drunk on the idea of love

*A small young girl appears

A fan-art? Kinda? I don’t know.
Recently I discovered an undertale blog by the name of @ask-drunk-chara. At first glance it looked hilarious, but then stuff turned darker, which is understandable, but sad none-the-less. So I decided to cheer poor human with a nice chocolate box and a lovely smile from my little Cassandra (I’ve no idea why she ended up looking so creepy, though D=).

Before I go: I’m unsure of whether the author of the blog, @hawker-rawr, is gonna respond to this little thing or not, but if she does, I’m gonna make the girliest fanscream I could possibly do. =D

the marauders’ sixth year at hogwarts is that thirty seconds in the lion king when nala and simba are on their own talking  and flirting and generally falling in love while timon, aka sirius, is watching from afar with disgust and incredulity and a bitter taste in his mouth


sans making awful decisions 101.
(aka my take at slapstick comedy.
being a comedian himself, i’m sure sans will be able to appreciate it once he gets over the absolute horror he just went through)

i honestly can’t decide whether this is hilarious or terrifying (both?), and i have no idea why i made it exist but here you go. it exists.

it’s terrible and i should feel terrible but i don’t and i won’t.

(PS who else loves the idea of sans getting drunk off of ketchup? is that no one else’s aesthetic? come on i know you people who agree are out there.)

Hamilton, an American Musical: a summary
  • Alexander Hamilton:Damn, this kid survived and then some
  • Aaron Burr, Sir:I have no idea what I'm doing
  • My Shot:But it seems like none of you do either!
  • The Story of Tonight:We have heartwarming aspirations
  • The Schuyler Sisters:Fuck the patriarchy
  • Farmer Refuted:Bro the king's not going to do anything
  • You'll Be Back:Oh shit, I guess he is
  • Right Hand Man:Desk work??? You've got to be kidding
  • Winter's Ball:I think we're drunk
  • Helpless:This is the best love story ever
  • Satisfied:Never mind
  • The Story of Tonight Reprise:We're definitely drunk
  • Wait For It:Surprise, surprise! I do have ambitions!
  • Ten Duel Commandments:Could this be foreshadowing? Nah
  • Meet Me Inside:I done fucked up
  • That Would Be Enough:Apparently my wife doesn't mind
  • Guns and Ships:We're kicking ass. Alex! Come kick ass with us!
  • History Has Its Eyes on You:Okay son time to tell you how the world works
  • Yorktown:Everyone's kicking ass except the British
  • What Comes Next?:Time for King George to have a hissy fit
  • Dear Theodosia:This love is so pure oh my god
  • Non-Stop:I'm still kicking ass but now I'm a lawyer
  • What'd I Miss:All-American dance party
  • Cabinet Battle #1:Well I lost that argument AND control of my emotions!
  • Take a Break:Sorry fam I have to stay here and obsess over banks
  • Say No to This:An affair? Well, I'm only a politician with a lot of money. What could possibly go wrong?
  • The Room Where It Happens:Politics are frustrating
  • Schuyler Defeated:Is this about me? Of course it is. Everything's about me
  • Cabinet Battle #2:Screw France we gotta look out for America
  • Washington On Your Side:We like to call ourselves the Bitter Squad
  • One Last Time:You guys are exhausting I'm out
  • I Know Him:Your baby nation antics are amusing to me
  • The Adams Administration:I will roast everyone
  • We Know:Okay now I know what could go wrong
  • Hurricane:My past is sad
  • The Reynolds Pamphlet:Turns out I will also roast myself
  • Burn:Alex is a self centered little shit
  • Blow Us All Away:I'm my father's son: combative and full of pride
  • Stay Alive Reprise:Whoops
  • It's Quiet Uptown:There could not be a worse coincidence than that stupid pamphlet and our son's death
  • The Election of 1800:Okay I know I'm supposed to be grieving but here's one final roast for y'all
  • Your Obedient Servant:Passive aggressive fight turns into real fight
  • Best of Wives and Best of Women:The hell are you going boy
  • The World Was Wide Enough:Whoops Pt 2
  • Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story:Eliza wins the prize for best character growth you can all go home

You only call me when you’re drunk and I answer
every time. I shut my bedroom door behind me
so my mother doesn’t hear your voice crawl out of my phone.
In the bed next to me, my best friend sighs in her sleep
like she knows we’re playing ring-around-the-rosy
with each other’s throats again.

You only call me when you’re drunk and you say the same thing
every time. Something about regret. Something about love.
Something about their feeling the same. Something about their
tasting different.

You only call me when you’re drunk and I swallow my teeth
every time. I count the cracks in my ceiling. I watch drunk kids
stumble down Lexington. I toy with the idea of smoking in my room.

You only call me when you’re drunk and this is what I want to say
every time. You should have loved me while you could.
You should have loved me while you could.



from This Is How We Find Each Other

i see a lot of fic/headcanons where fake ah crew geoff sort of opens his penthouse to the crew like, sure, stay here if you want, we’re all family, mi casa es su casa

but i also just immensely love the idea of, instead of that, the crew just relentlessly integrates themselves into his life whether he likes it or not

like one night they’re at the penthouse celebrating a heist well done and everybody’s grumbling about having to drive home late and most of them are drunk and geoff sighs like, well, okay, i’ve got some guest rooms

but then a couple weeks later michael shows up out of the blue to watch it’s always sunny and pushes past geoff into the penthouse as soon as the door is opened and geoff is like, um.

and then a week after that jack lets herself into his place (when??? did she get a key????) because according to her she has damn well earned a long, restful bath this week and your bathtub is the size of most family-sized jacuzzis so move the fuck over and let me use my new bath bomb, and geoff is like, um????

and then later he notices that there are like forty-seven cans of red bull in his fridge from gavin and geoff is all hold on a second here—

and then finally one morning he stumbles into his kitchen, exhausted and probably hungover, only for fucking ryan to hand him a mug of coffee, and he mumbles thanks automatically and then it’s like that one avengers post and geoff goes “HOW DID YOU GET INTO MY HOUSE?”

“ray let me in.” (”’sup,” says ray from the living room.)


“dude, i’ve been living here for the past week and a half.”

hi, it’s me, and it’s been so long that the idea of me is probably a long-gone garden you once got your hands good and dirty on

but i just wanted to see you, i wanted to see if you remember the taste of my tongue at two in the morning when we were both drunk. i wanted to know if you remember my secrets and carry them in the lines of your palms. i wanted to know if your calendar is full of dates that sing of us, of what was, of the night we fell in love, of the day we spent hiking through deep woods, of first touching each other in the gentle shy dark, of the morning it all fell apart. 

do you stand like me, paralyzed in parks, overwhelmed by what you lost? do you flinch when the thought of me comes? does it come?

do you sleep alone or is there a new person you’re sewing into your heart? do you still steal the covers, do you still get too warm, are you still a little afraid of the dark? do you still drink too much caffeine and got lost in books and love chocolate chip cookies? do you remember me? the things i told you, the things you promised me, the moments that we spent learning each other - do you remember what i did? could you tell me what made you leave?

i just wanted to see you. i just wanted to see you. god, i hope you’re happy.

—  what if i could make myself go see how you’re doing // r.i.d