#so 🤷

[tomato-flavored-soap]

I love seeing everyone put the vee’s into every single mean girl trio somg

[deabruarenjarraitzaileaya-ha]

This is my gift for Eyeshield 21 Winter Gift Exchange of 2023. @shortandbittersweet I hope you like it! And I'm so sorry about the delay 🙏🙏

Also many thanks to @eyeshields for all their work organizing the event ♥️♥️

.............................................................

When Kongou Agon stepped into the Empire City Casino at 01:43 am, he had a clear plan in mind: take a look around, play a few games and win easy money, perhaps find a pretty woman to pass the time with and leave the tab to… Just will away the time until the blond trash and the other idiots called him in desperation, begging him to help with their ridiculous plan. He’d have a bit of fun at their expense, leave them hanging for a bit, and appear in the nick of time. 

Simple, easy to follow plan. The blond trash would try to pull some shit, but nothing that would damage his own plan, so Agon wasn’t too worried. Which is why, after ordering himself a drink and approaching the gambling tables, he did a double take that almost spilled the fucking beer all over the floor. He blinked once, twice, and gritted his teeth. But of course, of course, that trash would be in this casino with no explanation, dealing cards at the poker table like he did that every night from 10 to 6. 

Unlike other times he’d seen Hiruma go ‘undercover’, he seemed to be making an effort this time. He looked as dumb as the rest of the casino workers, with a red vest and a ridiculous visor, his hair slicked back and as tame as he’d ever seen it, pointy ears partially covered by it. 

That wasn’t why it took him a good few seconds to make sure it was him, though. It was the smile. He was smiling like a normal person, as if he were a regular 19-year-old trash with regular trash teeth and regular trash personality. 

It was disgusting. 

…And somehow more unsettling than the usual demonic grin. 

“What the fuck, trash!?” he asked, reasonably, and sneered at the nearby randos clutching their pearls.

“Welcome, sir! Would you like to join the game?”

Oh, fuck no. He was acting. The affected perkiness and wide-eyed, eager face… he was mimicking that tiny roller-skating menace.

“Aaah!? Fat chance, trash. I want you to tell me what-”

But Hiruma had already given him two cards face down and was gesturing to the vacant chair with that uncanny smile.

He could just turn around and leave, ignore the annoying trash and whatever mad scheme he was cooking up in that big brain of his. They had some twelve hours until their flight back to Japan, he could find something else to do with his time until then. He could…

Agon sat down with a scowl, picking the two cards up but not taking his eyes off of Hiruma. “What are you doing here? You told me those assholes would be at the casino by the airport.”

Hiruma laid a hand on the table and leaned in, tilting his head to the side to hide the sudden impish quirk of his smile from the rest of the casino. “Which is why you ran away to a different casino on the other side of the city?” he asked, voice back to his usual raspiness and eyebrows arched in mockery.

Manipulative piece of shit.

“You’re becoming predictable, Agon-kun, never a good look.” He leaned back and yet again fixed the same cheerful mask from before on his face. Agon resisted the urge to grab his cheeks and headbutt him.

“So the rest of the trash is here as well?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir,” he replied sunnily, before turning to the idiots who had remained. “Ready to continue the game, everyone?”

There was no way Hiruma didn’t know their teammates’ exact location, either in this very casino or in some other part of New York. But he didn’t really care one way or another; he could always call Ikkyuu if he really wanted to know.

“So those assholes you're looking for—the pencil pushers who are trying to reject the creation of a world championship—, they are in this casino. And your plan is, what, to cheat them of their money? To smile at them creepily until they agree?”

Agon had experience with Hiruma’s schemes. They sounded crazy, but were annoyingly clever. They usually involved blackmail—but that required Hiruma himself to stay hidden and in control of at least three electronic devices—, intimidation and/or physical violence. Dealing with people in influential positions such as these involved more elaborate methods than beating them into a pulp—which was a pity, because he could really use some light exercise, and he hardly had the patience for a more elaborate charade.

The trash, instead of answering, pointed at the cards in Agon’s hand with his freakishly long fingers. “Would you like to place a bet, sir?”

Ugh!

Fine.

He pushed his sunglasses up into his head and stole a quick look at his cards: the king of diamonds and the ten of clubs. Could be worse. Could be better. He took a few chips out of his pocket to pay the buy-in and the bet to continue the game, adding them to the pile.

There were three cards already on the table: the king of spades, the five of clubs and the eight of diamonds. Hiruma shuffled the deck like a magician with a caffeine overdose and put one more card down with a flourish: the queen of hearts. 

Agon didn’t really like these types of games; he preferred to rely on his own skill rather than on chance and statistics. But his luck was decent and the ladies at casinos were usually loaded and willing to spend it on him, so he’d been to a few.

A glance at the blond trash—at the tilt of his chin and the glint in his green eyes whenever he wasn’t playing the golden retriever for the other players—told him he was being challenged. Win the game and get these idiots to leave, huh? It was a blatant manipulation attempt, Hiruma Youichi’s speciality: annoy someone into abandoning common sense and catch them in his web. While fully aware of it, Agon couldn’t not try and prove the bastard wrong—sometimes, he wondered why he even bothered. And the chance to earn good money was appealing, too.

He remembered the basics of the game: Hold’em Texas, Hiruma had called it, a variant of poker. As the rest of the table made their bids, he drank his beer and eyed them with disdain. They were all gray guys in suits that would make Unko-chan seem charismatic and fun by comparison. They would be easy to intimidate, or at least repel. He would have preferred to have a pretty girl to please his eye—instead he had to look at that blond trash and his stupid face—, but at least he would get these idiots’ money.

And get it he did. 

He may have had some trouble remembering whether a Straight or a Flush had higher value, but all it took was his third best glare, a few insults, some good hands and Hiruma ‘unwittingly’ annoying and confusing the shit out of them. After half an hour, Agon’s beer glass was as empty as the surrounding seats, and he had ten times the number of chips he had started the game with.

The skinny trash looked delighted; his sunny smile had grown fangs and he could almost see a pointy tail wagging behind him. “Kekeke, well done, sir!”

“Aaah? Cut the crap, trash, tell me your plan.”

Hiruma leaned forward, looking like he was about to divulge some juicy secret, but Agon knew from experience that it was going to be bullshit. However, without saying anything, Hiruma’s eyes left his to rest somewhere over his shoulder.

Agon scowled.

“Deal me in, brat.”

That snobby, nasal voice… No fucking way. 

Agon whipped his head around so fast his glasses would have gone flying if they weren’t high quality, expensive as hell Oakley Juliets.

Sliding into a vacant seat, wearing a white fur coat and the expression of someone who’d smelled shit—and who knew, with that fucking snout of his he might have been able to smell a corpse next city over—, was Clifford fucking D Lewis.  

“Of course, sir!” 

The American quarterback took his cards, but didn’t even glance at them, eyes fixed on Hiruma the same way Anezaki pretended not to stare at cream puffs.

“I’m beginning to wonder about your hobbies. Are you an aspiring actor? Part of an amateur theater group, perhaps? This is at least the third time you’ve played dress up in my presence.”

Hiruma’s smile sharpened like a sushi chef’s knife, and he tilted his head. “Clifford-sama recognised me? I’m honored.”

Clifford snorted, the sound loud even with the racket of the casino surrounding them—probably because it had more room to reverberate due to his enormous nose. He muttered something under his breath, but Agon’s English wasn’t good enough to catch it. One of Hiruma’s freakish ears twitched, however, and for a second he looked like his usual devilish self, ridiculous costume and all.

Neither of them had spared him a glance yet.

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

The pompous bastard barely turned his head to glance at him. “Agon Kongou,” he said, in a tone of voice that reminded him of ‘I don’t even need to pay attention to guys like you’. “Strange choice for a poker game. Was your cowboy friend unavailable?”

Clifford D Lewis had a very punchable face. And he may be faster than him still, but Agon’s reaction time was better; in such close quarters…

A kick to the shin stopped him from lunging forward. He glowered at Hiruma, who had that disgustingly cheerful smile on yet again. “A game against the dealer, gentlemen?”

He took the two cards with a snarl. Hiruma better start explaining soon, otherwise he’d leave, and then he’d really have to call for that cowboy trash to come help him.

Clifford huffed and readjusted the collar of his tiger print shirt—and seriously, why the hell did it have to be that particular pattern? Agon was wearing it better, but it still pissed him off. 

They paid the starting amount. Agon had two queens, but it would take a lot of luck to win against these two poker addicts. The three open cards weren’t very encouraging, but he’d be damned if he folded in the first round. He’d be able to think better if Clifford quitted his yapping. Agon knew enough English to know that the D in his name had to stand for Dick.

“It’s clear why you’re here. You’re after Jacob Robert Clarkson, general secretary of the American Football Federation, and Daniel Mullin, director of development of the International Football Committee. They have been speaking against the consolidation of an international university league and hindering the entire process; without their approval, the project won’t take off.”

Hiruma put another card down. The American quarterback made the bet, and they matched it. 

“It’s interesting that you’re posing as a poker dealer, then, since neither of them plays poker.”

Wait, what?

“Clarkson is a roulette man and Mullin only plays slot machines. An information broker of your level must have known that before starting this whole ridiculous charade.”

What.

Hiruma put the last card down. Clifford shoved half of his sizable mountain of chips towards the center of the table and leaned closer. “If you wanted to attract my attention, there are other ways, brat.”

Okay, no. “What the fuck, trash!?” He pushed the same amount of chips forward; he didn’t care about winning anymore, but he wouldn’t back down on principle. 

“You needn’t have bothered, of course; Don would never allow them to completely reject the project or even dawdle too much,” Clifford said, that annoying superior smirk in place. “It’s clear to us, after that first international two years ago, that other countries need to be reminded of America’s superiority.”

Hiruma’s toothy grin widened, looking as unhinged as a shoji door. “Is that so? How generous of America-sama.”

He uncovered his cards. They were an ace and a two, which meant he only had Two Pairs; the little shit had been bluffing.

Clifford had two tens. With the cards on the table, he had a Full House. He opened his mouth, eyes fixed on Hiruma, but Agon slammed his cards down on the table before he could say anything.

He had two queens, plus the two queens on the table; he had the highest hand. Hiruma cackled without restraint and Clifford scowled. 

“Another game?”

[supersecretnerd]

:)

[groty-codi-dolls]

If there was one request I could make about new Barbie designs -- just one, that's the limit of this hypothetical -- it's that we get a doll that's only 11 inches tall.

Barbies are in the 1:6 scale -- 1" of height in the Barbie world is 6" of height in the human world.

Nobody make any jokes.

Anywho, there's a lot of celebrity dolls I'd love to rebody, but a lot of their real-life counterparts wouldn't really fit the scale. Lemme explain:

The "Original" Barbie body type (both pre- and post-redesign) has been famously advertised standing at 11.5" tall; multiplied by 6, Barbie the character would stand at 5'9".

Curvy Barbies are the same height, with the exception of Fashionista #208(idk how tall she is, probably 10" if I had to guess).

Petite Barbies are 10" tall, which would only make them 5 feet tall in human scale.

Tall Barbies are 12" tall, as are Kens, which would make them 6 feet tall.

If a Barbie were 11", they'd be about 5'6". The average AFAB height in the USA is around 5'4", which is closer to 5'6" than 5 feet or 6 feet; that would include a lot of US lady celebrities.

None of this is an end-of-the-world situation, of course. I'm sure there are hybrids with other dolls that would make a Barbie stand at 11"(maybe a Liv? I'd have to see for myself), but it'd be pretty cool if the Barbie line had some 11" ladies itself.

I'm honestly just rambling here, feel free to ignore me lol

[jaggededges123]

what made you call yourself coffee? :o

well,, actually that wasn't really my choice XD back when i first joined the mdzs fandom, when i joined the xisang server (my first server that i interacted in in forever and a half) i actually introduced myself with a different nickname, but since my discord includes "coffee" i guess that was easier to remember? so people kept calling me that and after a while i just adopted it and now i am equally as coffee as i am [redacted]

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

Revelations today:

A) Red Canary probably isn't Sin because Red Canary is... new at this. (vague speculation that Red Canary is Lian however the ages don't match up imo)

B) Jeremy Adams is a massive Birds of Prey fan

C) Adams now knows Sin is up for grabs 🤔

[stagefoot]

(Note: The point of this rant is not me being smug, and I know luck has also very much been a factor for me. I have been fucking privileged in a lot of ways since the pandemic started, and I fully acknowledge that. This is just a disabled person with a chronic lung condition being…frustrated. Really fucking frustrated.)

So today everyone in our little tech corral (video, audio, and me (lighting), about 10 people in all) were talking about their experiences having covid.

Now, I have not (🌳✊) had covid. I am the only one in the group who has not. I am also the only one wearing a mask. Almost no one in the crowd (2000+ people) or who is part of the show is masked. I’m supposed to see my 80+ year old grandparents in two days and uh yeah I don’t really feel safe doing that. So that sucks.

[achilles-the-boy-of-gold]

Guys. I think I might have my first crush on someone that I'm not friends with.

[mouseratz]

hmmm hi guyse Im waiting on my benadryl to kick in before I go to sleep. how is everyone

[yerbamansa]

Wrote a little thing last night on my phone because I keep thinking about it. What if I shoved all my sad feelings about the bunny dying into Stede and made it a meetcute in the end, as one does? Everything is an AU, blah blah blah.

Under a cut for pet death, depression thoughts.

Stede hadn't expected Arthur to die.

The funny little guy with the soft face and floppy ears left poop on the floor and a hole in Stede's heart.

He wasn't even sure about getting a rabbit in the first place. Always figured he was more of a cat guy, maybe, except Mary was allergic so they never had one. Then the divorce, and then the kids pleading for a pet, and then the shelter event at the pet store where the most beautiful man he'd ever seen showed him how to handle a bunny, gentle and easy as anything. Told him about a Facebook group that was good for questions and congratulated Arthur on finding his forever home.

So he'd brought Arthur back to his two bedroom apartment and given him run of the place. Coaxed him to jump up on the couch for cuddles and treats. Got used to the little guy being underfoot, especially in the kitchen. Stede found himself eating more green vegetables just because he could share. Habits that became ingrained over time. 

The rabbit was for the kids, sure, but Stede was Arthur's human. He had never really been anyone's human, not really, so Arthur occupied a very special place in Stede's heart.

And then, one morning, Arthur didn't want to eat breakfast. Not even pellets or treats. Stede brought him to the vet, gave all the meds he was prescribed, paid for the tests he was told to get, and then…

Well. No one to appreciate his kale stems and strawberry tops anymore. No one to look out for under the desk chair. No one to appear at 7 o'clock on the dot, eyes shining, to remind him about dinner.

The kids were sad, of course. And his friends were kind. No one made him feel bad about mourning something as silly as a pet bunny. (He'd excised anyone who might've ages ago, around the same time as the divorce.)

Thing was, Stede had been sad and lonely for a while. Arthur was good company, a reason to get up in the morning, but his loss felt bigger than that. And yet, he felt it in all the little ways, the crevices of his day, the way he didn't have to check a water dish or close a door at night. All the small ways he'd made space in his life for the love of a tiny creature. Like it was the last good thing in his daily life to go.

The mourning held so much more than that one loss. But it was the part that anyone else understood.

It took him weeks to clean out all of Arthur's stuff, all the little oops stains and fur piles and scattered hay. Part of it was just feeling tired. Part of it was wanting to feel that wave of sadness and loss from seeing the mess left behind, just a little longer.

Eventually he decided it was time to try again. No bunny could be Arthur, he was certain, but he could make new friends. Probably.

He spent time on the website of the local rescue that he'd adopted Arthur from, sent a few emails about different bunnies, and made plans to visit an adoption event to meet a few.

There, sitting in a pen with a fuzzy gray thing with jet-black ears, was him. The beautiful man who helped him find Arthur.

"I'm here for the adoption event?" he said timidly. He wasn't even looking at the rabbits, all sitting in their little pens kitted out with colorful blankets.

The man set down the rabbit and stood up. "Great," he said, brushing some of the fur off his shirt (but not all, never all). "I'm Ed, who are you here to meet?"

Stede swallowed. You, he thought.

[deathdxnces]

✘ Any unpopular opinions about your muse?

♧ Any part of their canon portrayal you dislike?

☯ Is your muse liked or disliked by fandom? Does this affect your portrayal?

the mun's interpretation

— @yunalai

✘ Any unpopular opinions about your muse?

i sort of answered here and like i said i don't? really know what are the popular opinions about her but hm i guess that her heroic image shouldn't be taken at face value, that she isn't endlessly gentle and wouldn't put peace before her hatred for noxians, and what i'm yelling all the time about her being gentle and soft but also ruthless and violent because she is both.

♧ Any part of their canon portrayal you dislike?

also answered here! can't think of anything i dislike that was done with her other than sentinels of light event, but i do dislike some things aren't better developed, such as her stance on the vastaya and their conflict with other ionians. for someone so involved in everything ionia i think it's a huge oversight, even though i have my personal Thoughts and Opinions on how she feels about all that.

☯ Is your muse liked or disliked by fandom? Does this affect your portrayal?

to answer the second question first, no, the fandom's opinion doesn't affect my portrayal at all. part of that is that i simply don't keep up with it, i guess? i've stumbled on plenty of Takes online that dislike irelia's new lore/personality post rework, but i don't think she's widely hated or loved? there's plenty of people who like her too. but yeah i don't tend to keep up with it so it doesn't affect my portrayal at all.

even if i did, though, it likely wouldn't affect how i write her, only make me more critical of fandom takes or extra defensive and love her harder if people hated her because that's usually what happened when i wrote characters people had many Opinions about ksanfksajdnf

[lulubeanie]

Having something of an "oc moment" right now. but alas, I cannot draw them

Instead I am just imagining scenes and images

[visconsio]

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[beansnpeets]

My old job at the grocery store bakery is open again. I'm going to apply.

[k3yreviewer25]

accidentally looked into a laser, here's hoping I didn't just fuck up my vision 👍