Tw Suicude - Tumblr Posts
This user is a suicide attempt survivor
I’ve never known Etika, and people have been poorly treating this incident. His situation is a cause for advocacy, and I want to do what I can.
As mental health continues to be a topic we tip-toe around, I wanted to share a list of hotlines - and three of the most positive, and forward people that continue to advocate for better mental health
If ya need a distraction and/or positivity -take a look at what Jack, Joe, and Brian have to say.
Please take the time to examine your current mental health state.
"Where am i?"
I’ve seen a lot of posts on my dash tonight about users who are threatening suicide, with other Tumblr members posting in effort to try to get ahold of them. I think you all should see this:
IF THERE IS EVER A TUMBLR USER WHO HAS POSTED A GOOD-BYE MESSAGE, SUICIDE NOTE, VIDEO, OR ANYTHING OF THE SORT, PLEASE FOLLOW THIS POST.
1. Scroll to the top of your dashboard.
2. See the circular question mark icon at the top? It’s the third one over from your home symbol. Click on that, and a screen similar to the one in the picture will come up.
3. Where you can type in questions, the box with the magnifying glass at the top, type in the word “suicide.”
4. Click on the first link that shows up. It should say, “Pass the URL of the blog on to us.”
5. Type in the user’s URL and tell Tumblr admin that the user is contemplating suicide and has posted a message indicating that they are going through with it or will be attempting. Hit send! Tumblr administration will perform a number of actions to contact the user and take the necessary steps to prevent the suicide.
TUMBLR: THIS COULD SAVE A USER’S LIFE. PLEASE DO NOT IGNORE SUICIDE THREATS.
Reblog this to keep other users aware. Suicide isn’t a joke, and neither is someone’s life. If you didn’t know this, someone else may not, either. Pass it on.
Virgil, a tired Gay
Remus, from the next room over: hey!
Virgil, taking off his headphones: what?!
Remus: I’m homicidal!
Virgil: did you say homicidal or s*icidal?!
Remus: Homicidal!
Virgil, sighing loudly: Good! Keep it that way!
By all means, talk and raise awareness about depression. But please mention:
•Not showering or brushing your teeth for two weeks •Getting sick from a vitamin D deficiency because you haven’t been outside in a solid month •Getting lightheaded when you stand up from bed because you’ve been laying down for days •The body pains •Shampoo not bubbling because this is the first time you washed your hair in three weeks •Over stimulation •Pity from a distance •'Get over yourself, there’s people *in Africa starving, with cancer, homeless, living in poverty, dying, ect.’ •Massive weight gain •Massive weight loss •Both •Your body literally changing how it looks and deposits fat based on frequent weight gain and loss •Hair loss •Zero self esteem •Breaking out in acne so bad you can’t put your head on a pillow from pain •Being too depressed to commit suicide •Self imposed isolation •Stomach cramps •Nausea •Vomiting •'You’re so dramatic, it can’t be that bad’
If you don’t, I’m not saying you’re not raising awareness, but you definitely need to reevaluate your platform
TW: suicide, gore.
Have I ever told you that I love Larry from I hate Fairyland? Because I really do.
(∩ ͡°ᴥ ͡°)⊃━☆ﾟ.* Click on the picture for better quality
It's getting pretty bad..... AGAIN
In a fat mood to blow my brain onto the nearest wall or overdose. Decisions decisions
But really what if? I'm tired.....
Creds to the artist!
Reblog if you actually give a shit about anyone who’s suicidal or depressed.
No one should scroll past this
DONT FUCKING SCROLL. REBLOG. THIS IS SO IMPORTANT.
I’ve seen a lot of posts on my dash tonight about users who are threatening suicide, with other Tumblr members posting in effort to try to get ahold of them. I think you all should see this:
IF THERE IS EVER A TUMBLR USER WHO HAS POSTED A GOOD-BYE MESSAGE, SUICIDE NOTE, VIDEO, OR ANYTHING OF THE SORT, PLEASE FOLLOW THIS POST.
1. Scroll to the top of your dashboard.
2. See the circular question mark icon at the top? It’s the third one over from your home symbol. Click on that, and a screen similar to the one in the picture will come up.
3. Where you can type in questions, the box with the magnifying glass at the top, type in the word “suicide.”
4. Click on the first link that shows up. It should say, “Pass the URL of the blog on to us.”
5. Type in the user’s URL and tell Tumblr admin that the user is contemplating suicide and has posted a message indicating that they are going through with it or will be attempting. Hit send! Tumblr administration will perform a number of actions to contact the user and take the necessary steps to prevent the suicide.
TUMBLR: THIS COULD SAVE A USER’S LIFE. PLEASE DO NOT IGNORE SUICIDE THREATS.
Reblog this to keep other users aware. Suicide isn’t a joke, and neither is someone’s life. If you didn’t know this, someone else may not, either. Pass it on.
TW: self harm/p*dophilia
so fun fact, user princess-minikui is trying to accuse my gf and I of being pedophiles because apparently it’s okay to do so if you don’t like someone. So, why don’t we have a look back at what she has done:
-right now she’s trying to accuse us of being pedophiles with no proof, because it doesn’t exist- we try to AVOID minors. The rules in our server clearly state we do not allow nsfw, because there are both kids and adults there.
-she harassed a person in our server and actively mocked their interests, and also subsequently told her server to avoid that person... hmm, I wonder why? Probably didn’t want the truth coming out. Screenshots provided.
-she has been known on multiple occasions to make s*icide jokes/references, including in spaces that are supposed to be safe
-she throws fits when she doesn’t get her way, and CONSTANTLY makes passive aggressive comments towards people
I could go on, but overall, she is an absolutely slimy, bitter person. I usually wouldn’t care if she tried to vaguepost about us, but she is literally falsely accusing us of being p*dophiles, AND telling people to spread it around like it’s truth without ANY evidence. I am sick of this.
You got kicked in the SUMMER of last year. Get over it. Of course we were gonna kick you for actively harassing a kid. Grow up already and stop being a toxic person. Countless other people have raised their concerns about you. It’s no wonder why you’re the person everyone warns each other about.
So yeah uh I can't explain myself
Part One of the ~6,000 word fic I wrote solely on a plot bunny I got at 2 a.m.
The Delta Quadrant finally breaks Captain Janeway, and Q arrives entirely too late.
TW: sewerslidal thoughts
Goddess of Good Fortune pt. 1
Voyager had been floating dead in space for days now. Janeway was reading through sensor logs in her ready room when whoever it was had attacked; an explosion rendered the bridge inhospitable, trapping her inside.
She couldn't reach anyone. The comm system wasn't down, there was simply no one to reach. She remained unshakable for the first day, trying everything she could, but there was nothing she could do without the rest of Voyager.
The second day, she broke down, sobbing as she slapped her comm badge for what felt like the thousandth time, asking for somebody, anybody to answer. She was furious at herself, at fate, and she began throwing everything that wasn't attached to the deck. She quickly scolded herself for acting like a foolish child, and cried some more.
The third day, environmental controls began to lose power. She tried asking the computer what was going on, but she was answered with a slow chime before the lights went out. Oxygen levels slowly began to drop, and before long she sat on the floor with her legs curled up under her. Her breaths came heavily and she dozed off after a few hours.
She woke up on the fourth day to the sound of a familiar voice.
"Kathy…"
She opened her eyes sluggishly and saw Q standing by her desk, wearing his usual Starfleet attire and an unusually grim expression. She muttered weakly through gritted teeth, "What the hell do you want."
He met her gaze and said, with something almost like remorse, "I knew you were in a bit of trouble, I thought you'd be able to handle it, but something went… wrong." He stepped towards her and said, "Horribly wrong…"
She moved to try and stand, grunting softly as her legs buckled underneath her. She was exhausted, but in a flash of light, he was there beside her, helping her to her feet. She grimaced and shoved him away weakly, bracing herself on the edge of the desk and saying, "Then why didn't you do something. Why didn't you… blink the other ship away or send them into the abyss-" her voice rose angrily, "-why didn't you do something Q! My crew is gone! My ship is in ruins! They're all dead! Every single one! Kim, Paris, Tuvok, Wildman, Torres, Chakotay-"
Her voice broke and she looked away, blinking back angry tears and taking in a raspy breath. The Continuum had forbidden him from aiding Voyager, she knew that; he knew that she knew that, but for once, he could almost understand.
It was almost a minute of dreadful, pointed silence before she whispered, "Go away."
He hesitated before reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder, but as soon as he touched her, she slapped his hand away, yelling hoarsely, "Go away, Q! Go away! For once in your infuriating existence, go away and leave me be!"
Her slap didn't physically hurt him- he doubted anything outside Q weapons ever could -but seeing her like this was the closest anything had ever gotten.
For the first few seconds, she tried to regain her composure, tucking various stray locks of hair behind her ears and standing upright while turning away from him. It didn't last long.
It started with her breaths beginning to shudder, and her hand quickly went to brace against her desk. She straightened her back and squared her shoulders, but it was to no avail. Her knees buckled once more and she held a hand over her mouth, sobbing openly and almost folding in on herself.
He knelt beside her and slowly placed a hand on her shoulder, his heart(?) nearly shattering as she flinched at his touch.
"I could take you home. If that would help." He knew it wouldn't.
Her answer was almost inaudible, but for once in his life(?), he regretted the fact that he could hear her voice flawlessly. "It doesn't matter anymore."
He moved in front of her. She looked up from the carpet, and he almost hoped she would glare at him (punch him, scream at him, anything to let him know there was some fight left), but her bottom lip quivered and her head fell forward to rest on his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her and he kissed the top of her head, stroking her back and her shoulders as he whispered sweet nothings into her hair.
He took them away from Voyager, leaving the broken ship to drift aimlessly in space. With a thought, they were in the Continuum, but not in any form she'd seen before. The dirt road was dreadful, and the memories of almost being executed in the Civil War reenactment still made him grimace, so instead he took her to a 20th century suburban home.
The small house was decorated with all manner of knickknacks and embroidery projects (and some of the most hideous wallpaper he'd ever seen), and there was plastic on the furniture for god's sake, but there was something oddly comforting about it all, so he let it be.
She was exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally, and he decided that what she needed the most was sleep.
In normal circumstances, where she would banter with him and he could charm her all he wanted, he would have changed her clothes by hand, but this was far from normal (he noticed with devastating awareness). He snapped his fingers and she was in a comfortable set of pajamas, underneath the covers of the master bedroom's California King, and it wasn't long before she drifted to sleep.
He stepped to the side of the bed and saw that her face was screwed into a frown. Her hands held the sheets in a white-knuckled grip. He reached into her thoughts and found that she was already slipping into a nightmare, and a nasty one at that. He knew that before all of this, she would have hated him for digging around in her mind, but for the moment he could only hope she would forgive him as he made her sleep dreamlessly.
He kissed her forehead and tucked a stray lock of hair out of her face, just as a flash of light signalled the arrival of another Q.
He sighed and turned to face his former lover, saying in a solemn voice he'd never heard himself use before, "Please Q, she's had a wretched day."
She raised one of her impeccable eyebrows and drawled, "So you've brought your pet human back to the Continuum. What was it this time? Did she have a bad date with Commander Whatsit and wanted to whimper to you, or did another wormhole turn out to be a dud?"
He narrowed his eyes at her and she narrowed hers right back, as he said, "Buzz off. I don't feel like arguing with you."
She rolled her eyes and stepped closer, saying as she looked down at the sleeping captain like a snake eyeing a mouse, "If it's really that horrible, just cheer her up. Give her that horrid bean drink she never shuts up about, make her a new ship with new underlings to boss around, there has to be something to stop this nonsense and your insufferable moping."
He kept his eyes fixed on Kathryn, stroking her cheek with the back of one finger. He remained grim as he said, "None of that will make her happy, not now."
For the first time, he heard Miss Q laugh. "Then what will? Good heavens, you never moped this much when she rejected you. This 'horrid day' must have been a real doozy."
The humor quickly died for her and she said, "I almost have the mind to make her Q. Surely now that those ignoramuses are out of the way, she couldn't be too horrible to have around."
He looked up at her quickly and said with a bit of urgency, "Don't you dare. That's a terrible idea."
She gave him a smirk. "You act like the fact that it's a terrible idea to you is going to stop me. If anything, I'm convinced. Really Q, your sense of humor has degraded horribly ever since you let that mammal into our lives. Besides. It will be so much fun to watch her."
She disappeared.
He quickly looked back down at Kathryn to find her still asleep underneath the covers, her expression now blank and her hands grasping at the sheets. He sat on the side of the bed and held one of her hands gently, slipping a small sliver of a dream into her mind.
She was lying in the middle of a wildflower field, gazing up at the stars, but Q stayed by her side, warding her nightmares away.
---
When Kathryn woke up the next morning(?), sunlight filtered beautifully through the windows and birds sang outside in the trees. She looked around the room with a bit of alarm, but as soon as she saw Q, it all came flooding back. Her face fell and she lied back down, turning away from him as she curled up in the sheets.
He moved to rest a hand on her back but hesitated at the last second, saying softly, “Kathy… you know there was nothing I could do.”
She turned over and gave him a weak glare, saying hoarsely, “Well you certainly picked an odd time to give a damn about anyone’s rules.” He nodded and said with a ghost of a sad smirk, “I guess I did.”
He stood from the side of the bed and conjured a small breakfast tray for her, complete with a tall stack of pancakes, bacon and eggs, and of course a steaming mug of coffee. She faced away from him, although her stomach rumbled loud enough for him to hear.
“You have to eat something, Kathy. Please,” he muttered, moving a little closer. She reluctantly sat up and grabbed the tray, setting it in her lap before wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. He watched her inquisitively, a faint frown on his face as he said, "Go on, it's not poison." The corner of her mouth twitched and she muttered under her breath, "Shame."
She ate her breakfast, keeping her gaze on the tray as she downed mouthful after mouthful. She hadn't realized just how hungry she actually was; she cleaned her plate in five minutes. The coffee, however, remained untouched.
Q noticed this, saying, "It's your favorite blend, black, just how you like it." She grabbed the handle slowly and took a sip, setting it back down. He let out a small breath before saying, "How are you, Kathy?"
She rubbed one of her temples with her free hand and said through gritted teeth, "Don't call me that." He frowned and said, "Kathryn, then." Chakotay's face flashed behind her eyes and she spat, "That's worse."
"Madame Captain?"
She slammed the mug down on her tray, sending coffee sloshing over the sides. "I'm not a damn captain anymore Q, my crew is dead-!"
Her voice cracked and she held her face in her hands, taking deep shuddering breaths before grabbing the mug again. She took another slow sip of coffee, taking a deep breath.
“I’m sorry," he said softly. She nodded, finishing off her mug and setting it down on the tray.
“‘Kathy’ is alright. I shouldn’t have yelled.”
“My dear Kathy, no one has more of a right to yell than you do.”
She set her tray to the side, and he vanished it as soon as it left her hands.
She spent the day in bed, alternating hours of sleeping and crying and only breaking this routine to begrudgingly eat the meals Q conjured for her. Although she hardly said a word, he stayed with her the entire time, keeping her dreams peaceful and making sure she was comfortable.
---
Almost a month passed this way; Kathryn could hardly leave her room. She ate her meals and drank her coffee in silence, ignoring Q and staring into nothingness. He fought off her nightmares and talked to her even though he hardly ever got answers outside small grunts and single words.
He never knew her crew meant this much to her. Sure, she’d told him, she’d been so determined to get home, she watched over them like a mother bear, but he woefully realized that he’d never really listened to her. Seeing her like this was truly jarring.
One day, she’d been in a darker place than usual. She’d thrown her mug at the wall, sending hot coffee and shards of glass everywhere, and screamed for him to leave. He forgot himself for a moment and left the Continuum, knocking a few moons out of orbit before righting them again and heading back. He found her sitting in the living room, and she said in a voice hoarse from sobbing, “I’m sorry Q.” She watched him with watery eyes as he stepped closer, and he said, “It’s alright… I shouldn't have left you alone, you have every right to be angry.” He sat down next to her hesitantly, and before he could react, she moved closer and hugged him. He returned the hug gently, feeling her begin to cry in his arms.
Miss Q arrived one evening while Kathryn was sleeping, and Q stood in front of her door with a glare.
“Don’t you dare, Q. You can’t.”
She raised an eyebrow and said, “And why can’t I? I’m bored. I know fully well that you understand the feeling.”
“She’s miserable enough without having to live out eternity this way. Please, leave her be.”
She actually smirked, chuckling low in her throat and saying, “‘Please’? Oh Q, how pathetic of you.” She snapped her fingers, disappearing from the house in a flash of light.
He teleported to Kathryn's room only to find her sitting on the edge of her bed, looking down at her hands. He could feel something almost like electricity in the air, a subtle difference he only noticed around fellow Q. His heart(?) dropped.
He knew that right now, she was feeling the full brunt of omnipotence, weighing down on her like a foot on the back of her neck. He stepped forward cautiously, but the force of her anger shoved him back against the closed door as she muttered, "What the hell did you do to me."
"This wasn't me, I swear! It was Q, that conniving-"
"Why."
He couldn't answer her.
Standing in front of her was almost like standing in the center of a supernova. He could feel the intensity of the grief rolling off of her, and it almost brought him to his knees. For her sake, he couldn't wait until a few millenia passed, when emotions began to fade and give way to crushing emptiness, but at the same time he dreaded it.
As she narrowed her eyes at him and snapped vindictively, sending them both hurtling through space, he had to admit she adjusted quickly. He truthfully expected nothing less from her, and he would have been proud were it not for the fact that he was currently being dragged through space and time like a ragdoll. Given the circumstances, for the first time in forever, he was terrified.
She yelled at him in the Qs' language, and while hearing her voice saying those words(?) was transcendent, the meaning behind them made him want to hide in the nearest blackhole and never come out again.
"Why did she do this? Why did she make me this way? Answer me, Q!"
"She said she was bored, nothing more! She didn't mean anything by it!"
She lashed out, dragging him through an anomaly and raging, "That would be just my luck, to spend the rest of time itself as part of a species who torments sentient life because they're bored!"
She vanished, leaving him reeling.
It wasn't until fifty years later that he found her standing on top of a trash freighter in the Delta Quadrant, watching Voyager's remains being hauled away.
She wore her Starfleet uniform, her (lovely) hair pulled back into her signature bun. She felt his presence and said softly, "Go away." He manifested beside her in his own corporeal form, sitting down on the hull. She sat down next to him and blinked back tears (he remembered tears, from his mortal experience on the Enterprise-D).
"Kathy… this won't help."
"I know it won't."
She clasped her hands together and took in a deep breath, saying, "It doesn't get any better, does it?" He looked down at the bulkhead beneath his feet and said, "I wouldn't know. I haven't… cared for anything as strongly as you cared for them."
He thought for a quick second before saying, "If it makes you feel any better, you're Q now. You can see anything you want, do anything you like."
She looked at him and said lowly, "You really don't know anything about me, do you? After all those years of stalking me and trying to win me over, you never really took the time to learn who I am. If you think I'm going to enjoy being trapped in limbo, never able to move on from this miserable existence, then you don't know me at all."
She disappeared, and with that, Voyager's remains ceased to exist.
He stayed on the bulkhead of the trash freighter for a while longer, staring out at the empty space in front of him. He wasn't sure what was to be done now.
---
The first thing she did was try to undo what happened to Voyager. She went back and vanished the other ship into nothingness, but as she did, she could feel every individual life cease to exist all at once. It hit her like a punch to the throat.
She watched her crew go on living, but she wasn't used to changing time, and what she changed only caused another timeline.
Back in her timeline, her crew was still dead.
She tried everything she could, but the results remained the same. She supposed she could have ripped the universe apart but in the end she didn't see the point.
---
Years, decades, centuries passed and Kathryn grew used to omnipotence.
She started off the rest of eternity by exploring, still driven by the humanity inside her to see all that she could. She looked but never touched, determined not to become a monster but too dreadfully aimless to remove herself entirely.
She visited Earth only once, but without her crew the planet held nothing but bitterness. She never visited it again.
In a somewhat desperate attempt to regain some small bit of normalcy, she lived in different species for a couple millenia. She'd mingle, learn all there was to learn, sometimes staying for hundreds of years at a time before moving to the next.
The more and more she lived as a Q, the less and less sense the Prime Directive made to her. The notion left her mind entirely one day, as she stopped an asteroid from decimating a planet populated by a civilization that deemed her the Goddess of Good Fortune shortly afterward. She found somewhat of a purpose, gaining a similar reputation in thousands of solar systems, halting plagues and natural disasters and all manner of disputes.
She refused to be associated with the Continuum. She never sought them out, and for the longest time, she didn't see any of them.
Q finally came to talk to her, watching carefully from afar as she drifted on the edge of a spiral galaxy in the incorporeal form she hated so much. She thought she would never get used to the feeling.
"What do you want, Q?"
"I'd just like to talk."
"...Alright."
She appeared in the tunic she'd worn on the planet she and Chakotay had dubbed New Earth, sitting cross-legged in the void. Q joined her in his usual uniform, looking at her with a silent question on his features.
"I'm sorry, Kathy, you must know that by now."
She paused before saying softly, "I know."
She rested her chin on her hand and said, "I've given it quite a bit of thought, between the distractions. Time… is so incredibly different this way. I guess it doesn't matter now."
She faced him and said, "The emptiness is… almost suffocating sometimes. I've lived a thousand different lives, on so many different worlds, but it doesn't mean a thing. Not a damn thing. I can pretend, but I'm not like them anymore."
Her voice quivered as she said, "I can barely even mourn properly. I feel… I feel numb, but that's not the right word. I know it was senseless, I know there was nothing I could have done, but I can't accept that. But I have to."
He hesitated, for once in his life(?) thinking before he spoke.
"You may not believe me, and I've given you plenty of reason not to, but I admire you."
She looked back out into the void, chuckling darkly. He raised both hands and said, "I do. Any other-"
He caught himself, "A Q would have lashed out. Half the universe would be in ruins, but you, Kathryn Janeway, the marvel of the human race… I used to scoff at your morals, but…" He looked down at his hands and then back at her, saying softly, "You're so much better than I could ever be."
They sat there in silence, watching everything and nothing all at once. She caught herself speaking aloud, startling them both, "Hold me." He gave her a puzzled look and she said, "Please."
Without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight hug, feeling her return it. He planted a small kiss under her ear and she rested her forehead on his shoulder, holding onto him a little tighter. He could feel her emotions filling the space around them, her frustration, anger, but the most overwhelming was the crushing grief. It poured off of her in relentless waves that had long since dragged her under.
He held her, stroking her hair and staying silent as she began to cry. He didn’t need to infer too much to know that he shouldn’t say anything, and even if he should, he wouldn't know what. He supposed if she were in a better mood, she would have found that amusing, Q, not knowing what to say, but he doubted she would be in a better mood again.
Slowly, over the course of a few hours, the waves subsided to numbness, and she disappeared without another word. He stayed behind, looking out at the galaxy gently turning before him. She had called this the Milky Way before, and he almost had the mind to destroy it.
He plucked it out of space and held it in his palm, regarding it with something almost resembling disgust. A simple thought, that's all it would take, but something stopped him. He paused, letting it turn in his hand before leaving it hanging in the void.
---
Another thousand years came and went like it was nothing, and Q didn’t see Kathryn once. He saw her handiwork: corrected orbits, cured plagues, halted disasters of every caliber, but never the orchestrator. That was, until one day she found him instead of the other way around.
He had gone back to Earth and found nothing he remembered. Humans had changed drastically since the last time he'd seen them, and when he arrived, they simply ignored him. He knew it was foolish, but he almost felt hurt. He was sitting inside a nebula, vanishing stars without systems when she found him.
She didn't say a word, sitting down next to him and hugging her knees to her chest. He couldn't feel her emotions at first, and as he probed for them, he found nothing but a small fragment of her grief.
He turned to face her and said, "I can see why you hate this so much…" He paused before saying softly, "Kathr- Kathy, I am so sorry-"
She interrupted him with a swift kiss on the mouth, and as he looked at her in utter bewilderment, she said, "Enough apologies, Q." She leaned in again, and there was nothing he could do to move away.
This kiss was slow. It was everything he'd ever wanted, but at the same time it wasn't. Her arms hooked around his neck and her hands wandered to his hair, but she was so dreadfully cold. Where he should have felt passion, warmth, love, if not love then lust, anything, he felt nothing.
Tony: If we die tomorrow what would your last words be?
Bruce: Finally.
Tony: Bruce no -
TW: Schlatt and implied Assisted Suicide.
What if the other guy was Wilbur? Not Mexican Dream or someone.
I mean, Schlatt came back with, seemingly, ALL OF HIS MEMORIES. He knew it was a server, his place, everything.
If Wilbur was in his actual death clothing, or his outfit that he died in, his collar would hide most of his face and, since Wilbur doesn’t have the best mental state, he would be looking down. To Ghostbur, he could just be some guy in a tench coat and a beanie. There is a little chance that Ghostbur actually knows what he, himself, looks like. There are no mirrors, and if his hair stays in place and can’t fall into his eyes, he would have no clue that, that guy was Alivebur.
If my memory serves me correctly, he did say one of them looked familiar. The guy has no clue who Schlatt was.
If they messed up again, and Ghostbur starts getting a little TNT happy... Who's to say that they failed?
Don't. ever. underestimate. my. intelligence. ever. again.
HOLY FRICK, I WAS RIGHT!!! I THEORISED THAT THE SECRET GUY WAS WILBUR AND AS THE “Finale of the Dream SMP” AS OF JANUARY 20TH, I WAS RIGHT.
Ha ha, you thought.
(This doesn't prove that I am a big Techno fan, shut up. *iykyk*)
TW: Schlatt and implied Assisted Suicide.
What if the other guy was Wilbur? Not Mexican Dream or someone.
I mean, Schlatt came back with, seemingly, ALL OF HIS MEMORIES. He knew it was a server, his place, everything.
If Wilbur was in his actual death clothing, or his outfit that he died in, his collar would hide most of his face and, since Wilbur doesn’t have the best mental state, he would be looking down. To Ghostbur, he could just be some guy in a tench coat and a beanie. There is a little chance that Ghostbur actually knows what he, himself, looks like. There are no mirrors, and if his hair stays in place and can’t fall into his eyes, he would have no clue that, that guy was Alivebur.
If my memory serves me correctly, he did say one of them looked familiar. The guy has no clue who Schlatt was.
If they messed up again, and Ghostbur starts getting a little TNT happy... Who's to say that they failed?
I never fucking write on here, but I think now I need to. Just to get the shit out. I left my wife of 5 years a month and a half ago because she encouraged and tried to facilitate me killing myself after hurricane Ida hit us in New Orleans. Yet she’s now “sober” and seems to be fine and I’m just in a goddamn spiral. I’ve tried to OD twice and broke 9 years of sobriety on heroin. I hate this. I’m yelling into the void and her it is.
Trust me. Love me. Shoot me
Atsumu Miya x female reader
Summary: Atsumu is a hot mess a/n: Howdy y'all! I hope this isn't as horrible as I think it is, but yay! I finished one of my exams and now I feel kinda free!
warning: Atsumu is hot, alcohol is mentioned, suicicde scars, implication of suicide,
Masterlist Previous//Next
What the hell was Akaashi thinking. Why did they get the room with only one bed.
"I am going to kill him. I'm going to kill him." y/n thought as she dragged Miya-san though the hotel. After jamming the "down" button and hopping into the elevator with the 6 foot man behind her, they descended to the third floor. Finding Akaashi's room was easy. It was right next to the elevators. Y/n pounded on the door which lead to room 303. Bokuto opened the door, and Y/n barged in. Anger radiating off of her.
"What the hell 'Kaashi?"
"I don't know L/n-san"
"Why is there only one bed in our room?"
"I don't know L/n-san"
Anger, or maybe frustration, rolled off of Y/n in waves. Only one bed was very inconvenient. She glared at Akaashi as Miya-san and Bokuto entered. Akaashi held her gaze with his uninterested eyes. Goddamit.
"Akaashi-san", Miya-san said, trying to break the tension.
"I honestly thought there would be two beds. We can't switch rooms either. L/n-san and Miya-san need to be as high foo the ground as possible" Akaashi explain. Bokuto was on the bed, with the head and arms hanging off the bed. "So just working something out. You're smart L/n-san" he finished with the slightest smirk, which most, including Y/n, failed to notice.
Y/n was pissed, but maybe it wouldn't be smart to kill Akaashi just yet. Dejectedly, she turned around and left the room, with Miya-san hobbling behind her.
When they reached their room, Y/n walked in, followed by Miya-san, who locked the door and locked the deadbolt.
"Miya-san, we need to establish a bed schedule and rules. We can alternate who will sleep on the bed and the couch, because I don't feel like sharing with you" Y/n said
"Ok"
"And every morning and night we each get an hour in the bathroom to change and shower"
"Ok"
"Good. We are in agreement. You can have the bed first"
Night 1:
Y/n sat outside of the bathroom, on the coach with a blanket and pillow placed next to her. Takeout boxes, which Kuroo brought to their room, sat nearby on the desk. The large glass screen, which looked into the bathroom, was covered with blinds and fog. The coach was next to the large window, giving Y/n a perfect view of the city.
Y/n was scribbling notes in her note book. Her handwriting covered the page. She wished she could write something normal, like her goals or dreams. But nope. She had never been normal. Instead, she wrote about the possible escape route incase of an attack or the location of possible allies who could help. But her notebook was also filled with detailed descriptions of her nightmares. Most days she was lucky if you could get 3 ours of sleep. But then again, that's what a caffeine addition is for.
The sound of water stopped as the shower was turned off. After a few minute, Miya-san walked out with a towel wrapped around his hips. his wet hair was slick against his forehead, and his chest and abs out on display. The glisten of the water made his muscles shine in the light, making him look just so much better. His body was deliciously ripped with toned muscle. "Wait no. Y/n do not think that. He is not good for you. But he is kinda hot."
"So Y/n do you think you could take the stiches out?" The topless man asked as he gently patted the wound dry. Y/n really didn't understand why he insisted on using the crutches. The wound had closed really well, and he honestly didn't need them.
"No need. They should have dissolved already." she replied, not looking up from her notebook. Behind her, Miya-san's jaw was unhinged. He probably didn't know that some stitches could dissolve. What a silly goose. "You also won't need the crutches so maybe just not use them" she added before walking to the bathroom with an oversized hoodie and shorts in hand.
She walked into the bathroom, and locked the door behind her. The mirror which directly faced the door, had completely fogged up, leaving Y/n blind to her own reflection. she placed her clothes on the counter and wiped a small spot on the mirror. Looking back at her, were her own eyes, which may thought were beautiful, but none of them could would see any of the terror she had seen. Of course she also got complements on her skin, even though she really didn't think her skin as that nice. Those who complemented her skin would never feel the hits or slaps or punches she had to endure. Not to mention that her nose and lips were also complimented, because apparently she was beautiful. But those ignorant fools could never understand the stench of alcohol which her father always smelt of or the number of split lips she had because her father got mad at her and decided violence could fix her. But it was ok, because they were compliments, not insults. And Y/n loved compliments. They were always better than insults.
She covered the mirror with a nearby towel. She did not want to see herself. Especially the organized scars on her arms and stomach. She dimmed the lights, just enough so she couldn't see her own body. She stepped into the shower and turned on the water until the water was scathing. She felt her muscles relax as she rinsed her hair and body.
When she was done. She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She grabbed another towel and dried off her body and hair. She then pulled her sweater over her head and pulled on the shorts and walked out of the bathroom.
Miya-san was sitting on the bed, wearing grey sweatpants, and watching the news.
"Police have confirmed that the house fire which left 6 people dead was not an accident. If there is any information or tips, please call the number on the screen"
On the screen was drone footage of the burned down house. Miya-san turned off the TV and stared at Y/n.
"Good night Y/n" he said while pulling the covers from the matress.
"Good night Miya-san" Y/n replied turing off the lamp which sat by her head.
"Atsumu"
"Good night Atsumu"
Taglist: Please request to be added to taglist:
@kayleighbeccaa @jojowantstocry @m1lfluv3r
To any suicidal followers I may have: This is a sign to not kill yourself. You are loved and the world is special because you are in it. Keep holding on.
Reblog this when it’s on your dash. You will save someone’s life.