I’ve been in constant mourning since I joined this fandom
+Someone asked why he was in a jet, I don’t know too 😭
Mike Driver
Monterey Bay Aquarium
taylor price
Peter Solarz

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if i look back, i am lost

Kaledo Art

oozey mess

pixel skylines
d e v o n

Discoholic 🪩
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
sheepfilms

Love Begins
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
RMH
Show & Tell
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@weriodboi
I’ve been in constant mourning since I joined this fandom
+Someone asked why he was in a jet, I don’t know too 😭
TW! Ghost’s backstory from the comics (Didn’t use his comic unmasked design though TT )
Suicide hotline
(a very rough concept that popped up in my head right when I wanted to sleep - hope it either inspires you or me to write!)
Warnings for suicidal ideation/mentions of self-harm/child abuse (tell me if there need to be more, it's late and the brain is slow)
---
Riley who never kept going for himself. From the day his little brother was born, he dedicated a lot of his time to protect him from their father's evil. Their family never had much to begin with, and barely scraped by as their father got more and more irritated and snappy with each withdrawal.
He took on everything - every punishment, every bout of anger that ended with things being thrown at him, kicks, punches, cigarettes being put out on his skin, and harsh words that cut deeper than any knife could the more often they came up. Most days he ended up so exhausted and on edge, he didn't have it in him to even change out of his school clothes before bed. At one point he sees his grades dropping, and ceases to have the energy to fix it. He needs all of it for Tommy. All that's left.
He'd convinced himself early that his existence was worthless unless he could do some good in the world. And that good turned out to be his brother. The little boy who did nothing to deserve being brought into such a depressing place.
And Simon tried. He really, really tried to keep up for Tommy. He did his homework with him, studied with him, went outside with him, kept him away from their dad, got him treats from the corner store with the little money he scraped up on the street - anything in his power to help him have a better future than himself.
Though there was only so much he could do until he cracked from the stress.
It started small, in a way that didn't concern him at all. His appetite had not been great for a while to begin with, and he figured the time spent fetching a meal for himself wasn't worth it, so he didn't bother. Then he went out with Tommy less - and bless him, he'd found a group of friends in school that he could hang out with... it's not like their father cared when they went out. It just wasn't right for them to come home at any time of day.
He got tired. Not the tired from a lack of sleep, but a bone-deep exhaustion that never seemed to leave. He stopped putting up fights with his dad, stopped resisting, and just took whatever came his way believing there was no salvation for him.
Tommy seemed oblivious to the changes, thanks to his new friends.
His mother, however, noticed something was off, but she was too busy working her arse off to afford cheap groceries to take care of either of them.
And Simon kept going, and kept going until his mind started spiraling even without any external input, and the cigarette burns weren’t only from his father's hands anymore - he needed to punish himself, needed to feel the pain he deserved for not being strong enough anymore, and all at once - or maybe it had been creeping in slowly - there was... death.
And he thought of it so much that his math teacher reprimanded him for zoning out in class, and he must have mumbled something akin to "I wish I died", because she looked at him, horrified, and took him aside during break, handing him a little card she kept in case her studentd were in trouble.
That was the first time he saw the number. At his lowest point, shortly before making a very stupid decision, he called. For his brother. For his mum.
-
Now, at twenty-nine, mask on and eyes as hard as he can will them to be, he sits in an empty storage room in a far corner of the base they’re stationed at - the room is barely lit and dusty, but the blinds wouldn't open, do they have to make do in here, with the stale are and uncomfortable folding chairs.
But it's isolated enough that no one else will be able to listen to them.
MacTavish is sitting across from him, his face for once not in a state of everlasting frustration, but contorted into a kind of deep concern that doesn't suit him at all. It's not a bad look, makes him actually look his age, but Ghost wishes it wasn't the sign of an intervention about to happen.
Ghost doesn't know whether it's about his recent poor performance during training, his reports, or the fact that he snapped at Roach this morning because he asked him if he wanted to go for a run with him-
"The number ye've been calling. Every day for the past two weeks. Shepherd asked me to investigate, thinks ye're losing yer loyalty tae him."
So he was tracking all the calls after all. Bastard.
"I'm not... it's just." There is a lump in his throat.
Ghost doesn't know how to explain himself. He likes MacTavish, trusted him with some of his lighter personal information, even, and for all he knows... he won't think of him as a mole. He probably pieced together a thing or two about his business with the General - his wit too sharp to miss the signs.
Knowing too much will taint him, and take away the only good thing in his life. But he also needs him to know. Needs one person to know what his life means, that he'll ruin everything he touches-
But he doesn't know to put it all into words. To explain that in order to keep them safe, in order to protect the team, he needs to keep going, to keep performimg, but he can’t do it alone, and yet he can't put any of them in danger, expose them to Shepherd's true self, or end up dead, because then some other poor soul will be his next dog, and he already died twice, but if he keeps slacking like he's doing recently, maybe he'll be relocated again, shown what it truly means to be an asset -
"Riley. Ye're scaring me. Ye're pale as a wall." MacTavish, bless him, doesn't touch him. Riley thinks he'd throw up if he did.
His heart is racing, and he can't from a coherent sentence so he does the only logical thing he can think of, pulls something out of the inside pocket of his sweater with a shaky hand, and holds out the same card his math teacher gave him all those years ago. Time has weatherd it, made the once thick paper softer than it used to be, crinkled the edges and had it acquire a slight yellow tint - but you could still read it well enough.
MacTavish takes it, spends a moment studying the flimsy thing, squinting at it suspiciously, until his eyes widen in horror.
Riley squeezes his eyes together at last, can't take it, and his ears start ringing before he hears what the Captain says. His hands itch for a cigarette.
(The rest is up to you - I'll figure it out once I actually write a fic again heh)
ur recent blurb abt the shadows finding out abt wife…. but do they ever find out abt the divorce..?
Thank you so much for sending this over. Honestly, I hadn’t even thought about writing the other side of this, but the second I started, I just kind of fell into it.
This was… really fun to write. As sad as it is 😭
So yeah. Lock in. This one hurts a little.
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They noticed when she first showed up in his life, even before he said a word about her. The phone calls he stepped out to take. The way his mood shifted when her name lit up his screen. The way he came back into meetings a little lighter, a little warmer, like something had loosened in him without his permission.
So they notice the opposite, too.
It starts small.
A meeting runs long. Someone cracks a joke that would have landed a few weeks ago. Something harmless. Easy. The kind of thing Phillip normally would have met with a dry look and a half-smile before moving on.
This time, he doesn’t even look up, pen scribbling on his legal pad.
“We done here?” he asks flatly.
The room goes quiet.
A few glances get exchanged. A throat clears awkwardly.
“...yes, sir.”
“Then leave.”
Chairs scrape. Papers get gathered a little too quickly. Boots move across the floor with more urgency than usual. The door shuts behind them.
No one says anything until they’re halfway down the hall.
And even then, it’s quiet.
Because nobody is stupid enough to ask what happened.
Not yet.
by flickering candle light, you drank from your tankard. just one would do; you liked to keep your head straight and coffers full. business had been slow this month.
you sipped. it was shitty ale, the cheapest money could buy. it also burnt on the way down.
you watched the patrons flit about. some were happy to be there, but others were like you, drinking away your sorrows while you waited for something.
"you the hunter?"
you rose your eyebrows and looked at the man in front of you. his clothes were burnt and ragged, skin bubbling like he'd put his hand in a flame.
"depends," you said. finishing your drink, you wiped your mouth. "how much do you have?"
he dropped a leather pouch in front of you. the money inside of it jingled like an instrument as it hit the table. immediately, you snatched it up and emptied it into your hand, carefully counting the coins.
"what's the job?" you asked, pocketing the coins.
the man sucked in a breath and pulled out the chair opposite you. he sat down and clasped his hands together. "there are dragons in my village."
you furrowed your brows. it couldn't be that easy, could it?
"they look just like men but they're not. bigger, stronger. they're a danger to my people."
you pulled your knife from your belt and stabbed it into the wooden table. "how do i tell them apart from humans?" you asked.
"they are bigger than you and i, stronger. they use some sort of magic to disguise the rest of their horrifying features. but a renowned hunter like yourself should have no problem identifying."
you swallowed thickly and patted the coins in your pocket. "fine. leave me with a map and i'll be at your village tomorrow at sunrise."
***
everybody in the village looked normal. boring, even.
sword strapped to your side, you rode through the village. the folk stared at you, the stranger from out of town, and you stared right back. there had to be something to give away the dragons in their human form.
four men. tall, broad. they were built like mountains. if this wasn't a job, if you weren't so suspicious of them, you would have been drooling.
you watched them without looking like you were watching them. they went about the village as anybody else would, buying things from the stalls set up in the market and such. you bought yourself some fruit to watch them inconspicuously. you fed your horse the apple core and went back to watching them.
when they moved, you went with them. you left your horse tied to a post and followed them on foot, hand on the hilt of your sword.
here's the thing, you'd never killed a dragon before. your sword had never tasted blood. you were more in the business of relocating dragons instead of slaying them.
the four men left the village. one released a booming laugh as they headed into the woods. once you where out of the village, you fully drew your sword.
you didn't make your presence known until you were deep in the woods. all you had to do was clear your throat.
the men turned. you were sure of it then, by their eyes, by their claw-like nails. "wot's this?" one of them said, approaching you. facial hair, you didn't know dragons could grow that, even in human form. you wondered what he would look like in his dragon form.
"you boys been enjoying your time in the village?" you asked them. "because it's time to move on."
the biggest of the four chuckled. he folded his arms over his broad chest and stepped forward. "is it?" his voice was so damn mocking. "you and that little tooth pick gonna make us?"
you raised your sword higher. "if i have to. i was hoping we could sort this out civilly."
the other two stepped forward with their dragon brethren. they surrounded you on all sides, caging you in. "I smell treasure," one of them said. the rest of them nodded.
they changed suddenly. a scream left your lips as they became their dragon form. clothes shed to the floor, but you didn't have a chance to focus on that.
they grabbed you. you weren't sure which one of the dragons it was, claws wrapping around your body. another scream as you dropped your sword.
all four of the dragons beat their wings, flying into the air. no matter how desperately you screamed, nobody was coming to save you as the four dragons flew off with you.
you were going to die, you were sure of it.
alright, dexter soy's variant cover of absolute batman #20 opened my eyes. i'll catch up on absolute batman now
and this from absolute batman #19
and nick dragotta's designs!!
the setup of dick leading a team with second in command(?) jason, duke, steph, and tim has me feeling things
New and terrifying medical experiences mean new and exciting descriptions for the whump community :') might as well let my suffering be educational
cw: real-life medical procedures, injections, maybe coercion by doctors, medical trauma
What do spinal/joint injections feel like?
I've had facet joint injections and nerve ablations (cauterizing the nerve to prevent it sending pain signals; it grows back over time), and just today I had a SI (sacroiliac) joint injection. It was supposed to be two, one on each side, but I could only handle one.
These injections are typically done under continuous x-ray, so no one but the doctors (with lead aprons) are allowed in the room with you. It's a lot like an OR, lots of bright lights and beeping equipment. You lay face-down on a cushioned table, kind of like a massage table, and an x-ray machine hangs overhead.
You're awake for the whole experience. The most I've been offered through any of these is one xanax before the nerve ablation.
They move your clothes out of the way enough to expose the relevant space. Then they clean your back with iodine soap (or betadine, whichever makes sense based on allergies or whatever) and lay a sterile drape around the injection site.
They take a few images with the x-ray to get an idea of where your joints are, and continue taking them every few seconds throughout the procedure. Next, they inject lidocaine to numb the area. This was a really sharp, stabbing pain for me. I can handle shots just fine most of the time, but this was in the most sensitive part of my back, so I think that contributed. It seemed to take affect pretty quickly though because I didn't feel much more pain at the surface level. When I had my ablation, that numbing shot didn't seem to work as well and I could still feel quite a bit.
Once the area is numbed, they go in with the steroid shot (or ablation tool, in the case of nerve ablation). There's a lot of pressing and poking as they use the x-ray to guide the placement. By this point, I was shaking and starting to cry. The initial numbing shot hurt quite a bit, but the actual injection was getting too much to bear. It wasn't just vague pressure that I could easily ignore; it felt like it was poking up against a nerve that ran all the way across my butt and down my leg (probably the sciatic nerve) and I could feel pain every time it moved. The nerve ablation wasn't quite as painful technically, but it got hot every time they cauterized the nerve, which was a New and Different kind of uncomfortable.
I had to ask the doctor to stop for a minute because I was crying uncontrollably. When I could calm down enough to make a decision, I said that I wanted to at least finish this first shot. So after a lot more pressure and jabbing, it was finally done. They put a bandage on the site and within a couple minutes, I was back in the prep area with my spouse. They checked my vitals one more time and made sure I was okay to walk out, gave me discharge instructions, and then it was done.
Honestly, I would compare this roughly to the spinal tap I had a few years ago in terms of pain and general sensation. Right now, about 8 hours later, the injection side is still tender and that nerve still feels irritated. I'm hoping that will subside soon and I'll get any level of relief, but I'm not holding my breath. I don't know if I'm an exception here or if this is typical, but I don't feel like it's made very clear how actually uncomfortable these injections are. Most of the info I saw online (and even my doctors) make it seem like it's practically as easy as getting a flu shot. Like it's silly to be afraid of it or to be unwilling to try it.
Ironically, my pain management doctor made it seem in the office that this was my only option, yet in the procedure room she was all "you don't have to do this if you don't want to; it might not work and it's temporary, so we can totally stop if you want." Where was that energy when I was being pressured into agreeing to it in the first place? She denied me pharmaceutical options and basically said this was all she could offer. How was I meant to say no uncoerced? That's what kind of gets me about all these injections pain doctors push--it feels invasive and violating, and it also feels like you don't have much of a choice in the matter. It's scary, especially when you know it's going to be painful, but there's nothing you can do about it.
Anyway, hope this helps any of you. Might also just be an excuse for me to vent but whatever lol.
I gotta say I do love the way that kids these days do their retro fashion. Saw some kid today that was wearing one of those short puffer jackets with the fake fur hood and rhinestones on the text embroidered on the back, and kinda dark pink velour tracksuit pants, exactly the kind of shit you would've seen Paris Hilton wearing in 2005.
And I'd bet that if I had told him that, he would've had no idea who the fuck that is.
Who is Paris Hilton?
Some things are making me realize IM the whumpee
I'm not sure how but Julius Caesar salad has successfully infected my feed and now I'm giggling like a feral bat at six am instead of studying
i know i’m not on here as much but HYPOTHETICALLY… if i were to make a living weapon based whump rp server would anyone be interested in joining…..
HYPOTHETICALLY what platform would this server be on hypothetically ofc I'm def not interested
Little habits whumpee may not realise is a result of trauma
-Always knowing where every exit is. And always being near an exit.
-Always keeping their back to the wall, never wanting to be caught in an open space.
-Obsessively locking every door, every window, even their own bedroom. They won't relax otherwise.
-Brushing off compliments.
-Being overly defensive.
-Extreme independence. Never relying on anyone, they are fully capable of doing things alone and they are determined to
-Walking quickly. Never lingering, not even for a moment.
-Standing hunched, head down, making themselves as small and inconspicuous as possible. They wear loose, basic clothing, trying to both hide themselves and not stand out
-Lapses in memory. Especially not remembering childhood memories
-Never expressing excitement or want for anything. Never hoping for anything.
-In the same vein, never admit to enjoying anything. They fear they will be mocked, or it will be taken away. Anything can be used against them in some way.
-Being excellent in a crisis, even if they panic in minor situations.
-Perfectionism.
-Silent crying.
Oh
OH SHIT-
Injury is cool and all but what about *sickness*?
And I'm not talking about cancer or lupus (istg the VOICES) I'm talking about common colds, raging fevers and blocked noses
Like, whumpee has gone thru so much pain and suffered but survived only for mild sickness to take them out
Not being able to walk straight or do simple tasks thanks to a splitting headache causing their hands to shake
The frustration of not being able to breathe thru their nose when laying down bc it gets blocked immediately
Relearning to breathe thru ur nose after the sickness subsides
Random aches and pains
Hands and feet that are painfully cold and can only be soothed by putting it under running water, making them wet and worsening everything
Using every herbal medicine in the book but it only helps with symptoms and not the actual sickness
Bonus points if caretaker is unavailable or out of town or smth and comes home to find whumpee passed out on the sofa bc they don't have the energy to do anything, let alone cook or clean for caretaker since they're living rent free :(
When the Caretaker is big and scary looking, and Whumpee assumes he’s their new owner and just, quails because oh my god he wouldn’t even need to try…
Hands that could crush them gently helping bandage their wounds, a voice that could shake brick walls offering comfort and kind words, arms that could rip limbs from trees gently carrying them to bed.
It takes a long time to get over the knee jerk reaction of fear and dread at just, everything about him, but eventually, Whumpee sees them as they are, kind and gentle and strong in more ways than physical.
Whumpee almost forgets how intimidating Caretaker is until Whumper finds them again. And while watching Whumper experience the full force of Caretakers strength, they’re reminded that yes, Caretaker was gentle, but it was a choice he made.
"You will never understand the amount of violence it took to become this gentle"
Or smth like that idk
Hero caretaker and Citizen Villain whumpee
Hear me out: What if Hero saw injured Villain but was clueless that this battered guy is their nemesis, because Villain is in their citizen form? So, to Hero, this is a stranger-to-caretaker situation; to Villain, they know they is doomed.
Bonus: Villain kept silent all the time in fear that Hero might recognize their voice. So Hero just thought they was speechless from trauma/mute.
I NEED a fic like this oml how can I find this? What tags
On a scale of 1 to harumi, how much did u struggle on that second eye?