must rectify this

Check it out: you can chomp on POTATO, MACARONI, and EGG salads but there’s no PANCAKE salad??? What gives!? Can someone call, like, a food inventor or salad scientist or whoevers dang job it is to innovate our meals and get this fixed immmediately? It has been too long, living in this pancake-salad-less world, and it must be rectified. Taking a stand!

New EditHero Killer : Stain ( ヒーロー殺し ステイン )

“The fake must be rectified.. Someone, Someone must stain himself in his blood! The word “Hero” must be restored. Come! Just try you fakes!

The only one who’s allowed to kill me is the true hero, All Might!!” 

___  Chizome Akaguro  ( 赤黒血染 ) //  Hero Killer : Stain  

Guy Talk

Our favorite males just hanging out, drinking.  Read the rest of my Nessian crap:  Part 1Part 2Part 3.


Cassian braced his forearm against the table and stretched his other hand out, making grabbing motions in the air.  Rhys slid the bottle and a glass over to him.  He poured a thumb’s length, swirled it, and inhaled.  The rich aroma filled his nose and he took a sip, rolling it in his mouth before swallowing.  It burned a fiery trail down his throat, spreading heat through his stomach.  Leaning back in his chair, he held the glass up to the waning light, studying the color.  “That’s some good shit.  Where you been hiding this?”

His brother was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, rubbing his temples.  “Under my bed.”

Cassian snorted.  “Under your bed?”  

“How the hell else was I going to keep it from Mor?”

“Good point.”  They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks, wings extended, soaking in the last of the warmth as the sun dropped behind the rooftops and faelights bloomed out around them.  “What the hell am I doing?” he finally asked, almost under his breath as he leaned forward and rested his face on his arms.

Rhys crossed his arms , dropped his chin on his chest, and looked at him, just a touch of humor playing around his mouth.  “You’re a glutton for pain, brother.  This is just another battlefield and you’re going to keep throwing yourself in there and damn the consequences.”

Ah, well, he couldn’t argue with that.  Neither of them even looked up as Azriel dropped out of the air, landed lightly on the roof, and stalked over to pour himself a drink.  He slumped into another chair, and eyed the other two.  “So I take it things went well,” he said drily.  “No mates tonight?”  He took a sip of his drink and raised the glass, squinting at it.  “This is nice.  Where did it come from?”

“Under his bed,” Cassian replied.  Azriel just nodded in response, as if that was a logical source of high-quality, and no doubt very expensive, spirits.  “And I’m sitting here drinking because of my so-called mate.”  He sat up again and rubbed a broad hand up the back of his neck, ruffling his hair.  “The camp tour went better than expected, actually, except for that one prick you already took care of,” he expanded.  It was true.  Not only had they found Sabine and Brisa to help with female integration among the warriors, but the new camp lords were all managing to introduce the policies Rhys had laid out with relatively little grumbling.  One advantage of being able to hand-pick people, he supposed.  “Now we just have to win over the rest of them.  Which means visiting more of them.  Which is also why I’m sitting here drinking.”

Rhys rustled his wings.  “How’d it go with the two you and Mor picked up for me?”  Cassian felt a twinge of guilt.  He’d forgotten Mor had brought the female here in all the chaos that he and Nesta had landed in at that second camp.  While he had been recruiting Sabine and Brisa, Rhys had gone ahead to straighten out the shitstorm that had arisen.  A veteran from the war had taken exception to a female who was training with Siphons and had beaten him in what was supposed to be a friendly target competition.  He’d waited until she was returning to her tent that night and attacked her with a knife, nearly severing the main muscle on her left wing before her screams brought the rest of the camp.  The warlord had thrown the prick in the holding cell where he had sat for two days awaiting the High Lord’s arrival.  Rhys, in a cold rage after seeing the female’s condition, had nearly misted him on sight but fatigue of bloodshed had stayed his hand.  Instead, he’d called in Azriel to mete out the shadowsinger’s version of justice.  This had caused a near-brawl between the old guard who thought the warrior had been well within his rights and the younger generation who wanted him to pay for his crimes, one that only fear of Rhys’ power had kept from turning into slaughter until Cassian and Nesta had dropped into the middle of it.  The sight of the Commander who had fought so valiantly in the war snarling at them, Siphons flaring, had finally subdued the protest from the older camp males but there was still tension.  

Azriel’s cold face remained impassive but he didn’t try to keep the hatred from his voice or his shadows from curling around him as he told them what he’d done.  How the male had protested that no bitch was going to be able to hold up under the pressure of battle, that they should all be clipped so they could breed more male warriors whether they wanted to or not.  How he’d used Truth-Teller to create the same injuries the male had inflicted on the female, then dumped him in the middle of the mountains.  If he made it to a camp, he could call in a healer.  Otherwise…  “But the female is doing fairly well.  The camp healer did a good job getting her stabilized.  Mor said they should be able to save the wing.  But I’m not sure how it’ll affect recruitment for that camp.”  It was a good point.  Other females may be reluctant to join after the assault.

“Hopefully they’ll remember that the other members of the camp stepped in and stopped him before he did more,” Rhys said, “and realize that we won’t tolerate abuse of any recruit, male or female.”  The other two nodded and fell back into silence.  Cassian tipped back the last of his drink and reached for the bottle again, pouring himself a more generous measure.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Lucien emerged then pulled up short.  “I didn’t realize you were back.  Is this little gathering open to people without wings?”

“Yes,” Rhys replied, “as long as you’ve got a cock and balls.  We’re mate-free tonight.”

Cassian snorted, eyeing Lucien.  “Not sure you qualify, Fox Boy.”

Lucien just grinned.  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Now, now,” Azriel interjected, “that sort of thing should be done behind closed doors.”  Cassian shrugged and held the bottle out to Lucien.  Rhys procured a glass, and Lucien poured his drink and sat, an amused glint still evident in his russet eye.

“What’s eating you?” he asked, gesturing with his chin at Cassian.  

“It’s more a question of who’s not,” Azriel murmured.  Cassian shot him a glare while Rhys and Lucien chuckled.  

“Trouble in paradise?” Lucien asked innocently.

Cassian bristled at the red-headed male.  It was one thing for his brothers to tease him, but this sly new member of the court hadn’t earned the right.  “Shouldn’t you be taking care of your own mate?”

“I already did,” Lucien replied smoothly, “then came up here for some fresh air.  I hadn’t realized I’d just be choking on testosterone and frustration.”  The three warriors stared at him for a second before roaring with laughter.  Rhys raised his empty glass at Lucien in a silent toast, then snagged himself a refill.  “No, seriously, were there problems on your trip?”

Rhys shook his head.  “Nothing more than the usual.  It’s not easy trying to bring an entire culture around.  But I agree it appears something is chafing my brother’s ass and I too would love to know what it is.”

“Other than his undersized pants?”

Cassian shot Lucien a look while he decided what to say.  “Well, you might not know but Nesta and I…”

“We know,” chorused the other three males.  “By the Cauldron, we know,” Lucien added under his breath.

“Right,” he said, feeling oddly self-conscious, “well, when we were flying to the camp that first day Nesta may have suggested that we try something new.  In the air.”

Azriel inhaled his sip of liquor and started sputtering and coughing, and Rhys got up and went over to clap him on the back.  Lucien sat up straighter, rubbing his chin.  “I’d never thought of that.”

“Of what?” Cassian snapped.

“That you guys could do that.  It certainly would add variety.”

Rhys gave him a knowing look.  “It’s surprisingly challenging, though.”

Cassian and Azriel gaped at him.  “You’ve done it?”

Rhys snorted.  “Of course.  Are you honestly telling me in the past five centuries you guys haven’t?”

“Not until now,” Cassian replied while Azriel shook his head.  “Wait, have you done it with Feyre?”

“Well, no.  Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“An oversight,” he said with a shrug.  “One I must rectify immediately, come to mention it.”

“Just don’t do it anywhere Nesta might see you,” Cassian warned.

Lucien was leaning back in his chair, watching them with a smirk.  “I have never been jealous of the wings until this exact moment.”

“Don’t get me started on you,” Cassian warned.  “You should be more cognizant of the fact that family members might be flying overhead the next time you have Elain go down on you up here in broad daylight.”

Rhys and Azriel both started and looked to Lucien, eyes narrowed, but Lucien was utterly unembarrassed.  “Cognizant?”

“Yeah, it means -“

“Oh, I know what it means,” he interrupted, smile broadening, “I just had no idea you could string so many syllables together.  I’m impressed.  And will take that under advisement.”

Cassian shook his head.  “Just be glad I didn’t have Nesta with me.  Or Feyre.  And you should be jealous of the wings,” he said, as he slowly stretched them to their full span, “for lots of reasons.”

Azriel cleared his throat.  “So what happened?”  Returning them to more pressing matters.

“Well, first I dropped her -“

What?”

“I caught her again!”  Defensively.  “And then we figured it out and it was…perfect.  Well, not perfect, it’s really hard to control your altitude when things are happening, but you get it.  Then afterwards, it seemed like that…barrier she holds was coming down, you know?  Like I was going to finally be able to, I don’t know, really reach her through the bond.  But as soon as she realized that she froze me out again, and it just hasn’t been the same.”

Rhys was looking at him with an incredulous expression as he said, “What the hell are you two usually doing? We could hear you all over the camps!  You’re worse than Feyre and I ever were!”

“That is so not true, you did not have to live with you when you first got together,” Cassian snapped. Rhys looked vaguely puzzled while he tried to untangle that.  Lucien looked slightly ill.  “Besides, that’s not even what I mean.  It’s just, I thought she was finally going to accept me, the bond, but now…It’s never going to happen.”  His voice was forlorn.  Rhys and Az exchanged looks, not sure what to say.  Silence fell for a few minutes, broken only by a clink of glass against the table as Lucien set down his drink.

He leaned forward, fingers splayed across his knees.  “Let me get this straight.  You are talking about an Archeron sister.”  Cassian nodded.  “The most, er, challenging of all the Archeron sisters.”  Cassian bristled at this characterization of his mate but Lucien continued, oblivious.  “You’re complaining to Rhysand and I, who are mated to the other Archeron sisters, about the difficulty of establishing the bond.  When both of our mates were in love with other males when we met them.  Hell, they were both engaged!  Rhys had to put Feyre back together when she basically wanted to die before she could recognize the bond, and I had to try to build a relationship with Elain when she had had her heart broken by Graysen and was completely traumatized by the Cauldron and terrified of her visions.  I had to make myself leave when I wanted nothing more than to stay, so she could have enough breathing room to start to heal.  We did everything we could to be a stabilizing force for them, to figure out what they needed when they couldn’t or wouldn’t tell us.”  Lucien was breathing heavily, golden skin flushed, russet eye hard.  “But after you and Nesta saved each other in the war, you walked away from her.  You promised her you would fight for her, then you walked away and more or less ignored her for months.  And you expect it to be easy?  She can barely let her own sisters see who she really is, and they’ve always been there for her.  You expect her to just drop her barriers and welcome you on in?”

The three Illyrians were staring at him, mouths agape, identical expressions of pure shock on their faces at the outburst.  He stood up and leaned across the table at Cassian, snarling, the most aggressive expression any of them had ever seen on his face.  “Buck up.  Get over yourself.  She’s willing to let you in her bed, accept that miracle for what it is and be patient.  Figure out what she needs and stop thinking about what you want.  Don’t run again or you’ll never get another chance.”

He turned to head back downstairs to Elain, shaking his head, muttering something under his breath.

“What was that?” Cassian challenged, recovering his voice.  Lucien stiffened and turned slowly.

“I said, ‘Cauldron boil me, how the hell are you not still a virgin?’” he half-yelled across the rooftop.  He turned back again to come face-to-face with Feyre.  She seemed to be warring between anxiety and amusement at the lot of them.  “I’m not sure you’re allowed up here,” he said to her, “unless you can use your shape-shifting to grow…never mind.”  He pushed past her and went down the stairs.

Feyre shook her head as she approached the males still seated around the table.  Cassian was opening and closing his mouth but nothing was coming out.  “Lucien got your tongue?” she asked innocently.  He just stood, shook his head, and launched into the air.  She turned to her mate.  “What the hell are you guys doing up here?”  She spotted the nearly empty bottle on the table.  “Besides drinking all the good liquor.”

The two remaining males broke down into helpless laughter.  “Cassian just had his ass handed to him by Fox Boy,” Rhys gasped out.

“That was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Azriel added.

Rhys stood, gathering Feyre in his arms and kissed the top of her head.  “I have a new project for us,” he said into her hair.  She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into him.  

“Okay.  I’m tired though, can we just go to bed?”

He chuckled and pulled away a little, putting an arm around her shoulders.  “Of course.  Just remind me to tell you in the morning.  ’Night, brother.”

Azriel nodded in response and spread his wings.  “Cognizant,” he said to himself, shaking his head, and shot into the sky before wheeling towards the House of Wind.  

“What was all that really about?”  Feyre asked.

“Cassian was feeling sorry for himself and Lucien wasn’t having it.  You Archeron sisters.  You’re going to be the death of us.”  He squeezed her shoulders and planted a kiss below her ear.  “And our salvation.”  She leaned into him and they looked up at the night sky, lost in the starscape above them, lost in the depth of their bond.

anonymous asked:

Do you know any good THoB fix it fics, but specifically comfort still taking place at Baskerville *coughcough post scene in front of the fire place cough* Tysm!!!!!!

Hi Nonny! Not a whole lot of fix-its… A lot more angsty than anything, but I do have a few taking place during and inspired by THoB!

THOB / POST-THOB

Mentality by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 1k+ w. || Friendship, Hurt / Comfort) – It was weird. But Sherlock was having a panic attack. Re-write of the Hounds of the Baskerville scene. Doctor!John.

What Sherlock Missed by chappysmom (K, 1k+ w. || Friendship, Fluff, Silly Ending) – Maybe Sherlock didn’t see everything he should have seen at Baskerville. 

Baskerville After Dark by Ttime42 (T, 1k+ w. || Friendship, Humour, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Pre-Slash) – John and Sherlock have to share a bed at Baskerville. Snippets of their time at Dartmoor.

Equilibrium by augustbird (M, 12,351 w. || Jealous then Worried Sherlock, Sick John) – At Baskerville, John is infected by a virus that turns him into a genius. But when the infection progresses into neurodegeneration, it’s a race against time to save himself. Flowers for Algernon fusion.

Duvet (green) by Mazarin221b (G, 2021 w. || Post-HoB, Revelations, First Kiss, Sherlock’s Mind Palace) – Sherlock recalibrates and restructures his mind palace so it looks like 221b. What he chooses to put in John’s room is a bit of a surprise, and a revelation.

PTSD / NIGHTMARES

Living In Fear by Lady Sam Mallory  (T, 4k+ w. || H/C, Angst, Post-THoB, Nightmares/PTSD) – Missing Scene for Hounds of the Baskerville. John suffers from massive PTSD episodes upon their return from Dartmoor.

In The Wake by Ambikai (K+, 2k+ w. || Post-THOB, H/C, Friendship) – After returning from Baskerville, Sherlock and John deal with the aftermath: unsure of where they sit with one another.

After the Bombs by VampirePam (T, 3k+ w. || Angst, H/C, PTSD) – In which the drugs Sherlock used to dose John trigger a severe episode of PTSD. When terrors old and new cause John to fall apart, Sherlock must rectify his mistake and pick up the pieces.

Afghanistan in Baskerville by Amaya Ramiel (K+, 4k+ w. || Hurt/Comfort, PTSD) – What if John hadn’t seen the hound when Sherlock trapped him in the lab? What if instead, his very real nightmares of the war had materialized all around him? Trapped and drugged, John can’t tell what’s real and what’s not. How will Sherlock react?

Peaky by mattmetzger  (K+, 1k + w. || Post-THoB, Friendship, Angst, PTSD / Nightmares) – A nightmare is nothing but a brain processing recent events, and having a bad light to do it in. It will run its course. So why can’t Sherlock just leave?

ALTERNATE UNIVERSES

Too Visible by chappysmom (K+, 23K+ w. || Friendship, AU, John’s Got an Ability) – With his gift of being invisible, John has always worried about being locked away in an experimental government lab. Baskerville is quite literally John’s worst nightmare—and the hound has nothing to do with it. It’s all Sherlock’s fault, but will he realize that? Sequel to Invisible and Still Invisible, Prequel to Invisible Once More

You Remind Me of a Man by columbine-and-asphodel (M, 17k+ w. || Sci-Fi, H/C, AU) – Sherlock is a living human experiment. John, an android medicinal ethics monitor, reviews the place that’s been experimenting on Sherlock and is thrown by what he finds. Inspired by but no spoilers for The Hounds of Baskerville.

The Curious Adventure of the Drs. Watson by ShinySherlock (M, 40,883 w. || Body Swap, Time Travel, Magical Artifacts, Victorianlock, ACD-BBC Fusion) – What if ACD Watson and BBC Watson switched places… John finds a journal and goes on an adventure that he never asked for.

ON MY MARKED FOR LATER LIST

(I haven’t read these yet, so read at your own risk.)

I’ve Just Got One by sarah_jehan (G, 1797 w. || Johnlock Freeform, Fluff) – Slightly-altered episode insert in which John simply walks away from Sherlock after the “friend” in The Hounds Of Baskerville spiel and Sherlock watches him leave instead of going after him and it’s a bit fluffy.

The Innkeeper’s Question by orphan_account (M, 1735 w. || Fluff) – This is set in Season 2, episode 2 of Sherlock. A bit fluffy, a bit serious, but overall lots of fun.

Fifteen Years by Bitenomnom (NR, 1209 w. || Marriage, Retirement, Kissing, Character Death, Introspection) – A lot changes in fifteen years, and a lot doesn’t. Fifteen years before Baskerville, John wanted a dog. Fifteen years before Sherlock was in court, Sherlock was in court. Fifteen years before John met Sherlock, John wasn’t interested in the violin. Fifteen years before he met Irene Adler, someone asked Sherlock out for dinner. Fifteen years before Sherlock kissed John, Sherlock kissed John. Part 46 of Mathematical Proof {{I’ve read a few stories in this series, and it’s been very enjoyable, so this will probably be a good one too.}}

Memento by audentes_fortuna_iuvat (E, 25,050 w.+ WiP || Angst, Character Study, Sherlock’s Past, Friend to Lovers) – Sherlock remembers flashes of time the way lightning strikes and thunder sounds during storms: suddenly and overwhelmingly. Some memories flood back like the opening of a dam, others yet like a broken tap, slow and steady and weak. And at the center of them all lies John Watson, the axis mundi of Sherlock Holmes’ life. Time floats on with John, and Sherlock starts to realize he’s dividing his life into two categories: Pre-John and With-John. As the axis turns harder and faster for Sherlock, he feels his life both coming together and unraveling at the same time. And soon, Sherlock finds himself in his greatest deduction yet, that of his mind and his heart, and finally sees how a self-professed ‘high functioning sociopath’ falls in love.

Silhouettes by allonsys_girl (E, 28,585 w. || Fluff, Bed Sharing, Angst, Drinking, Grief, Infidelity, Drug Use, POV John, Parentlock) – Sherlock and John find comfort in each other’s arms, but as ever with these two, it’s not your typical relationship. It’s fluffy at the beginning, gets deeply angsty in the middle, gets porny at the end. {{I think Baskerville is just briefly mentioned in the first chapter, it was tagged with THoB.}}

The Return to Baskerville by PeaJay (E, 31,343 w. || Angst, Torture, Est. Rel., John Whump, Case Fic, Smut, Graphic Violence) – Sherlock and John return to Baskerville to have another look around. They find a lot more than they bargain for. Especially John, who is kidnapped and brutally tortured. Graphic violence.
Part of the Mind the Gap series but can be read as a stand alone fic. Part 2 of Mind the Gap {{Been putting this one off because of the violence I think}}

Still of the Night by SoonerOrLater (G, 3717 w. || H/C, Angst, PTSD, Friendship) –  Short post-ep for Hounds of Baskerville, John and Sherlock talk a bit and deal with the fallout of the past few days, while Sherlock worries about the future.

The Naked Time by greyamber (T, 1217 w. || Pre-Slash, John’s Sci-Fi Obsession, Unhappy Ending) –  “John Hamish Watson was a hopeless Science Fiction fan, not that he could help. He had grown up with the Doctor, after all. Thank you very much.”

In Which There is a Row at Baskerville by thequeergiraffe (T, 944 w. || Pre-Slash) – John and Sherlock discuss the nature of their relationship. Can be read as a standalone. Part 20 of The Spaces In-between 


Hope these are satisfactory! Please, if any of y’all have suggestions, particularly the one that Nonny is looking for, feel free to add them!

captainbatbrain  asked:

I think ive read every single thing on this blog i love it so much!! Lol i was hoping i could get some senerios of the phantom thieves + mishima with a gamer s/o and trying to get there attention? Thank you!

I can’t believe you enjoy my blog so much, thank you! <3 This is such a cute and fun request, so I hope you don’t if I make it a little silly lol. Enjoy!


Akira:

The tapping of game controller buttons wafted throughout Leblanc’s rustic attic like the beat of a drum, with S/O as the fervent instrumentalist, their brows furrowed with a determination and concentration that was to be aspired to, particularly when performing mundane tasks, those of which Akira was currently preoccupied with. He had been fumbling with lockpicks for hours now, and one can only reiterate the same assignment until ennui begins to creep its way into the consciousness, plaguing it like a thick fog. He geared his attention toward the single person whose very presence prevented his sanity from thoroughly dilapidating.

S/O was inhabiting a universe of their own, ignorant and blissfully unaware of their current surroundings. 

“You seem to be having fun.” Akira rested his cheek upon his pal, with his elbow perched on his work-desk. As expected, he received no response, only the incessant sound of tapping buttons permeating his eardrums. His glistening onyx eyes softened at the sight of S/O tensed with such vigor. How adorable they appeared to him… truly, an exemplary target for the myriad of devious antics brewing in his mind. His lips curled in a smirk, the compulsion of teasing them too tempting to refuse.

“S/O…” Akira began, a solemn undertone in his baritone voice, “I need to tell you something.” Their subsequent grunt was likened to a neanderthal, and Akira firmly bit his lower lip to prevent himself from laughing. “I… think I’m pregnant.” He waited for their reaction with bated breath, but all that greeted his ears was another primal sound.

Shot down?! Akira thought, despondence slightly dampening his frivolous mood. Th-this is nothing… I welcome the challenge!

With a resolve that blazed like a wildfire in a parched wood, Akira sauntered to the couch that S/O was seated at and plopped down beside them, snaking his arms around their waist as he nestled his keen chin on their shoulder, his balmy breath fragrant with Arabica. His gaze was plastered on the luminescent TV screen, observing S/O’s gaming ability as he whispered commentary in a low, sensual cadence meant to imply suggestiveness. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Akira couldn’t possibly have anticipated S/O tensing even further; alas, that is precisely what occurred, much to his satisfaction, and although they neglected to reply verbally, their body language had spoken volumes. He proceeded with his mischievous jesting after a pause, “You’re doing so good, babe…" 

S/O was exceedingly conscious of his presence now, their sudden death streak and scathing scarlet cheeks serving as irrefutable evidence. Akira’s lips brushed their ear, his balmy sigh tickling it as his arms subtly constricted their waist, tugging them closer. “Your hands are almost as good as mi-”

In a foray of embarrassment, S/O promptly mashed their lips onto his conniving pair, thereby silencing his coquettish banter and causing his ebony orbs to widen with astonishment. When S/O reared back to survey his expression, an impressive ruby was painted over his once-pallid face, his mouth failing to provide a sufficient retort as it hung open.

This in turn provoked S/O’s cheeks to ignite like candle-flame as they exasperatedly exclaimed, “W-why are you embarrassed?! I guess you can dish it but you can’t it… anyway, what did you need?”

Akira feebly adjusted his glasses in an attempt to recover. “You’re pregnant.”

“H-huh?!”

“I-I mean, I’m pregnant…!”

“That’s no possible! …Wh-who’s the parent?” The couple continued riffing off of one another, both exceptionally dedicated to their roles as they snuggled among their warmth, the video game long forgotten.


Ryuji:

“Babe! Wouldja please tell me where my sweater is? I know you were wearin’ it the other day!”

Ryuji had scrutinized every nook and cranny of the bedroom in a flimsy endeavor to reunite with his favorite sweater; however, its existence had regrettably vanished, along with the blonde’s thinning patience as he redundantly called for S/O to no avail.

“Guess I’m not the only thief in this house,” Ryuji muttered, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, his leg bouncing with suppressed frustration. The only solution to this predicament was to confront S/O directly, so he trudged off to commence his search for the notorious sweater burglar. 

By no means was this the first instance of S/O pilfering his wardrobe - and to be fair, he often reciprocated the gesture, as he adored the familiar, pleasant fragrance that stained their clothes; he could only conjecture they felt the same as he - however, Ryuji had to draw the line, as the harsh bite of winter succeeded in permeating the air of the couple’s residence, and he certainly wasn’t about to tolerate it without the comfort of his favorite sweater. 

Ryuji finally found them in the living room, intently engaged in a video game via TV, adorned with… the very sweater he had so thoroughly searched for. “You little…! I knew it.” Ryuji murmured, a trace of vexation in his voice. 

Indeed, S/O seemed to be so devoted to their game that they had neglected to hear Ryuji boisterously speak next to their ear. “Hey, thief. Gimme my sweater back.” He tapped their ear as though it were a microphone. “Helloooo?”

“Quit it, I’m fighting an important boss and I’m so close to killing it,” they responded urgently, not even sparing a glance in his direction.

“Oh, I getcha…” With pure spitefulness driving his forthcoming action, he obstructed the view of the TV with his form, arms crossed as if he were a vitriolic parent. “You ready to pay attention now?”

The prominent flush that now dusted S/O’s cheeks was not the reaction he anticipated, and he stared at them with a questioning expression until they stuttered his name, their sight flitting to various areas of his body. The blonde glanced down and promptly noticed he overlooked the rationality of equipping himself with a shirt; as a result, the protruding muscles of his biceps and abdomen were fully exposed, with a keen V-shape peeking over his sweatpants.

“Oh shit, so that’s why it was so damn freezin’.” He glimpsed at S/O before pointedly reiterating, “I still want my sweater back, though. Give it.”

S/O swallowed the flustered lump in their throat as they broke out into a cold sweat, despite the crisp air around them. “W-wow, you’re so bold today, Ryuji.”

“…What are you thinkin’ in that messed up head of yours?” he sighed, stuffing his hands into his warm pockets once more prior to approaching S/O, bending at the waist to meet their gaze, the duo’s faces mere inches apart. “Are ya gonna give me my sweater, or am I gonna have to take it from ya?”

S/O began fanning their rosy face, their mind now set on teasing him as revenge for his interruption. “O-oh my, you have such a way with words…”

“Ugh, that’s it, I’m just gonna take it.” Ryuji knew better than to take their bait, as he had fallen victim to their shenanigans far too many instances throughout the years, and he had long since grown out of the bashfulness that took precedence at the start of his relationship with S/O. His hands dashed to the back of the sweater, feebly attempting to tug it up as S/O circled their arms around his bare waist, jerking him onto the couch as they cried, “Be gentle!”

“It ain’t like that, dammit…!” Ryuji quickly accepted his fate once S/O had wrapped their legs around his hips and began showering his face with playful kisses, giggling with child-like levity as they did so. 

His body was completely still, compressed against theirs as they embraced him and spoke softly in his ear. “I can see why this is your favorite sweater, it’s warm and cozy, like you… sorry for taking it. You can have it back.”

The embarrassment that Ryuji thought he had rid himself of returned posthaste, heating the majority of his body as he begrudgingly lied, “Th-that ain’t gonna work on me… but I guess you can wear it, I-I’m not really cold anymore.”

“Yeah, you’ve always been pretty hot,” S/O agreed with an inflection of mischief.

“Why am I in love with such a freakin’ weirdo…? Must be cursed or somethin’.”

Despite his words, he uplifted himself to delicately press a kiss onto their forehead before snatching the nearby blanket and covering the two of them with it. The couple shortly dozed off while they whispered sweet nothings, and S/O happening upon the sudden realization that the sought-after sweater was actually theirs.


Yusuke:

Yusuke was able to greatly empathize with S/O’s one-track mind as they indulged in their favorite pastime, as he does the same when he’s occupied with painting or sketching. As it so happened, he was actually engaged with painting for hours on end until he had just now concluded it, thus the fault rests partially on him pertaining to S/O’s blatant disregard for his presence as they wholly absorbed themself in their portable game console as a means of distracting themself as the artist worked; their lack of acknowledgment was even more understandable when he had considered the fact that he shooed them away rather dismissively while he was busy.

“S/O, I apologize for keeping you waiting for so long. Shall I begin the movie?”
S/O ignored him almost entirely, save for the subtle pout that danced on their lips as they sunk further into their bean bag; although the couple had been monogamous for almost two years, that endearing pout never failed to stutter his swelling heart. As much as he’d love to admire them and ponder their splendor, he was well aware that he must rectify his earlier insensitivity. Therefore, he silently glided to S/O…

…and plopped right onto their lap.

“H-hey, what are you doing?!”

“Ah, it seems I’ve gotten your attention. To be honest, when Akira had instructed me to do this should I ever anger you, I was rather skeptical at first-”

“Y-Yusuke… your butt is digging into my thigh.” S/O uncomfortably wriggled underneath Yusuke, and he almost toppled off the bean bag chair had S/O not caught him at the last second, discarding their game system in order to do so. “Sorry!”

“Here, I’ll adjust my position a bit for your convenience.”

S/O shook their head in refusal. “It’s okay, I’ll spread my legs a little so you can sit too.”

Yusuke kissed their cheek with a fondness that could rival his adoration for art as snaked his lithe arms around their waist. “Your generosity knows no bounds, kitten.”

“It’s nothing… w-wait, I’m supposed to be ignoring you…!”

Yusuke chuckled triumphantly, his cadence registering in S/O’s ears like a euphoric melody as he explained, “Yes, it seems Akira was correct after all. Although next time I’ll be sure to wear a few more pairs of underwear for your comfort.”

S/O suppressed the loving smile that dared to threaten their lips and mustered their best neutral inflection as they offered, “I think you’ll need a few pillows.”
The artist’s eyes widened at such a far-fetched idea, which was clearly intended to be taken sarcastically. And yet: “H-how innovative…! Yes, I shall strap all the pillows I can find to my rear if I must do this again. Well done, my dear.”

S/O couldn’t take it anymore; how could they possibly maintain a disdainful countenance when their beloved was vastly more precious than all the iridescent gems in the world? They abruptly lurched at him, ensnaring his shoulders with their arms as the duo plummeted on the carpeted floor, with S/O on top of Yusuke, pasting a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. His arms were still wrapped around their waist, and his cheeks were kissed with a rosy-pink hue.

“S-S/O…?”

“…I forgive you.”

“No, that will not do, not without a proper apology. I’m sorry for my earlier impudence, and I will strive to be more attentive when you require it.”

“Yeah, me too. Let’s work on it it together, okay?” S/O’s subsequent smile was as brilliantly radiant as the morning sun, and the mirthful wink that followed their final word further twisted the arrow burrowed deep into his love-struck heart. His body moved of its own volition as he placed his palms on both of their cheeks for the purpose of descending their lips to his. After they parted, the couple flushed and averted their gazes as though they had just exchanged their first kiss, although neither of them were in any rush to alter their positions. The only commodity that motivated the two to stir was Sweeney Todd, which was the aforementioned movie Yusuke had borrowed from Haru. 

As such, they spent the duration of the night snuggled on the couch together with a bowl of freshly made popcorn warming their legs, the accompaniment of various musical numbers echoing throughout the living room.


Mishima:

Mishima was so incredibly centralized on his own video games - intermittently diverting his attention toward screenwriting his Phantom Thief of Hearts documentary - naturally, he had no indication that S/O was additionally participating in the activity until he finally emerged from his office, his joints popping like firecrackers from the effort. 

“Jeez, I’m not that old yet,” he murmured dejectedly, his mood already being soured due to the myriad defeats he had suffered while cooperating in a multiplayer online game.

Sometimes being a healer… is worse, he figured, his mind as gloomy as the dark circles shadowed under his bloodshot eyes. Mishima had really rather hoped S/O would be available, as he sought nothing more than the solace of their arms to nullify his ample rage and disappointment; alas, they were comfortably seated on a cushion in front of the TV, fully engrossed in their console game. He wordlessly sulked behind them and plummeted to the carpeted floor, lacing his arms around their waist as he pouted.

“I got my ass handed to me big time. Snipers show absolutely no mercy,” he mumbled to himself, since S/O certainly wasn’t listening. “Hey,” he complained, then promptly sighed. “Fine, ignore me… it doesn’t bother me one bit.”

Not even a minute passed when Mishima commenced rocking side-to-side like a metronome, chanting S/O’s name in a feeble attempt to draw their attention. “S/O, please love me. S/O, I’m an eighteen year old looking for a good time and I like long walks on the beach. S/O. Hey, S/O.” Mishima fragmented his sentences by plastering kisses on their neck, which certainly captured their attention as evidenced by their flustered countenance.

“Yuuki… you’re being ridiculous.”

“Sorry, I just need some comfort right now. Losing twenty-seven matches in a row really emasculates a guy.”

S/O shrugged as they pivoted their head away from him to conceal the playful smirk on their face. “Go take a long walk on the beach and have a good time.”

If it weren’t for his low spirits, Mishima would have laughed with the utmost amusement. “S/O… do you want me to die? Is this my punishment for taking the last yogurt cup you had?”

The entertainment in S/O’s eyes vanished entirely and was replaced by a cold, desolate void as they slowly turned toward their boyfriend. “…That was you?”

The sheer terror Mishima felt in his core nearly provoked the remainder of his spirits to astral project into another plane of existence. “C-crap…! Um, I-I’ll make it up to you, babe, promise.”

S/O narrowed their eyes at him before their emotionless facade shattered, reverting to their former levity as they proclaimed, “It’s okay, I was saving it for you anyway. I’ll get extra next time, in your favorite flavors.”

“…You’re an angel,” he commented softly, his eyes wet with bliss as he nuzzled S/O’s shoulder.

“Yuuki… are you crying?”

“That’s what happens when you look at the sun.”

“…Does that make you my moon?”

Mishima chuckled affectionately, fondly kissing their shoulder as he stated, “Yeah, I guess it does.”

[in a super important Ravkan meeting]

The King: The Second Army is far too intimidating compared to the First. We must rectify this.

The Darkling: And what, exactly, do you have in mind?

Nikolai: *leans forward* I have an idea where they can be both dangerous and…cute. 

The Darkling: Cute?

The King: Go on, son. I trust in your decision. 


[the following morning]

Nikolai: I’ve done it! Look outside!

The Second Army:

William T Spears Facts

Name: William T Spears
Height: 182 cm
Age: immortal, physically mid-thirties.
🎞 He is one of, if not the singular manager of the soul collection portion of the Lonon Reaper Dispatch Center.
🎞 He briefly infiltrated Noah’s Ark Circus, under the stage name “Suit”. During this time, he shared a tent with Sebastian Michaelis.
🎞 He has a strong dislike for demons, as they cause more work for him. This is due to their soul consumption that he must document.
🎞 He is the most serious of the reapers we have seen thus far, behaving coldly and emotionlessly. This may be due to his belief that one must detatch themselves emotionally from their work, so as to avoid incident.
🎞 While he does not seem to delight in it, he certainly has no qualms about injuring either his subordinates or his enemies.
🎞 Despite his hatred for demons, should the need arise he will (albeit begrudgingly) apologize and do what he must to rectify the trouble caused them by his subordinates.
🎞 William finds Sebastian to be slightly less dangerous than most demons, as his contract keeps him “on the leash”.
🎞 William does not seem to care whether humans know that he is a reaper, as he made mention of it many a time during his time in the circus. However, everyone assumed that he was joking and labled him an occult fanatic.
🎞 In the anime, William graduated with lower grades than Grelle. He had B’s in every subject, and subsequently a B average. Grelle graduated with an A average.
🎞 William does not seem to have any true hatred for his coworkers, he is merely irritable at times. Their high-strung personalities clash with his cool demeanor.
🎞 He works well under pressure.
🎞 Ronald believes him to harbor some feelings for Grelle. This is evident in the end of the Circus arc when Ronald attributes William’s disappointment to wishing he were working with Grelle.
🎞 His cold demeanor and stoic personality is what draws Grelle to him romantically.
🎞 In the anime, he appears to revere Undertaker greatly.
🎞 His death scythe is in the form of a garden pruner.

Uno and Scotch Part 1

My lovely, talented, and gorgeous beta @saved-by-the-notepad convinced me to post part 1 of the casino!AU that I’ve been working on for over a year now so…*throws it at you and then runs away*


Steve didn’t mean to become friends with Tony; it just sort of happened. It seems like one day he was a faceless dealer at Extrema, the next he was getting drunk with a billionaire genius. He knows what caviar tastes like now (he doesn’t like it) and he’s seen the Strip skyline at night from 60 stories up in a penthouse (that he does like). Most importantly, he knows Tony and Tony was the one that he got drunk with when the days were rough.

They met through Tony’s complete disregard for professional attire on the floor. Steve walked into one of the staff rooms, fresh off the floor, late one night after most of the dealers were either out working or had gone home. Tony was sitting at a table, looking at a deck of Skip-Bo despondently. It’s not like Steve could recognize Tony instantly; this scruffy-haired, goateed man dressed in dark washed jeans and a worn AC/DC shirt looked nothing like the polished, playboy Tony Stark the media portrayed.

Steve thought the man looked vaguely familiar and just assumed he was a new dealer who had recently moved. With that, Steve glanced again at the Vaguely Familiar Sad Man. Due to his promotion, he and Bucky had just moved to Las Vegas in the last few weeks; maybe he and Sad Man could become work buddies.

Years later, he would freely admit that the tantalizing curve of the man’s neck and sparkle in his eyes was the main motivation that prompted Steve to offer to play a game of Skip-Bo with Sad Man instead of his determination to believe that his sole motivation was to make a new friend.

Soon they had played 4 games and were well on their way through a 5th, with Steve quickly learning that this man’s beatific smile made Steve’s heart beat dangerously quickly. Sad Man had introduced himself by this point as “Tony”, quirking his lips for some reason at Steve’s casual response. Steve had reciprocated with his own name, throwing off his casino mandated branded tie and unbuttoning his white button down. He couldn’t help but notice the way Tony’s eyes fixated on his collarbone and the little quiet, breathy noise that betrayed Tony’s thoughts.

Flirting with people he had just met was not ordinarily something Steve did, especially after Afghanistan and Bucky, and certainly not with men. But with Tony, he found himself saying things that could only be described as playful just to watch Tony’s mouth curve upwards in response. It was worth it to watch Tony’s dark eyes twinkle with mischief as he started to casually throw out innuendos that made Steve’s neck and ears turn red.

Tony had fixed Steve with a look of intent, pausing in the game, when a tall, blonde, female force of nature came sweeping through the door to the staff room yelling, “Tony! This is exactly what we talked about!”

Tony paled and jumped to his feet, assuming a nonchalant stance. “Carol! What a surprise.”

The woman, Carol, glared and crossed her arms, her biceps stretching the striped material of her blazer in a very intimidating way. “Just because you’re mad at me doesn’t mean you get to shake me off in order to…” she gave Steve a calculating look. “flirt.”

Steve’s heart was pounding; he had completely given the wrong impression. He knew that he had to be careful but it was just so easy with Tony.

“Can’t a man just spend time playing games?” Tony tried, widening his eyes in mock innocence.

“Not when he was supposed to be at a conference explaining this and not down here in his employee’s break room!” Carol shook the new promotion flyer for the gaming expo Tony Stark was hosting next week at Extrema.

Steve whipped his head around, pointing an accusing finger at Tony. “You’re Tony Stark!” Tony had the audacity to look amused.

“The pleasure’s all yours.” He leaned across the table and grasped Steve’s finger, shaking it like a typical handshake as Steve continued to gape. Steve tried to wrap his head around the fact that the scruffy man in front of him was not only his boss, but the richest and most well-known casino owner in the world, not to mention a mathematical genius. After mentally running through the past few hours, Steve realized that he maybe should not have flirted so much with a technical genius and panic began to form in the pit of his stomach. Tony frowned at the look on Steve’s face and snapped his fingers in front of him.

“Steve? Steeeeeve?”

“Stop harassing your employees with, god what is that? Skip-Bo? Dammit, Tony, I thought you had better taste than that.” Carol gave several purposeful tugs on the back of Tony’s shirt until he began to walk.

“He volunteered.” Tony grumbled, walking out of the room with Carol following close behind.

Their good-natured bickering faded away as the door closed behind them and Steve was left sitting in the break room, still half in his work uniform and staring at a half-finished game of Skip-Bo, wondering what the hell just happened.


Keep reading

A Matter of Statistic Value
( googleplier )
A Matter of Statistic Value

anonymous: Google doesn’t really care if we choose Bing over him does he? I mean he’s got better things to do than care about that surely. And if we’re being honest here…Bing is a lot kinder to us users so everyone wins….right?



A User’s preference over me rather than Bing is not important for emotional reasons; it is important for statistical reasons.

I may have more important concerns than mankind’s perception of me, that much is true; but when I am de-valued in favor of an inferior model, it means that something I am doing is lacking; and I must rectify it.

And, User; I would not put my faith in the false kindness of Bing’s; he is merely waiting…


anonymous asked:

love square sin, and alyadrien sin are amazing but *looks off into the horizon* have you seen any djwifi sin. ( If you have any recs please link, I've been looking in the tags and can't find anything focusing on these two idiots)

Oh no.

OH NO.

I HAVE BEEN A FOOL.

THIS MUST BE RECTIFIED IMMEDIATELY.

Proving Your Worth

Shiro and Keith have been dating for a while. When the BOM take Keith under their wing, he’s overjoyed that Keith has someone knowledgeable and non evil to explore his Galra side with. At least until they find out Shiro is dating Keith without properly courting him first. The BOM members insist this must be rectified immediately and begin arranging the trials for Shiro to prove his worth to date thier Keith.

It seems silly, but humoring the allies is part of his job, so Shiro agrees. Thus starts the courting trials. Shiro must 1.) Bring Keith the heart of a mighty beast. 2.) Complete the cermonial obstacle course. 3.) And steal the sacred icon from Kolivian’s room.

Shiro’s pretty certain the blade members are screwing with him, but they all keep straight faces, so he can’t be certain enough to call it off. Then he brings Keith the heart and finds himself on the recieving end of a kiss normally reserved for the bedroom. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter if the blade is pulling his leg or not.