#....]

[explicitlyrics]

this bull amulet from 3250 bce felt so familiar and i figured out why

[purp13cloud]

The Yellow King got to Avery first Au ,creating a copy just like how He tried to trick D3lord3

Part 2

[beybuniki]

skeb :)

[seizethegay420]

He lost focus and wanted a consensual workplace relationship

[eggonthemoon]

"Look at this idiot lmao doesn't he know he's still on stage? Why is he going to her, does he want to die? lololol"

"PFFFT- Couldn't be me LMAO"

......

......

"MY WIFE!! MY WIFE!!! HYUNA MY WIFEY I'VE MISSED YOU-"

[omens-of-what-is-to-cum]

I honestly don't believe for a SECOND that the first time Ilya saw Shane was in the parking lot at the prospect cup.

like, 1000% respect to all fic writers who talk abt Ilya being stunned upon first seeing Shane's freckles, but in reality there is no WAY Ilya didn't know alllll about Shane.

like, everyone agrees that Ilya's main motivation to play hockey is to get out of Russia right? and so here he is, at the literal prospect cup, possibly the most important win he needs to Literally Escape Russia...

and actual articles and radio hosts are all talking up and down about HIM... and another boy.

A competitor. The only real, tangible obstacle in this game that represents a ticket out of the hell he's stuck in.

Of course he knows this boy. He may not be a hockey fanatic, but for this game? He'll do whatever he has to do to win.

So of course he knows Shane Hollander. He knows his strengths and his inclinations in a play, knows that he bounces his knee on the bench, head closely following him teammates on the ice, knows that his mother stands like a guiding bodyguard at his back, and the way his chests fills out his jersey.

Ilya knows all about Shane so he's ready to win against him,,

and maybe also because there's just something about him.......

[that-wildwolf]

woe garrus be upon ye

(garrus screenshot by @milkywayes thank u)

[daisydood]

"It was never in the cards" the writers leaving the writers room with 7 byler cards shoved up their ass