F. Scott Fitzgerald / This Side of Paradise

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

No title available
One Nice Bug Per Day
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Cosmic Funnies
No title available
Not today Justin

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

PR's Tumblrdome

⁂
styofa doing anything
tumblr dot com

@theartofmadeline
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
DEAR READER

tannertan36

ellievsbear
Peter Solarz

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Australia

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Brazil
@murderisbad
F. Scott Fitzgerald / This Side of Paradise
APPARENTLY MY MOMS BOYFRIEND HAD JURY DUTY WITH JOHN MULANEY AND WAS SITTING NEXT TO HIM
imagine going to the jury and seeing him like i wouldn’t be able to keep it together emotionally i’d just be disqualified the plaintiff would be like “he stole my assets” and i’d be like I Have Fired The Criminal Catcher
John Mulaney Gives You The Death Sentence (ASMR)
Imagine being on trial and you look over at the jury and John Mulaney is just sitting there. How do you handle that, psychologically. How do you not conclude your life has turned into a piece of absurdist theatre
John Mulaney’s next Netflix special be like “So I had jury duty recently. I know you’re looking at me in my suit and thinking ‘that makes sense.’ I look like someone let a child sell insurance, of course I would have jury duty. And that is why you’re wrong. I used to do cocaine and now I have to decide whether other people have committed a crime? This is a mistake.”
older siblings b like i hate u because mom made me do things before u were born and also because u are taller. younger siblings b like u are oppressing me by giving me a task. only children b like what the fuck is compromise, fuck you
I've averted about 10 ugly scars in my lifetime by folding the flap of bleeding flesh back where it's supposed to be and just hoping for the best lmfao
I think it's interesting that i lost 4 pants sizes from stress, poverty, and fighting with my boyfriend but all I hear when I mention it is "congrats!" Like congrats on what ? The trauma? The times I had to take pity money from family? Congrats on the heartbreak u feel every time u look in the mirror & see yourself, spread too thin for too long and you can look at the wear and tear and know how this happened to u. Like yes what I wanted to hear was "congrats on your pain & suffering"
.
Statue of Lucifer - Holy Trinity Church Marylebone. Aberdeenshire, UK
The Final Days part one
Jason Todd x reader
AN: After a virus spreads through Gotham, the city is exposed to a zombie infestation leaving it in ruins. Y/N is the daughter of a colony leader, full of survivors. But what happens after she is caught by the opposing camp called Arkham, by a skilled bounty hunter?
Warning: language, mentions of murder and blood. Extreme situations.
My fingernails scratch the worn surface of the erupted bridge, trying to grab hold of the edge.
My feet kicking furiously as I struggle under my own weight. Pulling myself up , I settle along with the other members of my team. They’re spread out hutch over various discarded objects along the broken road way. Without stopping to catch my breath I crouch behind a flipped car gasping , the glass crackling underneath my foot. I clutch my chest forcing myself to ignore my screaming muscles. My eyes lock on to the distance storefront, our destination for supplies . “We should keep moving, we’ll run out of time the longer we wait.” Weaver, our group leader advises. Everyone silently agrees ducking from one place to another sneaking to the store. My feet and legs burn , aching in protest, but I keep moving quickly . We stop at the boarded up front doors. “The windows are blocked with sandbag?” A brown hair woman questions. Weaver nods. “ Someone placed the bags here to stop the store from being raided, which means it’s marked territory and the store is their supplier.”
“So, why raid it if it’s marked. We don’t actually have the ability to defend ourselves if we get caught .”
“Then don’t caught. Remember the drill only grab what we need. We’ll divide into two groups, one will handle water and gas, the other tools and canned food. Now, someone will need to help me move these sandbags out the way of windows so can enter.” Weaver says, he stocks forward dropping the heavy bag with a thud to the ground, It echoes through the lot. “Shit.” He murmurs under his breath. When nothing alarming happens , we all visible relax. “Alright people here we go!” He declares, turning back around to gather the bags again. Suddenly two shots fire in rapid succession, the sand bags bursts in a tan haze . “Sniper! Get down!” Corporal Weaver urges , before firing in retaliation. I dive over a concrete barrier, waiting for the next shot. “Throw a distraction y/n.” Weaver whispers. I reach into my pouch and pull a small rock from inside, I toss it near the store front. Five shots from different directions fire, sending up dust and gravel in the air. “Five shooters.” He counts. “Maybe more.” The brown haired girl speaks up from her hiding place behind a garbage pin. “What’s the plan?” She asks. “We need to split off.” A man insists . “Take them by surprise on both side.”
“We don’t know know where they are! That’s too risky !” The woman argues. “We should abort and come back another day.”
“Then we’ll have no supplies at camp and we’ll starve .” Weaver sighs. He pinches the bridge of nose in frustration.“Y/n!” He calls.
“Yeah?” I respond. Peeking over the barrier from my position to look at him. “I’m here”
“What do you think? Do we run or did we split?” He holds up his hand silencing the others then pointing to me.
I think for a moment of our situation and our chances of success. Five shots were fired , there are eight of us. We could still however be outnumbered by them. I have skilled and trained men among my members but not the best of the camp.
“Well?” Weaver asks ushering me to decide .
Here is the first choice , there’s consequences to each, i’ll alert each time there is one:
Split or Run? Decide.
If you picked “Split”:
If you picked “Run”:
“Run.” I finally answer, I hear a groan from the other man.
Weaver nods. “We will go in different directions back to camp to throw them off. I’ll give you all time.”
He ducks down moving to the next barrier, a shot pummels into the concrete , I cover my head kneeling down. “You’ll need to be fast!” he warns. “Go!” He shouts. He fires two rounds in retaliation. They disappear in the distance. He’s shot instantly after he reaches d to reload his gun. “Weaver!” I scream. No response. “Run y/n!” The woman yells. The sounds of the motorcycles heading towards us was enough to make us abandon the mission. I begin dashing out the neighborhood as a shot barely misses me slicing the left side on my stomach. “Ack!” I screech. I fall to my knees, my body burning and aching in pain. Shrieks echo in the atmosphere. I crawl into a ditch wrapping my shirt around my body to compress the wound , tears swelling in the corners of eyes. “It’s okay, we’ll be okay. We just gotta keep moving.” I reassure myself, trying to steady my rushed breathing . Grasping the dry grass and dirt of the ground I throw myself down the hill leading into the woods. I roll down knocking myself into a bush, trembling I stand up and begin to run again. My feet slipping on the wet summer leaves as I am swallowed deeper into the forest’s darkness. My pace increases as I round behind a tree, the cold air shocking my throat and lungs as I inhale deeply. My body is exhausted and my heart beats frantically, the drumming is all I hear against my ears. Until the familiar sound of gunfire shatters the bark from a tree behind me. The spitters grazing my skin again, cutting my face. I manage to calm myself before grabbing my revolver.
“Don’t.” I hear a raspy voice warn. I pull it from my waist anyway, aiming it in the voice’s direction. The man me towers over me . He stands nonchalant as he holds a gun pointed at me while his other hand rests on the belt holster. After a beat he slowly loweres his gun and holds his hands up as a surrender, waiting for my next move. I lower my gun off him and aim it to the ground. He reaches back and removes the mask covering his face, he’s handsome from his dark trousle of hair with a sharp white streak , to the depths of his eyes and roughness of his face. A certain intensity exerts from him, along with a strange sense of familiarity. He was dressed in a dark body suit with amour. On the center of his chest was a symbol painted red of a bat that bleed from the rain. The symbol of an Arkham bounty hunter clear on his sleeve.
For a single moment the only sound between us is the forest and the distance wails from walkers. This feeling of fear is suspending and I feel weightless from adrenaline. This is what I was trained for : defending myself and my camp no matter what. I could tell he was skilled and I was prepared to absorb the impact. A grin tugs my mouth as I try to maintain a composure of confidence. “Y/n. Daughter of General Elliott , housing the western district of Gotham. Your head is on my list for Ark’s most wanted.” His face was stern and unwavering, his lips form a thin line as he steps closer to me.” I stand from my crouching position, my wounds wincing. Squinting at the man I frown. “I don’t believe my camp or I myself have done anything to upset the Arks.” I pull my hair from my face where it had smeared itself on my forehead from the rain. The man’s face turning red as he raises his gun to me. “Your camp has been invading Arkham territory and has been committing crimes against my people over the past months.” He shouts more of his threats into the wind, his voice demanding and dripping in venomous hatred. “From what I recall.” I begin. “The Arks were outlaws hiding in my camp, they stored away our supplies and weapons until they had enough people to overrun us. We sheltered and guided the fallen from the infected , and the Ark became greedy and selfish! They destroyed the colony right underneath us. Enslaving hundreds till they kneeled to your will and command.” He knocks my gun from my hand In an attack of rage and instinctively i grab his leg trying to make him lose balance, he kicks me in my stomach. I fall kicking up leaves, my hand grabs a rock and I chuck it at him, he narrowly misses it. I bend over trying to retrieve my gun but he steps my wrist. “Fuck!” I yelp. His worn leather boots pressed down even harder. I look up at his eyes. He sneers at me In disgust. “ Your colony neglected the poor and turned away the “misguided”. Treating the innocent like savages, letting them die before you. You will answer to your actions and pay the price.” He leans down to my ear, pressing down again. Pain stings my arms and I grit my teeth “And if it were only up to my regime? I’d kill you right now.” He lets me go. I lift my head from the dirt, I dust wet leaves and smudges of mud from my clothes. “Why after all this time do the Arks want to respond? That I don’t understand.” I question . He drops chains to forest floor they clatter on the ground. “Put these on.” He orders. I suppress a smirk, “you expect me to chain myself.” He doesn’t answer and just stands there expectantly. “For your camp’s safety I expect you to be on your best behavior. So, yes I do.”
He says breaking the silence, waiting for me. I reluctantly pluck the cuffs from the ground and click them around my wrist and ankles. His gang suddenly emerges from the tress surrounding us in a huddle, their weapons drawn . His expression darkens, as he straps his mask back on. He looks towards them. “Grab her and let’s go back to base.”My eyes widened as they dart around in dark forest. I ball my hands to keep them from shaking and glare at him. From the tales , I’ve heard of the Arkham’s vicious crowd judgements, the stories of near death beatings and public humiliation. It only ends with you being consumed by fear toxin in a gas chamber for days till you loose sense of reality, eventually you’ll stop functioning die , and they’ll leave you to rot to an unrecognizable corpse. “I am not being tortured for your amusement.” I grimace. He looks at me quiet and emotionless. My eyes dodge him as I avoid his gaze. “ I know of your torments by Red Hood and Scarecrow, your celebrations of bloodshed. I am not your prize or a wild animal.” I felt the betrayal of a tear escaping down my cheek. “Do what you will with my body but I will never give you the benefit of me being alive so you will have to kill me first.” No one spoke. The faintness of movement underneath the creak besides us causes little waves to form, splashing the gravel like an ocean’s shore. My eyes scan the creek , water pools in one spot like a water droplet causing a ripple.
Coconda.
I look at the hunter , his gaze unbreaking from me until he registers the water shifting. “Shit!” An ark gulps . They aim their guns towards the water. As they are distracted , I scoot myself away from the creek wobbling to my feet, nearly sinking down into the mud but I manage to pull myself out. The Coconda rises from the creek , missing its nose and it's left ear had been bitten off, most likely how it got infected . One of its arm had been mangled and his right face was chewed exposing the white humerus. As he drew a shaky breath he made a low growling moan that chills my blood cold. He grabs an Ark’s leg dragging him underneath, it sinks him down drowning him before its teeth breaks into his skin . Another Coconda swims to the surface It’s rough long muddy scraped nails maules the gravel as it begins to slithers towards us. The bounty hunter raises his gun and fires rounds into the Coconda’s head, till his skull spatters back into the water. The Hunter grabs me by my shackles. “We need to leave before the rest come.” He tells the others. The creek water ripples rapidly as the horde of Cocondas swims to the surface. The hunter drags me to his bike hiding under the low hanging trees and he flings me over the back, before climbing on himself and taking off with the others following.
We reach the vacant road to the highway, the air was heavy with the smell of burnt flesh and ringing of groans from walkers.Smoke hung in a haze from a nearby attack or perhaps an ambush. Shots rang far from us. Toxins from spitters oozes around us melting away the pavement and gravel. Broken and taken apart cars swamp the streets, flipped over and tarred from burns. The towers are long overdue for rebuilding.
Gotham City.
It has been years since I’ve been in the heart of it again. Besides the apocalyptic warfare and infected infestation, it was still the same. The town from a distance looks mundane from my camp. Its caved in rooftops, rusted buildings and repulsive atmosphere. When the city still existed the main attraction were the heros and its chaos , it lasted years till the virus . Despite its strengths and weaknesses, Gotham was always headed towards a fatal future, but this was unpredictable.
We ride to the warehouses on the corner by the bridge connecting us to the rest of the world, maneuvering through cramp opening along the roadway . Guards stand at either side of the makeshift gates that surround the protected camp. “What’s this?” I ask. “Arkham .” The hunter huffs as if it were obvious. “ I thought your camp was in the outskirts out Gotham in the wooded area.” He looks over his shoulder. “It is, but this is our second base.” At the gate the guards step out the way and open the giant front doors made from discarded rusted steel. “How many are there?” He holds out three fingers in annoyance driving forward. The square is flooded with survivors, training, farming, or doing their daily labor. They come to a stop, at the sight of me, they gather around and begin spurring insults at me. They spit on me and scream curses. I lean behind the hunter trying to stay covered. There are handmade tents lining the inside. Arks followers walk after us until we stop at a wooden built deck I assume was a meeting place. He takes me by my cuffs off his bike as the crowd around us yanks and tugs at me. I step up before everyone on the stage , the wood creaking under me. Dried blood decorates the deck below us. “Is this where Red hood and Scarecrow decide my fate? Where are they ? Too afraid to show?” I remark. The man only laugh dryly in response. The hunter walks forward addressing the crowd. “Arks!” He shouts silencing everyone . “I have a gift to your unanswered prayers, to your unanswered suffering!” The crowd cheers . “Let it be known today is the sprout of change, the virus was not the end. It is the start of a new era, our time. And the first contribution to our abuse is…” he trails off looking to me. “The daughter of the West Felt !” The crowd goes into a frenzy. “What shall we do?” He asks them. They began to chant. “Hang her !Hang her !Hang her !”I close my eyes refusing to have a reaction, I will not die being rumored weak. “Well, I’d loved to..” he begins. “But...I have a better offer.” The crowd went quite with anticipation. “We can not oversee our value. This woman is not only our answer but our beginning. With the daughter from the leader of West Felt , they’ll come here to get her and when they do they’ll answer to us, they’ll fall to our regime. No survivors. The time is ours!” he looks to the crowd stretching his arms out. “The Arks time is now.” The crowd practically riots in response. I search the hunter over , his face unreadable. My eyes trail back beyond the onlookers. It’s this moment I realize that not even a virus could stop Gotham from its own self destruction, that the people were always it’s last say and from the sight of it, this was truly the beginning of the end.
no one ever talks about how evil and ominous carol of the bells sounds?
I have a distinct memory from when i was a kid of listening to the trans-siberian orchestra version during the first snow of the year and just standing outside pretending to be a vampire so yeah it has that kind of energy
oh we all pretend to be vampires to that version
“not all men”
you’re right police chief jim hopper would never treat me this way
sensible business policy
The only ppl the US govt considers good citizens are rich ppl
Jake Paul and Tana mongeau were teens who read fake celeb relationship fanfiction and now they think they're bein slick as hell w a $125 engagement ring 😂
Rich felons: get to be president of the United States & do and say wtf he wants, up to and including holding children in cells until they DIE
Poor felons: imprisoned, probation, nearly impossible to re-enter society & get a decent paying job
Tbh if all you have to say about children being held in DEADLY conditions at the US-Mexico border is "they shouldn't have broken the law!" Then I'm happy to tell you you're on the wrong side of history & someday all this evil energy you're putting into the world is going to come back for you and you're going to deserve it all.