illegal-substance

anonymous asked:

OMG you accept Yandere requests! How about some Yandere!Moira kidnapping a woman she deems genetically perfect. NSFW Possibly?

this request is so damn good oh my god,,, also be ready for a moira spam bc i have like ten asks ab her lmao. didn’t end up making this nsfw, but dw! so much moira sin will be posted soon ;)

*side note: i really appreciate all of the nice comments you guys have been leaving on my posts!! i wish i could respond to them, but this is a side blog so all responses would be coming from my main :// 

Yandere Moira kidnapping a ‘genetically perfect’ woman 

  • Moira gets what she wants. There’s no question about it. Whether it’s an illegal substance she needs for experimentation or a new test subject, it’ll soon be in her possession. So, when she decides that you are utterly flawless, you’d better kiss goodbye to your old life. Friends, family, job, house - everything. Why would she let a creation so perfect roam freely in a world so dangerous? That would be astoundingly stupid.
  • She halts all of her research and pours her undivided attention into getting her hands on you. The scientist meticulously plans your abduction -drawing excruciatingly detailed maps of your house and learning every little thing about everyone and everything close to you. After getting final preparations in order for your capture, she realizes that she knows little to nothing about YOU; sure, she could recite your genetic coding and cellular structure as if it were tattooed onto her forehead, but didn’t know anything about your emotions.
  • She scorns herself for this. In an effort to repair her mistakes, she spends a sleepless night getting to know you. She bribes Sombra into hacking all of your personal information and is disgusted by what she reads in your messages. It would seem that you were getting very close with another female. Moira isn’t jealous - well, she is slightly, but what is really disturbing her is how much BETTER you are in comparison to the woman you’re flirting with. “How pathetic.” Moira growls with a feral grin, accessing all of the other woman’s medical data and scoffing at how sub-par her genetics are when displayed next to yours. Why would a flawless being like you be interested in such scum?
  • You wake up the next morning in a room that’s not your own. Chained to a cold metal bench, and stripped of all clothing. The strong scent of chemicals and sterile air makes your head spin, as does the obnoxiously bright light shining into your tired eyes. In panic, you try to tug on the restrictions, but find absolutely no success. You’re arms and legs are completely dead. All you can do is make a sound; a very quiet groan that no ordinary ear would’ve been able to hear. “Hush, my dear, no need to worry.” Moira smirks, Irish accent growing husky as a result of sleep deprivation. “Let me run some tests, then I’ll get you put up in a room more fitting for a person as perfect as you.”
  • You can’t move your head enough to catch a glimpse of your abductor, but that’s probably for the best. The manic grin on her face would only frighten you more. The scientist suppresses a chuckle as she grabs a freshly sharpened scalpel, and the sound of her heels eagerly clicking against the floor terrifies you. “Don’t worry. I’m only going to be taking a small sample.” Moira informs you, pressing the blade to your stomach and drawing a drop of blood. Not that you could feel it - she’s been kind enough to numb you for this process. 
  • “Mmm, pure perfection.” The scientist practically moans, running your blood through on of her many machines and analyzing the results. Sauntering back over to you, she jabs a needle into your neck, and you wince at the idea of her putting anything into your veins. Almost instantly, you feel your eyelids growing unbearably heavy, and though you try to fight it, you feel yourself losing consciousness. “Don’t resist it. Relax, a stór, I’ll be looking after you from now on.”
THE SIGNS AT A CONCERT
  • Aries: *is dancing like crazy and living life sis*
  • Taurus: *brings illegal substances into the concert ;)*
  • Gemini: *manages to touch the performers hand and passes out*
  • Cancer: *cries when they see the performer come out*
  • Leo: *lives in the moment and is carefree*
  • Virgo: *is live streaming the entire thing*
  • Libra: *is peeing in the restroom when they hear the concert start*
  • Scorpio: *sings at the top of their lungs and loses their voice*
  • Sagittarius: *is THAT person that gets drunk at concerts*
  • Capricorn: *is fighting with a security guard*
  • Aquarius: *is in the VIP section sipping on a mimosa watching everyone push to the front while cackling*
  • Pisces: *is trying to get front row throughout the entire concert*
His ||Jungkook|| 0.4

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4

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The Lying Detective: more like the lying perspective

ok. i want to talk about this. i think the theory in which our boys are intermittently drugged with TD-12 is very possible. i’ve been on the fringes of this theory for a while, certain that SOMETHING other than the drugs Sherlock is taking (because heroin or cocaine do not cause hallucinations - because whilst withdrawal could cause insomnia, we see that Sherlock doses just before he goes in to meet Culverton. He is not withdrawing here. He’s literally just used, they made a point to include that). We got a really good discussion going over here, my previous meta/theory/whatever on Sherlock and his drug habits - we concluded that he’s probably taking a whole bunch of stuff, but for the sake of this particular meta, I’m going to assume he’s not wandering around London with a myriad of different, incredibly illegal substances. The context of the conversations had point to him needing a ‘top up’, which makes me think heroin (even though he says he feels ‘psychedelic’ which isn’t really… heroin, but I think he’s just referencing the fact that he’s high rather than anything else). He’s also not really “acting” high, which sort of makes sense seeing as heroin users get to a point where they need more just to function normally (and Sherlock’s been off his tits for weeks, so- yep, makes sense). 

So, we know that for the morgue room meeting, Sherlock is NOT withdrawing. We know that he is pretty much… in control, or he certainly feels as if he’s in control. He has a plan, he thinks it’s going to work. He’s smug and he’s absolutely certain of his abilities.

Except it sort of… stops working in that morgue room, and Sherlock is suddenly confronted with a crisis of mental clarity via Faith. I think this sudden shift from confidence in his abilities to the realisation that he got it wrong sort of sent him spiralling. This is where the TD-12 shit comes in, because I cannot think of any other way to explain this particular scene away… 

Sherlock is hearing auditory hallucinations. His mind begins making connections that are not there. He sees Culverton pick up a scalpel when he is the one to pick the scalpel up, we see him begin to physically lose his grip on reality and he, quite understandably, freaks the fuck out. He feels as if he’s being mocked, moments after Culverton has mentally mocked and derided John and his abilities as a doctor: Culverton has made both of these men question their sanity and their usefulness in the space of minutes. But here’s the important part: I think Sherlock hallucinated more than just the laughing. I think Sherlock hallucinated the severe kicking he got from John, too. Let’s break it down.

Sherlock isn’t just experiencing auditory hallucinations here. He’s seeing Culverton laugh, he’s hearing it and he’s seeing it and it makes him angry, likely because he feels as if his intelligence is being mocked. But check out this screenshot: this is a pretty freaky thing to see, so it’s no wonder Sherlock begins feeling threatened. 

This is where it starts to get a bit Nuts. Sherlock brandishes the scalpel and demands Culverton stop laughing - and yet even when Culverton says he’s not laughing, the laughing continues in the background. John is forced to step in, to control the situation and the blatant manic episode Sherlock is going through and he’s forced to punch Sherlock to snap him out of it.

What does John say to Lestrade, in the scenes running intermittently between this morgue scene?

“I really hit him” Odd thing to say, if you’d kicked someone too. Surely you’d say “I really hurt him’ rather than put emphasis on ‘hit’ if he’d actually kicked Sherlock into submission, because that wasn’t just a singular ‘hit’. That was… brutal, honestly. 

Here’s the interesting part, the camera zooms in on John’s hands, just before the beating above is shown.

Keep in mind that this beating is so bad that Sherlock spits up blood. This is like, internal organs being kicked to shit bad. 

But here’s the thing, in the following scenes, that blood? Completely disappears. 

Where’s the blood? Are you telling me that in a show where they physically painted a pub door sign for literally two seconds of footage are going to forget to place the blood down? nope, sorry, not convinced. 

So, here’s what I think ACTUALLY happened in handy dandy bulletpoints:

  • John gets in between Sherlock and Culverton when he sees the scalpel
  • John crowds Sherlock up against the morgue doors
  • John punches Sherlock when he realises he’s not snapping out of it
  • Sherlock falls and hits his head against the morgue doors, which is why he needs stitching on his eyebrow. I literally have no idea where this eyebrow cut came from otherwise. 
  • Sherlock probably gets a concussion here, let’s be real, so anything that happens in between falling to the floor and John apparently being dragged away by goons that show up out of nowhere should be questionable at best, possibly even including the I killed your wife dialogue. 

The only other POSSIBLE explanation I can have for John beating Sherlock in this way is if he, too, is drugged, and starts having a massive PTSD freak out but that doesn’t account for the missing blood. 

Either way, I don’t think this scene happened the way it’s been set up, because there’s too many inconsistencies. John’s characterisation here is really weird at best: I can’t see him beating the shit out of Sherlock like this without some sort of… trigger? who knows

anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk

@the-7-percent-solution @teapotsubtext @goodmythicalmail @whatiwassuggesting @jenna221b  @watsonswaltz

anonymous asked:

i'm just so tired of the mother eleanor crap. she controlled his finances at 20 because he was too crazy of a spender. she had to be his minder on tour after the weed video lest he go near an illegal substance. and then when she's gone his life is so screwed up that he impregnates another woman but have no fear! eleanor saves the day once again. it's just such an ugly narrative to be put on louis. that he can't be a functioning person without her.

He deserves better.

Coffee Shop AU

In an universe where all forms of drugs are illegal, caffeine is one of the last items to be banned. There are substitutes, but nothing beats the smell of a fresh cup of coffee, which is exactly why Character A has opened up an illegal, underground coffee shop.

Character B is an undercover agent rooting out anybody who might be dealing illegal substances. One one hand, they’re furious that Character A is flagrantly breaking the law, but on the other hand, Character B has really missed the taste of real coffee.

I won a death match of poker to inherit my centennial Mormon great-grandmother’s multi-million dollar restaurant which could be incredibly lucrative on its buttery rolls alone, that was co-run by her complicated voice activated computer system that also managed the illegal drug ring she was running in the basement of her restaurant where I won that poker game.

On A Scale of One to Ten

Anon Requested: Lily starts falling for an insecure, yet charming crippled james, and naturally when his injury is miraculously recovered, girls throw themselves at him. (Healer!Lily/Auror!James AU)

Fanfiction Net

“You have to let me see him.”

The desperate plea that came from the intruder’s lips was wrought with emotion as he pushed past a startled Lily Evans to the bed where a badly wounded man sat awaiting the Healer visit—Lily’s visit. Instead of assessing what had brought the man into the rehabilitation ward in the first place, Lily was assessing the boy who had come charging into the room like the patient was on his deathbed.

The bloke (not the injured one) flew into the hospital ward only moments before Lily, taking out two guards and a door with the flick of his wand. He wore a leather traveling cloak and his wand was tucked in the black bun stop his head. The boy was handsome with black hair, grey eyes, and perfect cheekbones. His pale skin was akin to the models she saw in Witch Weekly but his expression was less sensual and more roguish.

The boy stared down at the man in bed, exasperated, “Your owl left out the part where Alice Longbottom buzzed your hair off, you look ridiculous.”

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Without A Trace/ 1


Word Count: 1,734

I bit down harshly on my bottom lip as the drop of sweat that had been lingering on my hairline, had finally decided to descend down my face. Talk about timing!

The crew were gathered on one side of the door, ready to knock it down and barge into the apartment we had been tracking for several weeks. This was it. This is what we had all worked for. The red dots from our guns all focused on the centre of the wooden door, none of us really knowing what we hoped would be on the other side. Some of us enjoyed the violence, whereas others prefered to find the main goal whether that’d be money or a dangerous, illegal substance. Anything that meant the job was done right.

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Fight or Flight (Elorcan) pt 1

(in which I am once again a slut for modern day Elorcan. I’ve wanted to do something like this for a while, so I hope it’s okay! ) 

Elide Lochan tapped her fingers impatiently against her jeans, her carry-on bag slung over one shoulder. Airports always made her antsy- part of her expected her uncle Vernon to just appear out of nowhere. He’s in jail, she reminded herself. If he ever gets out, it won’t be for another ten years at least.
   

The day she’d stood against her Uncle as a witness had been one of the hardest days of her life, but it had been worth it. He’d been charged with battery, assault, neglecting a child, fraud, and also dealing illegal substances for his boss’s company. She hadn’t known about that last one, but it had been a definite plus. Three years ago, that had happened.
  

 And for four years now she’d been free of him. Four years since she had hunted down her God siblings Aelin and Aedion, four years since she had met Manon and the Thirteen and had her first friends since she was a child. Four years since she had vowed never to go back to Morath, and that was a promise she intended to keep. Her life was, if she was being honest, amazing. She owned her own bookstore in Perranth, the town she’d been raised in, and was perfectly content living above it in her cozy little apartment.
 

 It had been almost two years since she’d had her last night terror.
  

 She handed over her ticket to the clerk, smiling politely when it was scanned and handed back to her, and limped through the gate towards the plane. Usually, she’d never go directly from one place to another, but Manon had insisted she come for a few days to her home in the Wastes. It had been a damn long time since they’d seen each other, and it seemed her friends weren’t okay with waiting until Thanksgiving.
  

 So that had been the last six days for her, but instead of going home to Perranth and her little bookstore, Anneith’s, named after the Greek Goddess of wisdom, she was going straight to her sister’s wedding. She’d been sure Lysandra was going to be the maid of honor, so when she had been bestowed it instead, she may have cried a little bit. And it wasn’t like she couldn’t afford traveling from one place to the next- not only did she have the steady income of the bookstore, but she had all the money her parents had left her. The money Vernon had hoarded from her for years.
 

  She let a family of four pass her, not wanting to slow them down with her crippled leg, and then started going again, entering the plane. The stewardess smiled and asked if she needed any help after a glance at her ankle. Elide kindly refused- it was insulting, honestly, when people thought she needed help. She had escaped her Uncle, had navigated through bustling Orynth and found her family and friends with that ankle. It wasn’t, and never had been, an excuse for her to not be able to do something.
  

 She shoved her carry-on into the compartment above her head and then slid into the first class seat, glancing out the window. Nothing but concrete and the grey skies of the Wastes awaited her. She wished Manon had been able to come with her to Aelin and Rowan’s wedding, but she had the last of her recently deceased grandmother’s paperwork to deal with, and she couldn’t get away. Her lover, Dorian, would be there to offer her congrats, at least.
    

 There was a shifting, and Elide glanced over as a towering man slid into the remaining seat next to her, not even sparing her a glance. He was incredibly handsome, even with the scowl that seemed permanently sketched into his face, and if the designer jeans and jacket over his black Henley said anything, he had money. She allowed herself to appreciate the dark hair and eyes and the muscle of him for a second more before she turned back towards the window. When she felt the weight of his eyes finally fall on her, she didn’t look over.
 

  They were quiet through everyone settling into their seats, and when the pilot announced that they’d be taking off soon and began to go through safety guidelines as they did through every flight, Elide blew out a breath, buckling up. The handsome stranger’s gaze was buried in his phone, and she moved to dig out her own phone. She texted Aelin quickly, saying she’d be landing on time in five hours, and then powered it off. Her purse carried almost nothing but books- Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, Ana Karenina, and a new one she had just started reading, A Court of Mist and Fury. She dug the latter out and opened to the page she had dog eared.
 

  She prayed she wouldn’t get freaked out this time- she’d been on plane rides plenty of times, but she had never seemed to get that fear out of her when they first took off, even if once they were in the air, it felt like she had been made for flying. The plane moved slowly at first, and she was feeling pretty confident that this was it, this was the time that she’d finally be okay for lift off. But then it sped up and her breath hitched, all thoughts of Feyre and Rhysand forgotten as the plane lurched upwards. She scrambled for anything to hold onto. And that ‘anything’ just so happened to be the handsome stranger’s muscled arm.
  

 He turned slightly, raising an eyebrow, and she smiled sheepishly, retracting her grip. “Sorry,” she murmured, going to grip the arms of the chair instead and wincing as her ears popped.
  

 "First time flying?“ He guessed in a smooth, deep voice.
  

 "Twelfth, actually,” she replied, her own voice strained and small. She took a deep breath. “The flying part, I like. But I just can’t seem to get used to the taking off part.” He snorted, and she raised an eyebrow at him despite the fact he was a stranger. “I suppose you love flying?”
 

 He gave her a dry smile. “I hate it, actually. The entire thing. But it comes with the work.”
 

  "And the work is?“
  

 "Ex military.” That would explain how muscled he was. When he chuckled, she realized, in horror, that she had said that out loud. Her cheeks went red, but he didn’t seem to mind, extending a hand. “I’m Lorcan.”
  

 "Marion,“ she replied before she could stop herself. It wasn’t like she’d ever see him again, and you could never be too cautious around strange men. He probably wouldn’t even remember the skimpy girl he’d met on a plane ride. Part of her wondered if she should get back to her book, if she was bothering him, but she asked anyways, "What brings you to Orynth?”
  

 "A wedding,“ he said simply. "You?”
 

  She laughed lightly. “I’m actually going to a wedding too.” Though she was sure it wasn’t the same one. Orynth was huge, and she was sure she would remember if Aelin or Rowan had mentioned a huge, muscled, grumpy wumpy guy. “You’re from the Wastes, then?”
 

  "Doranelle, actually.“ His answer was short, clipped, and she assumed that meant the end of their conversation, but then he spoke again. "Is that where you’re from, then? The Wastes?”
  

 She shook her head. “Perranth. I’m just going for the wedding before it’s time to go back home.” Aedion would drive her there, most likely. Her car was home anyways, and her ankle made it hard for her to drive long distances.
  

 He gave her another one of his dry smiles, just a faint twitching of his lips. “You travel a lot, then?”
  

 She shrugged. “When I feel like it.” The plane had leveled out, and she felt herself relaxing. She should dismiss him, should get back to her book. They’d passed through the 'polite small talk’ stage, and now were bordering on actually chatting. She had enough people in her life, and, frankly, the only men she trusted were Rowan and Aedion, possibly Dorian. But after this, she’d never see Lorcan again. And what was the harm in chatting up the hot stranger? So she asked him, “You said you were ex military. What do you do now?” He opened his mouth to speak, and the book stayed forgotten in her lap.
-
 

  They talked for almost half of the trip. Lorcan found it surprising- he’d only meant to say a few polite words, make sure she was okay. She was obviously young-early twenties, he later found out- and he, frankly, hadn’t wanted her to puke everywhere or something. But no, Marion just HAD to be interesting and intelligent, and instead of resting up to meet rutting Whitethorn and the bitch queen like he should have, he had talked to her.
   

 They had kept the conversation light- Lorcan only mentioned Maeve, his ex boss (that he may have been in love with for a time) once, and she only briefly mentioned a crazy uncle. They didn’t talk about any family, either. Instead they spoke of her bookstore, of what they’d both been doing, of movie genres and that blue book in her lap, along with the others stuffed into her purse. They spoke of music-she liked classical and alternative, he was more of a classic rock and anything angry type of guy- and culture, any light conversation topics they could think of.
 

  She fell asleep first, and he found himself studying her face, though he didn’t go any lower (even if her breasts were tempting.) It was obvious she was attractive and most definitely his type- dark hair and eyes, pale skin- but she didn’t seem the type for one night trysts, so he wouldn’t ask. He fell asleep soon after that, and woke up with a weight on his shoulder.
   

He tensed when he saw her nuzzled there, eyes still closed, inky hair spilled across his shoulder. The pilot announced they’d be landing soon and he tapped her awake gently. Her eyes opened and she practically jumped away from him. He gave her a look, to which she responded with another sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He looked down the aisle. “We’re landing soon.” She groaned. “Don’t like landing either?”
 

  "It’s possibly worse.“ There was a lurch, and this time, when she gripped his arm, he let her.
-
    

They walked off together, picking up a new conversation that she was more adamant about then him- cats or dogs. She insisted dogs were better- Manon, her best friend, had a pet Doberman named Abraxos and he was apparently the sweetest thing ever. He listened in amusement, but as soon as they both got out of the gate, they froze. Marion turned to him.
  

 "So,” she said. “This is it, I guess.”
 

  He nodded, stone faced. “Thanks for making the plane ride… less droll than it could have been.”
  

 She snorted, tucked a piece of hair behind an ear. “You helped as well, I suppose,” she said, and he almost started in confusion. People tended not to tease him, but that seemed to be what she was doing.
  

 He hesitated for a moment, studying her. Should he offer her his number? Should he ask for hers? Ridiculous- he was ridiculous. So he simply said, “Have fun at the wedding,” and turned. He didn’t look back to see if she watched him go. 

Ronin being a marketing professor, but he teaches absolutely nothing real, he spends his time giving tips on how to swindle people and tell stories about himself. He is famous among the students’ mothers (if you know what i mean) and has even come to classes drunk, possibly with smelling of some illegal substances~

roasteddoge  asked:

Why dont you make Pay??????

Eh… I don’t want to.

But for real. You got a seat and some snacks?

I love Pay. I really do. I’m a sucker for secret twin/sibling stuff. And @trashpandaballs did an amazing job when he created him. He’s complex and well rounded enough that a lot of people can relate to him in someway.

And being such a great fandom character, many use his character go over addictions, mental issues, and emotions in general. As well as play out humor, practice cute outfits, and think about sibling bonding.

But some of those reasons why he’s relatable is also why I’m hesitant to draw him. Mostly, I end up changing him from his original design.

You see,under all the sass and fun, Pay is a drug and alcohol addicted man, who suffers from depression, at least that’s what I’m perceiving. He also is a rent boy ( ?is that what it’s called?) so that he can make ends meat and is in some why hurt from tough dealings all the time.

And the Pay I draw, ends up being a depressed man that is seeking to get there life together, because they’re learning that they deserve to have a life and to experience happiness. And sometimes gets bruises because he knocks into furniture due to having long limbs.

I honestly don’t see Pay that way. Or at least the way he is portrayed. It doesn’t make very much sense to me. (I also doubt that Pat would ever let Pay get to that level of homelessness or starvation without doing something.)

Knowing who Pat is, the character that is, and how he acts, gives no indication of a rough up bringing. Most of the time, Pat is shown being a pretty good adult. So however Pat was brought up, Pay would have been brought up the same way. Though that’s not to say twins will be exactly the same if raised in the same environment.

Take me and my brothers for example. (not exactly twins but) We all have loving parents who taught us to be kind, generous, independent, and responsible. And yet being raised the same, taught the same, and loved the same. We could obviously not be any more different. But we have the same morals, mannerisms, humor, and some other base stuff.

So again, whatever Pat learned as a kid is what Pay would have learned too. Not to mention how loving and attentive Pat can be. If Pat were to act like my brothers or me, he would love and care for Pay through all has mental issues and help him wholeheartedly. And Pay would give the same care and love to Pat. Most siblings who have a healthy family bond, will stick together and take care of each other.

Communication is also a big thing between me and my siblings. I doubt that Pat would just drop all contact with Pay because of work. And even with the distance between them, Pat being in the Red Army, they would still find time to talk with each other. I think I should have some experience in this, especially with my brother being in the US Army now.

But yeah. To sum it all up. I just can’t think of why Pay would ever be that way. Or at least a drug addicted rentboy.

I can definitely see him being a recovering alcoholic who has depression and is finally seeking therapy for said depression. Men who are depressed tend to turn to alcohol to “get over it” Statistically, that makes the most sense to me. (especially since i know Pat would keep Pay from doing illegal substances) But with all this kinda going through my head for Pay, I hesitate to draw him because I respect for other people’s ocs and au’s.

 I love trashpandaball’s idea and concept of Pay. And if I could, I would ask if it was okay for me to do that. But with Del gone rn, I have no concrete way of asking for permission to put out my headcannons of Pay like that. I’ll still draw them, but rarely. Mostly because I wouldn’t want it to seem like I’m trying to push my interpretation of Pay over Del’s.

Then again, Pay is just a hypothetical sibling made up by the fandom for a fictional character in a cartoon to give more content and entertain us while the actual show is at a standstill. So not much of this actually is serious, it’s all for fun.