#TW Mention of Suicide Attempt

[perfectlysunny02]

🤫❤️‍🩹👀

im always excited to read ur writing 🩷

thank you!🩷

🤫- "You tried to kill yourself, Evan. I don't think we can just ignore that any longer."

"I tried to kill myself because of you! And I find it incredibly ironic you refuse to ignore it when you have ignored me my whole life. So no, I don't want to discuss this with you, and I think you should leave. Go."

❤️‍🩹- And when he drops Evan off from that bar and gets him into bed, Tommy has to make himself leave. This isn't his place anymore, and he's sure Evan only called him because he's drunk, not because he actually wanted Tommy.

He doesn't hear from Evan for another two weeks.

👀- "God," Eddie breathes, his breath hitching as his thumb brushes Buck's bulging cheek. "God, you look so fucking... you look so fucking hot, goddamn. I-"

Buck hums slightly, feeling slightly more settled into his skin. He knows how to do this, this he's good at.

[beriandcharts]

name something your muse regrets.

Headcanon/Development Questions

Under the cut due to triggering content being mentioned

Nami's biggest regret is the first time that she trusted someone to help her. She was infiltrating a marine base, and was 15 at the time, though she told everyone that she met that she was 18. As she was after something specific, she was there long term, playing the part of a new recruit.

She met a young marine who was several years older than her named Carter, as she got to know him, flirting on and off, she grew to like him. As time went on, that crush grew into something more and she decided to one day tell him about what Arlong was doing. This was shortly after her 16th birthday.

As a result, upon learning that technically Nami was a pirate, Carter decided that she needed to be punished for her deceit. He threatened to have her arrested and thrown in prison, upon her pleading that she would do anything he took advantage of her. She does not dwell on the memories of her assault often, as it drags her right back to that day.

The worst part of the whole situation was the fact that she is unsure if the assault resulted in a pregnancy. There was a time where she had missed her monthly, and the fear of carrying her assailant's child drove her to attempt to take her own life. As she was still at the base she was taken to the medical wing, and because they were known to be close Carter was called down.

Her biggest regret was telling him about Arlong and expecting him to actually help her, and that she trusted him so easily.

[explodcor]

Anonymous said: "If Izuku had jumped off the roof that fateful day, I bet you wouldn't have even cared one bit."

Katsuki sucked in a deep breath and let it out. "Do you honestly fuckin' think that if I knew Izuku would've actually had one inkling of wanting to jump that I would've even said that shit to him?"

"That dumbass is one of the most stubborn and mentally strongest people I know. Any time I knocked him down to distance myself from him, he'd come running at my back."

"Of course, it was way out of fuckin' line, and I've regretted saying that shit the moment it left my mouth, but I was too damn caught up in my ego problem to admit that out loud." He glared at the greyface. "Not that you'd give a fuck, but on the off chance that I was wrong about his mental state, I actually went back and made sure he didn't take the stairs to the damn roof. I would've went and stopped him before he tried some stupid shit like that."

[queenhollyberry90]

Chapters: 24/? Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage Relationships: Reiner Braun/Original Female Character(s), Porco Galliard/Original Female Character(s)

"Reiner!" The voice is cheerful and happy as it calls out his name. Turning around, Reiner feels small and twelve again, looking at a man who is undeniably his father. He looks almost the same as he did the last time he saw him, only now his hairline has receded further, and his stocky frame has become a husky one. His father grins at him and begins walking toward him; the Marleyan officer he was standing next to grabs hold of him, preventing him from moving closer to him. (Despite the curse being gone and Eldians having stopped the Rumbling, many in Marley still distrust them, so Calvus has ordered protection for the refugees to ensure none are unduly harmed and attacked). "Mr. Braun, this man is saying he's your father and is here to see you." The officer says. Reiner feels his mouth drying and can hear his heart pounding furiously against his chest. His friend's eyes are on him, looking at him curiously. They have met his mother and have heard the whispers from the refugees. His status as a bastard is no secret, but his father's identity looms large over him and his mother. The rumours have always been that he is either the son of a married man or was born from rape, with the former being the more popular one, given that Karina always refused to name his father. If he had been born from rape, she could have reported it and would have gotten justice. Unless the man is Marleyan, a few would whisper, and those that did were right to a degree. His father is Marleyan though he was not born from rape, at least not that he has been told. "Can't you see the resemblance?" His father huffs, his voice full of indignity. "We look practically identical. Sure, he has his mother's colouring and the Eldian nose. But still, everything else is all me." He grins and gestures toward Reiner. It makes him feel sick as well as self-conscious about his nose.

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

hey you know what would be like. the WORST possible thing? if no time had passed for mortals during God Games. if the entire time, Odysseus had just been frozen on that ledge. and at the start of the Vengeance Saga, Ody's still on the ledge. he looks to the skies, to the trees, out over the ocean. he looks for an owl with knowing eyes and strains to hear her voice over the waves, because surely, surely she'd come for him. the haven't spoken in nine years and he ruined whatever relationship they had when he stupidly, foolishly let the cyclops live, but she has to still care, right? she was his mentor. she was his patron. he meant something to her. he's sure of it

but she's not there. he waits, but she's not there. he closes his eyes, sparing himself the view, and steps off the ledge

and is saved by Hermes. and Odysseus briefly thinks that he has died, since Hermes escorts souls to the underworld. but Hermes assures him that, no, he's alive, Athena heard him, she bargained with Zeus, he can go home now. he can finally go home

his friend came through

[ossiethegreat]

kimya dawson and color spectrum duo … grrr….

@howlsofbloodhounds

Color belongs to superyoumna

Killer belongs to rahafwabas

Song - Anthrax by Kimya Dawson

there’s so much fanart of killer sinking in water or something and honestly it’s kinda funny

[aceofwhump]

Heroes 1x02

[itz-pandora]

Tw: su1c1d3 ideation/attempt, knife in frame, implied drinking

Art below cut (also rambling)

Chuck really struggles after Jules' death, he's lost his entire family (I'm leaning towards Terios also being dead at this point to solidify this)

Chuck felt awful before that because Nikki. Chuck helped give Nikki that adventurous spirit, and they built a plane together, which Nikki took to run away. He felt personal responsible.

Chuck's an introvert, so all he had was his family. All the connections and friends he made through work are on the other side of the world. The only person he can think of to call is Bernie, since she was Jules' wife. He called her because he wanted to be talked down from this, he wants to be able to keep living on but it's difficult when he's isolated and dealing with everyone he knows just disappearing. (Chuck lives in a rural area so he's not exactly gonna have a lot of regular social interaction.)

He unfortunately picked up drinking to try to dull the pain of losing everyone he cared about.

Bernie stays on the line with him because she knows what's gonna happen. She ends up making sure to schedule phone calls and visits so he keeps himself alive.

Chuck gets to meet Sonic after a long time and he completely falls apart. This is the first time Sonic ever saw Chuck cry, and this grown man is just sobbing while hugging him, since he's really glad to have a member of his family back.

At this point, Chuck wouldn't have any capacity to be frustrated with Sonic for running, he's just too glad to have him back.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

It was only supposed to be a one-night stand (Part 1)

TW: suicide attempt, mentions of self harm, smut (kinda), yandere shenanigans

okay i mayyy have made this after like seeing a bunch of hot construction workers around my campus doing tinkering and shit and my saviour complex is also kinda flaring up too

and also this is my first ever cringefail yandere, he's not rich and he barely has connections and mans was suicidal

enjouy

Part 2

Everyone doesn't know why you didn't just block him, call the cops on him, or just... anything! You don't either.

This man has been following you around for months now. Leaving you flowers on your office desk, dropping parcels of gifts in front of your door, and visiting your workplace to give you boxes of freshly made takeout.

He's not much of a talker. Maybe it's because he can't exactly speak English well. But that was the only language he had ever spoken or written in before, as far as you know.

He's definitely intimidating everyone around you. Standing at an imposing height of what you think is 6'5, his back alone is usually enough to block the sun from your eyes. With his shaggy, brown hair covering his eyes, unkempt stubble covering his face and scruffy clothes; he usually wears an olive green shirt under his very worn chore jacket and a pair of shabby khaki pants. The man wears a pair of mildly tattered combat boots. He isn't ugly, perse, but he definitely isn't the standard of beauty in society. Your stalker has this rugged and disheveled vibe to him that some may like and most look down upon.

You think he's homeless, living in his beaten car and going to public gyms to shower. You've never seen him eating something he cooked himself, it's either he's eating something out of a styrofoam box, or a package good from convenience stores.

But he isn't unemployed. You know he is a construction worker, you caught him many times staring at you longingly as you hasten your pace, fleeing the soon-to-be shopping complex near your office. He was carrying a heavy set of wooden planks on his shoulder effortlessly, the stranger wiped his sweat using the back of his hand before adjusting his hard hat.

You didn't know that he worked in this field when you first met him. You always had a good heart... or at least a heart that simply cannot handle bystander guilt.

You were walking towards the subway one day, and it was late because you agreed to work overtime. The sky was pitch black, and the only thing that illuminated the path ahead was the lamps swarmed by millions of moths.

Entering the tunnel, there were only a few people around; either waiting for the train, for someone, or for a miracle. Regardless of what they're there for, they're all occupied in their own little world.

You were about to be immersed in the world of social media too, but your blasted phone died. So you're forced to stand in silence and become aware of your surroundings, nothing to numb yourself from the daily mundaneness.

And it was this awareness that led you to notice the man in the first place. You were guarded, taking a few steps away from him as he seemed extremely intoxicated. He was swaying and stumbling, in his calloused hand, held a brown glass bottle with liquid sloshing in it. The man was mumbling something, but it was too soft and incoherent for you to hear. He kept wiping his face using the back of his knuckles.

He, just like everyone else except you, is in his own personal hell too. He spared no attention for you or anything else except his own drunken stupor, so you deem it relatively safe to watch him from where you're standing. The stranger is your only source of entertainment at the moment anyway, the train is coming soon, so why not watch him for a bit more and laugh at him internally for being at his lowest? Certainly, it would never happen to you.

You were snapped out of your own thoughts when you saw him going dangerously close to the ledge, crossing over the yellow line. At the same time, the sounds of wind rushing and rumbling reached your ears, if he falls onto the rails, he will definitely be done for. You looked behind your shoulder and saw bright lights coming from one end of the tunnel, calculating that you only have a couple seconds to make your decision.

You shouted for his attention, catching it and a few others around you. He stared at you with bloodshot, glassy eyes. However, he lost his footing and was about to fall to his ultimate demise.

The adrenaline rush amplified by the roar of the train wheels made you propel your feet toward him. You stretched your arm, grabbed him by the back of his jacket, and yanked him out of the danger zone with all your might. It definitely wasn't easy to move this hunky mass at all, but you did. And you saved him just at the nick of time, as the train rushed by, blasting a gust of wind against the two of you.

You must have underestimated your strength because he was flung back at high speeds. He grabbed your arm by instinct, trying to re-balance himself, and brought you down to the grimy subway floor with him.

You groan as you rush to sit up, cradling the arm that made contact with the ground. Scowling at the stranger for pulling such a stupid stunt in his inebriated state, upset that now you had a few pairs of judging eyes on you. You froze when you saw his eyes though, a unique glimmer made its way to his dark irises. His mouth is slightly ajar, he is staring at you with such intense reverence and adoration which you mistake as a mere alcoholic's intoxicated stare.

You screeched when he suddenly emptied the contents of his stomach on your work blouse. Shouting angry curses at him as his head was slumped to the ground and his eyelids shut.

You got up and tried to swipe as much puke away from you as you ran to the train. The last you saw him that night was in an extremely pathetic state, unconscious in his own puddle of vomit, a bottle of booze rolling away from him. People either crossed over him or walked over his body, sparing a few glances of pity or contempt before boarding the train themselves.

You thought that you were never going to see him again, with that much alcohol in his system, you would be surprised that he could even remember his own name. And you couldn't be more wrong.

A few days after that, you were in the same station, taking the same train because your boss needed you to finish the report by that day. This time, you're exhausted. Not sleeping, eating or enjoying your hobbies puts a toll on your energy levels, what a surprise.

You were nodding off in the train, struggling to keep yourself awake.

Maybe if you let yourself doze off, you'll wake up just in time for your stop. And so, you did, you let yourself drift into slumberland.

It was a mistake.

You were harshly woken up with a torch shining in your eyes and a booming voice telling you that the both of you have to leave, as this is the last stop. Lifting your head from a headrest, which actually was someone's broad shoulder. But you didn't realize that.

You were still half asleep, groggily and hastily gathering your things, not registering that the employee was also referring to another person in your proximity.

You muttered a small good night to the staff before exiting the train, yawning and stretching. Smacking your lips as you realized that your briefcase wasn't with you, must've left it back on your seat. So you turned around and walked forwards, only to ram yourself onto what you thought was an oddly shaped pillar. Cussing under your breath as you stumbled backwards, rubbing your head.

You let out a shocked yelp when you realized that it's the man instead. You were about to say something to him but your eyes landed on his side; he was holding the suitcase for you.

You stammered a quick thank you as you snatched it away from him, picking up the pace as you walked away. Howeever, you heard footfalls behind you.

Looking over your shoulder, you saw him following closely behind.

Perhaps he is also looking for an exit, so you silently lead the way to the nearest opening. But as you walk, you start to wonder; did he purposely stayed on the train with you? If he had to go somewhere he would have gotten off by then, if this was his stop, he would have left before the lights went out.

Finally, having to breath in fresh air once you exit the dusty station, you turned to look at him. Trying to discern which way is he heading.

He isn't moving. The man stood next to your side, staring straight ahead. As if he's waiting for you to take another step. After a few more seconds of idling, he turned his gaze to you.

Understandably being creeped out by this, you told him not to follow you. He blinked a couple times before continuing to stare.

Sighing, you asked him if he is lost. And you got no response.

You asked him if he is stupid. And you got no response.

Not giving a shit anymore, you picked a direction and walked. It's a long walk home and there will not be any trains left until the sun rises. As expected, he followed you all the way.

He is useful in warding off midnight catcallers and other seedy individuals that hang around alleys and empty streets. Who wouldn't be wary of him? He looks like he could easily pick them up by the scruff and fling them to the rooftops. But that means he could do that to you too, and that isn't comforting to know at all.

You reached home after an hour and a half of walking. The man is still on your trail, crowding you around the door as you unlocked it. You opened the door and immediately slipped in, he tried entering as well but you slammed it against his face. He watches you lock and latch your door through the window, he placed his hand on the glass and clawed at it a bit. You simply drew the curtains shut, praying hard that he isn't going to be there by sunrise.

Your prayers wasn't answered because you decided to check up on him an hour later. You saw him laying on the porch with his eyes closed and that tugged at your heartstrings a bit.

Maybe it's the sleep deprivation that is lowering your inhibitions, or you're just lonely and he doesn't look half bad. It could also be the cold one you cracked open that's screwing up with your soberness. Either way, you would have given yourself shit for opening the door and letting him in your house while the world is still asleep. If you get murdered, at least you won't need to go to work next week.

It was a blur, you remembered bits and pieces of his hands roaming your bare back, his cock impaling into you as he sloppily kissed you from the jaw to your neck. How his rough fingers fondled your genitals and how you were gripping your bedsheets as if your life depended on it.

Bouncing on him while you shoved your tongue down his throat was fun, especially when he wrapped his hand around the back of your head, preventing you from escaping him. Feeling the pleasant pressure on you as he pinned you to the firm bed. It was kind of him to shield your head with his hand from hitting the bedframe while he plows you from behind, iron gripping your hips with the other.

You remember starting it, demanding that he gives you something in exchange for staying a night here, you remembered pulling him into a deep, passionate, drunken kiss before he has a foot into the living room. You didn't give a shit about knowing his name or if he had any STDs, you just need to release a lot of frustrations.

You woke up hungover, with you being the small spoon while he held you tightly in his strong arms. They were littered in old scars, some clearly self inflicted.

You turned your head to see that he's still asleep, soft snores escaping his lips. Annoying to some.

Squinting as you let the sharp rays of light stab your eyes, you saw that your clothes and his were strewn all over the bedroom, the door wide open with a stray shoe resting next to it's hinges.

You looked at the clock and realized that you're going to be late. Being the workaholic you are, you shook the stranger in your bed awake. He was groaning and quietly whining about not wanting to get up, but shuts up as soon as you hurled his clothes at his face.

He shot up and cowered behind his arms as you continued throwing his articles of clothing at him, telling him that he has to leave because you need to go to work.

While he's composing himself, you rush to the bathroom to take a quick shower, pretending the cold stream of water is washing away all your sins from the night before. You lather up some soap before scrubbing your skin, internally beating yourself up for your irresponsible choices.

A familiar pair of arms snaked around your torso as you're pulled back into a strong chest, a pair of lips decided to flutter smooches on your temple and ear. His hands explored your naked body, utilizing the suds and the water to give you that electrically tingling sensation.

Of course, this intrusion wasn't taken lightly. You screamed and kicked him out of the shower, telling him to leave your house. You caught a glimpse of his confused and crestfallen look in his eyes, paired with his dripping wet hair and sopping wet body.

You finished your business, threw on a set of fresh clothes and rushed out of the door. And definitely dragging him out of there with you too, not giving a crap that he was in the middle of wearing his shirt.

You ran as fast as you could, wanting to catch the next train. And so did he, he chased after you and squeezed himself into the carriage.

Everyone was also rushing to work, there were no seats left nor were there any standing spots. Shoulders were bumping shoulders and the shorter passengers were at an all time disadvantage. You couldn't reach the handles; but he could.

As the door closes, the man held you close to him and rested his free hand on the small of your back. To outsiders, you and him looked like a run of the mill couple having each other. They couldn't be more wrong, you don't even know a single thing about him.

You just endured it, having no choice but to stick next to him. He yawned and frowned, looking quite displeased that he was not in your bed. Well, that's his fault, no one forced him to follow you back home, and no one forced him to stick himself inside of you.

Among the busy chatter in the train, you and him stayed silent. Gradually feeling comfortable in each other's embrace.

You mumbled curses under your breath, he knows where you live and he is going to know where you work. Couldn't this year get any worse?

As soon as the doors open, you make a mad dash out of the station. Running as fast as you could, not caring who you had to shove to clear your way.

You never looked back, but you made sure to take as many detours as possible to mess with his direction if he somehow managed to catch up to you. But your lungs and your out-of-shape-office-worker legs can only take you so far, you reach a nearby tree in a park next to your building.

You panted as you scanned your surroundings, only seeing the elderly, children, athletic adults, and their pets. No sign of that man you slept with last night.

You took a couple more minutes to catch your breath, knowing fully that your boss would chew you up for being close to an hour late. Whatever, you're here now. Let's earn your salary.

So you walked, it's just a couple minutes away. Nothing else should go wrong today-

You had an incredulous look on your face when you saw him loitering at the entrance. Your colleagues glance him up and down, some admiring the way his muscles slightly stick out of his shirt, some wondering what an unkempt hunk like him is doing in front of such a corporate, sanitized venue.

There was no way to sneak past him, you just had to face him. It was... cute that his eyes lit up as soon as he saw you. So you sighed as you marched up to him, requesting him to leave you alone as politely as you could. There was an edge to your tone, he must either be oblivious to it or he's simply choosing to ignore the fact that you're unhappy with him here.

During mid-sentence, he presented you with a paper plate that had a hotdog on it. You were speechless, it had everything on it: ketchup, mustard, relish, pickles, mayonnaise, cheese, Jalapeño slices, onions, beef chili, and other heaps of things that you couldn't identify. With the number of toppings, you couldn't tell that it was a hotdog in the first place, it was just a mountain of random savory foodstuffs. Your eyes darted to his other hand, it also had a hotdog wrapped in a napkin, except his one only had relish.

"I didn't know what you liked..." He mumbled, voice so deep that you could feel the vibrations in your own chest. The man looked at you with hope, wanting you to accept the plate of everything as breakfast.

You shook your head and said you were late to work. Pushing him away from the door before entering the building, some of the topping amalgamations spilled onto his shirt. Probably staining it forever with its oil content.

He stood there with a frown, he craned his head downwards to stare at the spill.

Then, he looked back up to see that you were out of sight. His shoulders sagged as he placed his own hotdog on top of your plate of horrors.

The man walked away as he pulled out a plastic spoon that he tucked in his pocket, it was given to him by the vendor because it is impossible to eat your order with hands.

He began digging in, throwing one last glance at the main door behind him.

[a-sip-of-milo]

Nobody ever understands the affects of reactive abuse until they've experienced it themselves.

It shows particularly well when people would rather blame a child for reacting rather than the adult for abusing them in the first place.

When I was fourteen, my parents held me down to my bed, locked my window so I couldn't escape, took everything they knew I loved away from me (including contact with my grandmother, all my books, my music, all my diaries, etc.) and my step dad threatened to sit in the corner of my room and watch me for the entire night if I tried to escape. All while my three younger siblings watched me.

As a result, I had my first panic attack. It led me to attempting to break my window, smashing my mirror, becoming physically violent towards either of my parents when they attempted to come into my room, and nearly overdosing later that night after everyone had gone to bed.

For years, people ignored what I had gone through to get to that point. My parents had crafted such an elaborate story that painted themselves as the victims of my terrible abuse that nobody thought to question how I reached that point. Not the police. Not my school. Not even over half of my own family believed me. The extent of my suicidal ideations nearly put me in hospital multiple times over the following years, even succeeding once.

Reacting to abuse in this way is a cry for help. It's the equivalent of self-harm in my book, except directed towards others. That's not to say that it's okay, but more people seriously need to start looking at the bigger picture before making assumptions.

This blog is safe for people with NPD, BPD, HPD and ASPD.

[torchflies]

When Bradley Bradshaw jumped off a bridge, he didn't expect to be saved by a leopard seal…

…or anything that came after.

“Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.”

— W.B. Yeats

@cannibalhellhound @paxdracona @rabbit-factory have been blessing us with AMAZING selkie/seal stuff for months, so I finally let the brain worms take over for an hour and wrote this teeny tiny blurb. If you like this, check out their stuff!!!!

[random-fandom-chaos]

(Wow the last idea got popular—)

BUT TACOPAD CLAN. YES, YOU.

🫵

Hear me out.

Mepad angst. Like there’s a bunch of Taco angst and do not get me wrong I love it… but Mepad angst where he feels like he is not enough and goes into a spiral of panic attacks/anxiety attacks/disassociation that kinda things… GUYS PLEASE SOMEONE WRITE IT. IF IT HAS BEEN WRITTEN TAG ME PLEASE.

//////

AND FOR GENERAL MEPAD NATION

Suicide warning! Also me being delirious this is all ooc or just my imagination and canon mixed

I saw a fic on Mephone tryna commit with a glass of water since it fried any Meeple products’s circuit. This takes place after II18 I think that OJ would eventually give Mepad and Taco a room, Pickle and Taco are in good terms but not best friends, same thing with Microphone. But anyways Mepad has basically a thousand cuts behind closed door, the oil seeping out of his arms (Test tube made him arms and made it physically able to feel everything.) as he sobbed quietly. He’s always known as the therapist friend but he needs help too. Mephone4 bursts in the room though, Mepad just texted him “I’m thirsty.” And that was it. It took Mephone a while to understand, by the time he got up to Mepads room and kicked the door down Mepad has the Glass of water to his lips and almsot about to drink and Mephone slapped it out of his hands, taking in the sight of someone he trusts about to commit. Then it’s just Mepad venting cuz I think Cobs did something to Mepad. By a wire or a day they went to Meeple he went to Meeple for whatever reason I can come up with…Cobs did…Unspeakable things, Mepad didn’t come back until 3 days later and was basically abused and idk violated. So YEAHH— idk I genuinely wanna learn how to write things and Mepad has NO angst

———

Also tags:

@aroaceweirdos101

@crumpet-doodles

[box-dwelling]

I think 1-3 and 2-4 are so so much funnier with the Edgeworth steel Samurai fanboy context. And just in general thinking about it from his perspective. Like, ok imagine you're a lawyer, a really good one. You've only ever lost one case and that one was kind of a fluke anyway because the actual murderer tried to claim the defense attorney did it when he obviously didn't, and also, a because this is tumblr and we need to get across the appropriate level of cringe, a superwholock fan. And you get called into work one day and find out that Andrew Scott was murdered and Benedict Cumberbatch did it and also you have to be the one to procecute the trial and the defense attorney is a childhood friend who is the only one to ever beat you in court and who you also are developing a gay little crush on. And then as the trial goes on it becomes more and more clear that Andrew Scott drugged and framed Benedict Cumberbatch for the attempted murder of Steven Moffatt because he accidentally killed someone on the set of doctor who 5 years ago and Moffatt had been extorting him. He did this by wearing the big stupid fucking trenchcoat. But it didn't work because Moffatt fought back and had Mark Gatiss cover it up. So the trial ends, with the truth coming out and you arrest Moffat and Gatiss meaning that Sherlock is officially cancelled but they're doing a few new similar series because it's popular.

A year goes by, your life goes to shit, you have a suicide attempt but then decide to just fake your death instead and go eat pray love across Europe. You'd become a lot closer with you crush before hand but you're pretty certain he's mad because of the whole death faking thing. Then you get a call and find out that Jarad Padalecki had murdered Jensen Ackles and your crush and sister are the procecution and defense. Now you are fucking certain Padalecki did it. But your crush is defending him when normally he only ever defends the innocent. So you decide to turn up and given him some advice about the fact hes defending the guilty party. He is very angry about you faking your death but eventuall tells you the only reason he's doing it is because his assistant, also a massive superwholock fan, has been fucking kidnapped and will be killed if he doesn't get a not guilty verdict. You promise to help in whatever way you can.

So the next day you turn up to the courthouse for moral support and then watch your sister get shot in the exact same building and the exact same place on her body that you found out last year you accidentally shot her father when you were 9 right before he killed your father. After a great deal of perstering you manage to persuade her to go to the hospital so now you're prosecuting another idol of yours I guess.

Please just live in this man's reality for a few minutes. Absolutely insane

[sunnibits]

(guy who has been hyperfixated on izzy hands for two years voice) hey guys you may not have known this but I actually really love izzy hands

[seoulxsinners]

"who said it was a date?" Hajoon asked as he drove not taking his eyes off the road. He slowed to a stop at a stop light and finally looked over to Cheng. He watched him for a bit the man was indeed beautiful. But also a criminal from what he told Hajoon. Why did worst men have the best packaging he thought. Yet here he was in the car with the man taking him to dinner.

"My dad's want Minjun to be happy. sure if they dont approve they will be honest. But they are far to easy on my brother besides he has a type and its not good" he said pulling back into traffic when the light turned green. He smiled and shook his head. "never tried the head but then im not that dark of place any more" He muttered then looked back at Cheng. "Besides if you ever want to try your welcome too"

Cheng shrugged his shoulders and followed along. "Okay, you win. I'll stop calling you kid, but you better stop acting like one as well." He shot the other a slightly jeering smirk, as he finally caught up to Hajoon. "Well, your brother's boyfriend so happens to be my childhood best friend and business partner. So I didn't come here to kick his ass like you might have. In following you, I'm hoping that maybe this will lead me to Xuan too."

[yapporium]

finding out the drama around T.O.P is that he smoked weed has made me wanna watch squid game out of spite like ???

knetz need to get a fucking grip like you bullied a man to the point he tried to khs because he smoked weed ??? be soooo serious right now

i understand the cultural differences and that weed is heavily stigmatized in korea but goddamn y’all act like he killed someone