#why not.... ONION FIELD

[classycoffeecat]

Oh we really dusting off the spngate greatest hits tonight!

[derogatoryapparently]

On this 18th day in July. In the 2023rd year of our Overlord, Misha Collins, I still sit and wonder... What about the onion field?

[blunderpuff]

put on tshirt after doing yardwork (cuz i got hot) and my mom immediately commented "look at YOU in bArE aRmS"

so i put on my long shirt again

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Found a Zorua, got excited over catching a Zorua, realized I already have more than 6 mons that I want to use on my team and that’s without Koraidon, had a moment when I wondered if I should lean into playing a mostly Dark/Ghost specialty trainer, decided that this is a problem for later-tonight me.

[gu6chan]

i would kill for a cup of this right now

[mybrainproblems]

#idk this is all conjecture. but it’s interesting to think about#don’t take my word as gospel truth 🤷🏻#also. full disclosure. I have not yet watched the finale#I’m still in s14 on my first layer seasons watch!!

okay, so i've watched 15x20 nine ten times now and this is really a good summary for exactly why these rumors persist about the "extra" ad break and the episode being "short" (hell, i was even ready to throw in on the extra ad break rumor)

people have either never watched it bc they heard it was bad, or they haven't watched it in three years bc yes, the episode is just not up to par with other spn episodes, nvm finales. and since it's more fun repeat a fun conspiracy than fact check, it keeps going around. (which i also parroted! until i decided to get out a stopwatch and check for myself in dec 2022!) it was also a rumor that got a lot of play by a couple of popular blogs in late 2020/early 2021 and it gained a lot of traction then.

so yeah. it's worth investigating! which i did and have been digging into for a year now. i had hit the dead end of not being able to find a version of 15x20 where the ad breaks were intact. which brings me to...

an extremely lovely person reached out to me last night to let me know that they had 15x20 on their DVR with ad breaks intact and pulled the rough timing marks for me without me even asking bc they are an absolute angel!!!

transcription of the timing marks in the second image:

1. mins 10-13 after boys catch vamp mime (yep 10 whole minutes!) 2. mins 17-22 (incl cw promo) after kids run out/vamp lineup enters 3. mins 32-35 after dean's death 4. mins 40-45 (incl jared walker promo) after sam walks out of bunker 5. mins 57-60 after bridge waving :\

which means i was extremely wrong in my first reblog guessing where most of the ad breaks were as someone who hadn't watched live and... there are no extra ad breaks from what I can tell? (as someone who actually works on this, please chime in if these look off! i would love to hear from someone who actually knows!) at least to me, it looks like they're at about the time slots i would expect for a normal TV episode? breaks 1&2 feel like they're close but idk. my knowledge is mostly in TV market research, not ad sales/buying (side bar: i adore being proven wrong with Facts, if i am wrong pls tell me!!)

what i think makes it feel like the episode is under 42min or that there might have been extra ad breaks (which i would totally have believed) is that not even midway through the 60min time block it runs into narrative concrete with dean's impalement. and then you have an entire second half of the ep where nothing happens and it is So. Slow. it's basically a single scene (dean's death) and then dean and bobby's short convo, followed by a couple of aimless montages with OG carry on and a cover of carry on back-to-back.

it is a WEIRD fucking episode. especially from a writer who is, at worst, competent. (i say this as a dabbfan & with love in my heart)

i have a post i just made with a list of major timing marks if anyone wants to take a look. (once i knew where to look they were SO obvious)

also bc it might contextualize my pov: i'm in the camp of "no major changes that weren't related to covid regulations were made between shutdown and starting filming again." i genuinely believe that the finale was screwed long before the reaction to 15x18. walker was the CW's follow-on show and they were looking for general audiences for that show, not destiel shippers. it's a really boring explanation, but i think it's the most likely. at a guess, last minute cuts were smaller adjustments and (my unprovable theory) waiting to see if they could get another song licensed for the montage.

ok so like. thinking about the fact that there was an extra commercial break in the finale

In 2021 I used to work for [major US cable company] on a team that manually scheduled all of the ads that aired on their network every single day. While the exact shit that airs gets put in there the day before by a team of approx 10 human beings (insane), the tv show schedule & the breaks themselves are SET IN STONE. It takes a really specific, heavy-hitting request from a network and a LOT of people & moving parts to make an extra commercial break happen. That shit is built into the system way in advance!!!!!

I wish I had thought to ask my coworkers if they remembered anything happening then. Things were ofc moving around a lot because of the election coverage, BUT that was in the news networks, not on the fucking CW. Do we think that request was made last minute??? how long did they plan to have that extra break in there?????? were they cutting that episode up until the last minute after the networks saw the reaction to 15x18??????? we will probably never know but it is gonna bug me forever

[pillow-anime-talk]

injured s/o.

synopsis: You were a bit clumsy, but luckily your partner knew first aid. But they had to be careful because both of you know... they were a ghoul.

# tags: headcanons; current relationships; light romance; a bit of drama; also slight fluff; human!reader; mention of blood and wounds; maybe suggestive

includes: gender neutral reader ft. shuu tsukiyama, ken kaneki, touka kirishima, rize kamishiro, ayato kirishima & nishiki nishio {tokyo ghoul}

— SHUU

↘ He instantly smells your delicious blood and almost cries at the sight of the knife covered in red liquid and the onions that were supposed to be part of your disgusting human dinner.

↘ He’s trying hard not to eat your tender, sweet flesh, but after a short breath, he finds a first aid kit and then scolds you from top to bottom. His touch is tender, even though you are well aware that Shuu is holding back all his senses from killing and eating you. He’s a simple man, a bloodthirsty ghoul, so don’t be shocked. Of course he won’t hurt you, but... you never know.

↘ After applying the bandage, he’ll probably lick his fingers to taste your blood, and he feels as if he’s reached the highest level of ecstasy. 

↘ Your blood tastes like the sweetest chocolate, the ripest peach, the best wine, like coffee from the most expensive beans. He almost faints at the thought of you being filled with this dark ruby and delicious ambrosia.

↘ “... Thank you for your help, Shuu-kun.” You smile slightly, touching his arm with your hand. The man just nods, kissing your forehead, then disappears from your view as he enters the bathroom to take a cool shower and calm his farious thoughts.

— KEN

↘ Black Reaper doesn’t show affection to others, unless we are talking about his beloved partner. Then it’s completely different, still dangerous and uncertain, but with you, Kaneki takes off the mask of a dark, vulgar and cruel ghoul.

↘ “May I come in?” He asks softly as your small apartment starts to smell of your sweet like honey blood. Ken tightens his fingers on the doorknob and then enters the room as soon as you let him. One drop of blood escapes from your index finger. You cut yourself with a piece of paper while writing an essay. You look uncertainly at the black-haired man, but you don’t see any negative lust in his eyes. On the contrary, Ken looks worried. “Everything’s all right, love?”

↘ You reply that it’s just a scratch and that you’re fine. Your boyfriend offers you a bandage though, and you smile at him, lightly pressing his body against yours.

↘ “Thank you.” You reply quietly, and he only wonders why. That he didn’t kill you? That he didn’t tear your body in half? That you’re still alive? “... Thank you for being there for me.” His eyes close and he snuggles tighter against your weak, human body.

— TOUKA

↘ Touka is calm and the first thing she will think of is hydrogen peroxide and bandage. She’s not interested in your body, though of course your blood smells like a field of orchids and poppies. This fragrance evokes sentimental memories in her mind.

↘ She examines your wound with the greatest tenderness, and then, equally calmly and without haste, cleans it of any dirt and puts on a professional lint. Her gaze expresses many emotions, none of which are related to her ghoul nature.

↘ “Better now, Y/N?” Dark-haired girl asks calmly, while her hand squeezing yours. You nod your head a bit in response to her brief question and she smiles softly. “Would you like some coffee?” She asks another question, and you nod once more, thanking her for help.

↘ Tonight was full of tenderness and assurances that Touka would never hurt you.

— RIZE

↘ He behaves similarly to Tsukiyama, maybe even worse. The sight of your blood is like a lighter to spilled gasoline. She can’t control herself and runs away as far as possible so as not to hurt you. After all, you are her beloved lover, her little treasure. She can’t afford such a disgusting moment of frailty.

↘ You bandage yourself and expect her return, even though you know it may take several days.

↘ Rize is disgustingly weak when it comes to you; after all you are her greatest drug and probably if she only tasted a drop of your blood or was in the same room with you for a bit longer, she would definitely throw herself at you.

↘ The relationship with her is quite dangerous, but you feel happy with her. Maybe it’s stupid and life threatening, but you really can’t imagine your own life without this beautiful and graceful woman.

— AYATO

↘ He snorts with laughter when your apartment starts to smell like blood. When he enters the bathroom, he sees that you’ve cut yourself shaving and a few drops of blood run down your still wet skin.

↘ “If a razor beats you that much, then seriously consider my proposal to turn you into a ghoul, kitten.” The sarcasm in his voice is strong and you just roll your eyes. You quickly wash the wounds with a cotton swab and water, then find the plaster.

↘ “You know very well that I am the biggest enjoyer of fried rice with vegetables and lasagna. There is no way I will give up these human goods to eat human flesh.” You grimaced at the thought, which made the black-haired man laugh lightly one more time. “You should help me instead of laughing, dumb boy.”

↘ “Hmm... Nope, nah.” He waved at you and then went back to watching TV, calmly waiting for you to come over and lie down next to him.

— NISHIKI

↘ He cares a lot about you; you are the most important person in his life, so the sight of your tear-stained face and chafes on your knees from falling down the stairs is a hard sight for him.

↘ So he takes you into his arms and leads you to the bedroom, where he treats your wounds with the greatest precision with disinfectant spray and bruise ointment. He talks to you a lot during this moment, almost forgetting that he is a ghoul. For sure, a few years ago he would have jumped on you without much thought, just to end your suffering.

↘ Afterwards, he smiles slightly and offers to order you something good to eat to make you feel better. You’ll agree, although you’re asking for a moment of tenderness and a few kisses. 

↘ You’re definitely too cute.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

Casey Novak x autistic fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Graphic sex, oral, fingering, language, homophobia, homophobic slurs. Word count: 2,443 "Onions and relish!?" you observed, watching Casey scoop condiments onto a ballpark hot dog. Your face screwed up. "Gross."

"I've got highbrow taste," Casey retorted, glancing at yours. "And you shouldn't talk. Ketchup and mustard? Are you five?"

"It's a classic," you argued, both pushing your way through the crowded line of Yankees fans waiting for their own ballpark snacks.

You returned to your seats, up in the nosebleeds along with a scattering of other die-hard baseball fans, the humming of a summertime crowd and the buzzing of the lights wrapping around you like a blanket. You heard the crack of a bat, and both you and Casey froze, watching the field.

"Yes!" you yelled, pumping your fist in the air as your team–the Cardinals–drove in another run. "Fuckin' Redbirds!"

Normally, you'd be a lot more self-conscious about drawing attention to yourself in a crowd like this–almost exclusively Yankees fans, including your girlfriend. When the Yankees weren't playing the Cardinals, you wore some of Casey's Yankees gear and cheered them on with her. But the Cardinals? They'd been your family's team for generations. You'd grown up on Pujols and Molina and Wainwright, and you were nothing if not loyal. But in this crowd, you stood out amongst the black-and-white like a red thumb. Casey had looked embarrassed, and you'd worried for a moment that she really was bothered by your vocal support of the away team.

"Am I embarrassing you?" you'd asked.

"Yes."

"In a bad way?"

Casey looked at you and smiled at your serious expression. "No, honey. Like, embarrassing but it's endearing. Does that make sense?"

You thought about it for a moment. "I think so. You would tell me if I was bad embarrassing?"

"I would," she confirmed, patting your hand.

It was one of your favorite things about Casey that she was so patient when you misread or didn't understand social cues. She never made fun of you. She always explained, and she always reassured you when you were afraid you'd done something wrong.

But this time it was definitely Casey who had done something wrong. You watched her shove a bite of hot dog into her mouth, beautifully messy, as always when she wasn't at work.

"Your whole mouth is gonna taste like pickles for the rest of the night," you muttered, taking a bite of your own hot dog.

She looked at you, smirking. "And why are you so concerned about my mouth, huh?"

You blushed. "No reason..."

"Mmhm." She took another bite, smug, then grasped your chin, pulling you to her for a kiss. Her lips were salty with sweat, and she smelled like the ballpark dust and the leather of her glove. She was intoxicating, but then you always felt lightheaded when Casey kissed you. Something about the stadium lights and the summer heat just made you that much more dazed.

"That's fuckin' hot," you heard someone say behind you. You shrank and glanced back, Casey's hand squeezing yours protectively. Two men, unshaven, with beers to go with their beer bellies, leered at you from the row behind.

"Nobody asked you, asshole," Casey shot back, flipping him off. You avoided eye contact with them, trying to make yourself smaller. Having grown up in the south, you'd been in enough unsafe situations because of your sexuality that your go-to defense was to ignore and hide. Casey's was not. She was tall and strong, and she'd grown up with absolute confidence in who and what she was.

Your nostrils flared in disgust as one of the men licked his lips, raking his eyes up and down Casey's body.

"What's a hot piece like you doing with a dyke? You oughta let a real man take you for a spin."

Casey stood and pushed him–hard. The man reeled, sloshing his beer all over his front. "You better shut your fucking mouth or I'll shut it for you," she growled.

The man's arm shot out, grabbing Casey by the back of her head. He dug his fingers into her hair to pull her closer. "That's okay, honey," he said. "I like 'em feisty."

Any fear you had dissipated into white hot anger as you watched, as if in slow motion. You, however, were not stuck in slow motion. Without thinking, you lunged forward, grabbed the man's wrist, and wrenched it back until he squealed. You shoved Casey behind you.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" you spat, puffing yourself up as you stood between him and your girlfriend. Which, considering your diminutive height, probably didn't do a whole lot to deter him.

Your teeth clenched and your whole body buzzed with rage. It took a lot to make you angry, but you were spitting angry now. All you knew was that no one–no one–was going touch Casey on your watch.

The man laughed, knocking your cap off your head with a swipe of his finger. "And what are you gonna do about it, Tiny Tim? Or should I say Tiny Tina?"

Without warning and, for once, without considering the consequences, you slammed your first into his groin as hard as you could which, considering you played softball, was pretty damn hard. It was a perk of your height that you were at the optimal angle to punch someone in the dick.

The man doubled over, coughing, and spilled the rest of his beer. "Fuckin' dykes," he muttered. He motioned to his friend, cupping his balls, and they sidled off. Probably looking for another section to harass women in.

You let out a shaky breath and turned to face Casey, your heart beating rapidly as the adrenaline faded and the nerves returned.

"Are you okay?" you asked, frantically looking her over, placing a gentle hand at the back of her head where the man had grabbed her.

You hardly noticed Casey watching you, biting her lip. You were too concerned with making sure she was safe and unharmed. As you rambled, checking her hands and neck and hair and face for any signs of hurt, Casey stared.

Finally, she interrupted you. "Y/N."

You stopped and made yourself meet her eyes.

"I think we should go." She looked at you pointedly.

You face fell. "Oh, love. I'm so sorry. We can go home if it'll make you feel better."

"No, that's not why."

A look of confusion crossed your face.

"We should go home because we have things to do."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "I don't understand what you're saying, Casey."

She stepped closer, placing your hat back on your head and her arms on your shoulders. Her expression was self-satisfied as she leaned in, so close you could feel her breath, and whispered into your ear.

"Y/N," she breathed. "I need to do things. To you. Now."

"Oh," you said, the realization hitting you. "Oh my god. Okay."

You started gathering your things, then stopped and glanced at her. "From this? Really?"

"Y/N," she said, cheeks already flushed. "Don't make me wait. I'm gonna have a hard enough time making it home."

You tried to hide the mixture of shock and excitement on your face as you left the stadium, walking by the now abandoned concession stands and into the quiet parking lot.

"What's the alternative?" you asked her as you climbed into the driver's seat.

"What?"

"To making it home. You said you were gonna have a hard time making it home. But, like, where else would we–"

You were cut off by Casey's lips on yours, her breath hot and desperate as she grabbed your collar. She slid her tongue into your mouth, her teeth clacking against yours as she surged toward you, pushing for more.

When you separated, you both breathed heavily. Casey's face was flushed with lust. "If it were up to me," she said, leaning back in the seat. "I would've fucked you in the ballpark bathroom. I'd take you right here in the car. But I know that's not your style, so for the love of god..." Her eyes bored into you. "Drive."

Usually a slow driver, you made it back to Casey's apartment in record time. And, true to her word, Casey did have a hard time making it to the apartment, stopping at every chance she got–stoplights, outside the car door, in the elevator, the hallway–to kiss your neck, your mouth, undoing buttons of your Cardinals jersey as you went. Her hands slipped inside your shirt whenever you stopped for so much as a second.

When she finally got you into her bedroom, she was ravenous, tugging your clothes off and tossing them to the side with a singular focus. Her eyes were glazed and her face red as she struggled with your bra clasps.

"Fucking hell," she muttered, her fingers fumbling.

"Jesus, Casey," you said, reaching back to do them for her. "Calm down."

She groaned, letting her eyes rove over your now nude body, pushing you gently but forcefully on your back. She pecked you on the lips, then took your bottom lip between her teeth. You gasped, filled with both pain and pleasure. When she let you go, she was grinning.

"I'm gonna make you feel so..." She kissed your neck. "Fucking." Your collarbone. "Good." She lowered herself over you and pressed her mouth into yours, breathing you in, letting her tongue roam freely.

You moaned, arching your back. "Don't hold back on me now," she growled, leaving bite marks down your neck and across your chest. Usually quiet, you gave yourself permission to make some noise. After all, it drove Casey crazy.

"Fuck, Casey," you whined as she swirled her tongue across your nipples, first one and then the other, her hands pressing just above your hips. You writhed into her, squirming for more, your center already sopping wet.

"Tell me what you want," Casey said, trailing her tongue from your chest down to your stomach.

You struggled against her hands, pressing you into the bed. "Come on," you complained, nearly begging.

"Tell me," Casey said again, more forcefully, her fingers grazing over your clit.

You saw stars. "Fuck me."

Casey chuckled, her low voice vibrating against your already swollen clit. "That's my girl."

You gasped as she sucked your clit between her lips, swishing her tongue back and forth, back and forth. Her arms pinned your thighs in place, holding your writhing body tight. You heaved and moaned as you pushed Casey's head into your center. Her hair was soft and damp with sweat under your fingers, and you felt desperate for her as you chased your high.

She waited until you were nearly bursting, your breath hitching and your back arched against her, then pulled quickly away, wiping her mouth.

You gasped frantically. "What the fuck, Casey!?"

"Shh," she commanded, crawling back up your body and grabbing your chin. She straddled your hips, her own soaked center resting over yours.

"Casey, please," you begged, your eyes fluttering shut, the need of her flooding you.

"Don't close your eyes, honey. Look at me."

You huffed but opened your eyes, staring defiantly into hers, green and hungry and lustful.

She held your face still with one hand, then crept back down your body with the other. You let out a moan, squirming.

"Now arch your back for me," she said, the heel of her palm pressing hard into your clit.

Your body nearly exploded with the sensation, and you thrust into her with everything you had. You grabbed at Casey, pulling her into you, elated to know that she was using you, too, unable to put off her own pleasure any longer.

Your breath came faster and faster, your body jerking into Casey as Casey thrust toward you. You watched each other, both on the brink of losing control. Casey moaned, shutting her eyes briefly before squeezing your chin and staring at you.

"Now," she said.

And that one word was all it took. Your body shook against Casey's, your hips riding into her again and again, desperate for the friction as you moaned. She did the same, her nails digging into the skin at the top of your throat as she rode out her own orgasm. It felt like the two of you were hurtling across space, starbursts and supernovas and whole galaxies flashing inside you as you held onto one another. You quivered against her as the fireworks dissipated, spent and sweaty and heaving.

Casey grinned and planted kisses across your collarbone, counting. "One. Two. Three..."

You laughed and groaned. "Casey," you protested.

She'd discovered early on that, if she timed it right, she could make you come indefinitely. The only thing that stopped her was you getting overstimulated.

"Twenty-two," she finished and, once again, pressed the heel of her hand into your clit, harder and harder until she had you ready again, your hands grasping the bedsheets.

Your orgasm washed over you again, like a wave this time, pouring over you from head to toe.

Casey started in again, this time with her lips at the back of your knees. "One. Two..."

By the fifth round, you were nearly delirious, and Casey was salivating.

"Casey," you groaned, your body still pressing into her hand, almost against your will. "It's too much."

"Come on, sweetheart," she said, kissing you roughly. "Give me one more."

She continued grinding her hand into you, meshing her lips with yours, her tongue roving. Your breath caught and you moaned into her mouth, your orgasm taking you over one final, quaking time.

Casey cradled your head in the crook of her arm as you continued to shake, finally letting you relax.

"Thank you," she whispered, peppering your face with kisses.

You scrunched your nose. "For what? Letting you beat your record?"

"Well, that, too." She chuckled, deep and throaty, then brushed your sweaty bangs out of your face. "For protecting me. From that asshole."

You turned to her and tucked her hair behind her ear, running your thumb across her eyebrow.

"I would die before I let someone hurt you." Your voice was so quiet that, had anyone else been in the room, even they wouldn't have been able to hear. But you did. And Casey did.

She looked at you for a moment, then leaned down and kissed your forehead, hard and purposeful.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you, too."

You lost yourself in her arms for a bit as she ran a hand absentmindedly through your hair.

"We should go to more baseball games," Casey mused after a while.

You laughed. "Only if there's no relish involved."

"Deal."

[stubz]

"Remember to check with a teacher or one of the gardeners before eating what you pick from the gardens." calls out teacher Max.

The youngling centre was on a field trip visiting the ships indoor public garden that grows both flowers and vegetables from a variety of different planets. Younglings took joy in sharing and showing their friends vegetables and plants from their own respective planet. Even the teachers, Max and Kim, were happy to tell them about earth's plants.

"Wow, what's that Emira?"

"It's a glass flower!" she chirps holding up a beautiful flower with the petals and stem translucent. "They're my favorite flower!"

"So pretty! Can you...eat it!" the human grins.

"No!" the avian giggles. "You can't eat it! But my Maemae says you can use the roots for tea that helps tummy aches."

"I'll have to remember that." he nods, wearing an utmost serious and thoughtful face. The nearby gardeners chuckle.

"You should!"

"I shall-!"

"TEACHER MAAAX!!"

All heads whip to the south of the garden. At the very end of it is Ezshi screaming and waving their little tail and arms frantically. Beside them is Pollix, Zyz, and Tarlak huddling around a Kim kneeling on the ground grabbing her throat.

"Mr Max you stay h-" the gardeners watched as the human sprinted as fast he could to the other side of the gardens. Seconds later the younglings followed suit with Emira leading them, flapping her little wings as fast as she can.

"KIM! KIM WHAT'S WRONG?!" he skids to a stop beside her grabbing her shoulders to examine her.

The human shakes her head, face red, opens her mouth to speak only to go into a coughing fit. Her right hand at her throat, her left pounding her chest.

"What happened?? Did you eat something?? Kids what did she eat?!" later he'll apologize for shouting but right now he can't help it. Right now he's going through every lesson he's had about what to do when one eats something harmful/unknown to their species.

"I-I don't know! Tarlak gave it to her!" Zyz cries, tears streaming down their little snout.

"Tarlak, buddy, what did you give her??" the little Simia's lips quiver as he stares at the still hacking Kim.

"Tarlak, focus. What did you give her? What planet plot was it from?" Max grabs his shoulders, making him look solely at him and not Kim.

"...earth...it-it was from earth. This." he hands over a half eaten white plant bulb.

"...Kim's fine kids." he sighs flopping over onto the dirt. The adrenaline immediately leaving his body.

"What! What is it?!" they all cry.

"It's garlic."

For a moment there is silence save for some sighs of relief from the human children. And then.

"GET THE RED BAG!"

"CALL THE GARDENERS!"

"SHE'S GONNA DIEEE!"

All the younglings scream and wail. Most like Emira, however, simply cling to the human silently crying.

"...what?! Kids! She's not dying."

" 'm not...dying." Kim rasps, finally done coughing.

"Garlic is poison! It's how my Maemae's uncle died!" Emira wails.

"I heard one garlic clove can kill a hundred rextalians!" Ezshi frets.

"What are you talking abo...oooh. Thiosulfate."

"Thio-whatnow?" Kim coughs, spitting out a piece of garlic she frees from her cheek.

"Reason why most animals can't eat garlic and onions. Including most other non-earth species."

"...Oooh! Okay learning time! Listen up kids. Humans can eat garlic! Got it? Humans can eat garlic and other foods like garlic, our body breaks it down and stuff."

"But you choked and your face turned red!"

"Because the taste is very strong. It's like lemons. Basically I took a giant bite out of a lemon."

"...Ooooh!" cries out the younglings now understanding that their teacher is not dying.

"Wait why did you take a giant bite out of garlic?" laughs Max.

"I didn't know if was garlic or an onion and Tarlak's dad uses onions for to make a bug repellent...don't judge me I've never seen garlic in that shape before!"

"Why didn't you ask a gardener?"

"They're all the way on the other side of the field! Just-shush!"

"I'm never letting you live this down. Now help me stop the human kids from doing some kind of garlic challenge. I see Anthony and Piper eyeing them."

[sycamorelibrary754]

Happy Thanksgiving

Summary: You invite Natasha’s family to join you for Thanksgiving. Holiday cheer and a surprise awaits!

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader, Yelena Belova x reader (platonic), Alexei Alanovich Shostakov x reader (platonic) Melina Vostokoff x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: None

A/N: This was a fun one. Happy Thanksgiving!

When you first broached the subject with Natasha of inviting Yelena, Melina, and Alexi to your home for Thanksgiving, you weren’t sure how your wife would respond. True, things were better. Their relationship had gone through something of a healing process since they took down Dreykov and the Red Room together, but her family was still a lot to handle. Most of the team was going to Iowa to spend Thanksgiving with the Barton’s. Clint had gotten it into his head to deep fry the turkey this year. It was going to be can’t-miss-entertainment according to Sam. However, you and Natasha were looking forward to a more intimate holiday.

“You really want my family to join us for Thanksgiving?” Her eyes met yours as you snuggled up on the couch together.

“I think it could be really fun. Plus, you deserve to spend quality time with them that doesn’t involve death, destruction, or pigs,” you joked. 

“You don’t like mom’s pigs?” She smirked.

No, love. I do. They’re adorable. Especially once Yelena made them those personalized piggy vests,” you giggled.

“Oh, yeah… Pests!” Natasha laughed recalling the image. 

“So what do you think? A Romanoff family Thanksgiving?”

She thought for a moment before a smile reached her lips. “Okay, let’s do it. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think it could be fun,” caressing your cheek softly. 

You went into planning mode upon receiving Nat’s approval and confirmation that all three were available and would be there with bells on. You were determined to make it a memorable holiday for everyone.

*^~^*

You left early to hit the grocery store the Monday before Thanksgiving. It was crucial to avoiding the out-of-stock items and the rush of “fucking annoying slowpokes who don’t know a shallot from an onion,” you eloquently informed your wife after wiggling out of her warm hold. 

Nat mumbled something akin to, “See you later, detka,” her head buried in her pillow as you hurriedly put on your coat, scarf, and beanie and rushed out of the house. Your car keys and shopping list clenched purposefully in your fist.

*^~^*

The front door slammed shut a couple of hours later, alerting Natasha to your arrival.

“I’m home, love!” You called out.

“The conquering shopper has returned! How was the store?” Looking around at the mountain of groceries cluttered around you like presents under the Christmas tree. 

“It was good! I managed to get everything on the list,” removing your warm attire and running your hand smoothly through your hair. 

“I can see that, y/n. Did you leave anything for the other shoppers?” Nat smirked. 

“This is all necessary for the traditional Thanksgiving feast I have planned for us,” you explained. “Your family has never had an American Thanksgiving, so I thought, why not go all out?” 

Your wife stepped carefully around your grocery maze and wrapped her arms lovingly around your neck. “Have I told you how much I love you?” 

“Not in the last twenty minutes,” jokingly glancing at the imaginary watch on your wrist before planting a tender kiss on her lips.

Natasha offered to unpack the groceries for you. Meanwhile, you set about creating a cooking timeline for the meal preparation. You were so in your element your wife couldn’t help but smile. As you typed away on your laptop, your adorable expression reminded her of your demeanor in the field. You were focused, engaged, and confident. 

*^~^*

A creature of habit, Natasha awoke the following morning for her daily run. She groggily reached over to turn off her alarm until she realized the alarm hadn’t gone off. No, the clanging of pots and pans from the kitchen tore her from her blissful sleep. Nat rolled over to your side of the bed only to find it empty. She groaned softly and sat up, cracking her neck and stretching her arms over her head as a yawn escaped her lips.

Natasha padded down the hall toward the kitchen, still clad in her pajamas and the fuzzy socks you bought her. She turned the corner to find you floating around the kitchen in a whirlwind—dishes in the oven and stove.

“Moya lyubov? You’re already in the kitchen?” Rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“No rest for the wary, sweetheart. I’ve got to get the pumpkin pie out of the way so I can get started on the sides by this afternoon,” you explained, fervently whisking your pumpkin puree into your custard mixture. You glanced around the counter like you were looking for something. “Oh, can you hand me those spice jars behind you?”

She picked up the cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger, stacking them precariously on top of one another like blocks before appearing at your side.

“Nicely done. You missed your calling as a professional Jenga player.”

“Take your damned spices,” she snarked.

You sprinkled the spice mixture into the filling and let it sit. “Okay,” you said, wiping your brow. “I just need to grab the pie crust out of the oven. It should be par-baked by now.”

“I got it, detka,” pulling on the oven mitts and removing the pan from the oven. 

Perfect, now we’re just going to fill the crust,” carefully pouring the custard filling. “Then this is going back in the oven at 325 for 45-60 minutes.” 

Nat carefully placed the pie back in the oven. “Shall I close, doctor?”

“Please,” in your most professional voice before lapsing into giggles. 

“Now, that’s in. We can get started on the sides. Mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, cranberry feta salad,” you listed.

Two types of potatoes?”

“Oh, it’s a must, love! You get both the salty and the sweet. It’s potato perfection.”

“Hmm, just like you,” she said suggestively.

“Smooth,” you replied.

“I try," putting her arm around your shoulder.

*^~^*

You were still in the kitchen when Natasha returned from her run. 

“Have you taken a break at all since I left?” She removed her running shoes and placed them by the front door.

“No time for breaks. Your sister just texted me and asked if Mac and Cheese was part of the American Thanksgiving tradition, so I’m whipping up one for her.”

Your wife rolled her eyes. “For God’s sake, that’s not necessary, malyshka. Yelena will survive one meal without her precious Mac and Cheese.” 

“It’s no problem. I want your family to feel comfortable! That’s why I also have a sparkling Vodka cocktail planned,” you winked. 

“That is so sweet, but there is no need to stress over it, y/n. They are going to love it no matter what you make. Plus, you know if you feed them this well, they’ll never leave, right?”

“Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” You joked.

“No, it wouldn’t,” she deadpanned.

The rest of the afternoon was spent preparing the stuffing, cranberry sauce, garlic green beanies, and gravy. By the time you finally laid down on the couch Tuesday evening, still in your apron, you were pleased with your progress. Your legs lay across Natasha’s lap while she massaged your aching feet. She wasn’t surprised to look over and find you sound asleep five minutes later as the television glow illuminated your features. Your wife could only smile at your sleepy form before gently picking you up and carrying you to bed.

*^~^*

Wednesday morning Natasha decided to let you sleep in, so she made the executive decision to turn your alarm off. Truthfully, she felt guilty for how hard you had been pushing yourself this week for the sake of her family. Nat was nursing a cup of tea and reading a book in the family room when she heard you down the hall.

“Oh, crap!” You shouted.

“3,2,1…..” Natasha counted down.

“Nat, why didn’t you wake me up!” Throwing on your favorite cardigan as you entered the room. “I’ve still got to make the pretzel bread and raspberry jello today.”

“You needed the sleep. I can’t tell you’re exhausted, and you were sleeping so soundly when I got up.”

You had a look of panic in your eyes.

“It’s okay, y/n. I found the jello and bread recipes on the table and got the jump on it for you. The jello is done and in the fridge, and the bread dough is under the towel rising.”

You blinked a couple of times as if she was speaking Latin. “You cooked?” 

“Are you questioning my abilities?” Raising an eyebrow. 

“Well.… yeah? I love you, sweetheart, but the only thing I’ve ever seen you make is a peanut butter sandwich.”

“See for yourself,” smiling proudly and removing her reading glasses.

Opening the fridge, you were pleasantly surprised to find a gelatinous raspberry jello staring back at you. You then peeked under the towel on the counter to find the bread dough had just about doubled in size.

“Well, turn me upside down and paint me blue!”

“Hmmm, tempting, but let’s save that for after my family leaves,” Natasha smirked as she kissed the side of your temple from behind. 

“This is awesome, my love. Thank you so much,” turning around in her hold. “I have to say, the thought of the Black Widow cooking Thanksgiving dinner is incredibly sexy.”

“Is it now?” She said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Very, I may have to get you your apron,” you teased as Natasha gently grasped your ear lobe between her teeth before placing soft kisses down your neck. Her phone dinged with a text notification on the counter beside you a few moments later. You glanced down at the screen out of the corner of your eye.

“It’s Yelena, sweetheart...”

“Is she on fire? Otherwise, I’m not stopping.” Moving the tender kisses to your lips. 

“No, she wants to know if she should bring anything,” you replied between kisses.

She feels terrible we’re doing all the work,”

“She’s bringing our parents, that’s a shit ton of work.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

*^~^*

The next day, you and Natasha got started on the crown jewel of your Thanksgiving dinner: the turkey. After letting it thaw in the fridge all week, your twenty-pound bird had been marinating in a salt brine for twelve hours. You placed the turkey in the oven at 425 degrees for 35 minutes, which gave you two just enough time to get ready before it needed to be basted.

You heard the doorbell after showering and putting on your best fall colors.

“Baby, they’re here!” you called, opening the door to welcome your guests.

Alexi was sporting a plush turkey hat while Melina held a freshly made appetizer. Standing in front of both of them, Yelena had Fanny at her feet. She quickly stepped inside first with a warm hug and a peck on your cheek. 

“Happy Thanksgiving, y/n! Thank you so much for inviting us. “Now,” placing both hands on your shoulders. “Where is the booze? I just had to spend the last 20 minutes in the car alone with them, listening to Alexi ramble on about his stupid hat.”

You point toward the coffee table, holding the sparkling Vodka cocktails as your sister-in-law gives you a cheeky smile. “I love you.” 

“Haha!” Alexi exclaimed. Greetings, my wonderful daughter-in-law. I am ready for turkey!” Wrapping you in a giant bear hug.

“Could’ve fooled me, Alexi,” you joked. “Ooh, Melina, what do we have here? It looks delicious.”

“A traditional Russian appetizer, Mushroom Julienne. Mushrooms and onions cooked in cream sauce, cheese, and sour cream.”

“My mouth is already watering. Here, let me take your coats. You can place them on the coffee table,” you offered. 

After tending to the coats, you rejoined the group as everyone settled in the family room for appetizers and cocktails. Holiday music played softly in the background, setting the scene perfectly. You sat on the sofa beside your wife while your in-laws treated you to numerous stories of Natasha and Yelena’s all-to-brief childhood in Ohio. Some of which you had yet to hear. 

“Y/N, has Natalia told you how she and Yelena used to stay up late on Christmas Eve to try and catch Santa Claus?” Melina asked. 

“Now, that was fun. You know, he comes down the chimney, girls. Look out! Where is he? You wait for him, and when the cookies are gone, you see he’s there.” Alexi recalled.

Yelena smiled fondly at the memory while Natasha turned red as Santa’s suit and hid her face in her hands.

“Aww, honey,” rubbing circles on her back. It’s precious! I’m sure you were adorable.” 

“As adorable as you can be with bright blue hair. You looked like cotton candy,” Yelena laughed. 

Nat threw a pillow across the room, barely missing her sister’s head.

“Ha!! Missed!” Yelena snarked.

“Girls, behave,” Melina ordered.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sisterly teasing and family banter. This was exactly what you were hoping for, and the evening was just getting started.

“Oh, detka, you don’t have a drink yet. Let me get you one,” Natasha offered, standing up, but your hand on her arm stopped her. 

“Oh, no thanks, love. I actually need to go check on the turkey.” 

“I’ll join you,” Yelena announced. “I want to see this bird you Americans are so crazy about.”

You opened the oven to reveal your delectable 20-pound turkey. “Do you want to brush it with the honey glaze for me, Yelena? I’m going to check on the side dishes.” 

“Just call me DaVinci!” She declared.

You turned around to find your sister-in-law had finished the glazing by painting a smiley face on the turkey. 

“Wow, I didn’t know our turkey had such a charming smile,” you joked. Reducing the heat to 325 and setting the timer for another 75 minutes. 

“Thank you again for including us today, y/n. While it would’ve been fun to watch Barton sear his eyebrows off trying to deep-fry a turkey, it's been nice to see Natasha so happy. We didn’t have any family holidays growing up. Not real ones, anyway.”

“Well, you always will now,” placing an arm around her shoulder. “I will spend the rest of my life trying to make your sister happy. That’s a promise.”

*^~^*

While the turkey finished cooking, you decided to share as many of your Thanksgiving traditions as possible. You watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, took in some Turkey Day football, and even played a rousing game of Pictionary.

“What the hell is that?” Yelena shouted as Nat was diligently engaged in her drawing.  

“Oooh! Ooh! A ladybug doing the Macarena!”You screamed just before the timer ran out.

“Yes!” Nat shouted.

“Unbelievable, what is that? Five in a row,” Melina remarked. No wonder you two are such a good team.”

“Well, it's no surprise you're a pro at Pictionary. Who needs talent when you can just doodle like a 5-year-old?” Yelena retorted.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game, Lena,” dropping the marker like a microphone.

“Trust me, I do. It will be perfect for when I want to torture Kate Bishop.”

“With that, I think it’s time for dinner,” you announced happily. 

*^~^*

It only took a few minutes before your Thanksgiving feast was lovingly displayed on the dining room table. The sight and aroma of the food was a gentle massage to the soul.

“Before we dig in,” holding up your glass for a toast, “I just wanted to say how happy Nat and I are that you could join us today. We love you, and I’m so thankful to be a part of your family.”

Natasha grasped your hand and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles. 

“We feel the same way,” Melina concurred.

“Yes, we’re so happy that you and our little Natalia found each other,” Alexi added.

“Yes, y/n is a saint. It’s all very touching. Can I carve the turkey now,” Yelena groaned, holding up a sharpened carving knife. 

“You may proceed,” you declared with a Queen’s wave of your hand. 

Dishes were passed around the table like musical chairs. Wine filled everyone’s glasses while you opted for your favorite - Martinelli’s Sparkling Cider. You pretended not to notice Yelena sneaking a few scraps to Fanny under the table. The chatter rose and fell, every few moments dispersed with laughter. It was the kind of occasion most aren't aware they're genuinely enjoying yet look back at in warm nostalgia.

After hibernating in your Thanksgiving food comas, you returned to the family room for dessert. You were excited to finally bring out the homemade Pumpkin pie topped with whipped cream.

“Ah, now this is a beautiful pie.” Look at this, girls. I love America, you cannot get this back in St. Petersburg.” Alexi gushed. 

“Y/N made it from scratch,” your wife bragged, causing you to blush at the compliment.

“Did y/n also split the atom?” Yelena teased. She earned an eye roll from her older sister. “Could you BE more whipped?”

“No, I honestly don’t think I could,” Natasha looked at you like you had hung the moon and the stars. 

*^~^*

As the evening wound down, the hustle and bustle of the past week was starting to catch up to you. Your wife didn’t miss your heavy eyelids or the tiny yawn that escaped your lips as Fanny hopped up on the couch to lay down beside you. 

“Well, we should probably get going. Traffic will be annoying when crossing back over the bridge,” your sister-in-law said.

“Before you go, I have gifts for all of you!” You exclaimed, jumping up off the couch. 

“You do?”A bewildered expression on Nat’s face. 

“I do!” You’re voice trailed away as you padded down the hall toward your bedroom.

Natasha turned around to her family with a shrug of her shoulders. She had no clue what you were talking about. You returned a moment later with small autumn-gold gift bags. 

“This is just a little something for each of you,” clasping your hands together in front of your smiling face. Natasha was even more confused when you handed her one as well. “Go on, sweetheart,” you encouraged.

Natasha removed the delicate tissue paper. Her solid and calloused hands met the soft cotton hiding inside. She pulled the gift out and held it up in front of her. A tiny onesie that read “Mommy’s Little Turkey” was staring back at her. 

Natasha stared at it speechlessly, wide-eyed. A first for your relationship. Finally, her brain caught up with the moment. “Moya lyubov—what? We���you…you’re pregnant?”

You nodded vigorously, starting to cry. Natasha’s hands cupped your cheeks. Her lips met yours in a heartfelt kiss, not caring that her family was watching. You gently combed your fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck, returning the kiss.

Melina, Alexi, and Yelena held up their onesies to find variations of Natasha’s: Grandma’s Little Turkey, Grandpa’s Little Turkey, and Auntie’s Little Turkey.” 

“I knew it!”Yelena shouted.

Melina turned to Natasha and whispered, “You see what can happen when you keep your heart,” holding her lovingly in her arms.  

Vashe zdorov'ye! (Cheers) Alexi exclaimed. If it is a boy, you will name him Alexi. It is a strong and honorable name!” Kissing you on both cheeks.

“Oh God,” Yelena muttered under her breath. “For the love of Fanny, please don’t do that,” wrapping her arms around you. “I would love to babysit. I’m looking forward to passing on much to my niece or nephew.”

“Yeah, that’s not terrifying at all,” your wife mumbled in your ear. 

The shock was wearing off. Natasha reached down and gently placed her palm on your stomach. You weren’t showing yet, but just knowing that your child was growing inside you awakened a dream that she had put away in the Red Room long ago. 

*^~^*

Once her family left, Natasha insisted that she would handle the post-holiday clean-up, confining you to the couch with many pillows and a fluffy blanket. Foreshadowing what was to come for the duration of your pregnancy. 

“Sweetheart, those dishes go in the top right cupboard,” directing her from the couch.

“No worries, malyshka. I got it! You take it easy. The baby needs rest after all of this Thanksgiving cheer,” her protective instincts appear.

“The baby is the size of a plum, my love,”

“A very tired plum!” 

*^~^*

Thirty minutes later, the kitchen was clean, and you both were ready for a good night’s sleep. You would never admit it to your wife, but boy, were you tired. You donned your coziest pajamas and joined Natasha in bed. Snuggled into the covers, you found comfort and peace in your safe space. Nat rolled over to face you, your foreheads touching in a beautifully intimate gesture of love and affection. 

“This has been the best day of my life. Not only did you give my family an amazing Thanksgiving, you gave me a gift I’ll never forget. Though I have to admit now that I know you’re pregnant, I’m replaying the last week in my head in a loop of horrifying anxiety.” 

You giggled at her confession, “It’s alright, Nat. I’m ready for a nice long rest, and I just had a check-up with Helen last week.”

“Wait, does the team know?” 

“Dear God, no. You think that group can keep a secret?”

“We can tell them at Stark’s Christmas party in a couple of weeks if you’re comfortable with the idea.” 

“Perfect. I need time to prepare for the onslaught of attention from our little one’s aunts and uncles.”

Natasha reached over and grabbed your hand. “I love you, y/n. I can’t wait to welcome our little plum into the world,” she smiled.

“I love you too. You are going to be an amazing mother, sweetheart.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, y/n”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Natasha.”

[popawritter12]

Yandere! Lin Kuei clan x Fem! Reader

Author's Notes: GUYS I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY EVERYONE LOVES BI-HAN (Yes, probably because he has terrible tits- BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT). I think that he is bitter from start to finish but IDK there are colors for tastes.

Also, this one-shots is from a Wattpad request

(Don't let my favoritism towards Tomas be noticed jsadhjasfa <;3)

-

Yandere Characters: Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Tomas Vrbada, (mention of Sektor and Bi-han, Kuai Liang and Tomas's father)

From the video game/manga/anime/series/movie: Mortal Kombat 1 (World of "the new age" as I investigated)

Case: Confinement, forced adoption, unhealthy obsession, extremely strange "family" relationships.

Warnings: NO, SUB-ZERO'S FATHER AND DOES NOT WANT TO FUCK THE PROTAGONIST, HE WAS OBSESSED WITH HAVING HER AS A DAUGHTER (I'll clarify just in case)

Finished: Yes

-

You still had vague memories of the last time you were free, or the last time you were with your mother. For many nights the question of your mother's whereabouts echoed in your head. However, it wasn't that long before your father's disappearance knocked on your door.

In the middle of the night, a group of warriors from the Lin Kuei clan found your dying father, who only had one last wish; Let the men who found him take care of his little daughter.

He didn't know them, he didn't even know their names, but something in his heart pumped in such a way that it only announced his time, and only "Protect my daughter" came out of his mouth.

He didn't even know why he said it, but in his heart there was only the desire to protect that little girl that he adored so much.

The warriors who were in charge of burying your father had to notify you of your existence, and the existence of a now orphaned girl generated some curiosity in several warriors.

And when the leader of that generation of warriors learned who the man who had died was, he only generated some surprise and anger.

It is there that, after asking the universe so much and mainly asking himself what he should do, he decided to call a clan meeting.

In the midst of all the doubts about why the leader called all the Lin Kuei, there was only one sentence which unleashed the beginning of chaos.

—One of my best friends, one of the people I loved most in my life, died in the hands of some thieves —The man began —, and his daughter, (Name) (Last name), is lost in the middle of the crowd, in "A town not far from here." The man looked up, the crowd realizing the seriousness in his words. His last wish, as the father of a little girl, and of a warrior who once belonged to this clan, is that we take care of his first-born daughter.

All the men and women present noticed that, amidst all the façade of concern for a friend's last will, they noticed that there was a hint of insecurity behind his words. It was a sensation that generated some intrigue as to who this young woman was.

—I strongly request that you investigate her whereabouts, and bring her to be part of the Lin Kuei from now on.

The chaos had begun, and the woman behind the mirror only longed for one thing from the bottom of her soul; May she find an escape from the chaos that was to come.

Even Liu Kang himself had a bad feeling, which heralded a change in the most powerful clan in the entire land. A change which began a breakdown in the clan's principles.

-

The dawn marked her presence in an imposing manner with its tormenting solar rays, while the crowing of the roosters echoed in all the nearby fields, a harmonious song that seemed to strain their vocal cords just to cause such a noise. And it was a noise that was as annoying as cutting onions.

The glass of the window collided with the first rays of the sun, and the temperature of the room began to rise where the solar lights shine. And just as those lights collided with the fabrics covering the young woman's body, a grunt of protest came from her, her body moving off the mattress, the friction making soft noises throughout the room as she felt the cold of the dark wood against her. the transparent fabrics.

Even with the discomfort of the floor, her heavy, closed eyelids refused to move even an inch, and her muscles only relaxed against the coldness of the wood.

Three soft knocks against the wood sounded from the other side, while the young woman only pressed her face against her wrinkled pillow.

—(Name), Are you awake?

She pretended not to know anything, and her head was cradled against the soft, cotton-filled fabric. Her fingers approached the fabric that covered the rest of her body, and her nails dug against the loom, only dragging to cover a part of her jaw and leave the soles of her feet. in the air.

—(Name), I'm going to pass.

The screech of wood opening and old metal moving invaded the woman's ears, generating a certain tremor in her eardrums. But even then, pr

He continued without separating his eyelids.

The man moved quietly, the softness of his steps at the same time as he tried not to move too much to the bed. The soft aroma of the lavender scented sheets and the sound of the leaves moving to the sound of the wind, gently colliding against the wood of the house. With each step, he just tried to see throughout the room some trace of disorder, but he was all pretty well done to make a complaint.

Since the girl took charge of issuing a complaint when she felt how her only free hand was suppressed against the ground.

The man took several steps back, now giving more firmness to his posture in his final retreat.

—What the hell is wrong with you?!

The brown-haired man's gaze lowered gently, noticing how a figure emerged from the ground, barely lifting his body. A sudden movement of the woman's wrist was heard as more moans came from her lips.

—That hurts… —she whispered with her voice barely high-pitched.

The man noticed the mistake he had made in taking steps, and only gasped angrily, lowering his shoulders along with the tension in his body.

—Are you sleeping on the floor again?!

—Stepping on my hand again, Liang?!

The two exchanged glances after a few seconds, a stinging pain spreading tension and burning through the skin and muscles of her injured limb.

—How many times do I have to tell you that you shouldn't sleep on the floor? —The man in yellowish clothes complained —, it's not healthy, and you leave everything lying around as soon as you get up.

—Yes, yes, yes… Whatever you say —The woman clicked her tongue, —, not even your dad was so complaining about me sleeping on the floor.

The man rolled his eyes, before kneeling on his feet. His gaze was fixed on the injured skin, and the circular movement that (Last Name) exerted with her wrist, trying to keep her body from focusing on the stinging burning in her hand. A somewhat heavy sigh left him, before her hand took his hand, her fingers taking gentle walks over her skin.

—It hurts?

A question so stupid but so loaded with worry that he asked her between nausea and wanting to jizz in her face, but he just shook his head, taking her wrist now. The man, even with his muscular build, allowed himself to be manipulated by the woman's soft movements.

—Yes, you idiot —she joked, before releasing the wrist of the man in front of her —, but I just need an ointment to calm the pain."

The look of doubt on her face didn't leave her grimace, but she just accepted her hasty excuse.

—Why did you come so early? —The woman asked, before taking the pillow and placing it on the mattress again.

Liang wasn't specifically someone who liked to interrupt people, especially her, so the few times he did, it wasn't especially for pleasure.

—Things happened, —he whispered, before moving from her position to get back up. —Can you go to the living room? Tomas wanted to tell you something.

The woman's face scrunched up a little, confused as to why the gray-haired man wanted to talk to her, but she assumed it was some kind of warning or something.

—Alright.

She gave gentle tugs on her muscles before moving her feet to stand up. The woman looked quite overwhelmed by the lights coming from her window, but she just ran her palms across her eyes, her back leaning back solely to stretch her lower back muscles.

It had been some time since the war, and she heard only prattle of the events of the great war that had been fought between this world and others. For some reason, a deja vu passed through (Name)'s mind after hearing what happened during those fights, as if in her soul, she knew something about the events of the war.

However, she just shook her head. The grimace on her face changed to a gentle smile as she greeted some newcomers from the clan, while her rigid body became accustomed to moving around the large place that until that day you dared to call home.

And at one point, she ran into someone particularly well-known, mostly because of her distinctive hair color. She smiled, giving a gentle click of her tongue against her teeth as her steps quickened a little, but maintained a certain stealth.

(Name), being close enough to the man —Particularly a couple of centimeters from his body, or rather her back—, she almost jumped on top of him, wrapping her arms around the edge of the waist of her. A soft gasp came from the man, his body generating some tension as he felt her hands so close to the gray garments, gently squeezing the fabric against his skin.

The man smiled after realizing who had made such a 'deadly attack', and her shoulders released their tension after a few seconds.

—Hello, (Name) —The man greeted.

The woman smiled, before walking away from him.

—How have you been, Tomás? —The woman asked, now located next to him.

—I'm better than I expected, luckily, —he replied, his gaze escaping to rom where he was looking to admire the girl next to him.

The two exchanged words, a conventional conversation typical of two people who had known each other for years that resembled a sibling relationship more than anything else. However, that was the thought the woman had about how they both looked in the eyes of other people.

He told her what the end of the war was like, and the "extra jobs" that both he and his brother did after said event. Even as boring as what he explained to her was, you just nodded silently while he continued talking to her.

But, to (Name)'s surprise, the people that she previously found everywhere around the house began to leave, or rather, began to stop appearing in her circle of vision, but the woman was not very focused.

It wasn't long before they arrived at a vast place full of plants and flowers, the bright colors spread harmoniously throughout the place, with a table in the middle of the grass. From the warmest colors to the coldest and dullest adorned the place, while the metal table and chairs of the same material with a spongy padding on the part where the weight of the body rested.

It was a special place for her, being one of the few outdoor places that she could access without having to ask the grandmaster for permission, and one where she hung out the most with your best clan friends.

When you sat down, Tomas sat next to her, his words pausing for a second as both of them gazed at the soft colors that adorned the garden.

—(Name) —He called you.

—Yeah?

—There's something I've wanted to tell you for a while —the man said, —, it's something I wanted to tell you but I never found the words to say it correctly.

—Well, that's new. —She leans back gently against the chair —, so, tell me.

—It's… complicated, you know? After so long of us being friends.

Her words seemed to take a very obvious direction, but the young woman did not seem very excited, just curious about what her best friend wanted to tell her.

—It sounds like something important, may I know what it is?

But there was no response, and not specifically because Smoke wanted it that way.

—Smoke! —A scream was heard in the distance.

Both of them looked at who called the man near them, turning out to be the young man that you and Smoke had known for a long time, but never as well as Smoke or Bi-Han, or his brother.

—Sector? —Smoke asks, intrigued —what's going on?

He stands up from the chair, moving to stand in front of she. She didn't notice it because she only saw his back, but there was a serious grimace on his face, knowing that a bad event was approaching.

—I need to talk with you.

His brow furrowed, as that feeling in his head that something bad was about to happen grew like a graph rising exponentially. The gray-haired man asked her to go to her room, which confused her, after all, why did she need to get away from someone she knew as well as Sektor?

She shook her head, her eyes closing for a moment before she snapped back to reality, and decided to get up. Obeying the request—although it was more like an order—from her best friend, she couldn't even say goodbye to Sektor, because the tension in the air didn't allow it.

She left the garden, getting away from everything to be able to access her inner thoughts, which you always kept locked in her room. In her face, which was always that of someone carefree, dropped to a thoughtful grimace; It had been several weeks since she stopped seeing Bi-Han, and both Liang and Smoke refused to talk to her about him, dodging your question almost in an Olympic manner.

You shook your head, trying not to go overboard with her thoughts, so as to vent the darkness of her soul on pages full of ink in Morse code. However, when she opened the door, she was surprised that someone was already waiting for her.

With his characteristic bluish clothes accompanied by his hair tied up and a permanently serious face in any situation —which he did not let her see because he had his back to you—, she saw him, the man from whom she heared so much expected even to know his whereabouts.

—"It is then that, by mere self-awareness, I notice that nothing is the same. For a long time I mistakenly thought that they were only kind to me, but inside me, very buried deep in my soul, I knew that the lie was extensive, a which had invaded my life and brought me to a point of no return, now I ask myself, over and over again, what can I do to escape them?"

A noise of piles of pages suddenly colliding with others in a book is heard. It is then that he extends that dusty book into your range of vision, allowing you to see where he had gotten those words from.

—I always figured you weren't as dumb as the former grandmaster led us to believe, —Bi-Han explained, his serious voice sounding surprisingly relaxed —after all, you were going to be my wife one day.

The woman shook her head, her jaw rubbing against her bottom and top teeth.

—My father taught me that I should get a woman who had a lot of intelligence, one who could help me and that I would give her the same help in return —He began his explanation—, and when he picked you up from that house, I thought you were going to be that woman.

He got up from the ground, while (Name) stepped back, but the moment she wanted to open the door and leave, she realized that it was closed, and locked. When trying to push against the door, someone responded by exerting much more pressure against the wood to prevent it from being opened.

—But, I was unpleasantly surprised that he didn't want you for that —The man threw her book on the bed —, he wanted you for himself, he wanted you to be his perfect daughter, the girl who was destined for a life of her own. , or rather, to a life with him.

She shook her head again and again, her gaze dropping to the ground, fixating on the remains of destroyed metal on the ground in front of the window.

—He wanted you for himself, he wanted you to be just his daughter until the end of his life, and that when he died, you would be left alone, taking care of this place as if it were yours —The man gritted his teeth —, and he became obsessed with the idea that you really were his blood daughter.

The woman's heart palpitations were such that it seemed like it was threatening to break the bones in her chest, she felt as if the air did not seem to reach completely into her lungs, as if it had stopped in the middle of the breath. veins of her.

—Kuai Liang and Smoke believed the same thing, that you were destined to give them orders, and they took care of you in a cradle of gold —He continued, now taking slow but forceful steps towards her —, you grew up away from the world, and they taught you what was necessary to that you could do everything from here.

She shook her head, her hands going to her ears, applying pressure, as if she wanted not to hear the reality behind the man's words, however, he took the woman's hands, easily forcing them to stay in her ears. shoulders.

—And Liang and Smoke became obsessed with the idea that you were weak, that you needed protection, that you were destined to lead from this damn room while they risked their lives for you—He press her hands against the wall—but I know better than that. You deserve so much more than that, someone like you needs much more than these four walls.

Her cries of denial echoed through the room, a wish that someone would magically appear and save her from Bi-Han's words. But she knew it was reality, that she couldn't deny the fact that she was like a bird in a cage full of harmless traps to keep it locked there.

—I will give you the life you deserve, and I will not let either of these two interfere in our destiny —He brought her face closer to her neck, pressing gently—. I am not alone, both Sektor and other Lin Kuei know what your destiny is, and they are willing to do everything to make it come true.

The poor woman sobbed, her arms too weak to fight someone as big as him.

But then, an explosion of smoke covered the place, while both of them heard the door being torn out. One arm took hold of her waist, taking hold of her body and stepping back with her in her arms.

—I knew they were up to something, —Liang whispered, before setting her down again —. Don't you understand that this is not right?

Smoke took her into her arms, pressing her face against her neck, while her hands clung to her body.

—You speak as if you know what she wants, —Bi-han replies, leaving the room —. Do you really think that someone like her deserves to be locked up in this place forever?

—Shut up now!.

It was the first time in a long time since she had heard Kuai Liang respond with such aggression, and in fact, she had never heard him speak with such expressions of anger.

—You don't know her, you just made yourself sick with the idea that she deserved to be by your side —Liang says, taking the blade out of his pocket —You already betrayed all of our father's will, what do you think gives you the right to also kidnap our future leader?

It was strange to hear him use that word, being that the idea that she was secretly in charge of keeping the clan alive in the new generations, but now that that idea had become a reality, she just wished it was a lie, an ugly one and horrendous lie.

Smoke walked away from the fight, carrying (Name) in his arms to safety place.

She knew the truth, she knew she had to take a path, one that was always going to be linked to obsession, and a sick feeling of horror invaded her chest at the idea that, wherever she went, it would always be the same.

Sorry if it took me too long, I was working on some headcanons that I had pending on Tumblr, soon there will be more one-shots and headcanons <3

[classycoffeecat]

Me going about my day...

My brain: what about the onion field!?!? what was that all about?!?

Me: Ahhhhh!!! The ONION FIELD!!!!

[watarfallar]

I don't know what to put for a title...INCORRECT QUOTES!

BigB: Are you drunk? Impulse: Only on the spirit of Christmas! Pearl: And the spirit of whisky.

Skizz: Three of the four elements are represented as types of hockey. Air hockey, ice hockey, and field hockey. Fire hockey needs to be a thing. Scar: Fire hockey absolutely does NOT need to be a thing. BigB: Do you care NOTHING for the balance of the four elements?!

Gem: What must it be like to live in your head? Are there happy ponies in there? It’s really something how utterly delusional your optimism is. If I didn’t hate you so much, I might even be impressed. Martyn: Huzzah! I got a heavily qualified and slightly sarcastic compliment from Gem!

Etho: But when all hope seemed lost, I had an epiphany! Etho, earlier: I'm going to throw myself into the sea.

Joel: I hate Scar. Pearl: "Hate' is a strong word. Joel: I have strong opinions.

Impulse: I am strong! I beat Jimmy at arm wrestling! BigB: Anyone can beat Jimmy at arm wrestling! Jimmy: Hey-

Grian: Hey, I see those leaves, where are you from? Impulse: Illinois. Grian: AAYYYE, I KNEW IT! ME TOO! Ren: Did you just identify a state by looking at its leaves.

BigB, when Scott walks in: Oh, hey, I'm just making pizza. BigB: *accidentally smacks Ren in the face with the baking sheet*

Grian: *walks into the kitchen, ignoring everyone* Martyn: Hey, Grian, how was your day? Grian: *picks up an onion and bites into it, staring at Martyn* Hell. Mumbo, watching this unfold: *whispers* Who hurt you?

Martyn: It’s impossible to make a sentence without using the letter A. Scar: Despite your thinking, it is quite possible, yet difficult, to form one without the specific letter. Here’s one more to further disprove your theory. Joel: Fuck you.

Etho: Are you ever going to listen to me? Ren: Yes. Absolutely. Etho: When? Ren: When you're right.

Skizz, teaching Grian to drive: Okay Grian, what does a green light mean? Grian: Go! Skizz: A red light? Grian: Stop! Skizz: And what about a yellow light? Grian: If you floor it, you can make it! Skizz: …No—

Lizzie: We are gathered here today because someone- *glares at Bdubs’s coffin* -couldn’t stay alive!

Martyn: What if we were stranded on a desert island? Who would you eat? Jimmy: Etho. Martyn: So fast? Wh-what about me? I would eat you! Jimmy: That’s very nice, I guess. Martyn: Why wouldn’t you eat me? I’m your best friend. Jimmy: Look, if other people are having some, I’ll try you.

Tango: Say no to drugs. Gem: Say yes to drugs. Jimmy: It doesn't matter if you say yes or no to drugs. If you're talking to drugs.. then you're on drugs.

Impulse: "What are you into?" is such a broad question, like do I reply with a TV series or choking?

Lizzie: There. How do I look? Jimmy: Like a cheap French harlot. Lizzie: French?!

BigB: My dad died when I was little so whenever someone jokes about fucking my mom I’ll pretend to be really sincere and say some shit like “Glad to see she’s moving on, my dad’s death hit her pretty hard.” Then watch them absolutely fumble trying to figure out a response to that statement. BigB: Update, she got a new partner I can no longer make the joke.

Cleo: It'll be fun. Cleo: We'll make a day of it. Cleo: Come on you punk bitch. Scar: I can't believe I have to say this. Scar: I don't have time to get tested for sti's with you tomorrow.

Grian: Capitalization is the difference between "I had to help my uncle Jack off a horse.." and "I had to help my uncle jack off a horse.."

Scar: I haven’t lost my virginity. Jimmy: Because you have no friends? Scar: No... because I never lose!

Lizzie: *banging a pen on the table out of frustration* Gem: Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table? Lizzie: I— Lizzie: I don’t know the correct answer to that question.

[tahdashi]

fluff ⊹ college au

as much as he hates to admit it to himself, osamu is struggling. 

he wants to be strong — someone you could depend on, someone you could run to when life’s wearing you down, someone you could simply feel content and safe with. his thoughts were plagued with the notion that he was anything but that someone to you. 

and that’s why he does everything in his ability to bring that radiant smile — the one he finds himself daydreaming about — to the curve of your lips. 

while his friends go out to dingy frat houses, singing at the top of their lungs as they celebrate their freedom and youth, osamu picks up the night shift at the diner by his apartment. he started working there his first year, hoping to make some extra money so his mom wouldn’t have to worry about him from miles and miles away. the owner was a sweet man, roughly in his 60s, often humming an incomprehensible tune as he chopped vegetables and meat. truthfully, osamu didn’t mind working extra shifts while his friends went out (they’d call him boring and a workaholic, but he didn’t care). in fact, he was happy to make extra money if it meant that he could take you out to a fancy dinner (a local ramen restaurant), buy you dessert afterward (a quick stop to the convenience store with a smile on his face as he watches the light from the freezer section reflect in your eyes), and surprise you with flowers to end the night (hand-picked from the field a couple miles off campus). 

perhaps he should be living like the rest — either catching up on assignments in the library or coming back home stumbling and slurring his words. perhaps he should start saving his money like you always tell him to, but he’s only twenty and feels no reason to. 

he’d much rather be here, at the silver counter at the back of the diner kitchen, experimenting with different sauces while the man next to him hums the same usual love song. this time, the aura’s a bit different. the man has a smile on his face, he’s chopping the green onion at a slow beat as if there’s a metronome playing in his head. 

“son, ya like cookin’, don’t ya?” 

“i do, sir,” osamu continues to add garlic to the simmering sauce in his pan, a sugary sheen glazing over it. 

“why not cook at home? bring that special someone ya keep thinkin’ about,” he jerks his elbow towards osamu’s arm. 

“i like working here. i like the people, and the food, and the sounds.” 

osamu also likes how you visit him every friday when your classes end. without a doubt, rain or shine, you’ll glide into the diner with a soft smile on your lips. he likes how you walk over to the counter and ask him if there’s a ‘samu around. he also likes how you look behind him, checking on the man who’s too busy tapping his wooden spoon against the pot to notice, before placing a gentle kiss to his lips. and in that moment, he lets himself close his eyes, relax a little, melt into it like softened butter. 

and when you pull away, you see the sleepiness in his eyes. you always wonder how he goes to class, comes to work, goes to the library to work on assignments, and then rushes back to the diner after he eats so he can work another shift. bringing your hand up to cradle his cheek, you ask if he’s okay. he leans into the warmth of your skin for a second before giving you a quick nod. 

“i’m almost done with my shift. wanna go out for somethin’ in a bit?” 

“we don’t have to eat out today,” you tell him, tugging on his sleeve like you always do when you insist on staying in. 

“not even ice cream? ya said ya wanted to try that shit-lookin' chocolate one.” 

“if your shit looks like that i’m a bit concerned for you,” you tell him, twirling his sleeve around your fingers. his teeth peek out from his lips in a dimply smile, one that has you swooning. "no shit-lookin' ice cream today."

"then what do ya wanna do? it's friday night, ya should do something fun." you notice the way he excludes himself from his words.

"how about we just chill at my place tonight? watch a movie or something? i still have those chips you like," you insist. "and my roommates aren't home. stay as long as you want?"

oh, how 'samu loves your place — the comfort of your bed, your sheets that smell like you. he can't help but nod a bit too eagerly, catching your hand in his larger ones.

he gets back to work as quick as he can, not wanting you to leave you waiting, but truthfully, you don't mind. you watch his back flex in his black uniform as he wipes down the counter. osamu can feel your eyes on him, and suddenly he has love songs blooming in his mind, wisps of a sweet melody coursing through his veins.

you're too good for him, he thinks. you don't mind his chaste kisses when he's in a rush, or when he decides to nap on your shoulder between classes.

he throws his boss a quick wave before throwing on his jacket, shoving his arm into the sleeve as he stumbles towards the front of the diner to see you again. you look up at him with something like ardor and solace swimming in your eyes. placing a quick kiss to the top of your head, osamu slips his hand into yours.

"sorry, babe, took me longer than usual to check inventory," he apologizes, squeezing your hand a couple times as the brisk air touches your skin.

"'s all good. i like watching you work. you're all focused in there."

"gotta be or that man's gonna throw me out. how else am i gonna pay for your expensive ass drinks?"

"all that for a matcha with sweet cream cold foam," you squeeze his hand back in appreciation.

"yeah, well, don't wan' anyone else buyin' those for ya."

osamu's cute like this — nose all red from the cold, a wrinkle in his brow at the thought of someone else surprising you with your favorite drink every morning. atsumu thinks his brother has it bad for you ("down so fuckin' bad, dude," he'd say), and honestly, osamu agrees. he never thought he'd be excited to wake up at the crack of dawn to pick up your favorite coffee before your 8 am, or watch you get distracted by online shopping when you should've been doing your assignment. if love is seeing you at the end of each day, kissing your lips even when he's covered in condiments and oil, holding your backpack for you after a long day, then osamu wants it all.

because even when he should be worrying about the quiz he has tomorrow and the fact that he hasn't slept properly in the past four weeks, he starts to hum that familiar love song when you unlock the door to your apartment (it's become familiar to you, too, because that tune escapes his lips whenever you're by his side).

reblogs n interactions are appreciated!

[gay-fae]

okay but does anyone know of a doc/masterpost/record of like. all the events, memes, and general insanity of Nov 5th and its aftermath? I’m talking “why lamp”, I’m talking the onion field, I’m talking “jackles release the tapes” and “y yo a ti” and superhell and all of it. my memory of the details is fading and I need so badly to remember.

[mostlyincorrectdipandpip]

Writing Phan Fiction About Ourselves Stories

I literally just listened to the video, typed as fast as I could, then edited the red squiggles and formatted it to look nice. Let me know what edits need to be made!

Story 1 - The Dragon Prince by Dan Howell

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Dan, from House Fire, whose motto was, "The fire in our ass will never die" and from Phil, the House Amazing, the Kingdom of Squatting. They were sworn enemies whose houses had been at war ever since The Great Lamp Licking incident. One day, Dan was bathing his fiery drake, Kamala Harris, when he saw a glint in the refection of his gauntlet. It was a surprise attack from that scally wag, Phil. He mounted his dragon and yelled his signature war cry, "ZING!"

Phil looked down on the Fire Kingdom. "More like squishy kingdom!" But before he knew it, Dan was on his tail. He was so close he was practically on his toe. Their beasts, Kamala Harris and Markiplier, realeased flames at the same time, like a torrent of lethal piss. Double KO, they fell to the ground and loss consciousness. Dan awoke to find Phil's brain stuck in Dan's eye. He shouted, "Wow, this is a moist situation." Phil roused, gayly. "You saved me," he said.

They locked eyes and knew in that moment how futile their feud was. They saved each other, did they have to slay each other? In that moment, Phil felt something skipping down his hips. He swam as hard as he could and suddenly, he felt it. Phil had birthed a beautiful purple egg. Dan scoffed, "the prophecy is true! It's our child!"

"The legendary worm, and we shall name him Gary," said Phil.

THE END

Story 2 - The Princes by Phil Lester

Once upon a castle, in the Kingdom of Evony, there were two princes belonging to warring families. Tonight was the last time they would meet before the great battle. Danielo awoke, sword in hand as he heard a shuffle at the door. Philipus walked into hid bedroom wearing a panty.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, but I thought I'd tell you that my father is bringing a dragon into the battle, and also a large enchanted hippo." Danielo cried a single tear.

"I don't want to die for this stupid family. I just want to be a knight with you and help old ladies cross the street."

"Why must we spill blood?" Danielo smirked. "Glory and amazon coins."

Philipus says, "Since it's our final night together, I thought we could do our favorite activity, twerking together. It might make up a bit sweaty, but it makes me constipated."

As the sun rose, the two knights had fallen asleep in a hay field using rabbit shit as bedding. This was the morning of the battle, they would be rivaling sides, leading the charge against each other. Danielo few into battle on his dragon, Jeff, scanning lines for his prince, Philipus. Philipus raised his sword into the sky as he was silhouetted by the beast. This was not a fair fight. The war had begun, thousands were being killed. Philipus has a secret weapon, a medieval salami.

His best friend flew down from his dragon and approached him. They crossed swords.

"I can't do this, Philipus" screamed Danielo. "I want to move to North Korea and start our jobs as OnlyPhans' models."

Philipus tried to reason with him, but suddenly Danielo's dragon, Jeff, started to breath fire at them both. It was so hot that Danielo was on fire. He had one final word for Philipus.

"Yeee," as both knights burned to death. They were then eaten by the dragon as a toasty BBQ snack. They tasted like Takis Fuego. The dragon went on to kill all soldiers and both kings. It ruled the castle in a happy gay life with his dragon boyfriend, Alessandra and laid a dragon egg they called Kip. They never saw a human again. The Princes were always remembered as the tastiest snacks in the Kingdom.

Story 3 - The Big Sword by Phan Howlter

They stared at the intimidating shape, thinking, "damn, that is one crusty shaft". Two lowly village boys had found a cave filled with sour cream and onion pringles. One of us must grip this with our teeth. They know one of them would gain the power of hamster flicking.

"I believe its you!" Mr. Phil, the wet pauper, exclaimed.

"Thank you. I got this for you. It's my favorite Party Hat."

"We will never know which on of us is truly the chosen one," uttered Dan, sexily. "We'll have to do it together."

And so the boys stood wearing sports bras, daring to survive the cyclone threatening to bare down on the. They interlocked hands on the shaft as they thought of their favorite food, egg.

"Either we both become heroes, or we might as well become trump supporters."

They yanked it with the might of a thousand anteaters and it burst from the ground, but in that moment, a glint of greed in each boys eye. They wanted the greatness for themselves and all of the steak knives waiting for them in the village. So they tumbled as the blade ripped open their jockstraps and with boing, they knew it was over and they were both impaled on the sword. Gravity was pulling them closer, like a toilet lid. As their noses pressed together, the blood poured out of them like a hydro pump.

"I always knew it would end like this," says Dan.

"You mean scared and throbbing?"

"I wouldn't rather do this with anyone else."

Then they died. Then forever, their petrified bodies stood as a warning to all who sought glory, if you dare to thrust, you will get put on the naughty step.

(respectfully, this was like.... a hard launch right? Like this is the hardest lauch I have ever seen??)