#Drunk Driving Car Accidents

[sunsetwestlgca]

Drunk Driving Car Accidents: Legal Implications and Victim Entitlements

Drunk driving persists as a pervasive and devastating issue in the United States, claiming numerous lives and causing a myriad of injuries annually. The aftermath of a drunk driving accident encompasses far-reaching consequences, extending beyond immediate physical harm to involve a complex interplay of legal ramifications and emotional trauma. A comprehensive understanding of these legal implications and the rights available to victims becomes paramount for seeking justice and navigating the challenging path to recovery.

[dreamwatch]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Prompt: Pride | Word Count: 1031 | Rating: M | CW: Alcohol/drug abuse, driving under the influence, car accident | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth Stranger Things, past Steddie, Eddie is a very bad boy, possibly downright unlikeable, ambiguous ending

“Eddie, don’t.”

“Come on, man.” 

“Don’t be stupid, Eddie!”

He’s not listening, not tonight. Tonight he has a calling from on high. Tonight he has places to be, a person to see. A person to touch.

Tonight he’s driving

He climbs into the car, his beautiful Ferrari bought with the spoils of fame. There are three cars in his garage, but this is the fastest. This is the one he wants to be in tonight. It’s a racer, meant for speed, a rocket ship of possibilities. 

There are voices behind him, the band arguing amongst themselves. Maybe they’re shouting at him, but he’s not listening. He’s only had a two or three vodkas, and coke doesn’t have the same effect on him as it used to, back when he was a kid and all this was new to them. The pills were nothing, just something to keep him awake, something to chill him out. But he’s older now and those things aren’t new anymore. Booze and drugs are supplements, part of the regime, part of his five a day. It’s fine. It doesn’t mean anything.

It’s Gareth that follows him, climbing in beside him a second before Eddie turns the key in the ignition and the car roars to life.

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing, man? Come back inside.”

“Get out.”

“I’m not—”

“Get out!”

Gareth buckles his seat belt tight and glares at him.

“Fine,” Eddie spits at him. “Fuck you then.”

He revs the engine repeatedly, the vibration like electricity through his body. It only goads him on. He slams his foot to the pedal and the car streaks out of his garage and onto the streets.

The city is magical at night, blinding lights, a stratospheric glimmer of colour. He knows if he was walking out on the road it would be quiet, there’d be no sound, just the occasional car speeding past on the empty streets, just like he is now. There’s music in the car, a blasting thump of drums and bass and he feels his foot drop on the accelerator; he doesn’t look at the speedometer because he doesn’t care. Part of him wishes he’d taken the bike, his black Yamaha that barely gets ridden anymore, then Gareth would still be back at the house with Jeff and Matt and their girlfriends, and not with him shouting for him to slow down. 

“—wait till tomorrow. Nothing will have changed. Let’s just go back, you can talk to him tomorrow, okay?”

Eddie doesn’t like to be ignored, doesn’t like his calls going unanswered. So no, actually, it won’t wait. He wants him tonight. Deserves to have Steve tonight.

“Eddie, slow down.”

“No.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie! It’s red!”

It’s a challenge, him against the stop light, him against the cross traffic. The road is empty, he knows it will be fine, Gareth just worries too much. He always has. Cocky until he’s not, that’s Gareth. If nothing else it will be a good lesson for him. Eddie didn’t want him here so he can consider this his punishment. 

Eddie floors the gas pedal, the engine butter smooth as it gives him the speed he wants, and he howls out of the open window as he flies through the stop light, laughing into the hot summer night.

Gareth is heaving in deep breaths beside him and it only makes him laugh more, he can barely hear himself over the sound of the engine and the music. 

The Ferrari speeds over the freeway and he feels like he’s flying. He feels like he’s free, and when the fuck was the last time he felt like that? His face is everywhere, his every second accounted for, every moment of his life planned. Stand here, wear this, do what we tell you, say what we tell you. He just needs a moment to fly.

Gareth is on the phone, but the engine noise and music drown out whatever he’s saying. Eddie doesn’t really care. He can call Jeff, he can call Wayne, fuck, call the cops for all he cares. What are they going to do? He’s Eddie fucking Munson.

He lifts his foot of the gas just a little, just enough so that when he floors it again he can feel it. It’s like warp speed, he’s Han Solo and Gareth is Chewbacca and the laughter fires through him again, the utter absurdity of it all. He loves his life.

He hates everything.

When he checks on Gareth he looks like he’s going to be sick, and there’s no fucking way he’s going to be sick in his Ferrari, so he lays off the gas. Gareth hangs his head out of his own window, the wind blowing his hair back. It’s warm out tonight, it just makes everything headier. Makes his need feel deeper.

He needs Steve. It’s in his head now, can’t sleep, can’t sleep, can’t sleep, can’t be without Steve. That there, that’s the heart of it, he doesn’t know how to be without him. Can’t get his head around him leaving, can’t comprehend why he’d walk out on this. They had everything, Eddie gave him everything, and he threw it back at him. Like, how fucking dare he work, go out on the road, make money for them? They were fine, they had a system, it worked for him, it worked for Steve, he’d have said if didn’t. It was Robin getting in Steve’s head again, telling him this wasn’t normal, ‘it’s not a relationship if you’re never together, Steve’, and when did she become such a meddling cunt? 

He drops his foot on the accelerator.

It’s not instant. The streaks of light are lining the road, leading him to heaven, and then it’s the light polluted sky he sees, the distant glimmer of weak stars filling the windscreen. He thinks Gareth is screaming beside him, but Eddie’s not scared. He feels like he’s floating, feels the hot night air whip around him, feels the dizzying spin of the car, his own fairground ride in the sky. The strips of white lining the asphalt rise up to meet him. 

He never feels the hit.

Yes it's essentially Blinding Lights by The Weeknd, but this prompt was fighting me so hard and I've spent days trying to make another story work and it just wasn't. Then this came on, and yes I may have looped it for half an hour while I wrote, but I competed the prompt!

@the-unforgivenn

[lonelela]

INTRODUCING LELA SANTORO: we love to mistake butterflies for cardiac arrest.

FULL NAME            lela rose santoro.

BIRTHDAY              january 29th ( 25 ) . 

BIRTHPLACE          red creek, michigan.

GENDER                 cis female.

OCCUPATION     receptionist at devil's ink.

BUILD                     athletic.

HAIR COLOR         brown .

EYE COLOR           brown.

HEIGHT                  5’9

PARENTS              declan santoro ( father ) + amara brown ( biological mother ) , francine santoro nee hill ( mother ).

SIBLINGS        open older sister , open older sibling, open older sibling, connor santoro (npc younger brother), maisy santoro (npc younger sister) .

PETS                    stellar ( black cat ) .

CHARACTER PARALLELS: april kepner (greys anatomy), brooke davis (one tree hill), lily aldrin (how I met your mother), elena gilbert (the vampire diaries), charlotte york (sex and the city), lexi howard (euphoria), beth harmon (the queen's gambit)

BIOGRAPHY with mentions of drunk driving, drinking while pregnant, neglect and abuse (emotional)

lela came into this world in the form of an emergency c-section after her mother had totaled her car driving drunk after a night out celebrating the end of her pregnancy. it was a miracle that she was born and even a bigger miracle that she was born healthy. her mother immediately signed over her rights to her father who had just found out about his daughter only hours before as he was the emergency contact listed. 

growing up in a household that wasn’t entirely loving wasn’t easy on a child like lela. she stayed in the background like a flower wilting in the dead of winter. it was easy when you were quiet. she was never free from the abuse that followed but she remained positive - hopeful for a change that would never come. instead she focused on her art which brought her an immense amount of joy. she sees the world in a different light than most and that shines through the art that she makes. she wants people to see the world in the way that she does.

despite the hardships that they faced, lela found herself excelling in school (even skipping two grades) and even contemplated going off to college but after graduation, she couldn’t leave. red creek was her home and despite the trials and trauma that she experienced, she couldn’t leave. instead, she found herself working as a receptionist at devil's ink and has been with the company for awhile now. she dreams of making it big in the art and photography world and has sent her work to a dozen of different places to get seen but she hasn't had her big break yet. so for now, she continues to work hard at her art and won't stop until she makes it.

HEADCANONS

lela can talk your ear off about any horror movie there is. when she needed an escape from her life, she found them in horror movies. something about killings (call her a psycho) was a comfort to her. 

her love language is physical touches and words of affirmation. she has always been the touchy feeling kind of girl and it brings her a comfort. she also likes to tell people how proud of them she is or give compliments to strangers. she also loves it when someone tells her what a good job she is doing. 

her biggest passion is painting and you can usually find her with some type of paint on her body at any given point. lately, though, she has gotten into photography and has found a new - and different - love for art.

CONNECTIONS

best friend (female counterpart, aged 25-27): her ride or die. they would literally do anything for the other one and most people that see them together know that they mean business. met when they were very young and have been inseparable since. (think peyton sawyer and brooke davis)

devil's ink customers (any gender and any age): lela has been with devil's ink for awhile and loves to see the work that the artists do. she is pretty friendly with the people that come into the shop and always wants to see the work they get done afterwards. they could become friends due to this or this could be just acquaintances.  

enemies (any gender and any age): someone that doesn’t like lela for whatever reason. 

online friends (any gender and any age): lela spends a majority of her time outside of working online in different forums. this could be a friendship that blossoms. maybe they are originally from red creek as well or somewhere on the other side of the world but now has moved to the same town. 

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 16

Featuring the same characters as Day 12! Not required viewing to understand this one, as it's more their origins. I've placed the story in the UK so apologies for any inaccuracies as I'm an American!

Content warnings for: alcohol consumption, smoking, implied addiction to both aforementioned, drunk driving, motorcycle accident, thoughts of death, and brief suicidal ideation. Stay safe!

Wound Cleaning

He knew he was too far out of it. Too dizzy, too tired, too weak, too drunk to drive back home.

But he’d stumbled to his bike, clutching his side and his cheek, running like a coward. When it roared to life beneath him, he found some forlorn spark of confidence.

Then somewhere on the side streets it had started raining. And in the forest between towns it came down harder. Then-

Fuck, his head hurt. 

Freezing mud clung to him as he rolled over despite the persistent warmth in his chest. When had it gotten so cold? The hazy shadow of his bike lay several meters away, its headlights shining off into the woods, engine still purring into a puddle. His phone was still in the tailpack, he’d call someone to pick him up… or 999… they couldn’t tell him he had it coming. 

A mirthless laugh covered a worse sound as he pushed himself up, dragging aching limbs toward the motorcycle. His left leg was fucking killing him.

A memory of skidding across asphalt, crumbling concrete tearing at skin.

He just needed to grab his phone.The leather bag hanging off the seat wasn’t yet submerged and he let out a sigh of relief, reaching in. 

Empty. Oh god.

“Nonononono…”

A bloody hand plunged underwater, searching until- the phone. It was dripping water from every opening, his fingers slipped against the buttons, pressing frantically as a black screen stared back. 

“Shit! God, no!”

He screamed and flung the useless machine against the ground, collapsing with it into incoherent sobs. If he got back onto the bike in this condition he’d crash somewhere worse. But laying here was a death sentence unless someone else felt bad enough to stop for him.

Ha. Funny. 

Well, if he was lucky… there. His trusty lighter and cigs were still zipped up safely in his pocket, one left in the whole package. Fate was one sexy, sexy man. He’d have to do him a favor in the afterlife if he made it that far.

“Cheers.” To nobody in particular, of course. It took shaking fingers a few flicks to activate muscle memory and spring up a little flame. A long, deep drag soothed his nerves.

Not a bad way to go out. Not bad at all. Tequila would’ve paired nicely with the smoke.

Headlights turned onto the road and he sighed, holding out a forlorn hand. At best, he’d be splashed as they whizzed by. At worst, they’d put him out of his misery. 

Or maybe those two should be switched. Either way, they wouldn’t… stop… but… they were slowing down. And he heard the doors unlock when the vehicle shifted into park. And those lights were making his head pound.

“Bloody hell! Is that you, Payge?”

“Depends who’s askin’,” he mumbled through a mouthful of smoke. “You gonna bring me in to the station?”

“Christ…” They muttered to themself and opened the trunk of their car and pulled something out before walking over. The headlights stayed on, acting as a spotlight. “C’mere, Payge. Can you move?” 

“Nicolai…?”

“The one and only. Come on.”

Nicolai was… how would he describe them? A friend of a friend of sorts. But maybe they were more of a friend, as of late. Did they even live over this way? Where the hell had he ended up?

Payge groaned and pushed himself up, missing a few times and slipping down. Nicolai’s hands reached out to help pull him over. 

“You smell like smoke. And booze.”

“Here. Just a bit, ‘ts my last one.” He offered the cigarette and they pinched it between thumb and index, took a drag, and blew it straight into his face. 

“The hell’s that meant to be?!” Payge coughed.

“You shouldn’t smoke so much.” They handed it back and opened a well stocked first aid kit, picking up a cloth and pouring some water out from their water bottle. “Where are you hurt?”

“You askin’ about the bar fight or the crash?” His words were slurring into each other again. 

“Payge…” they shook their head, concern coloring their features. “I told you to stop fighting.”

“And I wasn’t letting him go home w’thout a shiner.” They stopped arguing and simply stared until he softened. “Got punched in the cheek, thrown around a bit… I think my leg’s bleedin’.”

They brought the cloth to his face first, wiping away grit, and he hissed when they found broken skin over his cheekbone. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a bottle of antiseptic, I’ve just gotta clean you up first. You shouldn’t be riding in this weather in the first place.”

Nicolai moved to his abdomen, touching over the hem of his shirt and a frantic, uncoordinated hand pushed it back down. 

“Stop, you don’t needa… just call an ambulance. You shouldn’ hafta do all this.”

“Nonsense. I can’t leave your side not knowing what happens. Let me help.”

Payge hesitated before relenting, letting them pull up his shirt and inspect the bruise surely forming over his ribs. Once satisfied they moved to look at his legs, but noticed blood dripping down his arm.

“Your hands-?” 

“Just scraped ‘em.”

But they wouldn’t stand for that, taking him roughly by the wrist and cleaning the mud off to reveal harsh scratches from the pavement.

“Other one, Payge.”

“Lemme finish,” he gestured with his half-smoked cigarette.

“Give me that!” Nicolai snatched it right out of his loose grip and snuffed it out, grinding the butt into the pavement before tossing it into the puddle.

“Hey! Wha’s your problem, mate?!” Genuine anger snuck into his voice and Payge finally sat up, grabbing at their shirt and shaking them. “You gotta nother pack’a Marlboros hanging around or what, Nic?” 

A hand shot out and held him by the neck, and his grip dropped away in shock. 

“You’re gonna pass of infection if you don’t let me do my job. Calm the hell down.” The lack of response sounded like resignation, so they cleaned the hand that had now left a stain on their shirt. “Don’t let those touch the mud again, you understand?”

A meek nod. He allowed Nicolai to roll up his pant leg but seethed when torn fibers tugged at the wound.

“I’ll go quickly. Hold your breath.” And they ripped it off as promised, causing a long, drawn out keen. Wow. 

“Th-thank you…”

Something stirred but they swallowed it down.

“Don’t thank me yet.”

A bit more water was poured onto the cloth before working it into the wound, despite jerks and half-aware cries. As the mud was washed away, the severity of the gash became apparent. Though it didn’t cut deep, it was… extensive. They pulled the first aid kit over and grabbed the roll of elastic bandages.

“Bite down on this. I promise you’ll need it.” They held it to Payge’s mouth and he accepted it, fear flashing across his face. “Just focus on that and you’ll be alright.”

A new cloth and a pause to trap his leg with their own, then Nicolai poured the antiseptic directly on the wound. 

“Fuuuuck!” 

They worked quickly, wiping it over and working it into each crevice. They couldn’t be too safe. And the whimpers… A clean cloth bandage wrapped around his calf and they pinned it in place. 

“A hand, please. Whichever I should start with.” They held their palm up, offering the choice, but Payge was still curled into himself. They sighed and grabbed the closest one.

“No, no it hurts too bad!” He cried, trying to speak around the roll of bandages. “Leave it, how it is jus’ leave it…”

The antiseptic didn’t need to be poured in such a volume, but maybe it was their reward for dealing with him.

“Aren’t you drunk? You shouldn’t be able to feel a thing,” they shrugged as he screamed. The only thing that mattered was the way he struggled thoroughly cleaning the wounds. The same routine repeated with his other hand, and they were both bandaged in the same way. 

“Right. Your face.” He flinched away at the soft dabs and the butterfly bandage placed over his cheek. “There. All done.”

“I still… still can’t drive m’self home…”

Nicolai shushed him, scooping his torso off the asphalt to sit him up. They removed his soiled biker jacket, throwing it in the trunk and exchanging it for a few towels. One went over the backseat and the other went around his shoulders when they picked him up bridal style, laying him down gently across the seats. 

“Th’ fuck…?”

“I’m driving you home.”

“But… my bike…”

“I’ll take care of it. After I take care of you.”

[crazysodomite]

One of my co-workers died from alcoholism recently

At least 2 other ones had to be fired because they got drunk on the job/missed work because of being drunk

Some routinely come in drunk or hungover

In this past year or two at least 3 people in my life have died from alcoholism related causes. Dying from alcoholism usually is not quick

[jadewolf22]

Just got out of the hospital... Got t-boned by a fucking dunk driver (thankfully on the passenger's side). Shattered my femur (had surgery), cracked 2 ribs, bruised a lung, and had a severe concussion. Will be bed-ridden for a little bit so I'll have plenty of time to get caught up on posting my fics; which I am so fucking behind on...

[dannyfm]

Welcome to New York {DANIEL SUTTON} !! They are a {33} year old {CIS MAN} who uses {HE/HIM} pronouns. They’re an {EMERGENCY NURSE PRACTITIONER} who has been in town for {NINE YEARS}, who lives in {QUEENS}. When looking at {DANNY} you automatically think of {THE CRACKLE OF A RECORD PLAYING, A REMINDER THAT TENDERNESS IS A VIRTUE, FIDGETING HANDS} but that probably makes sense since they also remind you of {JACOB ANDERSON}. You can always hear {VIENNA} by {BILLY JOEL} coming from their place. Who knows what kind of trouble they’re going to get themselves into. [penny, 25, gmt]

fullname:  daniel rené sutton. nickname(s): danny ( his preferred choice ), dan. age:  thirty-three. birthday: november 12th. gender / pronouns:  cis man ,  he / him. orientation:  bisexual / biromantic. place of birth: new orleans, louisiana current residence: queens, new york. languages: english, french, spanish & asl. height: 5'8. personality: loyal, empathetic, obsessive, stubborn.

( tw ; car accident, drunk driver, injury, depression & ptsd. )

born in new orleans, daniel was primarily raised by his mother ( originally from baton rouge ) and sisters, as his father ( originally from queens ) travelled a lot for work.

his kind-hearted nature and seemingly tireless desire to help people made of his choice of nursing for a career unsurprising. daniel graduated at the top of his class in his bsn and started work in nola as soon as he could.

the relocation to queens around a year later was the first and really only truly impulsive decision danny ever made. he'd been thinking about moving out of louisiana whilst still studying, but figured he'd never be brave enough to do it. he'd joke the endless teasing from his sister about it was the motivator.

he settled in queens, discovering he loved it more than he could ever dream of. with the goal of becoming a nurse practitioner in mind and the solidification of his love for emergency medicine, he took the exam to become a certified emergency nurse and a handful of other certifications. maybe not a necessary step, but one he enjoyed doing -- it felt like progress.

the next step was to get his msn, something he opted to do online. ( TW ) was cycling home from a night shift one morning when he was hit by a drunk driver at a crossing. he woke a couple of days later to a shock ( and thinking that it was funny that someone who worked in emergency medicine would be surprised by his injuries ). daniel had been lucky, really. at least, that's what people said -- at the time he could only think that was an unbelievably cruel thing to say. his right leg had been amputated ; initially below the knee but complications arose and so he ended up an above knee amputee. otherwise, he was pretty much unscathed. a smattering of scars here and there the only other thing to show for his ordeal.

not unexpectedly, daniel was diagnosed with ptsd and had fallen into depression immediately following the accident and suffered during much of his recovery. he refused to even think about his life beyond, let alone work ; his msn was paused and he insisted he would never go back to it for a while. eventually and no doubt entirely thanks to the efforts of friends, family & the professionals around him daniel came round.

by no means have either of those things become a non-issue in his life ( the level of pain he's in & the prevalence of depression are inextricably linked ), but they have dissipated significantly and well, when all else fails… there’s always throwing yourself into work or looking after someone else when you don't want to deal with your own problems. ( TW END )

since the accident just under a year and a half ago, daniel has completed his msn and settled into his role as an enp, overjoyed with the achievement of his goal.

headcanons

daniel has an orange cat called sidney ( sid ) who is a rescue and probably his best bud.

accent is kind of mess. the nola influence ( non-rhotic, th = d pronunciation) ) is definitely at the forefront, but it's also influenced by the accents of his family from other areas of louisiana and queens. danny is very soft-spoken, borderline mumbly ( kinda will lamontagne-esque if ur familiar with criminal minds asdfak ) but also very aware that this can make him even more difficult to understand so he def has a 'phone / work voice ' he uses to be clearer.

big good samaritan vibes. he has a particular set of skills and Will show up with an advanced medical kit ready to fix anything he can if need be. also BIG into music. plays piano, violin & guitar ( mostly acoustic bc that's his personal preference ) and secretly has a very nice voice but he'd probably actually drop dead if someone ever mentioned that.

probably an ambivert, but also shy as hell. he's definitely got a lot less shy since starting work just out of necessity but still prefers to blend into the background at social events and with people he doesn't know. it's something he's trying to work on. has a massive heart, his friendship is not hard to win but damn near impossible to shake off ( not least bc he knows he was sometimes an A+ asshole in recovery and anyone who stuck around through that deserves at least the same energy from him. )

wanted connections page. pinterest board.

literally everything pls. best friend, good friends, a bad / good influence who encourages him to socialise & get out of his comfort zone more, ex & present day crushes / flings, neighbours, flirtationship, exes & co workers.

[withdread]

Stephen doesn't drive, but he has his license.

When he was 15 his brother was killed while driving drunk. Aside from the grief of losing his brother, Stephen recalls the dread of the idea that he could have easily been in the car with his brother when it happened, as he frequently went for joyrides with Nick. He remembers the exact make, model, color of the car and what it felt like to be in the passenger seat. He idealized and loved his older brother, and was disappointed in his choice to get behind the wheel while drunk, as well as stricken with grief at the news. The car was totaled and his brother was killed instantly. Thankfully nobody else was injured or involved.

He has a watch which he sets various alarms on, one set of which is the schedule for bus departures. He takes public transportation everywhere, and while he doesn't live far from school campus he does live off site in a campus-owned apartment.

He can drive, he just chooses not to. He still has nightmares about losing his brother, and the what if attached to being in the car with him so often.

[khaopybara]

I was curious to know how Ray would get his arm broken but seeing as he gets punched two episodes in a row, maybe he's seen that coming

[ethereal-bumble-bee]

To the Nameless Man from the Drunk Driving Prevention Example Video (A Poem)

I didn’t expect to watch a man die today,

but here we are.

They told us that some of the content would be disturbing, and I didn’t doubt them for a moment,

but

I’ve truly never seen a man get launched that high.

Do you think, if you tried,

you could’ve touched Heaven

with your outstretched fingers?

I wonder what the birds thought,

hearing that great collision and looking down to see you

flying through the air.

Does it hurt,

knowing that you’re dead because of a decision you never had to make

in the first place?

I think you were dead before you even hit the ground, which is some comfort,

though watching you get run over was a special kind of horror.

Oh my god, I exclaim as I see the wheels crush you.

I wonder if the driver said the same thing.

I saw your head catch on the window as you flew out,

your tiny, nameless face a blur in the traffic camera that they zoomed in, in, in.

They say you were drunk—

or, at least someone in the car was—

and the alcohol would likely have numbed your senses

so you never felt the impact.

You were dead long before anyone could try to save you,

long before anyone even could think to.

Perhaps that’s why,

as your arms splay out and your head lolls to the side,

and I can almost hear the bones crunching as you hit the ground,

it’s not as disturbing as it should be

to watch your death

immortalized in an educational film,

meant to scare teenagers like myself into making good choices.

Whatever came after that impact,

the screech of those tires and the blare of the sirens, 

the funeral and the legal fees and the collection of your final moments for this conference.

I hope you found some peace.

[mimikoolover]

so not only jk's supposed girlfriend (even tho he has several girls on the go at any one time) was pregnant in the video, the reason why there is no kid is because hybe forced her to have an abortion? jungkook gave bam up for adoption too? and he had (another) car accident with a taxi driver and the taxi driver was in intensive care? and this is what one 'insider' knows, no one else would ever spill the beans on all this? what next, jungkook starts world war 3 in the korean army?

man I am deleting twitter on the 13th for 18 months. y'all have fun being unhinged.

[sunsetwestlgca]

Impact of Pre-Existing Conditions on Personal Injury Claims: What You Need to Know

Personal injury claims seek compensation for damages resulting from an accident caused by another party’s negligence. These damages can include medical bills, lost wages, and pain and suffering. Individuals unfamiliar with legal processes may worry about the cost of hiring a personal injury attorney.

[halfwcytohell]

if you’re hearing WELCOME TO MY LIFE by SIMPLE PLAN playing, you have to know ANGELO CORTES ESTRADA (HE/HIM, CIS MAN) is near by! the THIRTY EIGHT year old BUSBOY AT THE 365 DINER has been in town for, like, SIX MONTHS. they’re known to be quite DISTANT, but being HEDONISTIC seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble MIGUEL GOMEZ. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those BRUISED KNUCKLES, STRONG DRINKS, FLANNELS WORN WITH BLUE JEANS, MUSCLES STRAINING AGAINST T-SHIRTS, DRIVING FAST ON AN EMPTY ROAD vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around RIVERSIDE long enough!

born and raised in los angeles, california, angelo’s life was far from easy. though he was raised to be the perfect gentleman, angelo was far from it. he was more of a handful, often causing trouble for himself and his family.

by the time he as a teenager, angelo had gained a bit of a reputation, his stubbornness and tendency to act before he thought things through getting the best of him. after high school, his parents kicked him out and refused to support their “delinquent son” who had shamed them.

at eighteen, angelo moved to seattle. it wasn’t long before he got into the wrong crowd there, drinking and partying like there was no tomorrow. because to hm, there wasn’t. his life didn’t matter, not really.

a few months after he moved to seattle, angelo and a few friends were leaving a club. they had all been drinking, but angelo thought he was okay enough to drive. they were almost home when he lost control of the car, crashing into a nearby tree.

one of the passengers died, and the others were injured. angelo walked away without a scratch, but that was his only bit of good luck.

he was quickly arrested for drunk driving and later charged with first degree homicide by vehicle. despite it being his first offense, he was given a twenty year sentence, which he served in full.

angelo moved to hemlock springs after being released from prison and has been in town for a few months now.

he’s still drinking, though he mostly stays out of trouble, or at least tries to, working and going to aa meetings. 

[the-faultofdaedalus]

every day i think about howard and maria’s deaths in the 2004 draft script

[in-death-we-fall]

Wednesday's arm in a sling after he broke his collarbone

[garglyswoof]

Woke up.around 2:30 to a crash but fell back asleep. Doorbell rang this morning then a terrifying knock at my back door.

Thanks drunk person!