#good work today boys

[estcaligo]

pathetic men summer from twttr

[javelinbk]

Brian Epstein watches The Beatles performing at the Washington Coliseum, 11th February 1964

[mossy-paws]

Biograft sillies (PHIGHTING!)

‼️SCROLL FOR THE OG PHOTOS‼️

some fun little shitposts I made as stress relievers/for fun :3! Honestly had a blast with all of these and they weirdly didn’t take too long! The first one is for a Twitter challenge and the other two are just for fun based off some cat images I found

og images:

[intriga-hounds]

Mr. Pi Guy blurry in the low 4pm autumn light. He’s 20 weeks old today, or about 4.5 months. I think he looks fabulous, especially for his age, but wish I could get a stacked photo where he isn’t posting. 😅

[recalled11]

Directionless Pt. 3

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt.3/ Pt. 4

[becca-e-barnes]

I think too much in real life to fully let myself enjoy some activities so I'm going to live vicariously through the characters I write 🙃

He's here for pleasure. You're not under any illusion about his intentions. Sure, he'll let you snuggle up beside him afterwards, playing with the little soft curls on his chest. He'll kiss your forehead and smooth your hair and you'll laugh together about the silliest things but it's no secret that it's the sex that keeps him coming back.

Secretly, it's exactly what you need too. It works well for both of you. You get someone who has the confidence and experience to show you things you didn't even think you'd be into and you get to simply enjoy the way he gets off on pleasuring you. There's no need to feel shy around a man who's told you his secret filthy fantasies.

"What's one thing you've always wanted to do but have never had a chance to?" You probe one evening, taking your necklace off and placing it on the bedside table, well aware he's probably wearing more of your lipgloss that you are after the way he greeted you at the hotel room door.

You hop onto the bed to take your shoes off, enjoying how the mattress bounces you slightly.

He doesn't answer right away, pouring two glasses of a sweet, chilled Riesling before handing one to you. You take a sip, trying not to put him under pressure but the time he's taking to consider your question makes you even more curious.

"If I tell you, I'd like you to try it with me. So how badly do you want to know?" He stands in front of you and places the glass to his lips and in that moment, you couldn't want anything more than you want to fulfil a fantasy for him. You want to be something he's never had and offer him opportunities to enjoy your body that he might never have again.

"Tell me. We'll do it." You hardly even have to think about it.

"I'd like to lick you. All of you. Run my tongue all over your body. Find what makes you shiver. Find what makes you moan. Find the places that are so ticklish you need me to stop. I want to lick all the places you've never been licked before. If you'll let me." He really could make anything sound appealing.

Excitement fizzles in your core and a real desperation begins to build. Just being around this man makes you wet so you can't help the fact you're ready for him already.

"If that's what you want to do, I'll let you." If you're honest with yourself, you'd probably agree no matter what he asked for. You trust him enough to know he won't take you further than you're comfortable with.

~~~

You knew what you were signing up for but you didn't think it'd feel like this. Why the hell haven't you tried this before?

He's kneeling at the end of the bed, stroking his cock while his hot, wet, stiff tongue flicks gently against your asshole and there's no denying how much you're enjoying the pressure there. You couldn't hide it if you tried. You're so wet, you're practically dripping and it only spurs him on. It's intimate in a way you don't think you'll ever recover from while being one of the most erotic things you think he's ever done. There's nothing to be embarrassed about it when it's clear he's enjoying it just as much as you are. Maybe more.

The way you're gripping his hair has you wondering whether the strain on his tongue or his neck will overwhelm him first but he shows no signs of relenting. That is until he stands up, already looking delightfully over-pleasured and sinks his cock into your fluttering, neglected cunt without a word.

If he goes too fast it's all over and he knows it but he can't resist holding both of your ankles, watching you while he places open mouthed kisses to the soles of your feet, thrusting into you with slow, calculated strokes.

[chiropteracupola]

lhqr outfit musings... (underlayers, everyday outfits, performance / out on the town outfits)

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Jazz becoming the next big Gothem villain is such a solid concept. Theres so much to explore.

She targets corrupt mental institutions. Corrupt companies who destroy their workers state of mind so they wont quit. She attacks landlords who make it impossible for people to live comfortably.

She is the staple anti-hero of anyone struggling to get back on their feet. People should have to work three jobs just to afford a crappy one bedroom, no utilities, half bath, in crime alley apartment, with a roommate.

Shelters should be aiming to gain a profit instead of using the donations to support others.

She is tired of these big name heros leaving children to clean up messes. She has watcher her own brother wither away to a shell of his former self trying to make a change and she is sick of it. Hell she herself is a child but if this is what it takes, then this is what it takes.

Enter from the left The Manipulator™️

Feared by all corrupt. People think she has mind control or something. When she targets someone they make almost a full 180 in their ways. “She will do anything to get her way or to make people into what she thinks they should be. And she mist be stopped” cries big business.

In reality she is the worlds best damn psychiatrist ever to be known. She doesn’t force anyone to change but gives them the choice to be better. To see how much more they can be. And it terrifies them. Helps them find themselves again and to move past their troubling pasts. No force and no mind control. No manipulating. No one but those who she has helped know the truth but when they tell the truth it only fuels the fire of her being controlling.

Theres one thing also fuelling the flames of mind control. Thats the fact that every single major hero to go after her can’t. Any who approach her find themselves no long near her. Superman just wants to talk, well she doesn’t, and he is then back in his city?!? Batman is stalking her to figure out how to deal with her but once he gets too close he suddenly finds himself in the batcave?

At first they think it’s teleportation but time is passing? Theres video feed and tracking of no they just went back themselves. No response from them the whole trip. As if possessed. (Lmao it’s just good brother danny pranking his sis a little by making her seem all powerful but also protecting her anyway he can. Or could be Dan instead)

[themoonunderstoodmydadjokes]

Making myself late for work because I’m oh so sleepy and my bed is too cozy to get out of 😴😴😴

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

Everyone clap for me setting BOUNDARIES on my babysitting (said they have to be back by 10 so I can go sleep before driving tomorrow)

[sysig]

Hi there! As a requestober request could you please draw something cute with Mob? I'm planning on rewatching Mob Psycho 100 and it would be great to see fanart of him in your style! :D

Day 17 - She loves me, she loves me not...

[thetomorrowshow]

Whumptober 30 - Recovery

title: one of the vaguer divinities

fandom: hermitcraft smp

more of sleep cycle :)

~

The moment they get back is when Tango finally bursts into tears.

He’d been holding them back for a week now, and when everyone had burst in with the rescue party he’d still held them back, too focused on getting Impulse out of his binds and letting the man slump against him, entirely unconscious.

But stepping onto Hermitcraft, seeing the colorful spawn with everyone’s starter houses and being surrounded by worried faces, loud and pushing forward? That’s the final straw.

Tango practically collapses, his sobs shaking his frame so badly that he can’t hold himself up anymore. He would have fallen to the ground entirely, if it wasn’t for Bdubs suddenly at his side, supporting him as they all move quickly toward the medical building set up for this express purpose.

Tango lets Bdubs help him to a bed, despite the fact that he’s really just got a couple of bruises. He watches, through his relentless tears, as Doc fights the effects of the turtle-master potion that they ease down his throat, one arm missing and a screwdriver stuck in his eye. He watches as Ren chews on his nails, wincing every time Scar rubs a bit more fire-resistance into the burns on the soles of his feet. He watches as Mumbo trembles and panics silently, refusing all touch and offers of sedation. He watches as Impulse lies entirely still, Cleo and Joe trying to categorize the plethora of injuries that litter his body.

“I don’t need to be here,” he chokes out, but Bdubs just pushes him onto his back.

“You can rest, Tango,” he insists. “It’s okay. We got you out.”

He has rested. He has.

He’s a little bit tired from the rescue, though, so he doesn’t fight to get back up, just lies there and lets Gem check his vitals.

When she gives him the all-clear, Tango sits back up. When it becomes clear that no one’s paying a lot of attention to him, too focused on the others, he slips out of the room. When he runs into no opposition, he makes a break for it, sprinting for the nearest Ender chest to collect his elytra.

With no eyes on him, Tango flies home.

-

He isn’t avoiding Impulse.

He really, really isn’t. It’s just that Decked Out takes all his time, anyways. It isn’t out of the ordinary for him to be buried in work in his fortress, too busy to do more than casually respond to messages.

They have to take Impulse off-world for surgery. Something about his shoulders that they want to make sure is sorted before they force a respawn. Tango shows up when they bring him back, sleepy and not-quite-there, but he can’t bring himself to enter the room and just watches from the doorway, before eventually leaving, handing a ‘get well’ card to Gem to give to him.

He spends the rest of his time in the inner mechanisms of Decked Out. He sees the notification for Impulse’s death and respawn, following Ren’s, and later joined by Doc’s. They’d decided that Mumbo’s wouldn’t change anything, as most of the visible effects that the imprisonment had had on him were malnutrition and wouldn’t be solved by a respawn.

Tango hadn’t even had any clue that Mumbo was trapped in there with them. He hadn’t known until False had emerged from the building with a trembling Mumbo in her arms.

Tango also hadn’t merited a respawn, but he wasn’t hurt. It was Impulse who was hurt the most, he thinks. Even Doc and Ren got to sleep. Even Doc and Ren got breaks.

Tango works absentmindedly on the wiring of one of the key releases while he thinks, debating on whether or not he should message Impulse.

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t, so there shouldn’t be any inner debate.

He really wants to, though.

Impulse had made it clear that he didn’t want to see him. He’d glimpsed him in the doorway after returning home from the surgery and had turned away with a shudder, and maybe that had been instrumental in Tango leaving, because clearly Impulse couldn’t stand the sight of him.

Tango remembers what he said, back in that awful place. About how he never wanted to see Tango again.

The least he can do is honor that wish. He tried so hard to show Impulse that he didn’t want to hurt him, that he was forced to, but it obviously hadn’t worked. And that was okay! It wasn’t Impulse’s fault that Tango’s face was linked to his trauma. If it makes it easier for Impulse to get better, Tango would happily never see him again.

Well. Not happily, he supposes. But he’ll do it, for Impulse.

It keeps him up at night. Thinking about Impulse, about everything that he could’ve done to try and make it even better.

He could’ve given in.

He could have, and it wouldn’t have been too huge of a problem! He could’ve said it’ll take a while, then start designing some crappy piece of redstone and spend days on it, long enough to let the others find them. It was only a week, after all. He could have done that, and then Impulse would be fine.

It’s his fault, really.

He’s the one who held out so stubbornly, he’s the one who beat Impulse, he’s the one who got to sleep.

He’s the one—

Zzzt!

Tango yelps as the wires he’s holding suddenly zap him; drops them to the stoney ground.

What’s that all about?

He picks them back up, muttering darkly about his singed fingers, and examines the wire ends. They look fine, but when he tries to connect them, they short-circuit again, shocking him a second time.

Tango curses, then reaches into the shulker box behind him. He can replace them, he’ll just need. . . .

He’s out.

Perfect. Well, it’s not like he was making much progress, anyway. He’s been working on this one spot for hours, now, and it’s absolutely time to go for a walk or something to clear his head.

Something to stop thinking about the abrupt end to his and Impulse’s friendship.

It’s nighttime when Tango leaves, which comes as a surprise, because wasn’t it nighttime last time he left to grab a bite to eat? He’s been working for longer than he thought, no wonder his work was getting slow.

He should probably go to Scar’s redstone shop, but the place is overpriced at the best of times. Maybe he can just dip in on Cub and steal some? Surely the guy wouldn’t notice.

His thoughts of thievery are cut short, however, by the sound of demonic screeching behind him. Tango grimaces. Phantoms.

iBuy looms ahead of him. iBuy sells some redstone stuff, right? It has string, at least, and he definitely needs string.

Impulse won’t be in. It’s the middle of the night; nobody else will even be up, let alone Impulse. Why would Impulse visit his own shop, anyway? The only reason to visit one’s own shop is to restock, and there’s no reason anyone would be restocking at this time.

Why would he even think to steal Cub’s redstone before checking iBuy? It makes sense to go there first. It’s closer, everything will be sorted, no chance of accidentally running into someone. Way better.

That doesn’t stop the dread creeping up his throat when he lands on the doorstep.

The first drops of a midnight rain shower are hitting the ground when he hurries in, slamming the door to the shop right before the phantoms swoop in after him. They continue to attack the side of the building and windows, but Tango ignores him as much as he ignores the rain picking up.

Tango starts browsing the shop, glancing around for the particular wires that he needs. He doesn’t see a redstone section, but that’s not the end of the world—he needs to restock on several things, really. Good thing he ended up going to iBuy. The place had just about everything (redstone not included).

He nabs some shulker shells, then an entire box of bamboo (he doesn’t need near that much for his scaffolding plans, but he isn’t sure how to pay half a diamond for only half a box so he just gets the whole thing). He’s about to head up to the fourth floor when—

“Tango?”

Tango shrieks, spinning around.

Impulse.

Impulse is standing there, among the shelves, and he looks—

The shadows under his eyes are dark and thick, his stubble is almost a beard. His hair is unbrushed, and he still looks too thin, a bit hunched over on himself.

He looks tired.

Tango’s fingers twitch.

“You should be sleeping,” Tango blurts out, then curses silently as Impulse winces.

“You’re the one with the phantoms,” he replies, gesturing toward the window.

True. Still. “Yeah, but that’s . . . that’s normal. What are you even doing here?”

“Restocking.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“What are you doing?”

“Uh. Shopping.”

Impulse raises an eyebrow. Okay, maybe it is a bit hypocritical. Can he blame Impulse for being here when he’s here, as well?

“You should still be in bed. You know. . . .” Tango waves vaguely, hoping he doesn’t need to say it.

Impulse’s face shutters closed. “Right. Thanks.”

He’s messed up.

He’s messed up big time. Impulse looks down at his shoes, and Tango’s such an idiot, because of course Impulse doesn’t want to think about it, of course he doesn’t want to see Tango—

Tango doesn’t wait a moment longer. He steps back into the elevator and shoots down to the first floor, where he sprints out the door. He’d rather take the rain and the phantoms over hurting Impulse any more.

Some secret, lonely part of him hopes that Impulse will follow him, drag him into some sort of cover to keep him dry and safe from the phantoms.

He doesn’t.

-

“I miss him,” Tango admits, cursing his throat for choking up.

Doc raises an eyebrow.

Tango hasn’t left his fortress since that terrible midnight encounter, so Doc had had to track him down. Tango had seen in chat that Doc was uncomfortable with being alone, followed by multiple Hermits volunteering to get a schedule of people hanging out with him until he felt a bit better. Tango had loved the idea, but hadn’t put his own name in.

It seems like that didn’t matter. Doc found him anyway, in the depths of Decked Out.

“He doesn’t want to be around me, and that’s fine,” he continues. “But—I mean, it’s Impulse. He was one of my best friends. It’s hard.”

“Why did you say, ‘was’?” Doc asks, frowning. “He did not die.”

“I mean, we aren’t best friends anymore. So, was. You know?”

Doc stares at him for a long time. “Tango, you look exhausted,” he says. “Are you sleeping?”

Tango waves him off. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Is Impulse sleeping? Do you know?”

“Maybe you should ask him.”

“I don’t want to upset him.”

“Why would you upset him?”

“Because—he doesn’t want me around, okay?”

Doc hums. “I would think that if you were best friends, he would be missing you as much as you are missing him.”

“He isn’t. He—he doesn’t want to see me.” Tango runs his hands through his hair and finally sits down, abandoning the fine detailing he’d been painting onto the wall of this room. Doc has been seated in a chair for the past thirty minutes, watching Tango paint, but he hadn’t brought a second chair, so Tango ends up on the floor. “You don’t know what I did to him.”

“No,” Doc shrugs. He grimaces at the movement, but keeps rotating his half-built mechanical arm. “Stupid wires,” he mutters. “Keep pinching. No, I do not know what you did to him. I do not know what he did to you.”

“He didn’t—”

“We all did something to each other,” Doc says, waving his hand dismissively. “You feel guilty. Do you know how to overcome that guilt?”

Tango knows what Doc wants to hear. He knows that Doc is going to tell him that the only way to overcome the guilt is make things right with Impulse.

He messes with the laces of his boots for a moment. “I hurt him,” he says eventually, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I—they wouldn’t let him sleep, but they let me sleep, and—and to keep him awake, I hurt him. I chose to, I thought I’d be—be better than his guards. I kept him awake. I—I was his hell for a whole week, and he said—”

He can’t get it out.

A tear drips down his nose.

“That sounds . . . very hard,” Doc responds after a moment, sounding uncomfortable. “But I’m sure—”

“I can’t make that right,” Tango cries. “I can’t—I don’t deserve to. I don’t deserve his forgiveness. And he won’t forgive me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He said—he—he never wants to—to see me, ever again! I can’t. I can’t try to—to overstep that. I can’t!”

He buries his face in his knees, hiding from Doc’s judgemental eyes. He sobs, then, just as he had when they got back to Hermitcraft, five days and a lifetime ago.

“I . . . I hurt Mumbo,” Doc admits after a long moment, and Tango looks up.

Doc’s face is twisted in some strange mixture of guilt and disgust, his fingers tapping against his chair. “They—I am having a hard time talking about it. They made me choose to hurt either Mumbo or Ren. I—I’m ashamed to say I hurt Mumbo.”

Oh.

Oh, that sounds terrible. Having to pick between two friends, knowing that in one’s safety is the other’s condemnation? That’s the worst.

And that answers the question of how Doc had known that Mumbo was there, when no one else had any clue.

“Dude, that sucks,” Tango manages, running the heel of his hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. I . . . I have not told Mumbo, yet. I don’t know if he knew it was me. I want to apologize to him but . . . I don’t want him to hate me.”

“It isn’t your fault, though,” argues Tango. “Like, it isn’t your fault they made you hurt someone. I’m sure Mumbo will forgive you, he’ll get it.”

“Yes, but I chose to hurt him. I could have chosen Ren.”

“That just means you would have to be apologizing to Ren right now,” Tango says. “Like, either way, someone would get hurt. You say it was your choice, but they didn’t give you a real choice. That isn’t your fault.”

Doc nods, his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. “I will talk to Mumbo,” he says eventually. “And you will talk to Impulse.”

“I—what?”

“All the advice you just gave me? It isn’t my fault? Mumbo will forgive me? I did not have a real choice?”

“It’s not—”

“It is not the same,” Doc agrees before Tango can even fully say it. “But the solution is no different. Let’s meet again in three days and report back, okay?”

Doc stands, nods, and leaves.

And Tango?

Tango throws a paintbrush at the stupid wall and goes back to crying.

-

It takes Zed staging an ‘accidental’ meeting for Tango to see Impulse next, two days after Doc talks to him.

“Oh my goodness! Impulse! I didn’t know you were coming to the shopping district, too!”

“You invited me,” Impulse says, eyes fixed on Tango.

“Well. Now how about that? My memory these days,” Zed says, shaking his head sadly. “Speaking of, I forgot! I have a Zedvancement with Cleo right now! Silly me, making all these scheduling errors. I guess I’ll just have to leave you two here!”

And Zed leaves.

Tango’s pretty sure that Doc is genuinely going to show up to their recap meeting, so even though Impulse looks like he’s about to leave again, Tango goes for it.

“I’m so so sorry,” he blurts out, and Impulse freezes.

“What?”

“I’m really sorry for what I did, and—I didn’t want to, I hated it, and it kills me that I did it, and you don’t have to forgive me but I needed to tell you sorry.”

Impulse doesn’t answer for a long moment. When he does, it’s with slight confusion painting his haggard features. “Dude, what?”

Tango tries to rub away the burning of his eyes. He can’t cry again, not when he’s finally facing Impulse. “I’m sorry for hurting you,” he says, as clearly as he can. “I should’ve done something to help you. I should’ve been someone safe, but I hurt you, just like them. I—I know you don’t want to see me again, and that’s okay. I just wanted to say sorry.”

Impulse bites his lip. “Did you and Zed plan this?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Tango says, trying (and failing) to laugh. “That’s all Zed. Sorry about that—I didn’t want to make you talk to me.”

Tango looks away, now. He’s probably two seconds away from crying, and he’s not going to do that right now. He doesn’t want to guilt-trip Impulse.

“I don’t hate you, Tango,” Impulse says, and Tango’s head jerks back to him.

What?

Impulse’s eyes are wet, his face open and honest. He sticks his hands in his pockets. “Dude, I’m sorry. I thought—it doesn’t matter. Why do you think I don’t want to see you again?”

“I—you said it. Back—when—”

Impulse pulls a face. “I don’t remember a lot of those last few days. But—but I was definitely lashing out, I know that. Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it, promise. I just—why didn’t you come talk to me?”

“I—I thought you didn’t want to see me.” It’s a surprise to Tango when Impulse makes up the distance between them with two giant steps and wraps him in a hug.

He missed this. He really, really missed Impulse’s hugs, the way Tango fits just perfectly between his arms. Impulse’s hugs mean comfort, home, happiness.

Tango’s crying before he can stop himself, clinging to Impulse like he never has before. Impulse is crying, too, he realizes, squeezing Tango almost too tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Tango sobs, and he’s sorry for everything, for the kidnapping and the torture and avoiding him and the crying, and probably a bunch of other stuff. He hopes Impulse picks up on all that.

“I forgive you,” Impulse tells him, voice hitching.

Tango hadn’t needed medical help. He had sat on the bed and watched his friends be healed, before slipping away. He hadn’t thought he had anything to be healed.

He was wrong.

Here, now, in Impulse’s arms, he thinks he finally starts healing from a wound he hadn’t realized he had.

[ban--tam]

yangtober day 29: idol/rockstar i promise this makes slightly(?) more sense if you look at tomorrow's prompt (3 kingdoms) and guess who i'll be drawing yang as LOL anyway... ya boi kongming/paripi komei AU because i can imagine julian as an idol more easily than yang 😂

[whump-queen]

Do you have any OC’s or Whump scenarios that came along via spite? I know for me I get a lot of inspiration by eating traditional media where they imply something bad did/or is gonna happen, but then they cut right before it!! And I’m like “well I guess I’ll do it myself!!”

Is this pretty much the basis of fanfic yes yes it is but are there any specific instances you remember or want to mention?

Okok you want like specific instances??

How about when there’s a pretty servant boy but he never gets hit/hurt onscreen??

I’ve written a lot of servant whump and I really wish more media would explore the ~full potential~

Like, you’re telling me they never punish this guy??

They never just throw him down and beat the bloody shit out of him for fun?? For things that weren’t even his fault??

like.. He’s meant to take it. It’s literally what he’s there for.

You can beat him to the ground cuz it’s fun. Play mind games with your affection. Set him up to fail and then punish him anyway. Anything goes!

Don’t tell me you don’t wanna slap a pretty servant boy across the face with a couple rings on and hear him apologizing to you~

Leave a few nice bloody marks on his pretty face~ It’ll help him remember what he did.

You’re doing him a favor, really. helping him remember his place~

[jabeur]

you know i'm so happy for carlitos, the way people criticized him at the end of last season/beginning of this one even saying he's not as good as he seemed and won't be winning consistently.. and he went and won rg and wimbledon back to back and proved them all wrong and most importantly he's happy

[starlitangels]

Whatever this trend is of sending GB and Escaped "I love you please don't [insert increasingly meme-y thing here]" asks, it makes me feel like I'm having a f^&*ing fever dream every time I refresh my dashboard XD /pos

Not as much as everyone committing to the GB is pregnant and Escaped is the godfather bit. That one is the most like a fever dream XD