alcohol implications

~7 minutes of screentime total, here’s everything we can use to interpret alfons heiderich and ed’s relationship with him. 

okay but cute concept time,

summer tried to convince her team to wear capes–but she could only get qrow on-board because he was drunk and essentially just: “fucking put it on me, ill wear a god damn cape”.

and he just kept wearing it because shit that’s actually pretty snazzy

Let Me Make You Feel Better

Warnings: mentions and implications of alcohol, drunk people, anxiety attack

Tag list: @musicphanpie-b, @imin-loveanon, @ordinary-chaos, @sandersandthesides, @ajumbleofwords, @demonickittykat, @zadi-jyne, @serenefreakgeek, @fandons-mangoes, @leesacrakon, @gayfagg 

Notes: Human AU, it started off as a fic inspired by Micheal In The Bathroom from Be More Chill. It ended up being way fluffier than I had imagined. I suck at writing drunk people, I’m sorry. 

Read on AO3 here

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What A Small World... Part 1

Part 1, Part 2

A/N: heeeey everyone! I know some of you are going to kill me for not posting the next part of Blood Relations buuuut… this is a birthday gift to my homegirl @chessireneko . It was originally gonna be a one shot, buuuut…. I got caught up to the story a little to much so… I guess this is my next series!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE AND I WISH YOU ALL HAPPINESS AND LOVE (insert Mark Tuan here) 💓💓💓

Pictures in the moodboard aren’t mine, taken out of Pinterest.

Words: 5639

Pairing: Mark/Reader

Warnings: mature themes, mentions of alcohol/drugs, implication of attempted rape (okay, I know this seems bad but it’s your standard University AU)

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Vegas (John Laurens W.U.M.)

TW.U.M. is an abbreviation of Waking Up Married. Read about this series here.  This one is as stereotypical as the tile suggests, but I had to write it.

Originally posted by youforfeitallrights

John Laurens x Reader

Time: Modern (sorry)

Word Count: 1,920

TW: blatant swearing, alcohol, inebriation, smut implications, (somewhat) explicit descriptions of what could happen after sex, John being adorable

AN: I used a female reader for this. Please let me know if you would like a rewrite with different pronouns! I am more than happy to do so.

[John’s Messages]

{Alexander’s Messages}

Summary: Exactly what it sounds like from the title. John and Y/N wake up in a hotel room on Las Vegas without any memory of what happened the night before.

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Worse Than Dying

Advent Calendar- 7 Days

Ooh, another new story! Maybe my writer’s block has cleared up! Here’s hoping anyway!!!

Ok, here we have Tony talking to the Reader about what he saw when he encountered Wanda. I changed a few details to fit the series a little bit better. For example, Bucky was in the vision as well. Hopefully the changes make sense to you all (I just feel that, given his closeness to the Reader here it works well).

If you have any feedback, let me know!!! Please enjoy, and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist : )

WARNINGS- IMPLICATION OF ALCOHOLISM ON TONY’S PART, MENTIONS OF DEATH

TIMELINE- 2015

~¤~¤~¤~¤~¤~¤~¤~¤~¤~¤~¤~¤~¤~¤~¤~¤~

You heard a commotion coming from Tony’s lab, and wondered what he was working on. You knew that he was feeling very strung out. Scared would not be venturing too far into the realm of over exaggeration.

You knocked hesitantly on his door. The sounds stopped, and after a moment, the door opened just a crack, and Tony was peering out at you, goggles firmly in place.

“(Y/N), what do you need?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to see if you were alright. You’ve been acting a bit odd since we got back from Sokovia,” you explained quietly. You didn’t even mention the strong emotions that you could feel on him, no matter where you were in the building.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Tony rushed, closing his door without another word. You weren’t surprised. He was never very good at this stuff.

“Ok, well, if you need anything, I’ll be in my office,” you called out through the door, palm placed upon it.

You walked to your office, and sat at the desk with a stack of files from the Hydra base in Sokovia. You pulled your notepad towards yourself, and began to read, taking note of anything really important that you would need to look into further, or bring up with someone else.

You were conscious of the sudden quiet in Tony’s lab, but you knew that he was still in there. You tried not to worry. He would come to you if he needed you. You were just concerned about what he might do in the meantime.

A few hours later, there was a knock at your door. “Come in!”

You smiled as Tony awkwardly made his way into the room. He sat across from you, and you smelled the distinct smell of whisky. Even for Tony, it was unusual for him to be drinking at this time of day.

“(Y/N),” Tony finally spoke. “What do you know about Wanda Maximoff?”

You recalled what you had read about her so far in the files. “Wanda Maximoff is the twin sister of Pietro Maximoff. They both volunteered for Strucker’s experiments, and were the only ones to survive. She has powers that are difficult to quantify. She can… get into people’s minds, and move objects and other such things. Why?”

Tony really wanted to speak, but he had a hard time conjuring the words. “I think I may have encountered her.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… I was… I had just found the sceptre, and something… happened.”

You sat patiently, and waited for Tony to figure out the best way to verbalise his experience.

“I saw something. I was in the room, and then I was back out there. Through the rift in space. But, you were there. And so was Rogers, and Banner, and Romanoff, Barnes, Barton, Thor, Wilson. We were all there.

“Except, you were all dead (Y/N). It was my fault.”

“How do you know it was your fault?”

“Because I walked up to you, to check your pulse. You were still holding Barnes’ hand, and you looked like you were reaching out for Rogers. I touched you, and you grabbed my wrist. You told me that it was my fault. I could have saved you all. And it just felt true.”

Tony was shaking. You reached across the desk to hold his hand. “Tony, listen. You aren’t responsible for everything that happens. If that ever happens, it won’t be your fault. We’re responsible for our own actions.”

“But… I got you killed…”

You stood from your seat and rounded the desk, taking both of Tony’s hands, kneeling in front of him. You looked up into his tormented brown eyes, heart heavy. You had to try not to let his fear, and the image of Steve and Bucky dead, cloud your mind.

“I’m right here Tony, and I promise you I couldn’t be more alive. You haven’t gotten anyone killed. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“It didn’t feel that way (Y/N).”

“I know Tony. That’s what Wanda does. She gets into your head. She shows you your worst fears. She has you destroy yourself. Don’t let her win. Please.”

“Why did you all die, and I survived?” Tony asked, though it seemed to you he was thinking aloud. You answered him none the less.

“Because the only thing worse than dying in war is surviving it when no one else did.” You spoke from a great deal of experience as you uttered your words carefully. “And she showed you the worst.”

“(Y/N), please don’t die,” Tony whispered, holding your hands tightly.

“I’ll do everything I can not to Tony. I promise.”

You looked up at Tony. He wasn’t feeling even a little bit better, not that you were expecting him to. You wished you could take away all of his pain, but you knew it didn’t always work that way.

“Well, I should get back to work. I want to get as much done as possible before the party tomorrow,” Tony eventually said, voice a little bit more even.

“Alright. Do you need help with anything?” you asked, standing. Tony didn’t let go of your hands.

“No, Banner’s helping me already,” Tony replied. You got the distinct impression he was hiding something from you, but decided against pressing him. He was stressed enough.

Tony let one of your hands go, and walked to the door with you in tow.

“Thank you Dove,” he said, lifting your hand to his lips and kissing it. He was able to feel the steady pulse in your wrist, and that was comforting for him.

“You’re welcome Tony. Please try to be gentle with yourself.”

He nodded, let go of your hand, and was gone. You knew he wouldn’t be able to stop torturing himself. You both had quite a bit in common.

TAGLIST

@justareader @kissofvenom922 @writingruna @fandomsareforlosers
@dont-speak-just-read @annadier @anya-lv @w1nt3r-st0rm @raddadalecki @beccaanne814-blog @izzy-obwan @katbird787 @lorinicole @denisa-lata @tigerb103 @strategicscientificreserve @sebastian-bucky-stan @avengerofyourheart @the-silver-iris @shamvictoria11 @howdoesoneadult @blue1928 @sgtjamesbuchananbarnes107th @thisisthelilith @aussievinegar @iwillbeinmynest @tattoedpedsnurse @jrubalcaba @cookiedough1830 @stilldontknowhoiam @oh-soldier-my-soldier @missmotherhen @jasmins3 @buckysberrie

anonymous asked:

Ok but what are ur grantaire headcanons hmu

Yes, lets talk about this little shit

  • His dad was half Puerto rican and half Japanese and his mum was half native american and half Indian.
  • He is really good with kids, I feel like he probably has siblings with kids and he’s in an amis meeting one day and like, five kids run in and towards Grantaire and start sitting on his lap or braiding his curls, and everyone is looking at him like “?!?!?! What the? Are these your kids or?” He never explains 
  • He’s one of those people who if he see’s someone being hit on in a bar and looking uncomfortable he’ll be like “Wow, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Which incidentally is how he met Eponine
  • He can do EVERYTHING, he can knit, he can fix things, he can paint, draw, sew, cook, you fuckin name it. He just refuses to do anything productive the majority of the time.
  • His apartment is so messy, there is paint splattered on the walls,  one massive coffee stain across the sofa and that’s not even including reminders from Bossuet’s many accidents which includes a hole in the wall
  • He plays five instruments. The piano, the trumpet, the harmonica, the fucking banjo and the flute.
  • He’s never told anyone this, but he’s seen every episode of glee at least three times. Only Joly and Bossuet know and that’s because they binge watch it with him.
  • Never play monopoly with Grantaire. Ever. 
♪Intoxicated Mind♪

↳ Calfreezy x Reader
Requested | yes, by some anons!
Warnings | intoxication through alcohol implications!

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anonymous asked:

do u have any bokuaka ficrecs pls and thx

You’re not asking something easy because judging fics from a vast amount of certainly good fics out there, I feel like I could be unfair to those I don’t mention u___u

I’m making one because there’s a few fics that I’ve really enjoyed and I guess everyone needs a little guidance if they just entered a fandom/ship— though I’m not very good advice! :^o I’m sure other readers out there have better advice than me.

List is under the cut.

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On Skin

Summary: Phil is a writer. Dan, his muse. AU slightly inspired by The Picture of Dorian Grey but not really. Told over the course of a year, through simple, at some times awful, prose.

A/N: I was given this wonderful prompt by krazy4fandoms to write a oneshot about Dan painting on his arms to cover old self harm scars, and I tried writing it as a high school au, but I hated how it was going so I deleted everything and wrote something at 4 am and woke up and read over what I had written and actually liked it. 

Genre: This is honestly so cheesy and fluffy with like very light angst.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, brief implications of sex/friends with benefits situation, self harm mentions, very pretentious flowery writing

Word Count: 5k

September

Inspiration, inspiration, no inspiration. No muse, no lyric, no scene to spark a movement in Phil’s mind. The air has been dead, too warm, electrically warm. Phil has always preferred the cold, the destitution of a silent snowstorm. It’s those nights that he writes words like sweet poetry, when he’s acutely aware of his impending death and very afraid by the blunt quiet of the snow outside. When he sits down with a cup of steaming tea and glances out into the afflicted night, the starkness of the dark producing a certain lachesism, a want for the snow to pile up and suffocate the living world, just to feel so numb, so painstakingly numb that blades could pierce the skin and no tears would be shed. Those are the nights that produce Phil’s resplendent words, the flowery and the pretentious that the public swallows like sugary narcotics.

But it’s been summer for far too long, and the heat melts away his thoughts. He sees the emails from the agents, asking where his next piece is, pushing him to work faster, but they spur him to no productivity.

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Things that were removed from the original script of An Unearthly Child:

  • Smoking (Ian’s cigarette lighter was removed purely to prevent it ruining the rest of the plot)
  • Casual sexism (Ian complaining about “women drivers” and being surprised that a “female” [Susan] should be interested in space travel)
  • Minor swearing (such as “damn” and “ye gods”)
  • Alcohol (the implication that Barbara was drunk when she first went to the junkyard)
  • Sexuality (Susan, listening to music, shouting, “Sing it again, Ollie! Sing it for me!”, then later saying the singer “teaches me to throb”)

Also:

  • Tension (the bad kind) between Ian and Barbara in their first scene
  • A possible romantic relationship between the two when they discuss their boring home lives

My brother just pulled me aside and said “you’re not going to go out with your friends for your 21st, right? You’re going out with us. You can come to Portland, it’ll be fun. You’re up for that, right?” And I feel so much better about him moving away I’m touched almost to the point of tears, I love all my brothers so much