#wounded Tumblr posts

  • image

    Growth is a detox process, as our weakest, darkest places are sucked up to the surface in order to be released. Often, upon seeing the weaknesses in each other, we have the tendency to go, “yuck!” and walk away on some level. But often it is not a change in partners but rather a change in perception that delivers us to the love we seek.

    When we shift our view of the purpose of intimacy - from serving our own needs as we define them to serving a larger process of healing - then an entirely new opportunity presents itself. Our wounds have been brought forward, not to block the experience of love, but to serve it.

    It is in the forgiveness of our weaknesses that we are healed of them, and the tenderness of a forgiven heart is a tenderness that will ultimately heal the world.

    ~ Marianne Williamson, Enchanted Love

    View Full
  • Stay With Me


    This is an idea I’ve had for the longest time. No specific story! Just wanted to do it~ Ford and Derg Z in a sky battle, Zora gets wounded and starts plummeting to her death while Ford falls after her

    Song: youtu.be/w_awRWvCjtQ

    Ford © @theashpitZora/Comomicars/Art © ME
    #dragon#comomicar#OC#sona#falling#wounded#art#my art#scene#sky #still one of my favorite drawings ever- #Illustration #artists on tumblr
    View Full
  • No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN

    Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong

    Alt - Shot


    Setting: Quinnverse

    Continuity: spy!Quinn AU

    Whumplet by @whumpadoodle


    image

    “It’s…ugly.”

    “I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Quinn shrugged. “We don’t have to like it, we just have to get it.”

    Lucas sighed. “You’re right, as usual. But why? Why do we have to get it?”

    “Did you fall asleep during the briefing again?”

    He cut his eyes to the side. “Hey, it’s not my fault Fletcher is so boring, he could make the SuperBowl sound like the stock exchange.”

    Quinn giggled. “I’ll be sure to let him know.”

    Lucas leaned over and bumped her with his shoulder. “You wouldn’t dare.”

    “Hm. Maybe I wouldn’t. But then again, maybe I would.” She crouched down to examine the lock on the display case. “Hand me my kit?”

    Her partner pressed the set of lock picks into her hand. “Seriously, though. Why are we here?”

    “Oh, you know. Handshake deal, you scratch my back, that sort of thing. Someone stole this from some muckety-muck, and she wants it back. Fletcher implied she’s willing to be very cooperative if we can deliver.”

    Lucas studied the artifact while Quinn worked at the lock. “Is it…religious?”

    “Pagan, I think.” Another tumbler clicked into place, prompting a smile. “Almost got it.”

    There was another soft click, and Quinn froze. “That wasn’t me,” she hissed.

    Lucas straightened, glancing around the room “I thought this place was supposed to be empty,” he whispered back. “I’ll go check it out.”

    “Hurry up. I’ve almost got this.”

    Lucas nodded and slid over to the entryway. Quinn’s pencil-thin beam of light did nothing to illuminate the darkened hallway beyond, which was just as well. Pausing at the opening, he listened, straining to detect any anomalies. The near-noiseless snickt inches from his ear focused Lucas’ attention like a rubber band snapping back into place. He froze, not daring to breathe. That had sounded an awful lot like the safety being released.

    “You know,” a male voice said conversationally. “You picked the wrong day for this, you really did.” The tone was casual, but forced.

    Lucas had one job now: keep the threat away from Quinn. That’s why they had been paired on this mission, after all: Quinn to get them in, Lucas to get her out.

    “I tried to schedule an appointment,” Lucas said, matching the newcomer’s casualness. “Just wanted a tour.”

    All levity vanished. “It’s not enough that I caught my wife with another pool boy. It’s not enough that some moron scratched my Porsche. And of course it’s not enough that my sure thing came up lame around the last turn.”

    The man stepped into a pool of moonlight, allowing Lucas to catch a glimpse of the weapon. A Ruger Mark IV. Judging by the way he held it, it was more than a toy to him.

    “No, the universe decided my day wasn’t crappy enough, and sent a thief to top it off.” He raised the gun level with Lucas’ eyes.

    Lucas held his hands up and took a step forward. Always interesting to see what a threat would do if he moved toward, rather than back. “Whoa, now. Who said anything about stealing?”

    The man looked surprised that Lucas hadn’t backed down, but held his ground. “You’re in my private gallery. Uninvited. Long after visiting hours. Is there another explanation?”

    Motion caught the corner of Lucas’ eye. He didn’t dare risk a look, but it had to be Quinn. What was she thinking? She was supposed to grab the thing and run. The owner of the small statue must have seen it, too, because he did turn. Lucas pounced on the shift of attention, taking two quick steps forward and knocking the gun offline.

    The man spun back to him, moving faster than Lucas had anticipated, and backhanded the butt of the Ruger against Lucas’ jaw. He dropped, the world spinning around him.

    “Where’s your friend? Huh? Where’d he go?” the man demanded, aiming the muzzle of the gun right between Lucas’ eyes.

    “Right behind you.” Even as she spoke, Quinn swung a heavy vase at the man’s head. It made a musical toonk and he crumpled to the ground in a heap.

    Quinn stepped over him and grabbed Lucas’ hand. “Come on!”

    He let her pull him to his feet, grateful for the assistance. The room swayed dangerously, and he didn’t trust his balance. Quinn kept hold of his hand as they ran down the hall to their secondary exit. By the time they reached the window, Lucas had recovered his balance enough to push it open and insist Quinn go first. It was a drop, nearly half a story, but she landed in a crouch.

    “Stop!”

    Lucas hesitated, caught by surprise. There was no way the man could have recovered that fast. Then white-hot pain stabbed through his upper arm, a piercing counterpoint to the gunshot that rattled the paintings on the walls. He glimpsed a guard’s uniform and swore at himself for losing focus, even as he tumbled out the open window into the night air.

    #the further adventures of dren and doodle #Whumptober 2020#day 15#alt prompt#shot#Quinnverse #spy!quinn au #spy!quinn #au#lucas#quinn #whumplet by whumpadoodle #whump doodle by whumpadoodle #gunshot#injured#wounded#gunpoint#threat
    View Full
  • Previous part of this story

    Link was used to doing many things.

    For one, he was used to killing, not saving people. Two, he was used to inflicting pain, not saving people from it. And three, he was used to sleeping fairly peacefully these days, not sitting up at night worrying and being concerned with every one of the minute things that could go wrong.

    Zelda’s appearance had thrown his entire life out of balance. He was no longer confident in who he was. Was he broken? He no longer knew his purpose in life. Had it changed?

    He didn’t know anything anymore.

    Watching Zelda sleep was a simultaneous comfort and a curse. The fact that she was somehow still alive breathed life into him, and the sight of her sleeping set him at peace. But he could also see how easy it would be… how easily he could just… take her back.

    Something set off his senses and his head shot up, looking around frantically. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, and he brought himself to his knee, ready to move.

    Keep reading

    #whumptober2020#no 14#fire #legend of zelda #the legend of zelda #loz#fic#fanfiction#link#zelda #zelink if you're squinting #dark link? #stockholm#great fairy#burns#wounded#lost#fog#brooding
    View Full
  • First aid to the wounded in a street battle by Olga
    Via Flickr:
    Раненному в уличном бою ст. сержанту Иванову оказывают первую помощь. 1945 Фото: Гребнев В.П. Photo by Grebnev

    #1945#WW2#WWII#Red Army#street battle#wounded#Красная армия #Великая Отечественная война
    View Full
  • View Full
  • image

    Originally posted by theycallmemelmel

    Catch up here [chapter 21]

    Harley, Graham McTavish, Martin Freeman x Amanda


    When Graham returned with Phantom, you were dozing. He quietly unhooked the leash and hung it on the handle of the closet. Then came around to the side of your bed.

    You cracked open an eye and then looked over at him. He smiled. “Thought ya were sleepin’.” He said.

    You shook your head. “Naah, just resting. Can you tell me about your travels and about Scotland?” you ask as Phantom hops up onto your bed and lies down at your feet. You motion for him to ‘come’ and you take his vest off for a while. He lays down at the side of your good leg and takes a nap. You hand the vest to Graham.

    He gets a BIG grin on his face and nods. He asks you if your laptop is here and you nod. “It’s in my backpack. I think Scarlett put it in that closet over there.” You tell him.

    He walks over to it and hangs Phantom’s vest over the side of the chair, then opens the closet and pulls out your backpack. He opens it up and pulls out your computer and the power cord for it. Then puts the backpack back in the closet and closes the door.

    Graham hands you your laptop and swings around the bedside table. He helps you set up the computer and then starts googling different places he has been to and tells you different stories about the places he has seen. You both spent the morning with him sharing stuff like that and you learned a lot about Scotland, New Zealand and Graham.

    You look up at the clock when a nurse appears at the door and asks if you’d like to order anything for lunch. You shrug and ask to see the menu. You look at the menu, but nothing really screams “eat me”. So you decline.

    Graham chuckles. “Hospital food is never that good anyway. I can go get ya somethin’ Sweetie. What would like?”

    You think. How about a Shawarma from Ali Baba’s West Side? I love their food!” you ask. He grins and nods, “Ok, Sweetie, I like their food too! I’ll go see if they’re open. If not, what would ya like?”

    “Ohhh…how about a Jacob’s Patty Melt (no onions) from Jacob’s Pickles!!!!” you tell him excitedly. He chuckles and tells you he’ll go see what he can find and will be back in a little bit.

    Graham heads out and you recline the bed back a little bit. You doze off for a while trying to catch up on some sleep.

    After about a half hour, you hear a soft knock on the door and Phantom’s soft “wuff”.

    “Come in” you reply sleepily and move the bed so you’re sitting up more.

    You grin when you see Martin, Amanda & Graham come walking in. “Look who I ran into at Jacob’s Pickles!” Graham exclaims.

    Keep reading

    View Full
  • Words hurt and they scar for life

    • (words can leave internal wounds that never will heal) # thinkbeforeyouspeak
    View Full
  • image

    Today’s submission for Whumptober 2020.

    Prompt: “They look so pretty when they bleed.”

    Random gratuitous whump for my favorite OC whumpee.

    View Full
  • Luke swung his lightsaber in a high arc but his opponent was quicker as he ducked under the blade. The swing, finding only air, over balanced the Jedi Master but he turned his fall into a roll, coming out a few feet away.

    On the other side of the room, his opponent give him a mocking wave and charged. Luke tried to dodge but the other’s weapon struck a glancing blow to his leg and Luke crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain.

    “Dad!” Ben cried and dropping his toy saber to the ground, rushing to his father’s side. “Are you okay?”

    Luke stopped his groaning and winked, whispering, “Yes. But this is the part where you save the damsel in distress.”

    “But Mommy’s never a damsel in distress,” his five year old son said.

    “He’s got you there, Farmboy,” Mara shouted from the next room.

    @flufftober

    Prompt List

    View Full
  • Flufftober Day 4

    October 4: Wounded (Lord of the Rings)

    The arrow is easy to pull out, even if Aragorn has to do it left-handed. It’s not a barbed one nor one that’s poisoned; there’s no tell-tale scent or discoloration marring the metal surface of it, once he wipes his blood away. The orcs of the Misty Mountains may be a milder sort than those that lurk in the shadowed halls of Moria or the blighted plains of Mordor, but they are still a threat. This pass is not as secure as it was even a few short months ago.

    Not unexpected, but a change that fills him with foreboding.

    (100 words)

    #lord of the rings #aragorn#flufftober#flufftober 2020#wounded #100 word drabbles #my writing#my fic#October challenge #these aren’t really as fluffy as one would expect 😂 #some fluff coming up over next few days
    View Full
  • Today, I offer you a Double Drabble - 200 words exactly that cover both today’s Flufftober prompt (Wounded) and tomorrow’s Whumptober prompt (Rescue). 

    - -  

    “Mara?” Luke blinked, groggy and disoriented. 

    “Who else would be hauling your ass out of trouble again?” Mara pursed her lips and tugged at his pants.

    “I thought you weren’t speaking to me.” 

    “I’m not. I’m saving you. Again.” 

    “Oh.” He should have a better reply, but the world is fuzzy and uneven.

    “Besides, I’ve got enough drugs pumping into you right now that you’re not going to remember any of this, so it doesn’t count.” 

    “You always have the good drugs.” 

    Mara snorted. “I have the good everything, Skywalker. Nice of you to notice for once.”

    “Mara? Why aren’t you speaking to me?” 

    “You know why.” 

    “I do?” 

    Mara didn’t answer. Unmoored, Luke is aware of her calloused hands bandaging, washing. Distantly, he becomes aware she is tucking him in. Straightening.  

    “M’ra. Will you… stay?

    “I don’t think that’s a very good idea, do you?” 

    “Yes.”

    “Your girlfriend won’t like it.”

    Frowning in confusion hurts. “Why not?”

    “You know why.” 

    He doesn’t. “Please?”

    No answer, but movement. A jostle as she shoves him over and sits on the bunk. Luke curls in, his head on her thigh. Fading, he feels her fingers in his hair, gentle. Sleep takes him.

    View Full
  • Inktober/Whumptober Day 3: My way or the Highway (On your knees) 

    My oc, Alexande Hoshino having a disagreement with a neighbor.  Alexande would say it’s rude to jump a tired person in an ally way after a long days work, she’d also say it was rude to stab them with a cursed object but demon’s do have a way of getting to the point.  People are so touchy with their political ideology.  

    Dip Pen and Ink, blood (happy accidents make for fun art materials) and a small amount of blue watercolor.  

    View Full