#Not only that they're the winning combo

[consideredahazard]

Remember that time when the three-way deadlock was foreshadowed by a slot machine? Shizune is all like "You won, Lady Tsunade! You actually won!" and Tsunade is all like "......fuck"

[pa-pa-plasma]

I know the concept of more supernatural/paranormal elements is cool but it will never stop being funny to me that in every series ever, when a ghost shows up the main characters have to do rituals & research the history of the haunted item or house or even whole town & use specific items like salt & incense & talisman to banish the ghost all dramatically & supernaturally, but in Danny Phantom this kid just shows up with nothing but his fists, a thermos, & pent up aggression. put em the fuck UP, you ectoplasmic son of a—

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Sending Gifts to Myself, or: Book Mail!

[bitegore]

if your ocs were bosses in a video game, what do you think their boss fight would be like?

[pikachu-deluxe]

been thinking recently about how i play games (in general but also a bit on the competitive side on some)

turns out i don't particularly care about winning, i just want to have fun, but obviously i do like winning i just try to do win by doing very stupid stuff

it's way more fun for everyone involved when you do things against the meta or common sense and end up winning anyways bc it's so weird that it takes others by surprise

[tired-biscuit]

hmmm thinking about bratty, shit disturbing omega reader telling alpha kiba 'ooo you wanna breed me so bad' during a petty argument when they're not even together and it resulting in him putting you in a non-con mating press.....

18+ MDNI, fem!omega!reader // cw: noncon, omegaverse, breeding, reader is in heat and kiba is MEAN about it.

wait, this is actually perfect; there’s just something about omegaverse and kiba that makes such a good combo every single time!

i’m thinking about him being your neighbour. he’s nice on the eyes but he’s also grouchy, not much of a talker, and always seems super tense whenever you bump into each other in the hallway or at the entrance leading into your apartment complex.

and when i say tense, i mean tense. your mailbox resides next to his, so if you by any chance come down to get mail at the same time as him, he’s clutching his bills with a white-knuckled grip and is storming right back upstairs and slamming his door shut with an unnecessarily loud thud before you’ve even finished sticking your key into the tiny lock.

while living so close to each other, you’ve tried being polite towards him on several occasions. have greeted him with a smile and a quick “morning!” or “hi!” even though all he did in response was grumble something under his breath and brush you right off. you even went as far as to ask him how his run went when he came back into the building drenched in sweat and with his cheeks flushed a pretty red one time, but to no avail. the face he pulled made him look like he was seconds away from telling you to fuck off.

all signs point to general dislike no matter what you do, so winning him over just for the sake of having a good relationship seems to be outright impossible. which is also a huge bummer because he lives right next door, and it’d be nice to have him on your side since it significantly lessens the chance of him nagging you when the music is a smidge too loud or whenever you have friends staying the night.

by the time several weeks had passed — hell, you’ve endured almost two months of this crap — and he was no closer to warming up to you, you’d given up. not only that, you also made sure to give him a taste of his own medicine: you got rid of the sweet girl attitude and instead started treating him the same way he treated you.

rudely.

so it’s no wonder that he appears to be absolutely fucking pissed when he shows up at your doorstep one day when you’re in the middle of suffering through one of your worst heats yet, banging on your door with an impatient fist and sporting the pushiest demeanor you’ve ever seen.

when you finally force yourself to get off the couch and open the door, the first thing you realise is that he’s so big that he fills the entire entrance. all muscle and raw, brutal power. you’ve never gotten the chance to see him this upclose.

the glare in his dark brown eyes is harsh as he immediately makes eye contact with you, and his lips press into a firm line. there’s a constant flutter of a muscle in his right cheek that he can’t seem to get rid of.

he doesn’t look happy.

and there’s an odd sinking feeling appearing in the pit of your stomach because of it.

“what do you want?” you ask, trying your best to breathe as little as possible through your nose. he smells like pure alpha, heavy and intense because of that wretched musk — a scent you definitely shouldn’t be in close vicinity of at this particular time.

“i want you to get the fuck out of this building already,” he snarls with zero hesitation, gripping the side of the doorframe so that he can shove himself even further into your space. “you’re stinking up the entire place with your omega bullshit and it’s making it hard to think.”

“ex-…” you blink slowly, taken aback by the jumble of insults he’s just thrown at you. “excuse me?”

“you heard me the first time,” he snips, baring his front teeth for a split second as he visibly cringes at you. his canines are sharp; it’s your first time noticing this since he sure as hell never smiled in your presence. “i’ve got work in the morning and i can’t relax when your scent is taking over the entire goddamn floor. either find someone to take care of your heat for ya and give that vibrator that you’ve been riding since last night a rest already, or move the fuck out.”

you stare at him, dumfounded and wide eyed just like the first time. he stares right back, with his jaw tightly clenched and his shoulders stiff.

and there’s just something about the way he looks at you now, about the way he looks now — so rugged and blatantly male and rough around the edges, that causes your panties to turn even slicker than they already are.

“you’ve gotta be kidding me… christ, are all of you omegas so freaking pathetic?” he mutters quietly as he watches you squeeze your thighs together.

you’re dressed in nothing but a pair of tiny panties and an oversized t-shirt since you planned to do nothing else but sit at home today and try to make yourself feel better. the thin piece of fabric is doing absolutely nothing when it comes to keeping the scent of your urges at bay.

kiba’s throat feels like it’s on fire. it makes it hard to speak when he says, “whatever, just- are you gonna do somethin’ about it or not?”

“no, i’m not.” in your disoriented, the-heat-has-outright-cooked-my-brain-and-turned-it-into-useless-mush state, you can’t help but say the first thing that pops into your mind, “i’ve got just as much of a right to be here as everyone else does, you know. and it’s not my fault that you can’t focus because your shitty alpha brain is telling you to breed me… so if that’s all, i’ll be kindly asking you to get off my doorstep. i have a toy i want to get back to.”

you go to slam the door shut right in front of his nose, only to be caught off guard when BAM! — he uses his hand to shove it right back open again.

oh, he’s definitely not used to omegas disrespecting him or acting bratty around him. because of it, he’s all up in your face in a matter of seconds, blood boiling underneath tan skin.

with every step he takes forward, you try to take one back, but it doesn’t take long for him to corner you. before you know it, he’s got you with your back against the wall. his cock is thick and heavy in his sweatpants, pressing against your thigh and exposing the fact that your heat is affecting him too, and you spring into action because of it, desperately fighting to create more distance between your body and his.

however, the problem is that he’s ended up standing so close to you that the proximity is practically non-existent. trying to shove him away is futile since he’s so much bigger than you that he looms over your smaller frame and keeps you caged between the wall and himself with no issue.

you don’t stand a chance against him.

“look at me.”

forced to act submissive by nature, you give in easily to his demand despite the fact that it takes all the effort in the world for you to even attempt to refuse it. so you lift your gaze like the good little omega that you are, and you come to learn that there are tiny summer freckles dusting the bridge of his nose. you’ve never gotten the chance to see him this upclose either.

mentioned bridge slightly scrunches with displeasure now as his hand moves to wrap around your throat. he leans in, his voice hoarse, “is anyone else in here with ya?”

“y-yes,” you stammer, upper lip wobbling because of the fastly upcoming tears that are threatening to fall any second now. you’re well aware that alphas can get aggressive whenever they slip into rut, so you and your big mouth have put yourselves in quite the predicament. and if anything, this particular situation is definitely good enough of a reason to cry about.

“don’t you dare fucking lie to me. that shit pisses me off.” he gives your neck a firm squeeze, enough to make you kick your feet against the floor in sheer, utter panic. a scared little voice in your head tells you that he could lift you right off the ground if he wanted to. or worse.

“no, n-no there isn’t anyone else here!” you squeak out. “it’s just me and my cat! m’sorry!”

his eyebrows draw together.

“what?” you ask warily, trying to calm him down by distracting him even though you’re well aware that he can smell how wet your pussy has become by now and that it’s making him lose more and more of his sense of morality. there’s just something about his touch… it’s so warm that it makes you want to arch your back, as unbelievable as that sounds. “is something the matter?”

“no,” he mutters, still looking unimpressed. god, do his features ever soften? “it’s just that i hate cats, is all… dogs are better.”

you make a mental note to remember this piece of information for whatever reason. what the fuck.

“anyway,” he continues before you can say anything. “let’s take care of your heat now. i have a game to watch later, so i wanna be done by six… unless you feel like warming my dick at my place, that is.”

“w-what?” you freeze, cold sweat rushing over you. one tear falls, sliding down your much too feverish cheek and you sniffle. “no, wait-”

“yeah, yeah, you don’t want it, blah blah blah,” he brushes you off so carelessly that it makes your pulse begin to hammer inside your ears. “and yet you’re still soaking wet between your legs and feeling like you’ll die if i don’t shove my cock inside ya this very instant. spare me with the poor, helpless omega crap, sweetheart... you ain’t foolin’ nobody.”

he’s looking directly into your eyes again, completely shameless and with zero remorse, and you’re so turned on by it that your clit is throbbing. it’s making you slightly nauseous.

“i…” you swallow thickly, trying not to think about the amount of saliva that’s gathering in your mouth. “i don’t-”

without a single warning, he presses himself against you in a way that instantly makes you buck your hips towards him in search for more friction. when he begins to draw back, you act before thinking; grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt and frantically tugging him closer.

“see, i told ya,” he purrs, cruel satisfaction evident on his face as he watches you struggle. “you need me.”

he’s right. god-fucking-damn it, he’s right. the urgency to have an alpha like him inside you has gotten so bad by now that you can barely stand. if it weren’t for his hand that he’s still got wrapped around your throat, you’re pretty sure you’d already be laying on the floor by now.

and that is exactly where you end up.

on the floor, naked, manhandled into a mating press and forcefully stuffed full with his cock. moaning like a slut, sweating like crazy and crying at him to stop, to fucking stop stop STOP, even though you’re the one who’s reaching out, desperately trying to cling onto him and keep him inside.

the sounds your pussy is making whenever he sinks in to the hilt is fucking embarrassing. you’re so wet, practically delirious with want, twitching and whining when he hits that sweetspot deep inside you. you don’t even know his first name, so you’re just babbling nonsense, clawing at his strong arms in meek attempt to punish him.

“open your legs wider f’me.”

the desire to spread your legs further for him even if he’s literally the meanest piece of shit of a man is making you feel disgusting, but you just can’t stop yourself from obeying. your body wants him, it yearns for him, and it’s making your hormones go batshit crazy.

“that’s it, sweetheart.” he pants above you as he praises you, back arching and bicep flexing when he places one hand on your belly. “trying to be such a good girl for your alpha, huh? gonna do just about anythin’ to get me to knock ya up.”

your sobbing intensifies when he presses into the bulge his cock makes underneath your skin.

it’s the first time you see him smile.

[postracehair]

gold rush

max verstappen x reader | 2.4k

max verstappen stands across the room from you at someone else's party. he's not yours, but he could be.

cw: cursing, perhaps overly introspective, allusions to sex, kissing, semi-established relationship without commitment, confessions, being desperately in love with max

a/n: this is a little different from my usual style. i...wrote it in two parts while wine drunk and yearny and listening to gold rush by taylor swift on repeat. it's a lethal combo for a girl, let me tell you. posting in honor of today's qatar win. i really like this one. please be nice to me. <3

--

It's torture.

Standing here across the room, glass in hand, watching.

He just looks so fucking good.

"Fuck me," you mutter. Some deep, animalistic urge tells you to bite clean through the rim of your wine glass. Chew on the shards until they're sand and swallow them easy as anything. It would probably be less painful than what you're currently doing.

Watching.

The object of your scrutiny straightens almost imperceptibly. A minuscule lengthening of his spine invisible to anyone who isn't examining his every move. For someone who is watched more often than not, you're surprised he feels your eyes on him.

But he does.

Max Verstappen turns away from his conversation partner slightly, a barely there shift of his chin to glance around the room. Blue eyes like the fucking ocean or some other cliche you can't think of right now. His focus face, you've called it. That got him to laugh, once, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes driving your heart into a frenzy.

Evaluating, cataloging. Looking for the racing line and finding -- you.

Leaning back on the wall not ten yards from him, wine glass in hand.

You're going to heat it up with your palm holding it like that, he'd told you once. You have to hold the stem.

They teach you that in Monaco? you'd teased.

Flirtations. One of a hundred, a thousand. Nothing memorable for him, you tell yourself. Each conversation an axis-shifting event for you.

It's embarrassing, actually. To want someone this much. To be one of millions.

But you know. You know how he looks in an empty room, how he mutters to himself when he folds his laundry, how he straightens his shoes against the wall of every hotel room.

You know him.

Maybe that's why this is dangerous. You've got ammo, you've got evidence. You know that Max Verstappen is like the rest of the world. A boy who wanted desperately turned into a man who has everything. And still wants.

Is that what binds us all together? The depth of our longing?

Max finds your gaze and holds it. The girl he's talking to -- pretty, smart. You know her peripherally -- keeps speaking, hand not holding her drink waving in the air, eyes focusing somewhere above his hairline.

Lots of people make this mistake. It's all in his eyes, if you can stand to look at them. Everything he's feeling. A challange that, once met, melts into an open door. He'll show you everything if you just step over the threshold, invited or not. Sometimes all we want is someone to bang on the door when we're already in bed. Make us get up, come downstairs. There you are. I was waiting for you.

The eyes tell you everything. You take a long sip of your wine and he watches, jaw ticking. He didn't shave today. The light stubble makes him look older, though you know his heart. Fluttering like a boy's, yearning like a child's. He wants just like you do. If only you knew what and just how much.

I don't know what comes next, he said. His head in your lap, hair soft and golden between your fingers. What else is there?

So much, you said. You traced the line of his nose with the pad of your thumb. That's the best thing about it.

About what?

Life.

There is a world in which you came to this party together. Distant, fuzzy. You mussed his hair with your hands after begging him to leave the gel on the shelf. He kissed off your lipstick before you made it out the door. The steady beat of his heart under your palm in the doorway, a sure reminder of the dip he makes in the universe. Your center, always orbiting around him.

Reality is louder. More crowded, smells like champagne and burnt pastry. It's a room full of people where you can only look at one. Where he's looking back.

You jerk your chin towards the back hallway, the one the leads to the bathroom only the girls go to in pairs. To debrief, to prepare. A secret from the hostess meant for moments of reprieve. At the very least, you'll need one of those.

It you're lucky, one of those will come to you on two legs and stormy eyes.

Could you be imagining it? Wouldn't be the first time you lived in your head a little too long. But -- fuck. The dreams you've had. The way you've looked at your life and slotted him into it. It's almost too easy, a game with no stakes. But the buy in is steep, nonrefundable. How you got here is irrelevant. You have to pay up.

You wind your way through laughing people, velvet dresses and barely buttoned shirts. Sparkly eye shadow and satin bows, well-wishes and chaste kisses. 'Tis the damn season, indeed. 

The hallway is quiet. No one in the bathroom, the door hanging open, light off. You lean back on the wall, glass loose in your fingers. Eyes closed, wondering if you'll wake up somewhere else. Somewhere you want less, somewhere your blood isn't singing, isn't begging you to get closer to him.

"You look nice," Max says. Your lips curve into a smile, a smirk, a grimace. Are they not all the same around him? Teeth showing, muscles out of control. He bypasses all of your sense, worms his way into your bloodstream with just a word.

"Thanks," you manage. Eyes open, now, and fuck, you feel it. Right in the chest, like a punch that digs beneath your ribs and takes its pound of flesh.

Max looks good. You saw it from across the room but here, in front of you, you can see it more clearly.

There's something about him. A boyishness that remains around the eyes, the mouth. Hopeful mischief, maybe. Eternal youth, promise, faith.

God. This would all be so much easier if you weren't in love with him.

He studies you. Takes his time, gaze tracing the lines of your face. Your brows, your lashes. Nose, lips. Lips. His eyes stop there.

"You were staring," he says. Never one to back down from a challenge. Never one to let you off easy. It's a compliment, the way he drags you to the ring. Keep up with me, he's saying. Make it interesting.

"Yeah," you say, slowly. It drips out of your mouth, lingers in the air between you. "You look good."

His eyes flash. You're meeting his expectations. Always hard to live up to those, when the standard he holds himself to is so damn high. He expects you to climb up that mountain, too. If only to show that you're wiling to. That he's worth it. That you want to.

And he does look good. Max values honesty above most things, but his cheeks flush all the same. It's pretty, not that you'd tell him that. Maybe one more glass of wine and you would. It's not an original thought, far from it, but you reach for him all the same, liquid courage loading the barrel and cocking the gun.

You cup his cheek, thumb pressing to the corner of his mouth. Like a marionette with his strings cut, he sighs. You breath with him, leaning in. Everything else fades away, the world turning around the place where his skin touches yours. Palm on his stubbled cheek, eyes locked like you're moored to each other.

This is why you haven't let him go. Because it's like this. It's insane.

And Max knows it.

"What are we doing?" he whispers. His throat bobs and he looks unsure. Not an expression you've seen on him very often, but maybe that's the punchline.

This matters to him. Maybe as much as it matters to you. He leans into your palm and the fingers of one hand curl around your hips, pressing hard enough to bruise. He carefully tugs your wine glass from your grip and sets it on the thin table in the hall before crowding you agains the wall.

"I don't know," you whisper back. You're close enough that he must feel your breath on this lips. It's inexplicable, this feeling -- you should know. You've tried.

He reorients everything, you've said over and over again. It's like I'm seeing the world for the first time, but with him in it.

His breath is hot on your lips. "I need you," he says. "I --" He swallows. Pupils swelling, mouth set. You half expect him to pull on a racing suit and get in the car.

"Max," you manage. It's not a surprise, not really, but it stings the way that only the things you want can. "I--

"Nothing else is like this," he says, sounding more sure than you've ever heard. "No matter what, or who, it's not like this. I'm always thinking of you."

Something inside you crumples. Your very bones, maybe. Your heart, surely. He can't just say these things.

"Don't say if it you don't mean it," you manage. Your throat is thick, tears resting just behind your eyes. It makes sense to no one else, this love. This passion, this soul tie.

"I mean it," he says, voice steady. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask this of you, but I am. I'm asking."

Love me. Stick by me. Tell me you feel it, too.

You close your eyes again, but what appears behind your lids is no less than what's actually happening to you. This is the stuff of dreams, the deepest part of your heart that beats his name.

"I don't know how to do this," you whisper. His lips drag from your pulse point to your ear.

"Me neither," he replies. "But we have to try."

"I've wanted you for so long," you gasp. His fingers have snuck under the hem of your shirt, nails scratching up and down your back. "Max--"

Your name is a prayer on his tongue, a blessing, a benediction. A plea. You've never felt so safe as when he is at your altar.

"Let's go," he says. "Let's get out of here."

The where doesn't matter. The how, the why, the when. It doesn't matter.

Sometimes, things just happen the way they are supposed to. Lovers unite, reunite, and love. Is that not enough?

"Bet you say that to all the girls."

Your voice is hoarse, ragged. The opposite of his well-honed determination, his tunnel vision. You wanted this, didn't you? But you're stalling. Having and wanting are different.

"No," Max says. "Hey, look at me."

For all your talk, you keep doing anything he asks. It's so easy. You are so safe in his hands, even if they burn.

He presses his lips to the corner of your mouth and you open your eyes. Despite the drinks you watched him down they're clear. Ablaze with certainty.

"Max," you whisper. His nostrils flare.

"Just you," he says. "You have me. Just you."

He does this thing, when he's away. You bought him a keychain -- a lion, of course -- on a whim. Figured he'd throw it in a drawer somewhere and forget about it. But then he sent you a photo from a country you've never been to, holding up his keys, the lion dangling in the sunlight.

You get photos from all around the world, now.

Maybe...maybe, you can believe him. Maybe you can take. Maybe dreams can bleed into waking.

What else is there to do? His jaw ticks, lips parted as he exhales. You feel it, warm and shaky. That won't do.

The kiss doesn't surprise him. It's inevitable, a corner he's driven in his sleep, the finish line that always waits for him. Max always knows where he is going and maybe he knew you were on the way here, too.

And god, does he know how to kiss you. You're the one who leans in but he takes the wheel quickly, one hand pressing into your lower back under your shirt and the other dragging up your ribs to settle on your jaw. He licks into your mouth like there's a secret to find, like he can peel back your layers and find your heart in his palms, beating in time with his.

Nights in his bed, slow mornings watching him wake. Phone calls just to hear you breathe, texts and gifts and hints that, if you'd just say so, this could be more. This could be it.

But he's waited. You realize he's waited for you.

"You have me," you say, pulling away with a gasp. His lips chase yours, hovering so close that every word makes them brush. Your hands are woven in his hair, noses pressed together. Almost one person. "Max," you breathe. "You have me."

There are a thousand ways this could go wrong. Even if your world orbits around him, even if his heart is magnetized to yours, a star in the sky always pointing north -- reality is not so kind. It will be hard. No one will understand. People will want what you have, what you will hold dear for the rest of your life.

But it doesn't matter. Because Max -- a world champion, a boy who wanted who became a man who had everything -- is holding you. He smiles so wide it spreads to you, two smiles pressed together in the dim light of someone else's party.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay, let's go."

He kisses you once more, sloppy, teeth clacking, and grabs your hand. Out of the hall, through the party, barely a word for anyone else. Everybody wants you, you told him once. Hm, he'd said. I don't know about that.

But he gleams. He shines, flushed cheeks and bright eyes as he looks back to check that you're still there. Squeezing your hand in his, a man on a mission. Following that racing line all the way home, all eyes on him. But he knows where he's going.

Out of the party and onto the quiet street, breath floating up and away in excited puffs. Under the streetlight Max looks ethereal. Beautiful, boyish, in love. He's a dream come to life.

Your dream. Looking back at you like he's thinking the same.

He says your name like he's been looking everywhere and finally found you. Reaching the end of the road, throwing the door open and falling to his knees. An answer. The answer.

He kisses you on the empty street. You fall, and fall, and fall.

Together.

[pomefioredove]

hiya :D i hope you're well rested, well fed, and hydrated today (and if not this is your reminder!!)

may i please have a sugar cookie, #18, with whipped cream and chocolate chips? thank you <3

ANOTHER BANGER COMBO. lilia fans here's your dinner

order #18, sugar with whipped cream and chocolate chips

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ bored senseless

tropes: fake dating and royalty AU characters: lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not yuu, fae!reader, takes place during Malleus' childhood word count: 900

It was only supposed to be for one ball.

When the General of the Right, the Dragon's Hand, the keeper of the Prince himself sends for your word, you answer. When he invites you to attend the centurial ball with him, you say yes. When he whispers in your ear as you ascend the castle steps, his hand tight around your arm, you listen.

And if he tells you that he's been formally courting you for the past century, you nod your head and let him hold the door for you like a true suitor would.

There was, of course, a thousand and more questions to be had, but not there, not when you were already inside the castle's stone ballroom, arm-in-arm with Lilia.

You really just wished he would've disclosed this pertinent piece of information before the ball.

The questions you had, you now had to answer for others.

"How did you catch the crimson eye of the General himself?"

"Especially as a fae of such low nobility?"

"Especially when he's had no interest in courting for the past several hundred years?"

You were able to keep up with the ruse, but it wasn't easy nor fun, especially since Lilia seemed to prefer letting you do all the talking.

When it was over, he handed you a small box of silver and went off alone, without a word, leaving you at the gates of the castle.

How strange, you had thought, but in your years in the court of Briar Valley, you'd learned not to question strange things.

Besides, it was only one evening.

...Well, that's how it started, anyway.

The next invite was to a gala hosted by a Count the following year. Then there was one a few months after that, another after that, and, slowly, your name became known throughout the country, and always spoken right next to General Lilia's.

On a cold night, a dinner hosted by a member of the Senate, one you would have never even dreamed of being invited to if it were not for your suitor, something stranger happens.

"Another one," you sigh, leaning against the stone of the terrace you and Lilia had snuck off to. The night was chilly but clear, every star visible in the sky.

Lilia sits on the railing beside you. "Don't look so glum. I'm sure these events are just a fad. You know how the nobles like their trends,"

"They're just very long,"

"And very boring, I know," he sighs, rubbing his face. "And I hate to be away from the Prince, but times have changed. I can't just win a battle to stay in the Senate's good graces. I have to be..."

He gestures vaguely. "...Noble,"

You look up at him as he sits cross-legged on the stone railing. "Is that why we're..."

You can't say "lying about being engaged to the entire country", but you want to. He knows that.

"What? ...Oh, no," he says, waving you off as if you had said something silly and childish.

"I just didn't want to come to these things alone. I'd be bored senseless."

Your eyes widen with something like wrath.

"..."

He's looking at the party ahead, picking his nose. It takes him a moment to sense your glare.

"...What?"

"Are you unwell?" you suddenly snap. "For years we have been "engaged" in front of the people and the nobility and you say it's because you were bored? Do you know how many lies I've given? To my own family! And the stress of coming up with such nonsense on the spot, to people who could have me banished from court, or worse..."

Lilia stares back, wide-eyed at your sudden outburst. Then, he smiles.

"...How long have you been hiding that sharp tongue, hm?"

"That's all you have to say?"

"Goodness, no," he says, hopping down from the railing to stand in front of you, his hands folded behind his back.

He leans forward, invading your personal space, which he is ever so fond of doing. "Do you know why I chose you, out of everyone in the court?"

What kind of a question is that? You scoff.

"...No,"

Lilia smiles, and he takes a step closer. "Well, you're not as uptight as the rest of them, for one. Your family has always been a little... untraditional, we'll say. But it was also because of this,"

He flicks your forehead, almost playfully, and you blink.

"My face?"

He chuckles. "No, no, though that's certainly a bonus. I meant... before the lies and the sneaking about, the one thing I could remember about you from court, for as quiet and meek as you can be, was your imagination. You always have the most outlandish ideas, the most improbable thoughts. And yet, you speak them with such passion, when you're permitted..."

He pauses to smile.

"...Well, I knew you could come up with some lie about us, and it would be rather entertaining."

You stare back. Lilia has always had a way of surprising people, but this is...

He smirks at the look of shock on your face, taking a moment to not-so-subtly check you out, for lack of a better term, and he takes your hand in his.

Then, he says the magic words, the ones you'd been dying to hear for every event since you started this whole ruse.

"Shall we get out of here?"

[txttletale]

after being interested from seeing you post about mtg but too intimidated by how complicated it seemed, a friend recently taught me how to play and ive been having so so so much fun!!! ive mostly just been playing standard/jump in on arena so far, but i wanna start building a commander deck soon. my wuestion here is twofold, i guess - a) do you know any commanders you consider easy or fun for beginners (colour doesnt really matter to me; ive been finding enjoyment in all of them so far, altho im sure ill develop a preference once i have a better grasp of the game lol) and b) whats your own personal favourite commanders?? ones you play or ones you just think are neat :) anyways thank you for being at least partially responsible for getting me into mtg, ive been having an absloute blast, i hope you have a very niceys day :)

yippee! i'm glad you're having fun, magic is a really deep and exciting game.

to point 1: i'm increasingly of the mind that apart from like, extreme edge cases where you're playing, like a mairsil combo deck and have to learn a bunch of specific sequencing and rules minutiae, i think that looking for an 'easy' commander is a very overrated. resonance and stickiness are a huge part of how easy it is to learn a card or deck's mechanics, so if you have a special little guy you love i would play him no matter how comparatively complex he is compared to, like, monogreen ramp

if there's one piece of general advice i'd give to a beginner, it's to steer away from 'feast or famine' type commanders: a lot of commanders, especiually since wotc started intentionally pritning 'commanders' rather than just legendary creatures, are enormous resource snowballs, such that letting them be on the board for a turn cycle or two will put their player unstoppably far ahead. unfortunately the correct counterplay to these kinds of commanders is for everyone to kill them instantly the moment they're cast and genreally not let their playtrs play the game -- so they often lead to having games where you are either being ganged up on and beaten to death or stomping everyone. some popular examples of commanders that i think create these play patterns are miirym, krenko mob boss, jodah the unifier, kinnan bonder prodigy, and korvol fae-cursed king.

so generally i tyhink especialyl as a newer player you will have fun with slightly lower power commanders who aren't wearing a big PLEASE KILL ME sign on their heads. but other than that i truly think you should pick a blorbo or gameplay style that appeals to you on a visceral, emoitional level, and find out if if it's actually fun to play or not. actually that reminds me, try to also pick a commander that, like, rewards you for executing your deck's gameplan, or helps you execute it, but isn't the sole engine behind your deck -- commander is full of good removal and board wipes, and you will have a lot more fun if you're playing a deck that can still function evne if your special guy is in time out.

to point 2: i have quite a few. my first commander and overall one of my favourite still is the celestial toymaker (nei lpatrick harris jumpscare). i love him because -- while he is an example of the kind of commander i think ultimately can lead to bad gameplay patterns where big parts of your deck are dead without him -- he turns this extremely stupid fucking mechanic into a real theme. i fucking loe playing my toymakre deck, and doing a silly voice and saying PLAY MY GAME... WHO WANTS TO PLAY MY GAME? every time i have some silly choice to force someone to make. play piles with meee (also esper control is a shell that's just really fun for me regardless of commander or theme so that helps a lot too)

other commanders i have that i really enjoy... i think gor muldrak is really cool, hios abiltiy is so odd and niche and finding ways to make use of it is so much fun. only good simic commander. tip: [peer pressure] is an awesome win condition for him.

i really enjoy zedruu also, for similar reasons to the toymaker: giving people stuff is such a funny mechanic, and while the commander gets osme flak because a lot of people build around lieke, dogshit cards that are unplayable if you don't have zedruu to donate them, i think you can build a much more fun and resilient zedruu deck by relying on symmetrical soft stax pieces and oubliette-style effects where it doesn't mater to you who owns it. getting to play perplexing chimera in that deck delights me.

gallia is great. straight up i made a deck for her because i think she's cute. her joy is just so infections, i don't even like gruul aggro as an archetype generally, but something about playing gallia and being like NO THOUGHTS HEAD EMPTY TURN SIDEWAYS ILL DISCARD WHAT I DISCARD is very refreshing considering i usually like playing very controlly-pillowforty high-interaction decks wth 50 quajillion counterstpells.

oh and finally... the red death. i fucking love goad, im the goad liker, i enjoy goad, and i set out to make a Good Goad Deck and immediately got sidetracked form any of the stronger commanders for the format by this stupid little bebo with the meme eyes. i donit know what happens in fallout 76 and i dont care this little guy is my friend and he is SO funny with cards like psychic possession. Our card draw :)

for an honorable mention, two decks i really love but not really because of their commander: i have a huge amount of fun playing the new zimone (who has displaced vorel of the hull clade) at the helm of my millennium calendar deck. it's fun to have a deck where i can slot in all the werird counter-dependent artifacts like lux artillery and darksteel reactor, and it's a very fun supervillanious feeling watching the table scramble to stop me as my Sinister Calendar ticks up

and i also have a zoraline eggs deck nbecause i loved bloomburrow bats, built a zoraline bats dekc, then thought, hmm, i could be doing al ot more with her than just bringing back mediocre bats for a small lifegain pawyoff. Liek bringing back mediocre artifacts that ic an crack for 2 life and a card draw. it's a very intricate little device of a deck once it gets going and although it's not very strong it's very very fun. looping an executiuoner's capsule or a tainted sigil is what its all about babey!

[yvesssssssss]

I'm a Gaku enjoyer!!, I've been thinking about this one scenario where he games w his online friend, but when they meet up he finds out they're a girl. How would that be?? (Would he fall in love??) Take your time with this! And thank you ❤️

Voice chat

Hii!! I hope you like it. Feel free to send another request if it didn't reach your expectations!

Gaku didn’t care much about people. But gaming? That was different. Online, no one expected him to talk too much, or look too presentable, or smile. It was just raw skill, reflexes, and the occasional chaotic mic screaming. And you—his duo partner—were the only person he’d ever stuck with for more than a few games.

Your username was ridiculous. Something like "no.1 zazu glazer" At first, he thought you were a joke account. But you were sharp, a total menace in-game, and not afraid to trash talk in your weird, slightly static voice chat.

He liked that.

You never cammed up. Neither did he. It wasn’t like that. It was just games, wins, occasional post-match banter, and long nights when you two would stay up playing, trading dumb stories, laughing until his ribs hurt.

So when you suggested, “Hey, wanna hit up that arcade downtown this weekend? I’ll be in your area,” he figured, yeah. Why not?

He didn’t expect a girl. A cute girl. Standing near the claw machines with a drink in hand, looking around like you were trying to spot someone you’d never met. Dressed all casual, hoodie half-zipped, headphones around your neck.

And you were real. You smiled when you spotted him, lifting a hand.

Gaku stopped mid-step. His brain blue-screened.

“...You’re a girl?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

You blinked. “Uh. Yeah?”

His ears turned red. “You never said.”

“You never asked.”

He stood there, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, trying to reboot his entire perception of the past few months. “Thought you were like… some dude with a higher voice or somethin’. Doesn’t matter, I guess.”

You smirked. “If it doesn’t matter, why do you look like you just got hit by a truck?”

That made him laugh. A short, low sound. “Shut up. You’re just weird.”

But now? Now he was weird. Because every time you smiled at him that day, his brain short-circuited. Every time you teased him, his heart pulled some kind of trick combo. He kept pretending it was lag.

You beat him at a rhythm game. He tried not to stare at the way your hoodie sleeves slipped past your wrists. You made fun of his reaction time. He got flustered and called you a “trash panda” under his breath.

He wasn’t sure what this feeling was. But he liked it.

When you two sat down for a drink break and you leaned in a little, brushing your shoulder against his, Gaku didn’t flinch. He just… looked at you.

“You’re cool in person too,” you said, voice soft. “Kinda nicer than I expected.”

He shrugged. “You’re not too annoying. I guess.”

But he was doomed. Doomed the second you grinned at that and stole one of his fries.

Would he fall in love?

Yeah. Slowly. Quietly. Stupidly. In a “she laughs like she does on mic” kind of way. In a “I wanna hear that again” kind of way.

He won’t even realize it until someone else tries to hit on you, and he short-circuits and rage-quits life.

Taglist: @shenwi @astronomyloveraster @cjafjatkstke @starizzm @yokaistirfry @shineinouzen15

Hey lovelies! Just a heads up—if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist, now's the time to let me know! I don't want to flood anyone's inbox unnecessarily. 🫶

Drop a comment or send me an ask if you'd like to be added/removed!

Thank you all so much for being here! You all are the best!🫶🫶

[wholemeallbread]

boxer!kuroo loves having a shared interest of boxing. doesn't matter he got you into it or the other way around, because he knows you're both as equally as passionate about the sport.

he loves testing his strength by having you hang on one of his arms. he loves watching you shadowbox because you manage to look cute and hot at the same time. he loves being your number one supporter and being the first person you celebrate with when you win. plus, he can't deny his eyes get a little distracted whenever he watches you fight in the ring. gosh... how could they not? they're attracted to pretty things, after all.

and boxer!kuroo knows how pissed off you get when he goes easy on you when you train together. you can't improve if things are too easy, and he always makes it a little game for himself; how much can he push you until you snap.

once again, you both step back, taking a breather as you think back to your feeble attempts to block only seconds earlier. "again." you huff, wiping off your forehead with your forearm. "show me that combo again." your competitiveness is showing and you hate that, knowing he's going to have way too much fun messing with you.

only taking a tiny glance up, your gaze is immediately pulled in by his, taking in his cocky expression that for some reason really seems to spite you. "yeah?" kuroo circles you slowly. you could tell that he was getting ready to throw you off guard – it was just a matter of when.

in turn, you move in time with him, your stare not straying away for even a second. "and do it harder. i can't feel a thing."

"why should i?" and you almost got caught in his trap, but you dodged his hook just in time. 'impressive...' he mumbled to himself as if you couldn't hear a thing, but he quickly regains his composure. "you're not trying either." as if to mock you, he places his hands on his hips, his position now laughably relaxed.

your eyebrows furrow more than they already were, keeping your focus. "i am." you're not, but! that's only because he's not.

"uh huh..." he nods, making quick work of overwhelming you with a flurry of attacks (by your request a week earlier since it was something you wanted to accurately defend against) and you counter with practiced precision, then landing a good hit on him to finish off. his face scrunches up with both pain and satisfied delight, shaking his arm while simultaneously checking for a bruise. "well... that's more like it."

that was basically his way of complimenting you; a secret little language that only the two of you knew. you breathe out a chuckle, hiding your flustered smile behind your glove. "just shut up."

@livteracts

[iam-anordinary-human-orami]

I know spotify wasn't a thing probably for the aftg universe but like imagine it was and the trojans are holding a spotify wrapped unwrapped party or some dumb name like that, where they gather the team and what they do essentially is they write down what their top 5 songs were on a piece of paper, give it to this year's presenter and that person plays songs from each top 5 and the trojans have to figure out whose list it is.

So everyone thinks oh jean probably listens to french music, whether classical or otherwise, cause he seems to be so out of touch with pop culture. But, they forget that Jean started living with two lesbians and a gay golden retriever(I don't mean bark bark) and so his music horizons have widened.

So it's Jean's top 5, no one knows of course. Presenter is one of the trojans "and here goes our next mystery contestant starting off strong with... a band named, I assume it's a band, um plastic titties?" People are snickering, "we get it you're gay" "they're lesbians Harold!", and Jean tenses but hides it very well that it's his top 5. Song starts. It's a screamo punk indie rock combo. Ppl start making guesses, "your honour I think it's Cat, only she knows fringe bands with monthly listeners less than this team's defence line" cat yelling back "not my fault you're a slave to the trends you swiftie!" , "Look me in the eye and tell me you dont know the words to 'love story' " , "Settle down, we ain't finished yet. Any other guesses?" , "Are we sure it's not one of the coaches?" , "Which coach do YOU think would listen to, and I repeat, 'plastic titties'? And if anyone else responds with 'your mom' I'm banning u from this round" , "Play the next one so we cop a feel" , "Why u gotta make it weird bro"

"Okay next one!" And the next one is like an intense rap song "someone's covering their tracks people", "we need to figure out whether this is working out music or what they genuinely listen to", "go on to the next one cause this is a bop but it could be anyone", "couldn't be Jeremy though" Jeremy standing up for himself "hey, I listen to rap" , "says the person who's top song was probably by Natasha Bedingfield", "beat the Sugababes fan allegations and then refer to our captain"

"Riight, next one is" and the next one is a funky hip hop anti-establishment song "sounds like Laila people" laila making it clear "I do listen to them but I can guarantee you that's not in my top favourites, not because it's not a banger, but because I don't listen to this album very much" , "she's lying to the defence your honour!" , "No one's in trial Cody sit down" Jean turning to look at Jeremy "and this is supposed to be a bonding exercise?" Jeremy thoroghouly invested in the game and scribbling down "bet you it's Ananya, she's been awfully quiet" Jean rolls his eyes, his hands crossed while he looks upon the second best collegiate exy team and wondering how his life came to this

"Aight? Is there anyone that has an educated guess?" Shawn puts his hand up, presenter says "I said educated" Shawn puts his hand down.

The last two songs are like an indie creepy heartfelt song and a ballad. This throws everyone off. At the end of the round everyone is accusing everyone and their mother, Jean with a sigh and rubbing his temples "we could be doing drills" , someone yells "I bet my firstborn it's Nabil!" , "You are an embarrassment to this team, sit down!" "Nabil is an anime nerd, I didn't hear a single Naruto in that playlist!", "That's not amv music your honour" , "bring the strikers forward let them justify their crimes upon the eyes of God!" , "If it's a crime to have good taste lock👏 me 👏up👏"

The presenter gets tired after a while "alright, kindly shut your traps so we can have a winning day! The mystery contestant is.. drumroll people! The mystery contestant isss....Jean" Silence. And then "I didn't know the french listen to screamo?", "But your honour, this is not coloniser music?", "Amelie is not even on there though", someone quietly "not a single song about baguettes?", "What's next? Jeremy Knox being a secret death metal fan?"

Meanwhile, Dan got the foxes to post screenshots of their top 5 songs on social media. The Internet is breaking cause why is Andrew Minyard's top song by the veronicas???

[ladybugmania]

SCOTT BASSENTS 100 SUB-DEALS IN 100 DAYS

So Scott Bassent’s been out there parroting the Trump team’s latest nonsense about “100 deals in 100 days”, which, upon closer inspection, are apparently sub-deals. Sub-deals? What does that even mean? Are we all supposed to nod along like MAGA bobbleheads thinking he just scored 100 coupons for Subway sandwiches?

Maybe in Scott Bassent’s mind, these "sub-deals" are part of a limited-time combo offer: buy one fake policy win, get a side of gaslighting free. The reality? It’s not 100 actual deals, it’s one deal cut into 100 pieces and served cold like a day-old meatball sub.

Bassent’s answer to the obvious criticism was so weak, it made a wet paper bag look like Fort Knox. He genuinely seemed shocked anyone would question his "achievement", like we’re all too distracted by culture wars and conspiracy theories to notice that there’s nothing on the plate but crumbs and a price tag.

Politically, this is just more of the same from the Trump echo chamber: inflate numbers, deflate expectations, and pray no one asks for a receipt. These “sub-deals” are as real as the Trump University diplomas and just as valuable.

Let’s not kid ourselves, Bassents’ “100 deals” is nothing but idiotic jibberish wrapped in greasy MAGA paper. These so-called sub-deals? They're about as real as Trump's bone spurs. In fact, the only "subs" the American people are getting are the Subway kind, and not even the footlongs. Thanks to skyrocketing tariffs and economic clownery, all you’ll get is the wrapper, a stale pickle, and a plate of crumbs. In other words, a plate of sadness.

So hurry, folks, grab your sub-deal now! Because soon, all you’ll be able to afford is sniffing the sandwich bag while Scott Bassents explains why economic collapse is actually a “freedom dividend.”

The “100 deals” claim is nothing but parasitic dribble, cooked up in the MAGA microwave, served with a side of delusion. And in the end, all they'll be able to afford is the wrapper, thanks to tariffs so high they’ll need to mortgage their trucker hats.

So grab your “sub-deal” now, folks, because soon, even the crumbs will be considered a luxury.

Yours Truly

Moth Hawk

[niuttuc]

Weird Magic: the Gathering effects: Third edition

Some months ago, I ran a poll and then another where people guessed which of a bunch of weird MTG effects wasn't real. It was fun, so we're running it back with a third batch of weird things.

As last time, only the current text of effects is used, not necessarily the one printed on the card. Limited to cards that exist in paper, and are legal to play in at least some tournament formats. Though last time I did expand to text that's part of keyword rules or that's part of the current reminder text on at least one card.

Edit: Solution after the cut now that the poll is over!

The poll is over! Let’s go through all the different options and see where they appear on cards, what purpose they serve and some more context! I’ll put most of that under a read more to avoid filling up timelines, but for the first one we’ll let it slide.

Search target player's library for twenty cards (24.9%)

The correct solution was the most popular, there are no effects that search someone's library for twenty cards. Sadistic Sacrament does come close when kicked with exiling FIFTEEN cards from a deck, but there are many subtle differences. It doesn't point to the targeted player in that bit of text because it already referenced them before the kicker, and it searches for UP TO fifteen cards, which is important because the search doesn't specify any criteria. Wouldn't want to exile some bad cards once you run out of good cards to remove from the opponent's deck, after all!

Any time you could mulligan (18.4%)

You'd think no cards would be able to mess with mulligans, before people have even decided their hands, but there is ONE card (well, one tournament-legal card) that affects the game that far back. It's a card that occasionally sees play in weird combo decks to up the consistency of whatever thing they're trying to do, and surprisingly it isn't even from Future Sight.

If the player guessed wrong (0.8%)

While most people were able to correctly identify that this effect exists in magic, and while there's a few guessing cards, there is actually a single one with this specific wording, others use "they" or "that player" to refer to the guesser.

Exchange the text boxes of those creatures (5.7%)

I tried to stay away from un-sets for these, even the tournament-legal cards, this one is too unique and I eventually had to include it. It's just a really, really weird effect to exist and be legal, and it sure does strange things that aren't necessarily intuitive in practice.

Zombie God creature token (8.1%)

Vecna may be from D&D, but he appears on a magic card alright... Or at least as a token, which is technically not a card. The full description would have given it away of course, but this one is pretty rare to see in practice.

Initially, for that slot I wanted to put in God Horror for the Atropal created at the end of the Tomb of Annihilation, because technically dungeons are cards unlike emblems and tokens, but that felt mean.

Nonexistent mana costs can't be paid (13.6%)

This one is weird, since it's an oracle-updated reminder text that appears on one, and only one, of the costless cards in the game, and that doesn't actually appear on the cards. It was mostly there to try to catch people trying to "um, actually" this vote while the rules right above the poll do specify reminder text is included. If we're gonna be technical...

Creature spells you cast have offspring (1.9%)

A recent and prominent one, this rules text just reads very weird out of context so I had to include it. It's the one that led to me making this third poll after all!

Roll a d20. Draw cards equal to the result (3.8%)

This is a ridiculous effect to be on a magic card, nevertheless, it is! Commander Legends: Battle for Baldur's Gate had a cycle of Ancient Metallic Dragons that had effects on combat damage that scaled to a D20 roll. Blue, of course, got card draw, which is insane when the average roll is at 10.5 cards. So it got costed appropriately. Still, a very fun thing to see around.

Restart the game. (4.1%)

Technically my punctuation was off on this one, so if that's why you clicked it, you get a point! Otherwise, discover the first planeswalker card Karn got, with an utterly unique Ultimate that is unfit for polite commander games. Not that Karn sees much Commander play. Generally if you stick a Karn out long enough to have access to the Ult, you've already won this game and don't need to restart it.

Creatures you control but don't own are Mercenaries (2.4%)

This is not just a very flavorful line of text on Laughing Jasper Flint, but also a functional one, buffing his own effect thanks to all those extra Outlaws!

Reorder your graveyard as you choose. (13.8%)

In the old old days of magic, the order cards were put in the graveyard in actually mattered, with effects that grabbed the top creature of your graveyard, or the bottom card, or various other placements. They quickly realized the design space for this was not worth the nightmare that was keeping a graveyard in order, and stopped doing that, in 1998.

What's notable about this card is not so much that it messes with the order of cards in your graveyard, but more that it was printed to be compatible with those effects, allowing you to easily select a card at random by shuffling your graveyard, then leave it like that. It was printed to be compatible with those effects TEN YEARS AFTER THE LAST ONE WAS PRINTED, in 2008. It doesn't even need that text to be functional with graveyard order, it's just more convenient if you happen to be playing one of the handful of 10+ year old cards that care about graveyard order while also having Fossil Find in your deck. This is ridiculous, and fantastic.

Flip a coin. If you win the flip, take an extra turn (2.4%)

That's pretty much the entire effect right there. Extra turns are supremely powerful, and can be supremely unfun. So why not turn the entire game into a coin flip with an extra turn behind it for three mana! Someone is gonna walk out of this one grumpy, remains to be seen if it's you or your opponent.

[random-remzy]

Wanna know my biggest issue with Beyblade Burst Surge? (no? Ok, keep scrolling, imma rant regardless)

Its the fact that it was the perfect. And I mean THE PERFECT-

premise, to have Toko and Nika return.

Like- Not even, "Oh it would've been so cool if they did, but it makes sense that they didnt" IT WOULDVE MADE PERFECT SENSE?!?!?!

LIKE IT WAS MADE FOR THEM?!?!!?

IT FRUSTRATES ME because its not even the fact that the Premise was maybe not good enough IT WAS PERFECT.

Surge was the season where all the legends returned after being absent in Rise. It would make sense for them to reappear because they played huge roles in the first season and pretty decently big roles in Turbo.

Also! Imagine their whole thing??? They'd be like, the ultimate tag-tem??? Their whole thing is literally Twins??? Imagine the dynamic!! You might think you got it. Since Toko is very energetic off-battle and Nika is very polite, but during battle. Toko is like calculated and Nika is just like "zoom zoom >:D". They'd be competitive but during battle they'd be COMPLETEly in sync!! Imagine a Stamina/Defense combo! Countering the Hizashi bros Balance/Attack thing! IMAGIE THEM GOING AGAINST VALT AND HES SO CAUGHT BETWEEN EMOTIONS cus like. THOSE are his baby siblings, but also they're smart and powerful and he's always gonna gve his all!

Like! IMagine their introduction is just them racing down a beach as training and then they both win(or lose, theyd fall and blame each other) and they pass by the Comets crew. And they're all so confused about who these, cotton candy hair lunatics are!! And then they're like who are you guys, And Because they're their own people, they wouldn't let Valt take credit for them and instead go like "Why dont we find out" And pull out their beys or smt cool. (No, they're still valts siblings it would come out cool and then Hyuga would be like "...so you gonna tell us or... OH COOL BEYS!" And they'd deadpan.) Then theyd battle. And then the bros would be like, "Who are you guys?" And theyd just grin with their lil teeth and go "Im Toko Aoi." "And I'm Nika Aoi" (but like way coolr my brain isnt working rn) And the bros would be liek WHAAAAAAAA.

And imagine how They would help the Hizashi bros!!! They'd teach them all about like- Fighting as siblings but also having complete trust in each others abilities and complementing each others strengths/weaknesses. (Which is such an impotant part of Hikaru and Hyuga as a pair an I feel like that would've actually created such a better dynamic, instead of "You're wrong, I'm right, sometimes you do you and it works and sometimes I do I") And imagine Valt seeing them again!!! I think they only interacted once in Turbo. SO just like imagine, them seeing valt and honcho, and their all soo excited but their still his baby siblings so they just tackle him and They all laugh! Imagine them seeing shu and tackling him too (Is literally canon that Nika outgrew her fan-crush on him since like, between evolution and turbo) And making him smile. AND IMAGINE THE ASSAULT THEY WOULD DO ON WAKIYA OH LOORD THEY LOVE HIM SO MUCH THEY WOULD EMBARASS HIM TO THE COREEE.

And literally the only thing that kept that from happening is the fact that BeyBurst didn't have major female bladers until QuadDrive (Ilya)

NIKA WAS TEH PERFECT CHARACTER YOU DONT UNDERSTAND SHE COULD LITERALLY HAVE HER WON SPIN-OFF?!?!! Like, Imagine a spin-off and its just her trying to create her own path as a blader and outgrowing Valt and Toko's shadow! (unlikely but also IMAGINE!!)

Throughout the history of beyblade (Beyblade as a whole, not just Beyburst) the female characters (even the main ones!!) have been reduced to Beytrainer, or Beymanager. And I love Beyblade X sooo much for fixing that, and not just adding Multi as a main character. Buts also making Sigrid an antagonist. Along with major female bladers along the road!

Pri is the first official Female main character, (alongside Bel, hate that, nothing to be done tho) in BeyBurst. THE LAST FLIPPING SEASON GUYS!!!

UUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHGYUTFBGYUXYFI3H8FRX

It pisses me off to know what could've should've been but didnt.

IT WAS THE PERFECT PREMISE GUYS-

anyways. Im going to go wallow in my sadness, maybe make a short fix-it fic if im up for it.

Its especialy annoying considering Surge literally just felt like an excuse to bring back the legends. It didn't follow the same model as the other seasons, and the ONLY new bladers that were introduced (with actual original beys) were Lain, Hikaru and Hyuga. Also the choice of legends was a little confusing? Like, Yes, Silas was in the World Championship. But so was Xander??? Who was present in Burst, Evolution AND Turbo??? Why not bring him back????

TL;DR Toko and Nika would've been perfect for Surge but they didnt do that cuz the manga didnt do that, also cuz the first female blader in BeyBurts was in QuadDrive. Bt adding the twins would've shed a whole new light on Hizashi bro's ability to unify and battle together.

[tinytalkingtina]

WIP Weekend

Oh goodness I did this late so thanks for the tags @vthx @hbyrde36 @pearynice and @helpimstuckposting!

Rules: Send me an emoji in an ask, and I'll write 3-5 sentences and/or paragraphs from that WIP. No limits to the amount of emojis you can request, please feel free to send multiple!

In an effort to catch up on the other outstanding asks I have for B.A.D. D.O.G. and my Star Trek Steddie AU gonna have only two options for new emojis this week!

🏴‍☠️ Eddierotica: "Eddie writes the world's worst erotica about characters who are just poorly disguised versions of himself and Steve. They're not dating" now features Steve playing mind games right back at Eddie heh heh.

💥Steddie Big Bang: Secret fic is at 9k words now! This can't be publicly shared yet, so if you send in this emoji feel free to pick another fic as well, and I'll write 3 sentences for both. Hopefully by next week I can start sharing snippets :D

Tagging some folks to join in on the fun and work on their own WIPs this weekend:

@apomaro-mellow @eriquin @zombiethingy @dame-zoom-a-lot @fkinkindagauche

@wynnyfryd @fuctacles @stevesjockstrap @shares-a-vest @runninriot

@onirislanding @strangerthingswritersguild

Enjoy a snippet from 🏴‍☠️ below the cut:

Yeah, he could just tell Eddie his hopeless crush wasn’t completely hopeless, buuut...there was no reason Steve couldn’t play a little dirty. See just how far he could push Eddie before he cracked.

The plan formed in Steve’s head pretty fast: The walls of their apartment were pretty thin. His roommate had mentioned he could hear Steve busy pleasing his partners before, usually with some sort of teasing snarky comment once they left.

Eddie had obviously taken those noises and let his imagination run wild. So now Steve had to step up his game and put on a show to inspire his voyageristic audience.

If Eddie wanted more, but was too chicken shit scared to ask? Well now he was about to get almost everything he wanted and listen in on a completely new side of his roommate:

It was time for Daddy to have some alone time with his toys.

Operation Fuck With Eddie (Then Maybe Fuck Him For Real If Things Work Out) got thrown into motion earlier than Steve expected it to. Robin and Vickie called in sick to their usual football/potluck/movie night, which meant the two of them would be alone in the apartment all Sunday. Steve barely kept a shit-eating grin off his face while he promised Robin that no, she wouldn’t have gotten rabies from her girlfriend sneezing on her, and yes, he’d drop off some soup tomorrow if they didn’t feel better.

Right after halftime, he gave a totally real and not fake-sounding yawn to interrupt Eddie’s rant about some burrito commercial ‘violating the sacred trust of documentarians’.

“Wow I’m sooo tired man, think I’m gonna head to bed early today,” he said, doing an exaggerated stretch. His would-be author of a roommate raised an eyebrow.

“I know you get up stupid early for your job but last I checked it’s four pm Steve.”

“Uh, yup, I see that.” Shit, think fast Harrington! “I’ve...got an early morning meeting! Yeah, the principal wants us there at five thirty. AM. Yup, early meeting. At the school. Where I work. With kids in it sometimes but not at five thirty in the morning.” Smooth.

Eddie stared at him for a second before shrugging.

“That sucks. Go get your beauty sleep Harrington. I’ll let you know if the world ends and the Browns win somehow. Really hope they don’t," he added with a wink, "Or I’ll have to let Gareth dye my hair. Think I'd look good as a blonde Big Boy?”

The combo of imagining Eddie posing like the sexy lady from that movie about the cross-dressing musicians and the college nickname nearly took him out.

“Haha, yeah, totally. Well, night! Shower time for Dadd-Steve!” He capped his train-wreck of a sentence off with finger guns, the classic.

Eddie laughed and turned back to the game. Fuck yeah, he bought it! Take that Robin, he totally could be as sneaky as a ninja if he wanted. He should probably tell his roommate to stop making bets with Gareth though, what if the guy tried to shear him like a sheep next?