beer can in a brown bag

Lunch Room Sobriety Test

So in my freshman year, I was in lunch, sitting with a majority of my friends, who were, at that time, guys. One had a bottle of root beer, and his brown paper lunch bag. You can probably see where this is going. Another convinced him to put the bottle in the paper bag and drink from it as a joke.
We have a very popular counselor, he likes to joke a lot. He, of course, saw this, marched over, and demanded and explanation. He snatched the bottle/bag combo and sniffed it. He obviously knew that it wasn’t alcohol, but the kid was shaking from fear as we all were choking back laughs. He made him get up and go to the front of the lunch room, where he made an announcement and made the kid do an impromptu sobriety test.
He never brought root beer to school again ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Imagine teasing Deadpool.

You look up at your apartment building and immediately see the loud mouth merc sitting at the top of the building, feet dangling over the edge.  Rolling your eyes, you head into the building and up the flight of stairs to your apartment carrying a brown take out bag. You walk inside and grab two beers from the frig, head straight out the window and up the fire escape.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you hop onto the roof and see Mr. Deadpool himself.

“Yo, Wade!” You call out as you come up behind him.

“Hey hot stuff. Fancy meeting you here.” You can hear the smile underneath his mask.

“Yeah, strange meeting you up here. Not like I don’t live in this building, dumb ass.”

Wade laughs, patting the spot next to him. Luckily, you were not afraid of heights, so you take a seat next to him on the wide ledge.

“I got beers and food,” you pass a beer to Wade.

“Tell me those are tacos in that bag.” He reaches for the bag, but you quickly move it out of his reach.

“I’m only giving you five this time, jerk.” You warn.

“Stop teasing, you’re giving me a major boner.”

You peer at his crotch, squinting, “Nothing major about that.”

“Ouch, you hurt me. But it’s true.”

You laugh and hand over the tacos to Wade.

“You are too good to me,” He lifts his mask just under his nose.

“You’re telling me, Wade.” You tease not paying much attention to the scarred skin that was showing. It didn’t really faze you much, but you hadn’t seen his whole face yet. Sipping from your beer, you devour a taco in two bites.

“Damn, you swallow fast!” Wade exclaims, stuffing a taco in his own mouth.

“Show me your face and I’ll show you my swallowing skills.” You nod to his mask.

The voices in Wade’s head yell at him to do it, because it had been awhile since anyone, but himself had touched his dick.

“Deal.” Is all he says as he pulls his mask off. You set the taco in your hand down and give Wade’s face a once over. His scarred skin didn’t really gain a reaction from you, instead you blink once and shrug.

“Eh, I’ve dated uglier dudes.”

Wade’s brown eyes actually softens as he set his mask down and takes a sip from his beer, smiling to himself.

“I showed you mine, now show me yours.” Wade smirks up from his beer.

“Okay.” You swing a leg to straddle the ledge and face Wade looking deep into his eyes. He wiggles in his spot turning to face you, waiting for you to make a move. So you open your mouth and move your head down toward his crotch. And when Wade becomes visibly excited, you reach down for the taco next to you, stuffing it whole in your mouth. Quickly you chew and swallow it, beaming with laughter.

Wade grins widely, “Oh, you fucken tease! I’m touching myself tonight!”



a/n: This is a quick idea I had and needed to get out of my system, there will be a second part so dont worry too much

@beautifulramblingbrains @frecklefaceb @feminamortem @anditcametopass @dauntlessmetalmom @pathybo @mimigemrose @ag-delights @abfoster1s @sparklemichele @murmelinchen @jojuarez26 @purple-puddin @audreyfulquard @sharknadoslut [if you wanna be on the list hmu]

Warnings: Just Boomer getting a little too handsy, basically he goes to a dinner party and flirts with Luce, a girl he probably shouldn’t be flirting with…

Digger “Captain Boomerang” Harkness X OFC // Suicide Squad

word count: 2,163

1. The Party

“Finally,” Anita sighed as Luce pushed through the screen door, her arms full with a bag of groceries.

“I bought all the spaghetti they had at the store,” Luce stated as she set the shopping bag on the table. She reached into the brown paper, pulling out a large can of Guinness and crossed to the living room, handing it off to her uncle who occupied the recliner in the corner, his old hound dog curled up at his feet. He was a bitter old man but the one thing that made him smile without fail, was a cold beer.

“You’re a God send,” he stated, cracking the seal and taking a drink.

“No problem, Manny,” Luce replied with a smile. Though she referred to the man as her uncle they were not technically related. “Guess who I ran into on the way back,” she began, returning to the kitchen to empty the rest of the shopping bag’s contents.

“Big Foot,” Her sister-in-law replied. It was obvious by Anita’s tone that she had no patience for Luce, preoccupied with slicing tomatoes.

“Remember last week, Eddie was talking about meeting that guy from Australia at the bar?” Luce leaned against the counter as she spoke, “I met them on my way home.”

Keep reading

I take a very long walk.

-I find a dead robin in a black goo phase of decay. I dig a small hole on the spot and bury it.
-I find a sunbleached spine of a roadkill possum. I bag it.
-I find another possum, this one is a pancake. The bones have been run into dust, I take the one remaining canine.
-There are three vultures circling further ahead in a field, I follow them - there is nothing there. They move on and so do I.
-I find a bunch of Grizzlies snuff tin cans…I bag them because I am weak for bears.
-Lots of beer cans, I bag those too - gimme my 40 cents a pound~
-I find a water-filled ditch with a rotting armadillo in it. It is mostly clean…just gooey…I bag the head, as the other bones have been washed away.
-The vultures are back, they circle me curiously, likely drawn by the smell of the rotting armadillo. They move on ahead and disappear.
-I follow a trail of aluminum cans to a wooded area with a small creek, there is some sort of partial canine or feline skeleton in the creek bed, fully nature cleaned. It had brown fur, I bag the skeleton, I do not find the skull.
-Near by is  bunch of possum verts…I bag them too.
-Dead possum, Gross phase of rot where the fur falls out when you touch it. I leave it there. I will return for the bones later.
-*Ape noises as I spy nature cleaned squirrel skull under some leaves*
-There is a random trail in the middle of the woods that does not connect to the road or to a house….I wander into the woods to follow it, hoping it is a hunters dumping site. It leads to a leaf cluttered clearing that is void of any noise except the danger bark of a squirrel…I promptly leave.
-I stop at some strangers house for water….It smells and tastes like rasberries…10/10 water.
-The vultures have returned, they circle a field, one breaks off and lands in a tree in front of me. It leaps to a tree further into the woods, then back to me. I follow it curiously.
-Thorns! Thorns everywhere! I am beginning to suspect this vultures motive was to make me bleed to death so it could eat me….
-It leads me to a junk pile of concrete and car engine parts. Nearby is a freshly dead armadillo, there is a hole in its neck and it’s rear where the vultures ate from it….It seems to have been shot… There is a green long sleeve shirt right next to it.
The shirt says “Just Do it!”
The shirt fits me perfectly…

Secrets (Sam Winchester x Reader) One shot

Originally posted by sparkly-sam

Originally posted by outburstofabrokensoul

Summary: The reader is a controlled werewolf and Sam has a secret crush until the reader finds his hunting journal. Flufffffff

Word Count: 1,754

Warnings: None!

Notes: This is one of the fics for my giveaway! Be sure to read and like, and it will put you in the running for Supernatural prizes!

The pads of your feet hit the dirt like a hammer hitting a nail. The cold air filled your lungs and it only sent you spiraling further into the woods. Branches and leaves cracked beneath your feet, and the fur on your back stood up at attention. You were a werewolf, and had been one since you were twelve. Your father, a hunter, managed to protect you for years after your mother was killed by the one that bit you. But he was long since dead, and the only people that had your back now were the Winchester brothers. You had never attacked another human before, and you could control your other side, but you always had these wannabe or newbie hunters trying to kill you. Sam and Dean has spared you and vowed to never let anyone harm you after you saved them from another pack of werewolves. Tonight was a full moon. And every full moon for the last three years, the Winchester’s would take you to a section of woods where they could be nearby and let you stretch your primal legs. You caught the scent of a rabbit, and you went in to over drive. A clean leap over a log and you had the small animal in your jaws. You never killed them, just caught them to stay in shape. You let the little fella go, then let out a throaty howl, heading back for the brothers.

Sam watched her along the tree line. Dean was sitting on Baby’s hood, when he looked at his watch. “When do you think she’ll be done,” he said impatiently. Sam rolled his eyes. He seemed to be the only one other than (Y/n) needed to stretch. This was keeping her in tune and God help them if she didn’t. She was a large silver wolf that had a white patch behind her ear, just like in her human hair. Sam thought she was beautiful, as wolf and as a woman. But he would never tell her that, he was too afraid he would scare her off. He just wanted to, at the very least, know she was safe. Her human form was small in stature but curvy. Her wolf form was more intimidating than any werewolf they had the misfortune to run across. Dean stood up as he heard the howl in the woods. She made Dean uneasy, but he still loved her like a sister. “She’s just gave us fair warning,” said Sam moving slowly and watching the tree line, “Watch the trees.” Dean was on guard. She helped train the boys, her sneaking ability was like nothing they had ever seen. Sam turned quickly at the slightest crack of brush. She was watching them.

Slowly, you kept your eyes on Sam. Low and slow, you arched your back slightly. A tiny growl slipped through and you mentally cursed yourself. Without hesitation you jumped on him, pinning him to the ground. Mid air, you changed back and landed on him with a thump. “More human than the human,” you giggle, “Soft little human.” Sam laughed in between gasps for air, “Whatever Clifford. You good, ready to go? Dean and I got called for a case.” You nodded. It was dark enough, no one could see your exposed body and Sam’s hands were resting on your lower back. One of the only set backs, no clothing. Sam always blushed when you went back to human form, it was cute. Dean threw you a blanket and you stood, “yeah. I have to clean the bunker and take a shower anyway.” You piled into Baby and Dean shut your door, “You want me to roll the window down so you can hold your head out?” Dean chuckled as he walked to the driver side. “Next time I’m going to pummeled you instead bitch.” Sam laughed and Dean winked, “You can try.”

You put down a brown paper sack in front of both guys as they headed for the door with their duffle bag. “Road snack tailored to your needs gentlemen,” you threw Sam’s Stanford hoodie on as sat down in a war room chair. You kicked your feet up and took a swig of your beer. Dean opened his bag, “Yessss. Meat snacks and half a container of pie.” You winked at him and tipped your bottle, “Beer in the back of Baby. Be careful.” He kissed your forehead, “Call us if you need us.” Sam came over to the table and grabbed your bare big toe playfully, then opened his bag. A multivitamin water, granola, banana, and some assorted sweets. Then you always wrote small quotes on a piece of paper for Sam. Always positive. “Thanks,” he said with a warm smile. You both sat looking at each other for a moment until Dean cleared his throat and you looked away sheepishly. “Well um,” Sam said scratching the back of his neck, “If you need me, us, call. And remember, if they come for you, run. Same procedure as always.” You stood and kissed Sam’s cheek. “I got this,” you say, “Be safe.” You wish you could have said more, but at the risk of being shot down, you headed for the laundry room. Sam shook his head at his statement, “Same procedure as always. What an idiot.”

You began to put laundry away. Thinking back to before the boys left, your thoughts drifted to Sam’s big puppy dog eyes and sweet smile. You had tried to fight it for so long, but you were in love with him. But he had a horrible history with women and plus, you were part monster. It made your heart ache but what could you do. You turned on your record player and began to listen to T.Rex’s “Metal Guru” as you headed to Sam’s room to put his shirts away. You opened the door and his scent filled your nose and grabbed your senses. Damn your wolf nose. He made your knees weak and your heart pound just by his scent.  Over by his dresser, he had forgotten his hunter’s journal. He hardly ever left it behind. Setting the laundry basket down, you grabbed the journal and brought it over to the bed. You laid down on the bed and opened the journal. At most, you figured you’d learn a few things and worst, you’d learn Sam or Dean’s relationship history. There were pictures, drawings, everything. Sam had detailed his journal just like John’s which they permitted you to read one night when you asked about him. You flipped through the pages, when you saw a drawing. You knew a werewolf bite when you saw one. You began to read and you couldn’t believe what you saw. It was dated back quite some time ago.

“We hunted with (Y/n) tonight for the fifth time and this time, we permitted her to use her werewolf form. It was fascinating and completely terrifying at the same time. She snapped the vampire’s neck with one sharp bite. She is like a steel grey shadow. Even though werewolf (Y/n) is sometimes intimidating, I cant help be drawn to her. I wouldn’t ever wish upon her what happened to Jess or Ruby. But, this pain in my chest gets worse every night I see a man smile at her at the bar.
I could never tell her. And even if I did, there is no way someone as unique and beautiful as (Y/n) would want me. I watch her run as a werewolf, fast and deadly, then I see her at home. A crazy, sweet human. Can you believe I accidentally walked in on her dancing in her underwear one night to one of Dean’s old records? Her human form is…it makes my heart stutter. We need her, I need her. And I will not fail in protecting her.”

Sam opened the bunker door three days later and all was quiet. “Hello,” he yelled as Dean came in behind him, “Wonder were (Y/n) is?” Dean shook his head, “Probably still sleeping from a long night of sexual escapades.” Sam’s stomach churned at the thought of someone touching her. “Calm down,” Dean said seeing his brother’s concerned look, “She is probably in her room with her headphones on or something.” Dean went straight for his room because he had his fill of the day and booze was on his mind. Sam walked down the hallway and opened his door. His heart almost burst seeing (Y/n) asleep in his bed. It wasn’t the first time she had slept in his bed, but she was laying curled up with one smooth leg hanging out of the blankets. She was in dangerously short black shorts and another one of his shirts. He opened the door slowly and set his duffle on the floor. (Y/n) shifted and began to mumble. Sam sat down on the side of the bed, moving her hair from her face. “Dean it’s not that simple,” she mumbled. Sam frowned, she was dreaming about his brother. “Sam cant love me,” she whimpered, “I’m a monster.” He was in shock. How could she….he then saw his journal had been moved. Smiling he slowly laid down next to her, foreheads touching, “I’ve always loved you.” She shifted slightly and her eyes fluttered open, “How was it?” (Y/n)’s voice was sultry and sleepy. Sam grinned, “Um. Good. We got the demon.” She cracked a grin. “Good job,” she said yawning, “Ill go to my bed. Night Sam.” As she rose to get up, Sam put his hand on her arm, “Stay. Please.” (Y/n) cocked an eyebrow, “Are you sure?” He nodded. “Yeah,” he said settling in the bed, “Please. I, I just wanted to tell you…” She grabbed his face and kissed him deeply. He pulled her closer and they finally came up for air. “That,” she said slowly, “Was way better than I imagined.” Sam’s eyes widened, “So you…” She sat up slightly, her hair falling around her face, “Sam. Even monsters can love.” Sam sat up straight. “(Y/n),” he said smiling, “You’ve never been a monster to me. What happened to you, you’ve controlled it. You’ve over come so much. I had a problem with demon blood. I was a monster too. I’ve just always saw you as, well, beautiful. Inside and out.” She grinned, “Well then Sam Winchester.” (Y/n) winked at him and drug him back under the covers, “Let me show you what kind of monster I really am.” Sam grabbed her and brought her closer, “I love you (Y/n).” She pressed her forehead to his, “I love you too Sam.”

prsphny  asked:

What's the best kind of alcoholic drink to show how #done with the world you are???

I’m good at these! 

The Poverty spritzer: 

2 parts Fortified Wine (I prefer MD 20/20, Wild Irish Rose, or Cisco. However, Cisco has been reported to induce hallucination. Not kidding) with 1 part store brand seltzer water. Or just chug malt liquor out of a brown paper bag. 

The “I’m about to get my wages garnished” craft beer tasting. 

1-2 40s or tall boys of Mickeys, King Cobra, Ice House, etc. Not good if you plan on kissing someone. They’ll tell you you smell like pee. Not that I know that from experience or anything. 

The “despite the fact that can’t spell or do math, I promise I went to college” 

1-2 40s or tall boys of Natty Ice, Natty Light, or a 30 rack of Hamms that you hand out like candy to trick or treaters at a party. 

The disgruntled quarterlife health crisis (AKA i saw on my chart what my BMI was/ my doctor told me if I didn’t slow my roll I’d have to go on BP medication)

2 parts vodka to 1 part seltzer water. That’s it. 

The “box wine confession doesn’t want wine,” 

2 parts whiskey (wild turkey 101 preferred) to one part seltzer water or Perrier. Bar tenders fucking love it when your drunk ass is trying to order a Perrier btw. 

The “Jesus Christ, we’re almost thirty” 

You and your friend openly argue over what kind of franzia to buy at cvs. He wins the argument but buys you a cliff bar so it’s okay. He ditches the box and proceeds to make you “slap the bag” until you’re in the fetal position on his living room floor eating wheat thins, and maybe crying.  

The “I’m ignoring  multiple life issues rn” 

Shots of Castillo Gold rum (bonus points if you fucking hate rum) chased with Hamms.

Happy drinking <3

Take my Life Joji x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol Addiction, near death, mentions of vomiting, triggers of self loathe and suicidal thoughts, angst but ends with fluff, this shit is dark. I didn’t add many elements of love into this I wanted to refrain from romanticizing this.. if this will negatively affect you don’t read it.

“my idea was like little imagine short fic thing where the reader has been hiding an alcohol addiction and one night it goes too far and joji finds y/n passed out in a messy heap on the floor and looks after her but when she wakes up he confronts her and make it super angsty but end in fluff ahh”

This was a private request as the requester has asked to stay anonymous and messaged me the idea privately and so I added a few elements to this to make it more seemless, hope you enjoy and if you suffer with any of the things mentioned, seek help. A friend of mine suffered with an alcohol dependent addiction to deal with emotions, so I take these things seriously. Thank you

Gif: @byedubbbz

Inspiration: Lund// Broken

Can’t tell him, can’t tell anyone. Not gonna mention a word, I can handle this. It’s good for me it helps me cope. As much as I am able to anyway. God was I wrong. I threw some empty bottles of Jack and Absolut into the trash bag and heaved it into the chute down the block. My hood of my black jacket lay low against my damp forehead, strings of hair slick against it. My eyes drooped, pulsing red and accessorised with purple sacks; reminding me of my nightly mistakes. I never did really see it as a problem, for a long time I saw it as an escape, distraction if you will and I never really saw anything wrong with what I did…guess I was just deluded.

Will you end my pain?
Will you take my life?
Will you bleed me out?

It never really did hurt me, sure there were some issues with it; the migraines, the partially failing liver, my skin paling, occasional puking blood but as a self loather you don’t see that, you don’t notice how bad an addiction can leave you; you see right through it. Many positives in my life never drove me, never motivated me to get help, especially since I didn’t tell anyone. Ian, Max, Chad or…or Joji. Sure, they knew about my suffering with depression and aspects of self hate but never put two and two together; the empty glass bottles and liquor stained couch and how I had locks on majority of my flat’s drawers.

Will you hang me out to dry?
Will you take my soul in the midnight rain?
While I’m falling apart
While I’m going…

Like tonight, here I am in a bar, with the boys, unaffected by the substances that were supposed to intoxicate me just gave me an insanely painful stomach pain. Wincing, I placed my hand under my hoodie and gently pushed my palm against my skin, attempting to soothe the pain. Joji noticed this and cocked a brow, about to offer help but I backed away and stumbled to the bathroom.

Blood, spurts of blood and a harsh brown liquid falling from my lips. Groaning, I pulled the flask from my bag and chugged the lot. It numbed my miserable state, it calmed the storm of unusual thoughts that haunted my every move. Wiping stray tears from my face, I wiped my lips and threw my trusty flask into my bag, joining the boys. Chad came back with a tray of beers and a couple rounds of shots. Cautiously, I slid in the booth next to Joji and he placed his hand onto my shaking leg.

Can you break my bones?
Will you tear my skin?
Can you taste my lust?
Can you feel my sin?

“Yo babe are you okay?” He said into my ear, the splitting noise of music boomed around so normal voices would not suffice, I faked a grin and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Mee? Am, I am fannntastic!” I giggled, pressing a kiss to his nose and grabbing some glasses and chugging them down with no breaks and I grinned, stomach churning and I internally burned- emotionally and physically. The thing with hating yourself is, you never know when it will end so you just assume that it doesn’t and for this you punish yourself for being the way you are and it fucking kills you to know that this is what life is. Life is pain and suffering and hate and undeserved love and deserved hatred and accepting yourself as a fucking burden.

See I’m a waste of life
I should just kill myself
Yeah, I could slit my wrists
But it really wouldn’t help

After chugging down liquor for majority of the night, I snuck home and persuaded the guys I could make it down the block to my apartment. Stumbling into my door, I slammed into my glass table and puked over the couch, stinging lactic acid burning my throat.

Sobbing, my emotions crashed all at once like a nuclear explosion, my hands shook and unlocked my stash of bottles. Lids flew across the room, I poured vodka into a glass and swallowed it through clenched teeth, my body rejected it poorly and some dribbled down between my lips, carrying drips of blood.  Wailing, I threw my backpack against the wall and I fell back against the kitchen wall, facing the front door.

Wouldn’t fix my issues
Or change your mind
Cause I broke your heart
And you buried mine
Now I’m 6 feet deep and I can’t breathe
I got dirt in my eyes
And blood on my sleeves

My skin was warmed and I felt fingers creep under my back and lift me in the air, close against their chest. As comforting as it felt to be warmed as an awaking, I felt my stomach churn and flip upside down. Puke poured out of my mouth and hit the floor, my skull felt as if a drill was penetrating it ever so slowly. Slow, murky cries escaped my lips in drawn breaths.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You were near death!”

Joji, oh fuck no not Joji.

“You think I wanted to feel like this…f-feel like this is my only option here, eh Joj?” I croaked, slowly lifting myself up off of the couch. My scarred arms were shown, faint white bumps in lines filled my wrist to upper arm, blotches of purple scabs on my hands from cigarette burns and my mouth slick in vodka and puke. It was painful to see, his eyes search my body in panic and his shaking hands clenching onto his phone.


“An alcoholic, yes. A fucking mess of a human also. Why’d you come here Joji?”

“Your neighbour called me, she was worried you were hurt so I came.”

“Wish you didn’t.”

Will you end my pain?
Will you take my life?
Will you bleed me out?
Will you hang me out to dry?
Will you take my soul in the midnight rain?
While I’m falling apart
While I’m going…

“Well I’m fucking glad I did. I’m glad I managed to find you here at least alive. You think this doesn’t hurt me, to see you a fucking ruin on the tile floor, hands bleeding and clenching onto a bottle of vodka as if your life fucking depends on it. You need help, you deserve help; hell, you deserve so much more than this. This life is unhealthy, it’s not good whatsoever and all you’re gonna do is drink yourself to death doing this!” He cried, voice crackling as his tears patterned his reddened cheeks.

“Maybe that’s what I want.” I groaned, wiping my cheek and slumping down to the floor, loosely holding my legs to my chest.

Will you end my pain?
Will you take my life?
Will you bleed me out?
Will you hang me out to dry?

“No, it’s not what you want. It’s what you think you want, what you think you deserve. You think you deserve this because of what happened to-”

“Don’t you fucking dare mention her name!”

“Then what do you want me to fucking do?! Trample on egg shells trying to avoid why this is happening, it won’t change if you don’t talk about it and admit that that’s why! You can’t…punish yourself for something you couldn’t control.” He spoke more quietly, dipping down to my level. Glancing into his eyes, I felt tears well and he wrapped his arms around my front, picking me up and pulling my legs to wrap around his waist, carrying me into my room with a bottle of water clasped.

Will you take my soul in the midnight rain?
While I’m falling apart
While I’m going…

Sat holding me close on his lap, his hands were trembling against my sickly skin. My skin was prodding, slight bumps of bone revealed my slow and small appetite. Heartbroken wasn’t the word, devastated was an understatement.

“Jo I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

“Shh, we’ll-we’ll find something just like we always do, okay? We always work it out and we’ll get you some help and we’ll clean the place and rid of your alcohol and and find you a hobby or something.” His hands swirled in the bath he had ran, gently placing me into it with caution. He poured the warm water from a jug down my back and through my messy strands. Closing my eyes, I cried silently with my knees to my chest, allowing him to wash my body from dirt and sweat, removing the grease from my hair.

“We’ll get somewhere soon, just rest for now. We’ll make it somehow, baby, I promise.”

Don’t you miss me when I’m gone
Cause you’re the fucking reason that I’m not around
Don’t you miss me when I’m, miss me when I’m gone
Cause you’re the fucking reason that I’m not around
Fucking reason that I’m not around
Bitch you’re the fucking reason that I’m not around

@notreallyablackwell ||  angel princess sugar plum fairy meets neighborhood bad boy

of course he had heard about the party. had probably been one of the first people to hear about it outside of her small group of friends ( it’s lowkey, though. ) or so they had thought. it only took about an hour before bellamy had managed to let all of his friends on in the next big rager. the cute little brunette would have a birthday party she would never forget. this means bringing as much bottles of alcohol they could muster up. cans of beer. hard liquor. he even bought some wine coolers ( girls like the fruity stuff, right? ) maybe it would help once she saw how many people filed in after him. of course, when he finally gets to the place, he can already see unwanted people inside.

bellamy hoists up a brown bag filled with the gifts and glances at the group of guys behind him. they’re all far too excited about crashing the small party. they hadn’t yet had a big party of the year – yet. as soon as he steps past the threshold, dark charcoal colored eyes find the host of the party. waiting to see her reaction to the new guests. it wouldn’t be polite of him not to say hello to her.

sailorstkwrning replied to your post: What Shall We Call Ourselves?

hockey rpf, Unlovely Crocuses

“Hi,” Claude says into the phone, and Tyler reaches out across the bed and legit hits him right the face. On purpose.

“Ahaha,” Tyler giggles, collapsing back onto the pillows.

“What the fuck, bitch?” Claude yells at him. “Who let you in here?” Claude kicks him in the leg, hard, so hard he kind of falls over backwards into the covers himself.

Somebody let a lot of people in here, he thinks, tilting his head upside down, and here is —

“It’s our fucking room, man,” Tyler laughs. “What are you doing?”

“I’m on the phone,” Claude explains, because maybe tiny baby hockey muffins like Segway are too young to remember how you can call people on your phone. It’s all, like, Snapchat now.

“It’s all Snapchat and shit now,” Claude says into the phone. “Kids nowadays,” he adds, trying it on for size.

“Did you call me to complain about being old?” Danny asks. “Because you’re barking up the wrong tree, buddy.”

“No,” Claude says. Danny sounds great. “Hey, we won,” Claude tells him. “You sound great.” Something hits Claude on the foot.

“I heard,” Danny says. “I mean, I heard you won. I sound pretty much the same as always.”

“Yeah,” Claude says.

“Caelan texted to say you had your dick out on the internet,” Danny continues, “but I’m just going to not look and pretend it’s not true.”

“Oh shit,” Claude says. “I don’t think I did.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” Danny tells him. It’s weirdly soothing anyway.

“Don’t let him show you,” Claude says seriously. If he made an ass of himself on the internet Danny doesn’t need to see. That’s the deal.

“I’ve seen your dick, Clo,” Danny says, replete with amusement, and Claude stretches his legs out on the bed and thinks about falling asleep.

Danny calls him at eight a.m. Prague time, which is an America time that Claude is not physically capable of computing right now.

“Holy god,” he whispers into the phone. How is Tyler sleeping through this incredible noise? Who is that on the couch? “What time is it there?” he asks.

“You realize you called me at ten thirty last night bombed out of your mind just to pass out on me and maybe choke on your own puke?” Danny says. He does not sound nearly as worried as he should be about that eventuality.

“Hnh,” Claude replies. “Maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Danny says fondly. “Also, your dick is all over the internet. When are you going home?”

“Now,” Claude says miserably. He sits up and his stomach makes a run for it via his spleen, and oh, hurrgh, no no no — “Ugh, later,” he amends, lying back down as carefully as he can.

Later is apparently Thursday night, when Claude walks into his well-furnished, poorly-habitated penthouse carrying a suitcase full of underwear and four hockey bags and finds fifteen years of someone else’s good decisions sitting at his kitchen table eating cereal.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Claude says. “How long have you been here?”

“Remember when you used to not say fuck around us?” Carson asks, setting his wet spoon on the counter.

“Yeah, you were ten,” Claude retorts. “Put that in the fucking sink. Where’s your brother?”

“Which one?” Carson replies, so laconically snide that Claude is almost proud.

Almost; it’s nearly midnight and he’s tired and maybe still hungover? Signs point to yes. His stomach hates him forever now.

“The one who lives in this fucking city,” Claude says. His bags take up the entire foyer. He does not want to unpack.

“Okay, enough with the fucking, come on,” Carson says.

“You’re fifteen,” Claude says, finally giving in to a smile. “You’re not allowed to say ‘enough with the fucking’, we’re gonna think something’s wrong with you.” Carson looks good, healthy and fit and relaxed in Claude’s house. He hasn’t seen him since Easter when Sylvie had a minor lapse in judgment and let the boys stay over and eat too much candy and pizza and lose at the retro pack of video games Claude had found at a Value Village downtown.

Good times, Claude thinks. He forgets he misses them, sometimes, with hockey the way it is. It’s easy to forget that there’s anything more important; it’s easy to lose track of a time when hockey wasn’t the first thing he thought of when he woke up.

When he sees them again, though, he remembers.

“Does this go in the bedroom?” Carson asks, hoisting a bag like it’s nothing, and Claude stops standing around feeling things and picks up his shit like an adult.

“Hey, Carson,” Claude says. Carson is almost his height now, his head not so far under the doorjamb as he leads Claude into the guest room. He must tower over his dad.

“Yeah?” Carson says, not turning around. 

“What are you doing here? If it’s to tell me my dick’s all over the internet, you got scooped. You can go home.”

“I know about your dick,” Carson says, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t ever say that again,” Claude tells him.

The stand there staring at the bags, still life with idiots, until Claude thinks he should maybe try again.

“Carse?” he tries. “Are things okay at school?”

“I just wanted to talk to you,” Carson says evasively.

“Uh huh,” Claude says. “And your brother’s not at the Greyhound station right now or something, right?”

“You’re such a good dad,” Carson says, palpably sarcastic, and, oh, ouch. Claude remembers a time when that wasn’t a — “He’s at home with mom. They know I’m here. Everything’s fine.”

“Everything’s not fine,” Claude says. 

“Yeah?” Carson says.

“Did you come over here just to sulk?” Claude says. “I was gonna pass out and then go pick up the dogs from the boarding place in the morning, but you can stick around and be mad if you want.” Carson makes a humph of distaste and turns his dark, dark brown eyes on Claude, fond but annoyed.

Carson looks a lot like his mother, but when he looks at Claude like that, when his mouth turns in just such a way —

“I think Dad’s gonna retire,” Carson says.

“Oh,” Claude says. They should leave this room: his hockey bags fucking reek. He could use about six glasses of water, a sandwich, and a beer. He could also use a sixteen-hour nap, but it doesn’t look like he’s getting that anytime soon.

“I don’t know if I,” Carson starts. “It’s — it’s good, right?”

“Okay. Tell me why it’s good?” Claude asks. Fuck it, he’s leaving. “Come on, let me get a snack.”

Carson follows him at a distance, his feet trudging slower than on their way in; he is audibly distressed. Claude hopes he didn’t just fuck up one of his scant opportunities at teenaged-boy honesty and forthrightness, but shit, he’s thirsty.

“It’s good because he’ll be back here,” Carson says when Claude has the ice out and is smacking the tray on the counter. “Right?”

“Yes,” Claude says. “That is a good thing. You miss him, don’t front.”

“Of course I fucking miss him,” Carson snaps. “He’s my dad.”

Teenagers are cryptic fucking miasmas of emotional disruption, Claude has learned. They are the only people who make Claude look chill besides, evidently, Tyler Seguin, and Claude has learned to roll with it.

“Hey now,” he says mildly. “No more fucking. Them’s the rules.”

“Yeah, about that,” Carson says, way too goddamned smoothly, “is it going to be weird having you and Dad living in the same city again?” and Claude snorts his mouthful of icewater out his nose.

“What the fuck,” Claude gasps.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Carson asks.

“I’m fine,” Claude says, mopping his face off with the dishtowel. “Jesus Christ, who raised you?”

Carson opens his mouth like a flash, and Claude shakes his head.

“It’s going to be fine,” Claude says firmly. “Okay? We’re still friends,” he adds.

Carson sighs. He looks so odd in this place, leaning on Claude’s counter in jeans and a T-shirt, nearly as old as the baby rookies who stumble into the Flyers’ locker rooms on a yearly basis. When did Claude get this old?

Did Claude get old? Should he have grown up more by now?

He has an IIHF gold medal in the bottom of his suitcase and a fifteen-year-old hockey-playing delinquent in his kitchen, and he still doesn’t know if he made the right choice, back when he had the chance.

“Still friends,” Carson says, “or still friends?” 

Jesus, that’s some fucking audacity, Claude thinks, but he can’t say he’s not sleeping in the bed he made. It’s so hard to tell what difference he really made, in the short time he was there. It’s hard to say he made an impact; it’s hard to think he shouldn’t have made more of one.

He made the choices he made. Even Danny’s kids stayed in Philly, Claude thinks, but it never makes it feel any better.

“We still talk to each other,” Claude says. “I called him on Sunday.”

“Yeah,” Carson says, sour with disappointment and hurt, and fuck, yeah, fine; Claude knows perfectly well what the right choice was, but it’s too late to go back now.

You Belong To Me

Summary: Crowley x Reader - The reader has to act like bait on a case and ends up running into Crowley, months after having run out on him after a one night stand

Triggers: Possessiveness I guess?? 

Word Count: 4381

Y/N = Your name  Y/H/C = Your hair colour


“So… That’s why I’d say our best hope is for you to play the bait on this one (Y/N),” Dean said, finishing his explanation of the case he’d thrown your way the moment you entered their motel room that morning. Which was, you noted, much bigger than yours. The lady at the check-in counter had been playing favourites when she assigned you your rooms. “Basically, you play both the stick and the carrot, he’s the ass and we’re the final destination,” he summed up, Eyeing you warily over the cup of coffee Sam had just placed in his hand, his tense shoulders seemed to be anticipating the verbal onslaught he was sure you’d give him.

“That makes sense,” You said without batting an eyelid. Most girls would’ve probably refused to take on the role you were asked to play in the hunt, but you were a soldier, you knew that the way with the least possible casualties was the best route to take. Plus, Dean’s plan was pretty much foolproof as long as the asshole fell for the bait. You would engage your target and try to get him to follow you back to the motel room where the guys would be waiting with some TLC of their own. You knew, after weeks of tailing the greasy bastard, that he was more or less quiet in between kills. And he loved women. So as Dean’s eyes widened from your readiness to take on the dangerous role of the bait in his plan you crossed your arms over your torso.

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‘If carrots got you drunk, rabbits would be messed-up’ [”Fluff”]

Originally posted by ygdomination

No smut this time, sorry. I’m not in the smutty mindset, so here’s a bit of a “prequel” to the Singles Awareness Day AU – inspired by my own sentiments…

Three cheers for not having a beta! Ignore my potential mistakes. :D

You have to read at least the first part to fully understand what I’m connecting to.

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Ultimate Cheeseburger with onion rings
Tomato ketchup, American mustard, Red Leicester cheese, blue cheese, cheddar cheese, maple glazed bacon, beef patty.

Bread: choose your preferred roll, I like plain white. Crusty on the outside but soft in the middle. Mmm. Make sure you toast it.

Onion rings: mix Cajun seasoning, pepper, garlic powder, flour in a freezer bag. Put in onion rings and shake to coat. Then, make a mix of the same flour mixture, but add beer (I use Becks but you can use whatever). Thicker batter gives better onion rings. Then put them in a deep fryer until golden brown. Tip: make them earlier and only half fry them. This way you can cook way more at once without them sticking together.

Meat: paprika, garlic powder, pepper, salt. Mix with mince meat (I used beef). 125g = 1 patty. Flatten out into patties that are slightly larger than the rolls. Put them on baking paper, stack them, put a plate on top, and refrigerate for at least an hour. Then put them in a frypan with some oil and cook them most of the way through. When they’re nearly done, put some cheese on top, cover with a lid or Pyrex bowl, and let the cheese melt.

[This is a bit of a higher-spoon recipe, but shepherd’s pie is a great casserole-type dish to prepare when you have a few spoons to spare, since once it’s done you can just pop it in the fridge and eat it for leftovers all week long!]

Brown ground beef (or other protein) in a large saucepan. Add salt, pepper, and wine or beer (optional), and add a bag of frozen mixed vegetables. Cook through, then add ~1 tablespoon [15 mL] flour or starch to thicken. 

As your filling cooks, prepare mashed potatoes. You can use anything from whole potatoes to powdered reconstituted potatoes, depending on your needs or spoons. 

Dump the filling into an oven-safe container, then spread potatoes on top. Brown under the broiler for ~15 minutes, or until potatoes are crispy on top!

For easier cleanup, use a stovetop-to-oven saucepan such as a Le Creuset enameled pot to cook your filling. Then, you can just spread the potatoes over the cooked filling directly in the pot and pop it into the oven without making another dish dirty.

Drunken Celebration

Paring: John/Paul

Rating: R

Set in: 1958

Summary: John waits for Paul after school to celebrate Paul’s birthday together in a nearby, abandoned shed-like thing with some booze.

Disclaimer: This is fictional and I do not make money from this. The Beatles aren’t mine.

Summer was on its way and it was already nice and warm in Liverpool. The sun was shining brightly and ruthlessly through the windows into the already hot classrooms. And it wasn’t even midday yet. It was nearly lunch-time and Paul had never felt more relieved to leave the classroom then when the teacher finally said they could go. He jumped up from his seat, collected his stuff, threw it in his bag and quickly stumbled out of the classroom. He had to hurry up. John would be waiting for him.

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