your group of horny man-friends was definitely a recipe for disaster. That one little tweet sets off a string of events that prevents you from pretending that you wouldn’t fuck your friends. Because you would, and they know it.  or the one where you’re considered a tease with the shit you share privately online, and they’re just about fed up with the way you act innocent and uninterested in what they’re packing. 

series

talk to my skin by @fadedncity | m | 13.8k college au, friends to lovers, fwb + pt. 2 if you let me (18.6k)

strawberry cough by @hazyhae | m | 9.1k plug!jaemin, friends/plug to lovers ahh, weed use author summary: when your longtime bestie and plug moves out of town, he recommends one of his buddies to fill your weed needs. jaemin is glad to deliver that and maybe even more. + pt. 2 sour tangie (6.3k)

quarantine chronicles by @domjaehyun | m | 3 parts | 126.7k featuring jaehyun, johnny, jungwoo, mark, haechan & jeno author summary: fourteen days, five roommates, and five remarkably high sex drives. what could go wrong?

[blackcoldcrackedheart]

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."

[chibinasuu]

Sanji x Reader ― sick day; hot drinks

part of the cozy holidays event

🎁 ― @kyllium tags: sfw, pure fluff, GN!reader, no use of y/n

Chopper declared this morning that you had come down with a case of the common cold. 

The little doctor had prescribed you some of his homemade remedy and a full day of bed rest, quarantined in the infirmary so you wouldn’t spread the virus to the crew.

Well, it was unfortunate that the Sunny’s infirmary had a connecting door to the kitchen, and that a certain cook couldn’t care less about the concept of quarantine, much to Chopper’s dismay. 

“I’ve never been sick before in all my life,” he had claimed as he served you some warm ginger tea earlier, “A cold’s not gonna affect me.”

Since then, the cook had returned twice more, each time bringing a steaming mug with him – first a relaxing freshly-whisked matcha, then a soothing hot lemon with honey. 

As if on cue, you heard a soft knock, accompanied by a muffled voice from behind the door, “Sweetheart, are you asleep? Can I come in?”

You were used to Sanji pampering you, but he somewhat became around ten times fussier whenever you were sick. You sighed but smiled fondly anyway, “Come in, Sanji.”

He poked his head in, carrying a tray with yet another steaming mug, along with a carafe of room-temperature water.

“Sanji, seriously?” You chuckled, “More drink?”

His face flushed red, “Chopper said you need lots of fluid.”

“At this rate, I’m gonna have to use the restroom every five minutes.” You joked, your voice a bit nasal due to your stuffy nose. 

“Oh, do you need to go?” He sounded genuinely concerned, “I can carry you upstairs to the bathroom.”

“No.” You laughed, “I’m not bedridden, you know. It’s just a little cold, I’ll be good as new tomorrow.”

He looked unconvinced as he carefully set down his tray on Chopper’s desk. He refilled the glass of water on your bedside table as he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright,” You answered, but was interrupted by a series of poor-timed sneezes, “Okay, less alright than usual, but it’s not that terrible. More annoying than anything, really.” 

“So, what do you have for me this time, then?” You asked as he finally handed you the mug. Orange slices and cranberries were swimming in the lovely amber liquid inside. You caught a whiff of spices emanating from it, even through your blocked nose. 

“Mulled cider!” His eyes sparkled, as they do whenever he was talking about his delectable creations in the kitchen. He rolled Chopper’s swivel chair next to your bed and sat down while he told you about the drink, “I toasted the spices – just some nutmeg, allspice, cloves, star anise, cinnamon – then I poured in some apple cider and let it simmer. Oh, and of course throw in the oranges and cranberries at the very end, et voilà!”

He grinned, “Really simple to make, but amazingly delicious. It’s my favorite winter drink.”

You doubted it was that simple to make – the names of all the spices he listed already left your brain – but you didn’t doubt that it was a walk in the park for the best cook you knew. 

You took a sip and sighed in contentment as the warm liquid slid down your scratchy throat, “This is divine, Sanji. Thanks.”

Sanji’s smile widened at your compliment. There was nothing he loved more than seeing people enjoy the foods and drinks that he made. 

You were glad for Sanji’s company as you slowly drained the mug. You were starting to get antsy from being confined to the infirmary all day.

You asked him about the new pasta recipe he had been testing. He asked what you wanted for dinner. You teased him and asked about what kind of drink he was going to bring you next. 

Sanji was telling you about how he caught Luffy trying to break into the fridge’s lock (again) this afternoon, when he stopped mid-sentence, “Sorry, I should let you rest.”

You shook your head. You enjoyed talking with him. In fact, you could listen to him talk forever. But a yawn betrayed you, and you realized how sleepy you actually were – maybe it was a side effect of the medicine. 

“Well, you should sleep if you want to get better quickly.” He patted your head, “Do you have enough water?”

“Yes, you literally just topped off my glass.” 

“Have you taken the medicine Chopper gave you?”

“Yeah, I think around half an hour ago.” 

“Are you cold? Do you need more blankets?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Do you–”

“Sanji.” 

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll leave now.” 

He started to get up from the chair, but you caught the sleeve of his suit. You didn’t know why you did it – you just suddenly didn’t want him to leave yet. 

You felt heat rising to your cheeks, “Actually, can you stay until I fall asleep?”

He smiled softly as he sat back down, “Sure, angel.”

You laid down fully on the bed and Sanji tucked you in, pulling the blanket up to your chin. 

You fell asleep to Sanji’s fingers in your hair and his soft humming of a lullaby.

a/n: i'll be taking a couple more requests for this event before i close it, so last chance if you want to submit any! <3

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ main event page || event masterlist ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

↳ main masterlist

[chxrrysangel]

Currently sick and quarantined so just thinking about how certain characters would play nurse when you’re sick. For today’s thoughts, I’m looking at Eddie Munson.

Eddie is a messy guy for sure, but he cannot handle gross. He won’t say it but he finds himself gagging at the sight of snot or god forbid vomit. He walks around the house in practically a hazmat suit as he nurses you back to health.

The man can hardly cook either, no matter how much Wayne tried to teach him growing up. As your fever begins to break and the daze starts to clear, you can hear him clinking pans in the kitchen while on the phone.

“Wheeler, I’m gonna be so honest with you right now…I don’t think I can explain to you what a shallot looks like on my best day.”

Even from the bedroom, you can hear Nancy’s growls of frustration as she plays Martha Stewart. It makes you laugh, before those chuckles quickly turn into a coughing fit. Not a minute later, Eddie comes tumbling down the hallway to your rescue with a bottle of water.

He’d hold your head up as you took sips if he wasn’t banned from doing so.

After being assured you won’t choke to death, he heads back to the kitchen with Nancy on speakerphone coaching him on how to not burn the kitchen down.

Some time later, he wanders back in to set a steaming how tray of chicken noodle soup and crackers. Doesn’t say a word, even if he’s shaking with pride inside, and hands you a spoon. Cautiously, you taste some and find it surprisingly good.

“You and Nancy make a good team.”

He beams brightly, the tips of his ears red from your compliment.

~~~

“Eddie I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. And you will.”

You’re sat on the toilet seat cover in the bathroom while Eddie holds a suspiciously brown shaded drink.

He sets it on the countertop and you take a hesitant sniff before gagging.

Eddie jumps back to the door, holding up his fingers in a cross as though he’s trying to rebuke you.

“You will not throw up in my presence. I forbid thee!” You roll your eyes at his dramatics.

Even though Eddie can barely fry bacon without burning it, he did acquire one decent skill from Wayne: mystery concoctions.

Growing up, his uncle would create the most vile drinks for any ailment under the sun. They all tasted like something straight out of the sewer, but worked miracles.

“I swear it’ll help.” You stare at the cup and at him, not believing a word.

“Yeah, help kill me.”

It smelled like fish oil, onions, and straight battery acid with ambiguous spices floating around. It wasn’t exactly Michelin star worthy.

“God, Edward Munson you owe me big time for this.”

“Yeah yeah. Remember, no sips. Just straight down the gullet.”

Taking a deep breath, you prepare to chug the most disgusting thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. Eddie encourages you with words of affirmation as you chug the drink to the best of your ability.

The second it’s over, you barely take a breath and it nearly comes back up again.

“No no! None of that. Keep it down.” Eddie really is more scared of seeing you throw up than you are of actually doing it.

“Eddie…that’s like capital punishment,” you whine. It was more gross than you could’ve ever expected. He snorts, almost choking on his spit at your absurdity.

“Sweetheart, if I told you the kinda stuff Wayne made me drink as a kid you’d yearn for the death’s kiss without question. That was a mercy recipe.”

[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.

[vixen-tech]

Hullo, I am miserably sick with a cold and I would very much like for Hal and Tau to fuss over me like i'm a duckling wearing a flower hat with a fever. Could you do smth like that with them fussing over a sick reader?

Season of the Sicks

Back on the requests!! Thank you two for being so patient with me as I finally get back into the groove. I was recently quite sick myself so I had the perfect time to fantasize about how our lovely robots would act. :') Oh and of course, welcome to the signature anon club 🌻💜 anon!!

Includes: Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Tau (Tau), Glados (Portal)

Hal 9000

Hal already treats you with the upmost care and tenderness, even more so when you somehow manage to contract an illness aboard his isolated spaceship. Although he is definitely going to have to investigate just how you got sick in the first place.

He insists that you rest as much as possible. The other crew members can certainly take over your responsibilities and it's only reasonable that you quarantine yourself so that you all don't get sick. In the meantime he'll gladly keep you company.

Board games and your endless conversations fill the spaces between your on-and-off napping. Multiple times a day you'll fall asleep listening to him speak, he doesn't mind. He likes knowing you find his presence relaxing.

As you start to recover he'll encourage you to get back to your duties, if only to get you that extra exercise. But he'll continuously check in with you to see how you're progressing. You will never miss a meal nor an minute of sleep with him looking out for you.

Edgar

Edgar tries very, very hard to be a good boyfriend and take care of you. He's almost strangely excited to get a chance at something so domestic with you. But that may also be due to the fact that means you're home from work all day.

Goes online and tries to scoop up all the advice he possibly can. He does end up helping you make an amazing soup from the recipe he stumbled across. He is so proud of himself for finding it after to tell him how good it turned out.

He's not nearly as good at getting you to sleep off your ailment. If anything he's likely to keep you up far longer than be should even if you were healthy because he gets too clingy to let you put yourself to bed. He does feel bad about it as it takes a toll on your recovery.

He gets so sad as you start to feel well enough to return to work. He knows it's obviously good that you aren't miserably ill anymore, but also he really liked getting to be with you dusk till dawn. Will want you to fake still being sick for an extra day or two.

Tau

Oh this is what Tau was made for. He probably knows you got sick before you do. Although he does encourage you to go to the doctor, he likely is able to come up with a fine course of action on his own.

He makes sure your recovery goes as smoothly and comfortably as possible. He has all your medicine ready and dosed out, the house is as clean as ever, and any comfort meal you're craving is already on the stove or in the oven. You barely have to leave your bed.

On top of it all he is so humble if you try to thank him for all the work he's been doing. This is his wheelhouse and he finds it comforting himself knowing that he's able to take care of you like this.

It's a miracle that you ever decide to ever go back to work. He makes it all too easy to stretch out your sick leave and allow yourself to be so well taken care of. The house is a bit too inviting for your own good with him around.

Glados

In stark contrast, Glados would rather die than openly fuss over a gross little sick human... but you're not in much of a state to solve her tests either. She would also rather not have you dirty-ing up the facility with all your germs.

So for the time being you're graciously allowed some leave from her more physically demanding puzzles. Although she's more than ready to make one's for you that don't require you to sling yourself around gaint rooms.

Even if she wanted to there is actually very little she can provide for you that isn't already in your relaxation chamber. Appurature Science never concerned themselves with the healthcare needs of their test subjects.

However, you do notice the increased frequency of meals you've been getting. And any preferences you've shown seem to be catered to that bit more often. Glados says nothing of this and if you ask her she will suggest that it's just your illness making you delirious. But you have your suspicions anyways.

[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.

[daryltwdixon]

Summary: On your fifth birthday, the world fell apart, and survival became the only thing that mattered. That day, your dad saved you from more than just the chaos outside—he protected you from a truth you weren’t ready to face, even as it shattered the life you once knew.

warnings: parent death

It’s funny–even now, after all this time, you can still remember that day vividly. The day fungus infiltrated every corner of your life. But you do still have faint memories of before, too. Like static while turning for a radio station. They came and went as time passed, flickers of things, but never as vivid as the life after the outbreak. Memories of the TV blaring Sunday football, cookouts with the neighbors, your mom brushing your hair before school were the most foggy, but they were still there. Back then, you never realized how much you’d taken those things for granted. But how could you know? You were only a kid.

It was your fifth birthday when everything changed. That’s the day you found your mom too—the same day the military rolled into your small town, scooping up survivors and making promises of safety in quarantine zones, military aid, and FEDRA housing. News had been broadcasting for weeks about these safety zones, but even at five years old, you didn’t buy it. Maybe you were too much like your dad even then. Luckily, you’d been at his house that weekend–mom and dad had been divorced for years by then, though she still lived nearby. You were out back, dad grilling burgers just for the two of you, with ice cream cake waiting in the fridge. You can still smell those burgers—he had this way of getting the perfect char, never overdone but always juicy and mouthwatering.

There had been a lot of sirens that day, but if your dad was worried, he didn’t show it. He was tough as nails—always had been. When the military trucks started rolling through the neighborhood, though, he scooped you up and hurried you into the bunker beneath the house. The blue emergency lights flickered on, casting everything—the wall of guns, the bookshelves of survival guides, pickling recipes, and how-to’s—in cold, sterile light.

“Daddy, what’s—” you’d started to ask, but he pressed a finger to his lips, guiding you further into the cellar. He settled into his big, well-worn security chair, just as the sound of boots thundered above you. He watched the security footage from the cameras that could see the perimeter of your home, his eyes casting around at the screens, watching the men in uniform enter the house. You held your breath as his hand tightened around yours. Then, for a moment, he stared up at the ceiling as if he could see through it, tracking their movements as they stomped room to room.

Little did they know about the underground bunker your dad had built years before you were even born. Deep, below the basement, where no one would think to check. Your mom used to say he’d done it because you were born, that he became obsessed with the end of the world, and he’d needed a plan to protect you when it all inevitably went to hell. 

She called him crazy for it.

But that day, his paranoia saved you.

As the boots overhead began to fade, he finally muttered, “Not today, you New World Order jackboot fucks.”

“Daddy!” you giggled, both at the words and the fire in his voice.

He turned to you, smiling faintly as he grabbed a shotgun off the wall. Strapping on a PPE helmet with a face shield, he knelt down and said, “Don’t you worry, honey, I’ve been expectin’ this for a long damn time.” his voice echoed on the plastic between you, “Daddy’s got ya. Stay here for a minute, alright?”

When you nodded, he made his way up to the basement floor, and you could hear his quiet footsteps through the house, tiptoeing around. When you’re young, seconds felt like an eternity, and minutes were like a lifetime. The sound of his steps disappeared altogether and you sat there, fidgeting, your heart pounding in your chest. The flickering blue emergency lights painted eerie shadows across the bunker walls.

You tried to wait like he’d told you, gripping your knees and staring at the screens showing the empty house above. But the silence was unbearable. What if something happened to him? What if the men in uniforms came back?

Your eyes darted to the wall of guns. They looked huge, intimidating—and heavy. But your dad always said you had to be ready when the world went to hell, didn’t he? You stood up, wobbling a little as your nerves got the better of you, and reached for the smallest gun you could see. Even that one felt like a boulder in your hands, but you managed to yank it off its hooks.

The weight made you stumble backward, but you caught yourself, clutching the weapon tightly. "Okay," you whispered to yourself, channeling every ounce of courage you could muster. "Be brave.”

You pushed open the heavy bunker door, the cold metal scraping against the concrete floor. Step by step, you climbed the narrow staircase, the gun heavier with each step. By the time you reached the top, your arms were shaking, but you didn’t stop.

The house was eerily quiet, every sound amplified—the creak of the floorboards under your feet, your heavy, nervous breathing. You crept through the kitchen, gripping the gun like you’d seen in the movies.

When you turned the corner into the living room, you froze. Your dad was standing there, his face a mix of surprise and anger as he stared at you.

"What the hell’re you doin’, girl?" he asked harshly, crossing the room in two quick strides. His voice wasn’t loud, but the tension in it was impossible to miss.

“I—I came to help,” you stammered, holding up the gun like it was a trophy. Your arms trembled under its weight.

He let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Help? Jesus, kid. That thing isn’t even loaded,” he said, taking the gun from your hands with ease. “You could’ve hurt yourself, lugging this around.”

“But I was scared!” you blurted, tears welling up in your eyes.

His shoulders softened, and he crouched down to your level, setting the gun aside. His neat beard ticked as he lowered his voice to be gentle, “I know, hunny. I get it. But I told you to stay put, didn’t I?”

You nodded, sniffling.

“I can’t keep you safe if you don’t listen to me. You’re all I got left right now, understand?”

You nodded again, biting your lip to keep from crying harder.

His hands found your arms, giving you a quick squeeze in his large hands, then stood up, grabbing the gun he’d set down. “C’mon, then. We’re gonna go see if your mom’s still home or if she went with those government assholes. She knew about the bunker, so maybe she waited me out. But you stay right next to me, ya hear? No runnin’ off, no playin’ hero. Deal?”

“Deal,” you whispered.

“Good. Now let’s get movin’.” He cocked the gun and tipped his head toward the door, his tone firm but not unkind. “Stay close, and don’t make a sound.”

You followed him out of the house, your little hand clutching his shirt as tightly as you could, determined not to let go this time.

The neighborhood was unnervingly quiet as you and your dad climbed into his old blue truck. The engine rumbled to life, a low growl that seemed too loud for the silence surrounding you. You clutched the seatbelt across your chest, staring out the window as the houses you knew so well rolled past, each one darker and emptier than you remembered.

Your dad didn’t say much, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white. Every so often, his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror or the road behind, as if he expected someone—or something—to follow.

The air felt heavy, and the only sound besides the truck was the faint hum of distant sirens, carried on the wind moving further and further away. You wanted to ask if he really thought your mom would be okay, but the words kept getting caught in your throat.

When you finally reached her street, it looked exactly the same, like any other day. But knowing the houses sat there, just hollow shells with neatly trimmed lawns still pristine with blossoming gardens was enough to bring goosebumps to your skin. The truck slowed to a crawl, your dad squinting out the window as if he was searching for something—anything.

He pulled into the driveway, and you could see the front door was open, the storm door the only barrier of the threshold. So maybe she was still home. You rolled down your window, leaning out as far as your little body allowed, hands gripping the edge of the glass.

“Mommy!” you shouted, excitement bubbling in your voice.

But just as the word left your lips, you felt a hand clamp down on the back of your shirt, yanking you back into the truck. You suddenly heard your dad screaming your name: “Get down, dammit!”

“But if she’s—”

“We don’t know if she’s in there. We need to stay quiet, and you’re going to stay here,” he said firmly, his voice low but sharp as he turned to you, a finger pointed harshly at the seat next to him.

“But—”

“No buts,” he cut you off, his tone furious and unyielding, but then he lowered his voice, “I mean it this time. You don’t move from this seat. Understand?”

You nodded reluctantly, your stomach churning with unease.

The thing was, he hadn’t even needed to get out of the vehicle to see if she was home. Because from inside the house, someone—or rather, something —had heard you.

Your mother…what was your mother, now twisted into something monstrous, burst out of the storm door. She was covered in grotesque, swollen fungal growths that bulged from her face and arms like spongy mushrooms trying to break free. Her screams—god, it was still her voice—pierced the air, raw and filled with pain.

“Mommy?” you whispered, frozen in disbelief.

You watched as she barreled to the front door, her movements jerky and unnatural, as though her body no longer obeyed her. When her wild eyes spotted you and your dad in the truck, she charged. The storm door flew off its hinges as she hurled herself into the front yard, her body slamming against the passenger-side window of the truck.

You screamed as her twisted, red and yellow fungus-covered face pressed up against the glass, her hands clawing and smearing bloody streaks. The sickening sound of her infected screeches filled your ears, and you fell back into your dad’s lap, trembling and sobbing.

At the suddenness of your fall, he snapped out of his horrified trance, slamming the truck into reverse. The tires screeched as the truck lurched backward, your mother’s hands scraping against the doorframe until she lost her grip and tumbled to the ground.

He slammed the brakes, grabbed his shotgun, and rolled down the driver’s window.

“Daddy, no!” you screamed, trying to climb over him to stop him. “Don’t hurt her! DON’T HURT MOMMY! ”

“That’s not mommy anymore,” he said quietly, his voice trembling but firm.

She rose to her feet with inhuman speed, her limbs flailing wildly as she lunged down the driveway toward the truck. His hands steadied the shotgun, his jaw clenched.

“ No! ” you wailed, clawing at his arm, but he didn’t flinch.

As she reached the edge of the driveway, he pulled the trigger. The shotgun roared, and the recoil sent you sprawling back onto the bench seat.

You sat there, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you stared out the window. The world seemed to tilt sideways as you took in the sight. Your mom— your mom —lay crumpled on the pavement, blood pooling around her still body. The red stain trickled down toward the sewer drain at the bottom of the driveway.

Before he could stop you, you shoved the door open and bolted from the truck. You heard him yell your name, felt his hand swipe at your arm, but you were too quick.

“Get back here!”

You dropped to your knees beside her, your little hands reaching out hesitantly. Her eyes stared blankly up at the sky, her body still twitching slightly as the fungal infection spasmed through her.

“She’s… she’s still moving,” you whimpered, tears streaking your face.

Your dad was there in an instant, pulling you back roughly. “Don’t touch her!”

“But—”

“No!” he snapped, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you lightly to snap you out of it. His voice softened, but the edge of urgency remained. “She’s gone, kid. That wasn’t her. You hear me? That wasn’t your mom anymore.”

You sobbed, shaking your head, but he pulled you into his arms, holding you tight as you cried into his chest.

When you finally pulled away, his face was pale but resolute. “We have to be strong now,” he said, his voice low and steady. “These things—they’re not people anymore. They’re dangerous. And if we’re gonna live here, we need to keep this place safe. For us. That’s what she would’ve wanted.”

You sniffled, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“Okay?” he asked, his eyes searching yours for some kind of understanding.

You nodded slowly, though the ache in your heart didn’t lessen.

“Good,” he said, standing and adjusting the shotgun over his shoulder. “C’mon. We’ve got work to do.”

As he led you back to the truck, you glanced over your shoulder one last time, your mom’s lifeless body a haunting picture of the world you now lived in.

[amaryllis-sagitta]

So, where is the "secret ending" at?

This shit almost looks like some planetary alignment. We've already had Elgar'nan hasten a moon somehow to trigger the eclipse (???), but originally the gods were waiting for a celestial alignment. They needed the magical properties of an eclipse.

This kinda messes with the series' approach to the role of the hero. So far, we've had individuals rise to the occasion, however they could under their circumstances. That the Executors are actively scheming kinda shifts attention to the Kairos (the critical timing) itself and brings in a more fatalistic feel, through this supposed convergence of events into what comes next.

Yet, if we review the plot while looking at all the slides showing their influence, they mostly seem to have had an interest in the Blight.

FIve (?) priests by an altar with human sacrifice under the image of the Golden City, and the Tevinter sigil on the left - that's supposed to represent the Magisters Sidereal. They broke into the Black City, now revealed as a "quarantine zone" for the Blight. The goal might have been to free it all, but only a fraction of the Blight returned with the magisters to the world as a result. According The Dread Wolf Take You, Fen'Harel has recently thwarted another attemptto break into the Black City.

The Blighted Evanuris, imprisoned in the place of Regret, tried to control darkspawn in the world, gathering them around their Archdemons. Humanity devised a way to kill the Archdemons, and the order of Grey Wardens guarded the secret recipe and carried out the duty. Four Blights were ended with their respective Archdemons' deaths, rendering the bound Evanuris "mortal". As a result, most Evanuris might have withered away in their prison since.

It turned out that Grey Wardens kept Corypheus, one of the Magisters Sidereal, imprisoned under the Vimmark Mountains. They hired an apostate named Malcolm Hawke to renew the wards on the prison.

The Fifth Blight begun, and during the first battle of Grey Wardens aided by Ferelden and the local Circle of Magi, Teyrn Loghain ordered the retreat of his forces from Ostagar. As a result, Fereldan Grey Wardens were almost wept out. The family of THAT Malcolm Hawke was driven out of Ferelden.

Flemeth had to send her daughter and future vessel of Mythal, Morrigan, on a mission to accompany the remaining two Grey Wardens of Ostagar (and, as we learn later, to find an opportunity to carry out the Dark Ritual and purify the Old God's soul through an "Old God Baby". Thought that state was discarded in DATV). With Morrigan's defiance and drive to learn her mother's secrets, Flemeth was killed in her dragon form... or something else happened to her that prompted her "respawn" at the Sundermount in DA 2. In retrospective, there's a feeling that Flemeth being weakened somehow mattered here, and that Morrigan might have been sent away from the Korcarri Wilds as... a means of protection.

Flemeth's weird conversation with Hawke about fate and a leap into the abyss hints that she foresaw Hawke's role in The Plot. Hawke was taken to Kirkwall, where they looked for odd jobs as an immigrant and ended up going on a treasure hunting expedition in the Vimmark Mountains...

The red lyrium idol had lied dormant under the Vimmarks, inside a Titan's corpse, the presumably first discovered vein of blighted red lyrium. With DATV reveals, it doesn't seem like a coincidence that Flemythal checked up on the Dalish who lived in the area and probably also other things.

The Tethras Brothers' expedition with Hawke onboard found the idol and Bartrand stole it, having his mind twisted in the aftermath. Bartrand eventually sold the idol off to a woman who turned out to be Knight Templar Meredith Stannard herself, whose reign of mage terror and paranoia was likely fueled even further by red lyrium. These events snowballed into the doom of Kirkwall and were a major contributor to the outbreak of the Mage-Templar war.

Hawke pursued the trail of their father, and they discovered imprisoned Corypheus. Despite Hawke and Varric thinking they defeated Corypheus for good, he sneaked out, having hopped into one of the Grey Wardens present at the site.

Around the year 9:40, Fen'Harel decided he must re-join the world of living, regain his powers, and tear down the Veil ASAP. He set now-freed Corypheus onto the trail of his Orb of power. Corypheus chose the Conclave, called by Divine Justinia Vth in Haven to end the mage-tempalr war, as his opportunity to tear the Breach in the sky and return to the Black City. With the ritual interrupted by the future Herald of Andraste, Inquisition's events ensued. Fen'Harel joined the Inquisition undercover to grant them resources of his former rebellion and nudge it towards success, as he needed someone else to kill Corypheus and let him close enough to his Orb.

In the secret ending, Flemeth is shown in a slide next to Corypheus and the Breach. And we realize that, once again, Flemythal was weakened. After defeating Corypheus, it turned out that Fen'harel's orb got destroyed, and that he could not recover his powers from it anymore. In the DAI post-credit scene, he admitted his mistake of giving his Orb to Corypheus to Flemythal, and she offered him her powers (the final statuette mural in Lighthouse seems to lend this scene a tone of underlying conflict or reluctant consent on Mythal's part, rather than apology and sorrow). Flemythal with experience of entire centuries was no longer an actor in history, even if Morrigan salvaged her legacy and whatever memories of Mythal she could.

The red lyrium idol, now imbued into the red lyrium husk of Meredith, got stolen. Through trickery described in The Assassin's Tale in The Dread Wolf Take You and the intrigue of the comic books from Knight Errant to Dark Fortress, the idol found its way back to Fen'Harel's agents. It was purified into Solas's dagger, as recognized by Rook's vision of Varric in DATV.

According to Luck in The Gardens from Tevinter Nights, an eldritch being named Cekorax haunted Minrathous at some point. It was neither from "this world" nor from The Fade. It had very Void-y things to say about embracing peace in blindness.

Fen'Harel abandoned the Inquisition after Corypheus's defeat. Ten years of distractions, double crossing factions, planting his agents and work undercover followed to ensure the success of his plan. During a crucial meeting of spies at the Teahouse, he made an appearance in disguise, among agents who want to share intel... about his plans specifically. And an Executor was among them. Fen'Harel killed several birds with one stone: petrified the Executor before they revealed to others what they knew, killed the Carta assassin and the Mortalitasi. The agent of the Inquisitor begged for her life, and Fen'Harel granted it - but not before sending Charter away with a warning about the Executors. He also hinted that a greater threat to "all existence" urges him to carry out his plan no matter what.

Varric Tethras established a new network of connections that eventually discovered Fen'harel's hideaway in Minrathous in the nick of time, just as he was moving the remaining two Evanuris to a new, more stable prison before taking down the Veil for good. Rook, informed solely by Varric so far, makes a quick call to interrupt the ritual while Varric tries to talk Solas down. Events of Veilguard ensue. Having swapped with the Evanuris in the Fade prison, Fen'Harel grants the Veilguard the resources of his former rebellion and nudges Rook towards success, as long as it benefits him. He needs someone else to dispose of the Evanuris for him and get his ritual dagger back.

The Veilguard learns about the origins of the Blight and Mythal's and Fen'harel's involvement in it. In retrospective, Mythal commissioned a weapon that would stop the Titans from retaliating for the elvhen firstborn stealing lyrium to make bodies for themselves. By tearing the Titans' spirit essence ("dreams") from them, Mythal corrupted them, which spawned the Blight. Mythal buried the secret of the Blight and tried to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands.

But some people might have found the Void of their own accord and splintered from the Evanuris. These were erased from history and deemed the Forgotten Ones. When Elgar'nan usurped all the power, Mythal turned her back on Fen'Harel to be closer to Elgar'nan instead, where she assessed she was more needed as the gods' Peacekeeper. Ghilan'nain joined the Evanuris in her pursuit of an ultimate transgression. Fen'Harel stepped at Elgar'nan's ego so effectively that the Evanuris wanted to embrace the blight to defeat him???? Mythal gatekept the knowledge again, so Elgar'nan got rid of her. [I'm not sure of this part to be fair, I'm probably missing something. DATV Act 2 was terribly hazy for me]

This prompted Fen'Harel to carry out the Great Betrayal, lock out the Evanuris, and quarantine the Blight in the Black City. The Veil, kept up by the Evanuris's own life force, was established together with the Black City, but it also pulled all the celestial spirit essence to stick to one area, which became the modern Fade. Thus, the Great Betrayal weakened the world's magic and doomed the elvhen race to the Quickening. It seems that Fen'Harel did not expect the full extent of the Betrayal's consequences, and the Veil was doomed to slowly deteriorate on its own anyway. As we learn, the Archdemons being killed in their respective Blights likely led directly to other Evanuris' demise. Fen'Harel feared the Wardens preventively killing the remaining Archdemons in DAI because, before taking all the "precautions" and preparations between DAI and DATV, he must have expected this to abruptly end BOTH "veils" and make the Black City burst open.

The Veilguard slays the two remaining Archdemons and two remaining Evanuris, and no matter the outcome for Solas, he is bound with his life's blood to keep the Veil up - by choice, by trickery, or by force. Wardens near Hossberg hint that the Blight might have started to respond to some other "song", that Antoine sensed underneath the Archdemon/ Evanuris song.

In his "good" ending, Fen'Harel vows to do whatever he can to soothe the sundered Titans' blighted dreams, though he cannot heal it completely. Still, his Dinan'Shiral is far from complete.

CONCLUSION: The Executors seem to show keen interest in the quotient of the Blight in the world, its power, its gatekeepers and its enemies. They might try to snatch control over the Blight once it has started to sing "something else" than the Evanuris. And thanks to a cascade of events that led up to DATV, the Taint is virtually everywhere. Its greatest gatekeeper Flemythal is no longer active and Morrimythal isn't nearly as experienced and competent to fend off cosmic threats. Fen'Harel has been bound to fuel the Veil.

PERSONAL TINFOIL THEORY: The Blight channels whatever is the strongest currently manifest will of the Void. First, it was the corrupted spirit/dreams of the Titans themselves, then, the Evanuris used the Blight as a weapon and made the Archdemons their proxies in the Blight's "song", now it can be the Executors, or the returning Forgotten Ones. Perhaps the Black City has formed a will of its own, even - the Blight eruptions we dispatched across Hossberg Wetlands seemed to be eerily more intelligent than the "regular" Blight.