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Devastating addition, thank you @notitlesapply

Wireless Router Husband is at maximum antennae today

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“tumblr mutual” beloved friend I would pick up at the airport if y’all visited my home city

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sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four

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me: i don’t want to see jellyfish so i will blacklist the tag #jellyfish

people with no common sense: je11yf1sh, je11¥fi5h, j*llyf*sh, je//ÿf!sh, j3ï||yf¡sh, gel lee fisk

result: cannot account for the sheer amount of possible ways to alter the word jellyfish

conclusion: i have to see jellyfish now.

Once again, tumblr is not tiktok, tag properly.

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neilcicierega’s kravitz.mp3 had me inspired to do some shit so this happened

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Also people who see that I am forwarding an email to half a dozen people for the third time looking for a response from somebody, anybody, who then immediately call me to help. I owe you my life.

To the people at work who actually answer emails on a Friday, help me out, and say things like "No worries 🙂" please know that I am putting on my helmet and picking up my sword and am ready to go to war for you over anything

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Title Screen ‘The Emperor’s New Groove’ PlayStation Support us on Patreon

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To the people at work who actually answer emails on a Friday, help me out, and say things like "No worries 🙂" please know that I am putting on my helmet and picking up my sword and am ready to go to war for you over anything

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The tribes of Tumblr appeared to worship Apollo as their primary patron deity, most often under the epithet Apollo Spairahemon ("Apollo the Ball-Thrower") as a god of prophecy and sport. His name was typically invoked to celebrate a user blessed with uncommon prescience. Moments of prophecy were considered highly sacred and were often recorded, and such texts are sometimes accompanied by an artistic depiction of the god — either his traditional masculine image or, unusually, in the form of a young woman, which appears to have been an earlier style before a conservative shift toward more conventional iconography — preparing to cast a round rubber ball that our scholars believe was used in the sport known as "dodge ball". Much as other cults regarded his arrows as bringers of disease and health, this community believed that being struck by this ball would bestow prophetic visions.

Some icons are reproduced below:

An earlier depiction (c. 2020) of Apollo as a girl clad in a simple tunic and playing with other children. Figures are smiling and the image is brightly colored, indicating a celebratory outlook toward knowledge of the future.

A later piece (c. 2022) that resembles the traditional appearance of Apollo. References to childhood and play are omitted, and the god carries a more frightening aspect; perhaps this icon represented grim omens rather than good tidings.

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Hello Benthan Nation. I'm good at neither prose nor dance, but please enjoy the vibes of this scene treatment before I lose my nerve to post it. It's pre-slash, as the kids used to say. 675 words.

~~~

Ethan and Benji are out on a mission, scoping out some targets at a fancy shindig. A charity gala even, perhaps. And not a modern one with a DJ and club dancing; this is an affair with decorum and a live orchestra.

Finally they spot their marks across the room… in four separate locations.

Ethan: “We can each watch two.”

Benji: “We may have four eyes between us, but mine only move in tandem. Not sure about yours.”

Ethan: “It’s actually my neck that does this special thing: It's called pivoting.”

Benji: “Brilliant, we'll just stand here watching imaginary tennis matches, then. I'm sure no one will notice.”

Ethan: “I'm open to suggestions.”

Benji laments that they didn't bring any micro cameras to tag on the walls, or smart glasses to watch hacked security cam footage through. He continues rambling through ideas in that vein, but his voice fades out slightly as Ethan starts focusing on something else instead: the crowd of people dancing in the middle of the ballroom.

They're currently engaged in a tango. Pairs criss-cross past each other, changing directions regularly, heads snapping back and forth with dramatic flair. He watches a man lift his female partner, her skirt fluttering. Then two women dancing together, their high-heeled steps rapid and precise. Then two men, spinning together like a pair of binary stars.

“Benji.”

“--over the-- THAT was the idea you liked??”

“I wasn’t listening. Follow me.”

“To where?”

Ethan inserts himself into Benji’s personal space, taking his right hand with his left and sliding his own right hand around Benji's waist. “Follow me.” He backs onto the dancefloor in time with the music, pulling Benji along.

They're not as fast or technically skilled as some of the other pairs, but Ethan manages to navigate them through the whirling sea of dancers with a respectable amount of grace. They take turns watching the marks over each other's shoulders as they spin around the room.

One target suddenly goes on the move, and Ethan inadvertently yanks Benji too sharply into a turn while following them with his eyes. But in his peripherals he sees Benji’s leg flail out, unbalancing him. Ethan's hand drops quickly, sliding down Benji’s thigh to grab the outside of his knee and hike it up to his own hip, pinning it in place. They lean together, Ethan taking Benji’s weight on his chest. They both lose track of the targets for a moment, eyes locked on each other instead. Benji’s are extremely round, and Ethan feels rather than sees him swallowing hard. They can't have been stationary for more than an eight-count, but it feels like an eternity before Ethan tilts them back to a neutral position.

Ethan releases Benji’s leg and presses his palm to the small of his back instead, pulling in close to speak directly into his ear. “Bravo is on the move” he says by way of explanation for the stumble. “We need to tag him.”

They change directions, heads swiveling in sync so that now Benji's mouth is by Ethan's ear. “Which pocket?”

“Inside jacket.”

Ethan launches Benji away from him in a half-spin, then reels him back in. Benji lands with his free hand on Ethan's chest, sliding it quickly inside his suit coat to access the pocket. After a few seconds of groping, he cranks his head to catch Ethan's eye and give him an unimpressed look. “Not this jacket, apparently.”

Ethan steers them in the direction of the absconding target, eyes darting in thought. “Oh.” He realizes a moment later. “I moved it to my right sock.”

Benji clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Do not drop me.”

“Never. I've got you,” Ethan assures, planting his feet and tipping Benji backwards in a slow dip.

Benji lets his left arm slide off Ethan's shoulder to hang beside him, until he's low enough to slip two fingers up under his pantcuff and then down into his sock. He squeezes Ethan's hand in confirmation, retrieving the tracer as Ethan pulls him back to standing.

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me when i take 1000000000 frame by frame screenshots of my favorite character doing literally anything

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Btw if you've been wondering where I've been, I've been travelling for work and watching Mission Impossible movies out of order on airplanes and burying my friend in half-formed fic bunnies because quite frankly Tom Cruise and Simon Pegg should have kissed, which is not a sentence I ever thought I would conceive of.

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we share a warriors bond (we were both in the same fandom at the same time and now neither of us are in that fandom anymore but we’re still beloved mutuals)

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Endlessly diabolical how you can't say words like rape and suicide uncensored without either being criticised by idiots or punished by conglomerates.

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fixed it