#search and recovery

[kira-ani-mcgrath]

"We are the Essentials" Fundraiser

On August 16th, 2023, the non-profit search group "We are the Essentials" found wife and mother Anu Awasthi alive after she had been missing for six days.

Her husband, Vikas, started a fundraiser for the group. The Awasthi family will match donations up to $20,000 USD.

Please consider donating, especially if you or your loved ones live in or near Florida.

You can learn more about the organization on their website:

[haveuseenmyhalo]

Excuse me- I found sumfin…☠️.

[voxyldy]

05.30.2023

[News]

RM of @BTS_twt will be named the ambassador for the Ministry of National Defense Agency for Killed in Action Recovery & Identification! As an ambassador, RM will be actively promoting the government's project to recover the remains of fallen patriots of South Korea. #RM #BTS

Source: The Kpop Herald

[nocternalrandomness]

King 81 working the pattern at Riverside

[grhmwtts]

lately,

i’ve been trying to hold space for the harsh realities—the limitations, regulations—i must impose on myself. i spent the past decade unlearning what my church had taught me to be definitively “good” or definitively “bad” and, in such, unleashed a brutal and intoxicating world onto my feeble, pastel body. in said liberation was a newfound understanding that there is no place for objectivity in regards to the good, the bad—but there is, and must be, subjectivity to the good, to the bad. i soon thereafter considered myself a hedonist, indulging in the endless search for pleasure with a fixation on the pursuit of a higher fix each time, because i had believed that since i had the capacity, the ability to do all things then i must do all things. i suppose, herein i shall introduce emotional intelligence, making its entrance in stride, arm-locked, with a sense of identity. somewhere, in the place where their skin meets, warm by their intertwining arms, resides desire—futile, pulsating—escaping. this is where i find myself now: captivated by their entrance, rotten as intrusive thoughts darken the stained glass windows of the church of my mind. what ceremony is this—i dare not ask. but i am keen, and i am ruined, like never before. my veins rupture, an aneurysm of a divinity, where the “good” and the “bad” seek to tear apart each ligament of mine. in these spaces between possibility is the understanding that anything can reside within it, for the specifics do not dictate the general picture—the microaggressions do not typically overtake the one’s impression of character—but certain matter does make a knee capable of bending or in need of replacement. as such, it is within our own genetic, emotional, makeup which suggests what matter might be best for our personal functionality, ease of existence. and only, through the desire brought by contact of emotional intelligence and a sense of identity, their two independent entities and the room that is this church that is this world, that this life of a mind, do we begin to understand how exactly to piece together this body, this world, this life of self. in this process, i find myself. in this process, i find myself questioning my individuality, examining it through a lens and finding in what ways it differs to that of the general understanding, the inundation of mass media. but only in the quietude can i find myself. so i hold space for the harsh realities—the understandings crippling my adolescent-views of self, world. and i allow myself to accept—radically, theatrically, screeching in beauty and terror—that what is “good” for me is good for me, what is “bad” for me is bad for me, and neither of these standards decree a general “good” or a general “bad”. they instead eradicate judgement, eradicate fear, and invite empathy and honor to each outlook. i, still worry-minded and adolescent-angsted, wish to know how good/bad works for other people, hope that i am not the only one to feel so alienated by the way the world apparently works. but in the most minute senses: i must think of these guideposts as allergies. varying in intensity from discomfort to death, i must know the risks and remedies. i must accept that my body, my brain, might not take to 0T7 very well. even if 0T7 is commonly revered, i must instead respect my own limitations, and see them for what they are: understandings which enable me to find my own ease of existence, embrace my personal functionality at its best. it’s a long, hard-fought battle to recognize one’s own capacities and shortcomings. tis an arduous process, what most call life. and i am thankful to recognize that these specifics contribute to what makes me me, similar to the atoms, to my genetics, a glorious collision suggesting life, i get to embrace my own harsh realities. for the world is vast and we can lose ourselves within it. the self is vast and we can find our world within it.

[whumpsoda]

WSFSP - M is for Memory

A third piece for this month’s event Alphabet of Whump by @alphabetofwhump! I really really like this one >:3

Masterlist

cw: memory loss/amnesia, nudity mention (non sexual), pet whumpee, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, Institutionalized slavery, conditioned whumpee, past abuse, recovering whumpee

——————

Mutt whined, a croaking sound that churned in his gut. The rain was only getting harder, faster, stinging against the wood and seeping in through the cracks, icy droplets plopping across his reddened skin.

Every inch of him was cold to the touch, with not a single luxury of clothing to provide even the smallest of warmth. The grass below him was pooling with mud, sticky and tainting him as he was balled up in a cage much too tight.

He couldn’t remember exactly what he did to deserve it - the cold and the fear was getting to his head and jumbling his brain all up - but no matter how freezing he was, Mutt was still sure he did indeed deserve it. Even if his leg were not chained and bolted to the wood, he would not have made the attempt to escape his punishment.

Stupid mutts who can’t seem to follow simple directions get the dog house. I thought you would’ve learned that by now, but it seems you’re just too dumb.

Say it, Mutt. Say it until you’ve gotten it permanently burned into your thick skull.

“S- st- stupid…,” his teeth chattered faster than his mouth could handle, tripping around his words and turning them to mush, “m- mutts get- t- t the dog houssse.” The last bit was left slurred and slushy, melting around his tongue. “Stuu- pid-,”

Interrupted by a crashing scream of the sky a wail of his own spilled out, aching in his chill throat. His knees dipped further into his chest, spine tapping the ceiling of his enclosure. It seemed even the outside was eager to discipline him.

Another flash of lightning, cracking close. Fat globs of tears mixed in with the rain, drooling down his cheeks.

Waking up, everything was a blur of darkness. Something flashed, just a swift flicker of light, as his eyesight worked desperately to adjust. Heavy breathing in his ears was found to be coming from his own lungs, quick with disorientation and panic.

It all died down to near silence once the still, blue room settled into sight, save for the creak of the walls and the continuous tapping on the roof. The dresser, the closet, the window, the bunk bed, his stuffed animal, all of it was there. So was Wesley, the only indication of his presence above him being the smallest shift in his sleeping position.

Even through his drowsy haze, the mere fact that Wesley was still nicely sound asleep allowed an easiness to wash through him.

Whatever woke Mutt, - that wasn’t right, but stupid mutts get the dog house - a booming roar rolling over clouds and through the sky, was loud and reverberating in his ears. The noise was terrifyingly familiar, and as soon as he caught a glimpse of the rain soaked window, he was sure what it was.

Making his way down the green soaked hallway, through the darkness he stumbled over his own feet and the blanket draped around his shoulders. Mutt hissed a whimper, curling in on himself as the thunder sounded once more, a chill shaking up his spine.

Stopping, holding himself steady with the wall, he wound his eyelids tight, as if that would block out the bitter noise.

Stupid mutts get the dog house.

Still too tired to clearly think, he didn’t know exactly why he left the room, where exactly he was going, until he got there. Their door was shut, the silence of slumber loud and clear, but he turned the nob anyway.

“Uh. I-,” he blanked, licking his cool lips. He stood at the foot if their bed, a surge of a dizzy daze tugging at the back of his brain. What was he doing? “I’m sorry.”

Oscar groaned at that, weak with confusion as he flipped over in his spot, struggling to locate his glasses on the dresser beside him.

Edith shuffled around in the bed, tied around in blankets, squinting through a wave of drowning drowsiness and an unlit room. “Who…? Graham, dear?” She mumbled, cocking her head.

Yes. That was his name now. Graham. “Y- yeah, yeah.” Giving the slightest of a nod, he directed his gaze to the floor.

“Who’s it…?” Oscar mumbled, face stuffed into the side of his pillow.

Too focused on Graham to answer her husband, Edith propped up her pillow and slumped back against it. “Did… did the rain wake you up?”

“Um, mhm, yes. Edith.” The name came out awkward and unfamiliar. He hoped she wouldn’t notice and get upset with him more than he guessed she already was - he’d clearly been struggling as of late not to call her by any sort title.

She motioned for him, waving him forward as she pulled the covers up to her lap. “You can come over here, sit on the bed if you like.”

Graham took a few slinking steps, shoulders hunched. Furniture was still… new. Uncomfortable. Wrong. Clenching his fist over his blanket, he sipped in a breath before neatly falling to his knees. She looked a bit dissatisfied with that, but didn’t say anything.

“Graham…? What’re you doing here?” Oscar said, finally sitting up beside his wife as he adjusted his glasses over his nose.

“The storm woke him.” Edith whispered, trailing her hand down his arm. Graham couldn’t help but let a little spike of jealousy grip him at that. “I take it you aren’t very fond of storms, are you?”

Timidly, he shook his head.

She smiled, a source of calm and peace that caved over the ache in his chest as her eyes glittered in the sliver of light from the doorway. He was inexplicably fond of her smile, but at the same time it knotted this little throb in his head. “Well, that’s just fine. If you’d feel more comfortable you can sit in here for a while, or I can bring in your mattress so you can sleep on the floor.”

It’s alright bud, you can snuggle up with me and momma. We’ll keep you safe and sound.

The pain got worse then, the little glitter in her eye was someone else’s, which of course didn’t really make any sense at all and he let his expression twist.

“Whatever you need, kid.”

Anything for you, sweetheart.

“I- just…,” Graham blinked, once, twice, head only deepening in heaviness with each. The shapes around him were fuzzing, contorting with white and he couldn’t tell why, he only knew it wasn’t supposed to do that and something was wrong-

“Woah there-!” She reached down as he smacked himself upside the head, and he jerked back from her. “Please- please don’t do that.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry-,” choking on his words and the lump winding over them, he did his best - which never did seem to be enough - to stifle a sour sob. His ears were filling with stuffed cotton, a little ringing rising from the depths. He said something next that he wouldn’t remember after, too overcome by the blinding of white. “I’m so sorry, mommy.”

“Oh, honey.” She cooed, holding her arms out for him to collapse into. He didn’t have the mind to think about what he was doing, how terribly out of place he was, and in the moment could only focus on Edith’s radiating warmth.

“Hey, there,” The couple guided him between them in the bed, Oscar pressing a hand to his back as he sniffled and cried. “Let it all out.”

Graham didn’t really understand why he was crying, what - or who - he was crying for, but the strain in his belly, the tremble of his hands, and the tense in his chest surely did.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” She said, reassuring him, but at the same time he was so sure of the opposite.

Soon enough Edith was wiping his tears away with a soft tissue plush between her fingers, and Oscar was allowing him to rest his pounding head atop his shoulder. Slumber clawed at him and his fluttering, reddened eyes, but some part of him refused to drift off just yet, to relish in the heat of the moment.

“Doing better now?” Oscar rubbed circles into his shoulder blade, a motion that he couldn’t pry his focus from.

“Yes’r…” he mumbled, soft and faint, twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

Everything he touched had been poisoned by his dirtiness. Yet, they still touched him, allowing him to sit between them two - on their bed even - tucking their blankets up and over his tummy.

Warm. It was so warm. Not only physically, but emotionally.

The following strike of rolling thunder to come wasn’t welcomed, but no longer was he cold and alone when it happened.

——————

Masterlist

Taglist - @softvampirewhump @ivymyers @taterswhump @octopus-reactivated @tippytappytyping

@distracted-obsessions @starfields08000 @bitchaknso @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @scoundrelwithboba

@whumped-by-glitter @whumpering-heights @arlin-always-writing @bilightningwhumper @sharkyydoesnothing

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[lookforpornography-mastrubation]

LOOK FOR PORNOGRAPHY FOR MASTRUBATION

LOOK FOR PORNOGRAPHY TO MASTRUBATE TO

[sualne]

i don't have nobody to scream to about but Who the Fuck decided to adapt this set of panels for the new black butler ED?? and then they dance together? and clap? and it synced to the music? and its got gorgeous lightening too?? and the song is really good!! WHAT.

i came in for the classic first ep to set up the arc but they throw you right back a decade ago with that gutpunch of a sequence with good animation and music and fuck off man. no wonder yana toboso cried, you can't just casually throw that in ಥ_ಥ illegal ass move.

but also im pretty sure that's where all the budget went so idk how it'll actually look in the anime itself, nowhere near as intense as reading it the first time a millions years ago i'm sure. they don't have a good track record of doing anything remotely interesting adaption wise in term of animation so that really surprised me!! good record on OP & ED tho, song & animation wise, but i really wish they added some flair to animation in general.

[angelmush]

I’m in awe of your cooking/baking! Do you have any favorite places you find recipes? Or favorite recipes in general? 💌

omg i’m so sorry i haven’t checked my inbox in forever hahaha but YES my go to is instagram reels tbh, it’s one nice thing about an algorithm that shows you stuff you like! i like bon appetit. by times, cookbooks, and youtube videos as well

[glitchdollmemoria]

ANYWAY childhood trauma is so fucking crazy wdym i have to learn to love myself the way my friends love me wdym my parents treated me unfairly and taught me awful untrue things wdym im a person worthy of the same grace and patience as any other person what is HAPPENING over here

[nocternalrandomness]

USAF Lockheed HC-130J Combat King II coming out of Elmendorf AFB, Alaska

[timidusaquilae]

just realised my laptops camera updated at some point and deleted a years worth of pictures and videos of my cats randomly coming up to cuddle w/me while i work

[whumpsoda]

WSFSP - Chaos

Masterlist

Might delete this later!

cw: pet whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, institutionalized slavery, romantic whumpee, conditioned whumpees, multiple whumpees, drugging mention, abuse mention, dubcon mention

——————

“Hi.”

Joey almost didn’t hear him, ear pressed to the speaker of her radio, but she saw him. Wesley was tall and lanky, something hard to miss when he was standing right in front of you.

For a moment she wondered where Graham was, always two steps behind, but realized he was more than likely still in bed. Wesley liked to sneak out alone in the early hours of the morning.

Picking up her head and resting it in the palm of her hand, she strung up a smile. She was ever so good at pretending those. “Hello.” She lightened her voice, bubbly as her ma’am would have liked it.

He didn’t seem comfortable with that. “Can I… can I sit? Please?”

“Yes.” The rest of the sentence - whatever you like - was left unsaid, yet still there in a way, like he knew she’s gritting it back. It was probably sat right there in his throat too, waiting to be set free.

He knelt in the chair, knees bumping on the wood, sat uncomfortably. She was never like that herself, her ma’am always kind enough to allow her on the furniture, but she recalled Florence doing the same.

“Do you always listen to the radio?”

“Kind of.” She said, with a nod. “A lot of the time.”

Nicely Wesley flashed a smile, a pet smile, crooking his head in her direction. “You change the- the um… the station a lot. Why?”

“I’m just…,” biting her lip she turned away, “just looking for something.”

“What is it?” He pressed, resting his chin on his arms, crossed over the table. He seemed interested, curiosity painted over his expression. An innocent curiosity, not stemming from a rotting place of malice.

“My lady.”

“Oh.” He said, rolling that around in his head for a moment, before nodding. He refrained from looking her in the eye. “I- I kind of thought that.” Wesley paused for a moment, his lack of social skills obviously not preparing him for what to continue with. “Do you think you’ll find her?”

Tipping her head, she shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Do you want to?”

“I’d rather not answer that.” She wasn’t so sure she had a satisfactory answer, or any answer at all. Definitely not one that could be put into words.

He bit at his lip, fingers curling into fists.“Sorry. Sorry.”

“You’re fine.”

“I don’t know if I want to see my sir again.” He said, quick and nearly a mumble, working his jaw.

“Mm.”

“I miss him… a lot. A lot, a lot. I think.” Gaze glazing over, Wesley had a little glint in his eye that made him look as if he was about to cry. “Do you think he would hate me now? If he knew I let you guys take me away and… and make me this?”

“I dunno.”

“I… hope he wouldn’t. I don’t like it when sir is mad at me.” Then he sounded like a child, one wishing their parent would not be angry with them instead of a human pet with a sir.

“I don’t think any pet wants their owner mad at them.” Joey’s smile was gone then, dropped in favor of the circumstances. “My ma’am… she got scary when she was angry. Violent.”

He lit up, almost with a strange excitement. “My sir, um, he made me lick his shoes once.” Giggling at his own words, it was out of place, but she was not unnerved.

“My lady liked to force me to eat until I threw up. Like cake and stuff. I hate cake.”

“My sir,” he was chuckling just thinking about it, “he’d give me this medicine that made me feel all weird and sleepy, and then dress me up funny. I can’t remember anything after that.”

Swallowing, she curled his hand into hers, remembering what Isaac had always done. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Wesley. You didn’t deserve any of that.” She thought maybe it was something he needed to hear

He was surprised by that. “But- but it’s funny… I was bad. I didn’t mean to-,” his lip trembled as he paused, holding himself back. She tightened her grip on his hand, and he copied her in return.

As he blinked back tears she said, “It’s okay, you can cry.” And he did just that, choking little hiccupy cries, practiced to be quiet.

A moment later, “Wesley?” Graham called, words shaky, rushing out from their room until he found his companion. Soon enough, he switched to Joey. “Why is he- what did you do?”

“We were just talking, Graham.” She said, as calm as she possibly could with a beast baring his teeth at her.

He didn’t believe her, not one bit, lips curling into a snarl. “Did you- have you hurt him? Is he hurt? What did you do?”

Wesley stood to his feet, reaching out a hand in his best attempt to calm Graham down. “She- she didn’t-,”

“Hey-!” He picked her up by the armpits, pinning her to the wall. “I didn’t-!”

“Tell me what you did!” He shrieked this time, Joey blinking as bits of spittle splattered onto her scrunched expression.

“Calm the fuck down!”

“What’s going on?” Florence entered the scene then - Otis hanging back behind the doorway - rushing in in pajamas, eyes falling wide as they settled on the fuss. “Get off’a her!”

Wesley looked between the group, fear clearly stuffing up his face. “Please don’t- he’s just confused-!”

“Don’t touch him!” Graham snarled at Joey, blinded by aggression, shoving Florence away and allowing her to slump to the floor.

”Don’t fucking touch her!” Florence, a good deal smaller than Graham, continued to stand his ground as the newer rescue let a growl rumble from his throat.

The front door slammed shut, bags of groceries disregarded swift to the countertop. “Hey, hey, hey! What are you people doing?” Isaac threw herself between them, both Florence and Graham backing away.

Joey bit her lip, rubbing at her shoulder. Florence and Graham were staring daggers at one another. Otis looked on the verge of tears.

“I was,” Wesley started, brushing away at his tear stained cheeks, “with J- Joey, and Graham thought she hurt me ‘cause I was crying, and-,”

“Yeah, and he fucking attacked her!” Florence threw his hands in the air, yelling.

“Hey! Wesley’s speaking, please show him some respect-,”

Isaac made a mistake. A grave one at that, palm clamping right over her mouth with a hitch of breath.

All five rescues dropped to the floor, all in the same position, each rigid and stone cold as they pressed their foreheads to the wood. Sucking in a breath, each rescue rushing through the horrors in their head, the air fell silent.

Hey, pet. You think you’re all that ‘cause my momma liked you? Do us all a favor and give me my rightful respect.

Don’t you dare ever speak to me that way, dog. You’re a fucking animal that needs to learn the basics of respect.

You don’t want to, Princey? Really? And when have I, or really anyone for that matter, ever cared what you wanted? I think you should show some respect.

You’re just a dirty mutt with rocks for brains, and I’m sure you’re aware. Do you want to go back in the dog house, or are you ready to learn to respect?

I’ve given you everything you could ever ask for, Buttons. All these sweets, a home, a name, and that is what I get? Show some fucking respect.

“God fucking dammit.”

——————

Masterlist

Taglist - @softvampirewhump @ivymyers @taterswhump @octopus-reactivated @tippytappytyping

@distracted-obsessions @starfields08000 @bitchaknso @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @scoundrelwithboba

@whumped-by-glitter @whumpering-heights @arlin-always-writing @bilightningwhumper @sharkyydoesnothing

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[floortile34]

monika (me) stats! :3

43.3 kg (+ 3.3kg clothes), 170 cm, 15 years and 7 months old

(this is my sona. not irl)

[serickswrites]

Quake III

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: head injury, blood, unconsciousness, hospital, rescue, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, referenced earthquake

“IN HERE! SOMEBODY HELP US! PLEASE!” Caretaker continued to bellow as they could hear the search and rescue team trying to find them. “WE NEED HELP!”

Caretaker could hear the muffled shouts of the rescue team. Could hear the scraping of tools against the rubble. And could hear Whumpee’s quiet, soft breaths. 

They continued to stroke Whumpee’s cheek as they hoped they weren’t buried to deep. Continued to yell so that the team knew where they were. And continued to pray that help would be in time. 

Caretaker’s hopes and prayers paid off. Soon they were freed from the rubble and the rescue team was pulling Whumpee’s limp body from their hands. Pulling Whumpee out and away. More hands appeared, pulling Caretaker out as well. Caretaker stumbled forward, trying to follow Whumpee. “Please, I have to--”

“Let us check you out first. Then you can worry about your friend. It was a big quake. We need to clear you first.”

“Please,” Caretaker whispered as Whumpee was taken out of their view. “I need to be with them. Please.”

“Just sit down here so my partner can assess you. Then I’ll take you to your friend. They need a hospital.”

“I need to go with them. Please!” Caretaker’s voice was raspy, their throat dry from the dust and yelling. 

“Oh you’ll be going to, to get checked out. But they’re going to the hospital now.”

Caretaker broke away from the search and rescue team and raced after Whumpee. Caretaker stopped short as they saw a team of EMTs working on Whumpee as they lay unmoving on the gurney. One EMT was wrapping Whumpee’s head wound while the other was writing on a clipboard and pulling a red tag off a string, attaching it to Whumpee’s gurney. “To the hospital, now,” they ordered before turning to Caretaker. “Can I help you?”

“Please, I need to be with them. Please,” Caretaker said weakly as they began to shake. 

“Are you actively bleeding? Unable to walk? Any broken bones? No. Then you need to wait or find a ride. Only red tags are being transported right now.” 

“Please,” Caretaker begged. “They can’t be alone.”

“Your friend isn’t alone. They are very ill. Wait here until it is your turn.” The EMT walked Caretaker to a tent and wrapped a blanket around their shoulders. “Drink some water, you are going to be ok. And your friend is, too. They just need more medical attention here than we can provide.”

Hours later, Caretaker found a ride to the hospital. And while the hospital was filled with chaotic runnings around, it was far more orderly than Caretaker imagined it was when Whumpee arrived. 

“I’m looking for someone who came in with a head trauma?” Caretaker said very quietly to the receptionist at the front desk. 

“Name and date of birth?”

Caretaker gave Whumpee’s information. The receptionist clacked away on the keys, before saying, “Room 2012, North Tower.”

Caretaker could have collapsed with relief. Whumpee was still alive. “Thank you,” they rasped as they headed to the elevator. 

Before long, Caretaker was parked at Whumpee’s bedside, relief flooding their system as they realized Whumpee was really ok. That they were safe. And on the road to healing. “I’m here, Whumpee,” they whispered in Whumpee’s ear, “I’m here.”

Tags: @scarletfern @sweetwhumpandhellacomf @justwhumpythings @painsthegame @i-eat-worlds