#going bapbapbap

[ryancartersummer]

for the love of god someone fist bump the man. just look at him he's asking so politely minnesota wild @ san jose sharks, 13 april 2024

[dxppercxdxver]

hello hello! in preparation for the opening of @tf2shipswag's oc bracket For Real i have written a vaguely persons-of-the-tale-esque bit of propaganda fiction in which our unwitting ocs experience a historical anachronism and discover they have been entered into the oc bracket! if you like early enemies to lovers and a tasteful dose of meta fiction (along with aggressively 18th century styled prose) you'll probably like this! i call it "there's such a thing as an author" or "persons of the tale But Worse"

Somewhere just to the left of the story well known, Samuel Mundy sat perched in the bay window, long legs stretched across the whorled-grain boards with languid content. Liquid summersong pooled in his lap with all the warmth of a loyal cat, golden and simple. The glass panes were thrown open to let in the comfort of the season—what little could be snatched from the jagged-toothed forest filled with the crack of gunfire, anyway—and he clutched a chipped china saucer in his fingers, picking at a fresh bread roll.

Gazing across the Manor’s ill-tended garden, Samuel sighed nearly dreamily, a reflexive smile playing across his cracked lips. For once, his little world was quiet, nary a disturbance to be found.

Of course, however, his peace was not destined to last, and Miss Pauling’s far off cry of, “Mail, boys!” roused the rabble from deep within the house’s corridors, who all came a-bustling with the energy of an anthill, and idle chatter filled the air, quickly snuffing the silence. Samuel, pointedly ensconced in his window-borne nest, merely watched his compatriots greet their friend and sponsor on the lawn as she distributed the sheaves of parchment and carefully tied packages amongst them. They were permitted some personal effects at their stations, which included a small allowance for assorted trinkets and treasures, and thus the days Miss Pauling ventured into town were filled with a quiet sort of excitement. Much as they were soldiers of a secret war, and trained for such, it grew dreadfully lonely and dreadfully threadbare.

This day, though… Something about it was different.

While the great majority of his fellows dispersed from the lawn as swiftly as they had come, their spy, Laurent, remained, conversing with Miss Pauling. Samuel could hardly make out a word at his distance, but his eyes were sharpened by his particular profession, and the feeling between their persons was a tense one. Her brows were furrowed sharply over the silvery frames of her spectacles, and Laurent’s hands formed clipped gestures at his sides. Whatever it was they spoke of, it hardly seemed a pleasant thing.

After mere moments more, Laurent plucked a paper from Miss Pauling’s elegantly gloved fingers and held it out before him, pursing his lips as he studied it, before shaking his head, offering Miss Pauling a crisp salute, and trudging across the lawn.

In what appeared to be Samuel’s direction.

Growling softly, Samuel wrinkled his nose, staring firmly down at his plate in some vain hope Laurent would pass him by, that the mysterious business he appeared so perturbed by was kind enough to leave Samuel alone. The last thing he needed was another catastrophe atop the neverending tumultuousness of his wartime existence.

“Bushman.”

In spite of his willing, Laurent’s infuriatingly smooth voice lilted into his ears with a weariness that belied an intent beyond an obligatory passing greeting, and Samuel found himself looking up to meet his tired gaze.

The warmer weather had done a kindness to the spy; his sallow complexion and skeletal frame were given a new life in the sun, and the embroidery in his suit shimmered like the finest of jewels. And still, Samuel couldn’t help but find him dour, unpleasant, and downright infectious in his discomfort. Almost in response to Laurent’s hardened grimace, Samuel shifted in his seat, his skin itching ‘neath his clothes.

“Spook.”

When the acknowledgement of Laurent’s presence failed to dispel him from Samuel’s immediate company, he sighed, and turned to properly face the equally beleaguered spy, letting his boots sway loosely beneath him.

“Unless it’s business, I’m not interested,” he said brusquely, fixing Laurent with a firm stare that he returned with unflinching readiness. Pale eyes bored into his own as Laurent shook his parchment bounty open with a sharp flick of the wrist.

“While my present port of call has little to do with our current occupation,” he said, calm and measured, “I have a feeling you will want to see this.”

The paper was rough and worn, stained deep yellow with the wear of travel, and the ink splashed across it was coming off on his skin and the leather of his glove in small flakes, but there was no mistaking the printing.

At first, Samuel blanched, presuming it a call for their heads, but as he read, the fear curdled into something far more baffling. Taking up most of the page was a sketched rendition of the two of them—sniper and spy—stood side by side, illustrated Laurent flashing a wry smirk at his ink-bound companion that the drawing of Samuel readily returned. Bold typeface toward the top spelled out “WANTED” clear as day, although there was no reward attached. Twirling arrows pointed to Laurent and him in turn, annotating precisely who was whom. There was yet more type at the bottom, but Samuel had rather stopped processing exactly what it said by then, and handed the sheet back to Laurent with an incredulous scowl.

“What in the hell is this?”

As Laurent crisply refolded it and placed it in an inner pocket, he replied, “We appear to have been entered into some sort of tournament.”

“Tournament?” Samuel’s mind whirled, spiraling out endless possibilities, each one markedly worse than the last, “As in… fighting?”

“Mercy of mercies, I do not believe so,” Laurent mused, crossing his arms and glancing into the distance. “Even with my considerable skill, we would hardly stand a chance with you on our side.”

“Watch your tongue, Frenchie.” Livid, Samuel snapped, instinctively reaching for the machete at his side. “Don’t pretend you’re not glad of this as well.”

Laurent snorted. “Of course I am, but it is hardly a matter of cowardice.”

“Yeah? What is it, then?”

“I do not wish to dirty my suit,” Laurent sneered, mouth curved sharp as his knife. In that moment, Samuel wished for nothing more than to knock that wretched expression from his face, but resorted instead to knotting his fist in the fabric of his shirt. It certainly would not do to lose his composure so early and in a place so visible to his superior, but oh how he longed to rattle Laurent around, maybe beat some sense into him along the way.

Samuel rolled his eyes. “Fine. If we’re not to be fighting, what exactly are we meant to be doing?”

“If I am interpreting the missive correctly,” Laurent said, smoothing the fine hairs of his wig, “it is really less of a gladiatorial affair, and more of a… popularity contest.”

“Oh.” Cocking his head, Samuel let the implications wash over him, feeling his body recoil in the wake. “Oh.”

“Strange, is it not?” Taking a deep breath, Laurent shrugged slow and deliberate. “Still, I suppose I might consider myself at an advantage. I have many a desirable quality to be considered…” He trailed off, but Samuel was suddenly alight with energy.

Held in his hands was the opportunity to be absolutely devilish, and he seized it with vigor.

“Oh, really?” he said, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

Laurent whirled, eyebrow raised in sharp relief. “Is this a joke?”

“No.” Samuel poured as much sincerity into his voice as he could, leaning forward with earnest. “You see, we’ve been friends for so long—” he stifled a laugh, “—and I’d never even realized! Please, tell me about these ‘desirable qualities,’ I would love to hear all about them, and at the greatest of lengths.”

For a long, terrible pause, Laurent only stared, and Samuel faintly worried he was about to receive a length of cold steel across the throat or wedged between his ribs, but then Laurent’s cheeks flared red beneath his powder, and his mouth hung agape.

“You— you arse!” he snarled, seizing Samuel by the cravat and drawing their faces close. “You would do well to mind your manners, bushman. I do not abide mockery, nor do I suffer a fool, and you, sir, are a prime example. Remember this, lest I be forced to remind you.” With this, he drew his suit back, revealing the delicately tooled sheath for his beloved dagger. Samuel swallowed, thought up every prayer he could, and grinned wolfishly, fiddling with Laurent's elegant sleeve cuff.

“Wouldn’t want to get this dirty, would you?”

Laurent’s nostrils flared, his breath hot on Samuel’s lips, before he released him, pushing him back roughly and huffing, indignant. Samuel massaged his neck, relief coursing through his veins. A scant few feet away, Laurent stood in profile, nearly serene if not for the subtle movement of mute, furious speech.

“Nice talking to you,” Samuel said cheerfully, and, strange as anything, Laurent actually laughed. It was a brief, choked thing, barely identifiable as humor, if not for the smile playing across his face.

“You, sniper,” he said, reaching out and taking a bite of Samuel’s bread roll, “are a ridiculous, ridiculous man.” With this last remark, he about-faced and trudged across the lawn, spine ramrod straight and be-ribboned hair flouncing against his back.

“I know you are, but what am I?” Samuel called after him, and Laurent retorted with a sharp, “Go fuck yourself!” which Samuel could only meet with a thrown bread roll. It collided with the back of Laurent’s head with a satisfying muffled thunk, and Samuel cackled as Laurent let loose a long stream of French obscenities, harshly adjusting his wig so rudely whacked askew.

“I hope you know I despise you,” Laurent hissed once he had deemed himself presentable, and disappeared inside the house with the slam of the heavy oaken door.

“Yeah, yeah, hate you too,” Samuel said. Tucking his legs back into his window seat, he inhaled the lively summer air, and discovered he could not stop his beaming.

[as ever, flintlock fortress is a collaboration with @chiropteracupola]

[puckpocketed]

26/12/2024 - FIN vs CAN | WJC Day 1

matthew schaefer vs konsta helenius (bapbapbap)

Early in the game, Cowan got into it with Finnish centre Konsta Helenius and Schaefer immediately jumped in. "I'm going to ride for my teammates 'cause we're all a family and if one's in there we're all in there," Schaefer said. "I love the guys to death and I'll do anything for them."

bonus: the cowboy that started it

[nekioe]

Bapbapbap dyinggg i wanna finish the portolio alreadyyy but we're meeting relativesss so i won't finish this weeek aaa

I have 1 more week so it should be fine thoooo

Pls i wanna go back to drawing cdreams😔

[lennjamin-o7]

Bap bap bapbapbap HI LENN

I bring you Gift! 💚

Tada!! It's you!!! Well. Minecraft you.

(please tell me if there's anything you want changed 'cause I love getting feedback on my art, especially when it's of a person's character/self. Also I might try to play with it digitally because I haven't practiced much with fur textures recently)

I TRULY don't know what to say. I love this so much! 🥺🥺🥺🥺💚💚💚💚 Like, I have no notes. I am going to cry. This looks AMAZINGGG. Saving! Saving forever! 🥺🥺🥺🥺

[thesealfriend]

it has occurred to me that sometimes I am double- or even triple-booping some folks as Tumblr gives me error messages the first couple of times and yet all the attempts go through anyway.

I am not sorry for this, as we know cats frequently *bapbapbap* in quick succession so this is perfectly true to form.

[sanerontheinside]

*bapbapbap* 🍇

🍇 Is there a particular scene/episode/book/etc that you want to just write a million fics about, over and over? Which one?

well. there is so much you could do with Jabiim in the Kenobi series. I don't know if that was just an offhand mention because someone plucked a name from legends, but I honestly think it was deliberately placed there for us to go fkn nuts legends flavoured obikin fans must've been losing their whole minds. like it's not my area but I know a good idea when i see one.

anyway 🙃 qui and obi on Jabiim would break me in a million different little ways

the meme | the ask box

[muadweeb]

OH GOD HACKS S3 TRAILER RELEASED IM OUT OF THE CAGE LES GO LESBIANS BAP BAP BAPBAPBAP!!!!

[tombytalkz]

ba-

you. arent my uncle.

wait.

*reeeaaaaaally close*

*squints*

oh.

bapbap

nevermind

i think you are

this is just a classic case of dieandcomebackwithnomemoriesitis

youll go back to normal eventually

anyways

bapbapbap

Who are you-

[citruscas]

i can feel stuff clicking in my head

[sonknuxadow]

happiness is stored in the werehog run

[fagm77]

Theres a tiktok of dream vocal stimming and I watched it and now I keep going bapbapbapbap

[simplepotatofarmer]

I posted 7,827 times in 2022

2,235 posts created (29%)

5,592 posts reblogged (71%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@simplepotatofarmer

@blanq

@hiding-in-the-vault

@vpofcookies

I tagged 7,804 of my posts in 2022

#anarchy pig - 2,150 posts

#loyal talks about stuff and things - 1,127 posts

#dream - 967 posts

#loyal answers things - 640 posts

#technoblade - 596 posts

#dreamwastaken - 470 posts

#dadcraft - 318 posts

#short term memory loss - 184 posts

#dream smp - 181 posts

#loyal watches things - 180 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#like does he look at this key part of the server that is like the backbone and finally realizes that he is also the backbone of the server?

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

dream streaming for the first time in a month just to go to r/place and try to destroy all ads because 'ads aren't art' is absolutely my favorite thing. imagine having 85k viewers and you utilize them to fuck with capitalism. no one does it like him.

4,195 notes - Posted April 4, 2022

#4

i love you 'startin' the stream' i love you 'hullo' i love you 'bruuuh' i love you 'HEH!?!' i love you bird posts i love you sellout timer i love you human gps i love you 'not even close baby' i love you stories about greek mythology i love you 'FOR FUN??' i love you one of us i love you bedwars streak i love you lore streams i love you 'don't lmao me chat' i love you 'bapbapbap' i love you elbow reveal i love you i love you

5,710 notes - Posted July 28, 2022

#3

oh. definitely the best man.

6,349 notes - Posted November 19, 2022

#2

out of all the cc's, technoblade was consistently someone who tried to include as many people in his lore as possible. i will never forget how niki talked about feeling left out and techno carving out a place for her character in his lore, making sure she was heard on his birthday stream. or how he immediately made conner part of the syndicate or letting eret take the lead on so much of the revengers' stream.

techno had so much passion for storytelling and so much love for the other members, he truly was one of the best.

9,822 notes - Posted August 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

technoblade was an inspiration to so so many. he was proof that you can be funny and kind, passionate and genuine. he made an everlasting impact on not just the mcyt community but the internet as a whole. the loss here is immeasurable and i hope that god does hesitate, just a little.

13,312 notes - Posted June 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[mango-shpango]

tub go bapbapbap because he is happy :)

prolly wont finish this. also this is based off that thing i do when im happy and i just go STOMPSTOMPSTOMP on the floor fgdshgfhdsgh

YEAHHHH WOOO that looks v good my guy :]

[ask-the-grian]

I am bapping those eye guys soooo aggressively

Not literally because I don't know where they are, but if I did I would be going bapb bapbapbap at all of their eyeballs

I appreciate the help peridot!

[mebbrrr]

he makes me wanna take both hands and very lightly go bapbapbap! on his cheeks!!! a lovely creature <3 deserves little treats and lots of love

I HAVE A FEELING YOU WILL LIKE TOMMY THEN