#beat appreciation

[l-a-l-o-u]

yes of COURSE there's a million other legendary combos but can’t you see the power that these have. you know you've seen their work around town

[potato-lord-but-not]

Arthur being a menace and also my fav side characters evveerrrrr Noel hiiii

[qdkdraws]

These five sinners wanted to have some fun at the expense of an innocent animal, but they got the wrong animal.

[holyblanchett]

One thing about Kathryn Hahn is you will never catch her slipping around a beautiful woman.

[gay-otlc]

Obsessed with “I’ll beat them up for you” as a love language in general, but especially when the person saying this has absolutely zero ability to actually beat anyone up

[ruporas]

i killed. i murdered. i'm nothing like these sleepy people here… nevertheless, you can actually be grateful? bastard… i’m saying… thank you. because you spilled blood, you saved all of these people’s lives. i couldn’t have done it without you. (ID in alt)

[front-facing-pokemon]

[painedpen]

I saw a tiktok about Ron yelling at Hermione and embarrassing her in public (he would never), and Draco punching him in the face and I am so. Tired.

Like. We’ve already established that once Ron is committed to his relationship with Hermione, he’s peak husband material. He’s lovely. Househusband extraordinaire. But the idea of Draco Malfoy beating him up???

I like Draco as much as the next person, but we need to acknowledge that he’s a lil bitch. Every time he pisses someone off, he eats shit. Ron beats that twink into the ground on the regular. Come on people, let’s be real.

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: Silliness VI (Family Edition)

17-year-old Shermie: *holding out a lunch pail* Stanford, don’t forget your lunch. I don’t want you to be hungry.

12-year-old Jerk Ford: Whatever, b***h.

12-year-old Stanley: Ford! You can't talk to our brother like that!

Jerk Ford: Sure.

-45 Years Later-

57-year-old Jerk Ford: *holding up a paper bag* Dipper, your lunch. I don’t want you starving.

12-year-old Dipper: Whatever, b***h *flips him off*.

[Directly From This]

-

Jerk Ford: Hey, runt.

Mabel: Yes, Great Uncle Ford?

Jerk Ford: I was reading through the entries and 'corrections' you and your brother oh-so-kindly put into my Journal, and I noticed something.

Mabel: What?

Jerk Ford: You defeated the gnomes?

Mabel: Yup, with a leaf blower!

Jerk Ford: And this whole kerfuffle started because... they wanted you to marry them and be their queen?

Mabel: Oh- uh, yeah. I was disappointed because they weren't secretly a vampire.

Jerk Ford: You don't say...

-Later-

Jerk Ford: Now, what is the age of consent in the state of Oregon?

Jeff, hanging upside down from a tree: *sobbing* Eighteen!

Jerk Ford: And what's the age of consent for anyone with the last names Pines, Corduroy, Ramirez, or McGucket?

Jeff: Infinity!

Jerk Ford: Good, we're at an understanding. However, just in case- *continues to blow on dog whistle*

Jeff: *screeches in anguish*

---

17-year-old Stanley and Jerk Ford sitting in the Stanley Mobile.

Stan: Ford, I know what you're thinking.

Jerk Ford:

Stan: You cannot blow up the state of Jersey.

Jerk Ford: Why not?

Stan: That wouldn't solve nothin'!

Jerk Ford: Yes it would.

Stan: What problem could blowing up New Jersey possibly solve??

Jerk Ford: The existence of Jersey.

(In all seriousness, Jerk Ford would definitely leave with Stanley. They would struggle being homeless in Stan's car for a few weeks or months depending on when they were kicked out, but they both still had scholarships to Backupsmoore so they'd be good once they went to college. Jerk Ford would conduct so many séances around Pines Pawns in the meantime that it would be super haunted forever)

---

Stanford: I was stuck in a dimension where the arm of the galaxy I was in was in the midst of a galactic war. And all of the men - and about a hundred other genders across the different alien species - regardless of age were required to serve in the war. But, there was a loophole.

Anyone who worked at Hooters, in space or terrestrial, was exempted, to improve the morale of the remaining civilian population of women - and about a hundred more genders across the different alien species - the real reason I was in trouble for not putting in my two weeks notice isn't just because it was bad work practice, but it made me a war deserter.

Stan: Please never speak of this again, and don't try it again.

Stanford: I can't anyways, lost too much weight. No 'hooters' to speak of anymore.

Stan: Please, stop talkin'.

Stanford: I made so much money, too.

Stan: Sometimes I wish ya didn't know words.

---

During a Game of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons

Old Man McGucket, the Dungeon Master: You realize what you are facing is a type of ooze - a corrosive monster called a Black Pudding.

Jerk Ford, playing a Bard: Quick, is anyone's character a vegetarian?

Dipper, playing a Ranger: My character lives off of the land, so no.

Soos, playing a Druid: Same here dawg, no.

Wendy, playing a Tabaxi: Heck no.

Mabel, playing a Satyr: Surprisingly, no.

Melody, playing a Warforged: My character doesn't even eat.

Jerk Ford: Da-rn it! A vegetarian would be immune to the Black Pudding.

Old Man McGucket: ...And why do you think that?

Jerk Ford: Don't you know; if you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding?

*collective groaning from the other players*

Old Man Mcgucket:

Old Man Mcgucket: I'm giving you a negative inspiration point.

[dumpster-fire-sapphic-failgirl]

“Vi didn’t get a win in all of Season 2. She lost every fight!”

Vi isn’t made to win fights. Vi blocks with her face. She wins because she takes the hit so other people don’t have to and she gets up again and again and again

Vi saved Cait at the memorial. No, she didn’t land the showy blow with Jayce’s hammer, but Cait would still be dead if she wasn’t there, bare knuckle boxing a shimmer goon

Vi technically beat Jinx in their showdown. But Vi *won* by protecting her sister and the undercity kid

She came out on top in most of the montage brawls. But it wasn’t a win, bc it wasn’t *for* anything. And it didn’t hurt enough until she started blocking with her face again

She was winning the slap fight with Jinx until she sucker punched a child for biting her so that was really a draw at best

She won the fight with War/Vander. She saved Isha’s life with that punch. She went ten rounds with a genetically modified nigh immortal killing machine. She stopped in an act of faith for Jinx. And got her sister and father back. That’s a win.

Vi lost when she tried to bare knuckle box against spears. Pro tip: The greatest boxer in the world will lose against a company of spear fighters. If you’ve just got your hands, you will not win against spears. Accept the L. Survival becomes the W. Bonus, she did protect Jinx from the blast.

And then everyone lost in the final battle. Vi held her own in the first half by surviving. Her and piano man were the only ones not dead by the time the Undercity Armada and Magic Mel showed up. And then everyone lost to the perfection bots except Ekko. and Ekko did arguably cheat a little.

Anyway, had enough of the libel about my angry oil slick and her over designed bitch mittens. Vi won. So many times. When she saved someone she cared about. When she got back up after getting knocked down. Shielding the people she loved.

[saturnaous]

I don’t like ingo and emmet at all. does anybody wanna hit them with trains together

[masterrainb0w]

I think the Peachyville horror might be the husbands that made us along the way.

[decadentpaperduck]

Long Been Buried - Astarion x Fem!Reader - Baldurs Gate

Summary: As the unofficially appointed leader of your team, the pressure builds one night in camp. Set around about Act 1/2 ish, Astarion supports Tav through a tough night. Words: 1.2k Warnings: Fluff, sad/angst ish, comfort

I have not published something I have written in a hot minute - debated putting that as a warning, but just wanted to offer some comfort in case anyone felt as overwhelmed as I tend to.

I decided just to pull off the plaster (band aid) on this one so forgive if not too polished, but after not posting my writing for years, I had to get it over with!

Thanks for reading!

_____________________

You let the flap of the tent fall shut behind you as you crawl into your bedroll and fall onto your back. The chill of the night air is apparent, even within the confines of your canvas cocoon. Your arms wrap around yourself in an attempt to warm your body and soothe your soul; palms brushing frayed cotton in a back and forth motion.

The fate of the world, the fate of your friends seems to be your hands. You aren’t quite sure how and when they put you in charge, but it was right about now that you wish they hadn’t.

Gale’s Deity ex-girlfriend demands the ultimate sacrifice in exchange for meaningless forgiveness, Karlach will meet a face worse than death if she doesn’t return to Avernus and Shadowheart seeks the acceptance of a soulless Goddess of pain and suffering.

But worse than all that you could allow to happen, remains that which you couldn’t prevent. That cannot be undone.

Astarion is a master of Stoicism, but you can see the way Cazador has dug his claws into him. The fear of enclosed spaces. The dislike for rats. The way he believes no one could ever want him around for anything more than his body.

You think about the first time you let him feed on you and how it took him several days after that to stop asking you if there was anything he could do for you in return, including sleeping with you.

You had politely declined his advances with shame that shone through your skin. In truth, he had become someone you cared about all too quickly, but you would never allow him to believe he owed you for something you did out of love, or something very close to it. 

You don’t seem to register when the tears first tumble from your eyes until they roll down the sides of your face, brushing the tips of your ears before hitting the pillow. Closing your eyes releases another round, descending downward, skimming your temples.

“Darling?” The familiar voice, smaller than you have ever heard it, whispers through the gap in the tent door. “May I come in?” You surmise it's likely he already knows you're upset but you attempt to lessen the impact of coming face to face with that reality by brushing away the evidence. “If you don’t answer me I am afraid I may have to commit an act of breaking and entering to ensure your safety.” Your laugh is a reflex you have grown used to in his company. A welcome one.

“Yes, you may.” One last drag of your hands across your face and Astarion appears at the entryway to your tent. You lean up onto your elbows and push yourself up into a seated position.

“Thank you.” Ever the gentleman, he replaces the fabric covering the doorway before making himself comfortable, mirroring your position, legs straight in front, leaning backwards on arms outstretched. “Is everything alright?” 

The simple answer is no, and perhaps that is written on your face. Astarion looks concerned, an expression he rarely wore. Something about his approach made you answer in truth. No quips. No forced positivity. Just your reality. But not before taking a deep breath.

“No.” You watch his face as carefully as he watches yours. You notice how his brow dips in the middle, as though the worries in his mind have settled neatly upon his forehead. “And I’m tired of pretending they are,” You swallow as teardrops gather along your bottom lash line. “Not that I think anyone is fooled.” You laugh, shaking your head as you avert your eyes from the intensity of his gaze. "I feel like a fraud, who am I to be standing here before you all like I have a clue?!"

“Darling, it’s not about anyone being fooled.” You can hear the restraint in his voice. “For better or worse, you  take it upon yourself to absorb everyone’s problems with the aim of finding an answer for them. That makes you a better person than most of us. But it doesn’t mean that every answer is good or will have a happy ending. It’s the hope that makes it worthwhile.” Rain begins to fall on the tent roof, the patter punctuating the peaceful pause.

“Take it from a man who traditionally does as much good as you do evil.” He leans forward and lowers his head in an attempt to catch your eye and when he has no luck, resituates himself beside you and plants his hand atop yours. You look back at your hands with a fondness. The softness of Astarion’s actions counter everything he ever wanted you to believe. “You inspire a hope in me that has long been buried in an empty casket in Baldur’s Gate.” 

You screw your eyes shut as you try to contain the tears, swallowing hard as your breathing threatens to release a body wracking sob. “Oh Darling.” He breathes, before leaping to action and wrapping his arms around you, pressing you close to his chest. The sob escapes into his cotton shirt with the criss cross front. “It will be okay.” He says into your hair. “It will be o-kay.” He rocks you slightly. He hushes you as you cry, a soothing symphony with the accompanying rain. Your body moulds into his or perhaps his moulds into yours.

“Will you stay with me?” You ask quietly. “You don't have to. I just-” You choke on your words, but before you can try to continue, his hand cradles the back of your neck.

“You don't have to explain yourself.” He turns his head and presses his lips against the top of your head.  “You don't have to go through this alone. You do so much for everyone else,” He leans back, peeling you from him, and holds your head perfectly between his two palms, your eyes interlocking. “Let me do this for you.” 

“This is nothing, I’ll be-” His lips press to your forehead and your eyes flutter shut on impact. The silence in the tenderness of the moment wraps around your heart and squeezes. How can you argue?

Before you think you might cry again, he sits back and looks at you. 

“How about we get some rest?” His hands squeeze your shoulders gently. You nod, exhausted from another day of walking, thinking and acting on behalf of others. Your body is limp and easily persuaded back into a reclined position. “Theeere we go.” Astarion’s words are softer and warmer than toasted marshmallows, and make you feel lighter and sleepier as he nestles down next to you. “It’s okay.” He says as you stare into one another’s eyes. “You rest.” He sweeps his fingers in a gentle caress across your forehead and behind your ear. “I won’t be far behind you.”

You resist slumber at the expense of a few more moments lost in his eyes, but soon sleep captures you. It’s gentle and forgiving, like the arms of the pale elf. 

He stays with you all night, and it doesn’t take him long to trance himself into a restful stasis, safe in the knowledge that here, in this moment, you have him and he has you.

[ablankboredtoinsanity]

Jim Kirk at the slightest opportunity

a Touch His Tit Tuesday creation for @self-made-purgatories

[vanityangel]

❝ And the new Bloodline's Judas is about to get his ❞ While his brothers were willing to still side with their cousin again, even after he refused to apologize for all his years of torment, when Solo Sikoa finds himself surrounded, all on his own and offered a final chance of mercy by the same man should he just surrender to him, Solo instead decides to stand ground and is met with an onslaught of six finishers in a row before ultimately being pinned.

[vole-mon-amour]

x