not enough alcohol for this

pjungkook  asked:

jikook, 11!!! ❤

isa T^T ily, thank you

11. things you said when you were drunk

send me a ship and one of these and i’ll write a mini fic

jeongguk’s arm hung around his hyung’s neck, pulling him down onto his own bed. the younger was a giggling mess as he pressed his face into jimin’s shoulder probably drooling on his shirt.

“hyung,” he was slurring, vowel stretched, making jimin joining his giggling. it was the first time they went out drinking together. some of their hyungs at high school had thrown a party and they were lucky enough to get their hands on the alcohol there. honestly though, jimin didn’t drink that much, because the taste was gross. still drunk enough to laugh about stupid stuff with jeongguk.

“yeah?” his voice was raspy, his throat burned slightly. but that was okay, he didn’t mind it that much. jeongguk was enough of a distraction anyway.

“hyung, you’re great, y’know that?” jeongguk’s lips were now right next to jimin’s ear, making the boy shudder slightly, “i know that i’m brushing you off a lot of times, ‘m sorry.” 

it was a weird feeling, having his heart beating twice as fast when drunk. he was scared that his rip cage might explode so that the butterflies in his chest would fly around, disturbing the grey undertone of his dark room. 

“’n you are so pretty, hyung, it’s amazing,” jimin turned his head at this. and yes, he might have been a little drunk (or maybe only tipsy, he wasn’t able to tell the difference yet), but he still felt when his cheek heated up and saw the equal blush that was creeping up on jeongguk’s cheeks and the tips of his ears.

they both turned away, facing the ceiling. “uh,” jimin let out, but before he could say something, he felt fingers sliding in between his own, warm and a little sweaty. 

after that they remained in silence. jimin looked out of the window, watching the stars. he tried to count them but soon jeongguk’s snoring interrupted him, making the corners of his mouth curl funnily, heart beating faster again. jimin didn’t move a single the whole night, neither did he sleep. listening to the steady breathing, occasionally interrupted by loud snores, he stayed awake the whole night. 

jimin only fell asleep when the birds started to tweet happily, singing the happy song of a bright morning.

Obscure Angel Memes
  • [points to anything that isn’t an animal] that’s some good 6th day of creation shit
  • substituting curse words with words from dead languages
  • “Good job, Gabriel. “
  • arguing over which wing is more important to flight
  • “I can’t believe it’s not the Roman empire!”
  • God said let there be [anything that wasn’t included in the days of creation]
  • “Not Babylon again”
  • dinosaur bones in places they shouldn’t be
  • “it takes a village to raise the antichrist”
  • [playing Highway to Hell on a harp}
  • “Mount Vesuvius was a clerical error”
  • coming up with creative names for poisonous plants, then giving them to Michael as a new hair product
  • “Just because Jesus took a 3 day nap doesn’t mean you get one”
  • “I’ve got the body of a loaf of bread and enough alcohol in my veins to be called Jesus, too”
  • [anytime something bad happens] at least it’s not leprosy
  • the weekly game of “Worse Than Judas?”  that involves the angels competing to find the worst human alive
Uncle Popeye Fucks Up Hunting So Bad Legislation Happens

(Gun use, alcohol mention, amazingly- no animal death)

So you may remember Uncle Popeye from A Holiday Story, when he and grandpa tried to shoot a pheasant and fucked it up real bad.  I called the Ohio Relatives.  They have no idea how the family knew Popeye either, but that his given name was Richard, but got tired of being called “Dick” and after losing an eye in WW2, went by Popeye.

Look man, Ohio DOES things to people.

Popeye fancied himself the Great Outdoors-man, despite a long list of evidence to the contrary- besides the shooting incident, there was the time he got lost in the woods behind his house for a week despite being less than a mile from his house and six major roads, the time he almost poisoned the whole family after mushrooming in the hills only to be stopped by GG, and the time he got in a fight with a Woodcock and Lost.

The worst though, was Snowflake.

Near where my Ohio relatives lived, and continue to live, there is a Military Armory. (You know that joke about “If all your relatives all live in the same postcode, you might be a redneck?”  Yeah, check that.  Mom was the first to leave the state, and keeps urging the others that they are free to leave, they can’t keep you there. But I digress).  The armory is actually kind of a large campus, several hundred acres in size, where they take lots of old munitions and aircraft and whatnot, and figure out how to take apart and dispose of them without blowing everything up to fuck. The whole area is fenced off to keep the locals from helping themselves to the munitions (A serious issue in redneck country), which trapped the deer in the forest inside.  

The deer, no longer having to worry about hunters, but cut off from the outside population, basically went full Deliverance, and the resulting mutants are… rather pretty.  

The mutation is Luecistism, not albinism, but it makes for pretty, pretty very stupid deer.  Like, even dumber than white-tail already are, and whitetail are DUMB.  But the deer on the armory could afford to be easy to spot and have no natural fear of anything, because there were no predators or hunters, and the soldiers stationed there had better things to do

The prettiest of them all was Snowflake, the large white buck named Snowflake, because soldiers are great at naming things.  He was, by all accounts, a truly splendid creature- snow-white and shapely, with a well-developed rack.  Not unlike a porn star, apparently.  And many a man Lusted after snowflake, desperate for his head.

Or other things.  Ohio’s a pretty fucked up place.

But unlike other men, who would only stare wistfully from afar, Popeye was absolutely determined to have Snowflake.  The issue was, the military, having a few moments of sense, had decreed that having people wandering around a munitions decommissioning plant with firearms was likely to result in fire and death, declared that there was to be no hunting on their grounds.  The only way Popeye could feasibly shoot Snowflake would be if he were somehow able to get him on the other side of the fence.  But he couldn’t just cut a hole in the fence- it was fairly regularly checked, and he’d be caught.  Nope.  Somehow, Popeye had to get Snowflake on the other side of the fence without damaging it or the Military noticing.

It was during an afternoon of boozing and watching western documentaries, Popeye hit upon a solution.  He was watching a tourism promotion for all the great outdoor activities in Colorado, when he saw the solution to his problem.

He could FISH for deer.

Specifically, he fly-fish.  In his mind, he could clearly see how it would play out.  he’d simply find a heavy-duty line, cast it over the fence, tangling it in Snowflake’s antlers, and then reel him over the fence, where it would be perfectly legal to shoot him and then he’d be the envy of all the men down at the elks lodge.  Hah!  Genius!

So that spring, Popeye began tossing corn over the fence to lure deer to that particular secluded corner, and was immensely pleased when Snowflake started turning up regularly.  He’d get his trophy AND some fat venison!  All summer and into fall, he continued this, with the deer getting entirely too casual about his presence.  he also got his hands on some deep-sea fishing line and practiced ensnaring the antlers of his dummy deer in the backyard.  Just to make sure he had the leverage to haul Snowflake in, he got the harness that attaches the pole to your hip.  All was going according to plan.

So the first day of hunting season, Popeye goes to his corner where he’s been feeding the deer, and Snowflake is there, waiting for breakfast.  Great.  Popeye backs his pickup truck up to the fence, and stands on the bed so he can cast over the fence.  The deer, being imbeciles, fail to notice anything amiss.  He casts, and miracle of miracles, he gets the loop over Snowflake’s antlers on the first try!  Popeye whips the line around some more, making sure Snowflake is good and tangled, before reeling him in.

Apparently snowflake just stood there for this part, presumably looking confused.  Then the line began to pull on him.

As Popeye would later recount from the hospital:  “That’s when I realized.  Deer ain’t Mackinaw.”

Popeye had, in all his planning,  not taken into consideration that a 200-pound buck at the height of his testosterone-riddled rut might be somewhat disinclined to be pulled over a fence.  Furthermore, Popeye had failed to account that at 5′5″, he was of similar size to the deer, and in nowhere near as good of shape.

He recalled ALMOST flying over the fence as Snowlfake turned and ran for the safety of the base.  He did not quite make it, and cracked both knees as they slammed into the fence, jeans and harness shredding on the barbed wire.  it was not enough to separate him from the harness, only enough to slide it down his legs and tangle around his ankles, so that once he hit the ground, Popeye was dragged for half a goddamn mile by his feet as Snowflake frantically tried to get away.

Once at the base, and all manner of bruised, cut up and abused, Popeye was relieved when they finally came to a halt.  he regretted it half a second later when he realized that Snowflake had only turned around, and was now bearing down on his sorry ass full-tilt.  Several puncture and kick wounds later, Popeye managed to kick off the harness, freeing himself from Snowflake, and had to run back to where he thought he’d left the truck.  In the middle of the night, in the woods, with cracked patellas and without pants.

It took him all night to find the fence and truck, but managed to get back over the fence and to the hospital without being spotted. In a fit of paranoia that almost pased for good sense, he drove to three counties away to be treated, so the police wouldn’t find him, bleeding all the way.  He neglected beforehand, to tell any of his friends or family where he was going, except that he was deer-hunting.

He was very disappointed when he turned up a week later and found out nobody had gone looking for him.

 Snowflake was found tangled up in a tree, and was cut loose by the soldiers, apparently upset but unharmed.  Concerned that the poachers were getting too creative for their own good, the base petitioned the state legislature to maybe make a law that you aren’t allowed to fish for deer, Christ, we only found the poor man’s pants.

The state legislature, in a fit of rabid libertarianism, declared that such a law would be too restrictive upon the freedom of Ohioans, so the Army tried the country.  The county, which had to actually deal with this kind of bullshit on a semi-regular basis, agreed, and it is now illegal to Hunt any bird, fish or quadruped with devices and equipment not intended for such purpose.

Popeye never went deer-hunting after that, and Snowflake went on to sire many many more pretty inbred deer.

I wish I could be better for you. God, please make me better for you.
—  another-broken-hello
The sound of her laugh is better than any song on the radio and she smiles like it’s her job. She has love letters stashed in the back of her desk addressed to all the boys who have kept her up at night, making her wonder if she’ll ever really be good enough. She drinks hard alcohol in an attempt to forget him, but always finds herself dialing his number after 12:00 AM. She eats French toast sticks before school and smiles at the strangers on the bus. She sings at the top of her lungs and taps her feet to the rhythms dancing in her head. Although she’s hurting, you’d never know. It’s not a love story, but god she wishes it was.
—  letters to my best friends, #1
How much is your soul worth?
Once, you would have said priceless,
but your employer has haggled it down to
fifteen - no, twelve - no, eight dollars an hour,
and no benefits.
Some days, the work is light. You earn less.
You feel worse.
You tried drinking,
but the hangovers made it impossible to earn enough money
to afford more alcohol
to get more hangovers.
You settle for a quarter bag of potato chips, a warm soda,
and reruns on a borrowed Netflix account.
That is your payoff for making it through the day.
Adulthood wasn’t supposed to feel so flat.
You’re doing what you love - what you thought you loved -
and that is the worst part.
(Besides the rent and the utilities and the walking to work
and the constant pain in places you’ve never has pain
and the sickening dread that it will get worse,
it will all get worse.)
You wipe your mouth with a diploma that has never
gotten you a second interview.
Your best friend hasn’t called in two weeks.
She is engaged,
and you’ve only met him once.
Today you re-wear your sweaty socks
because you just have enough quarters
for one load of laundry, and not until Thursday.
On Skype, your parents smile
and ask if you need anything.
The wrinkles around their eyes have deepened.
You swallow your tongue when they ask you
if you’re making it in the big city.
Are you creating the art you’ve always dreamed of?
You pick at your comforter and tell them, of course you are.
You own the city.
In reality, the leather notebook that they gave you at graduation
sits unopened and empty in your dresser drawer,
beneath two filthy shirts
and underwear that you should have washed last week,
(but, you know, the quarters).
I’m making it, you say.
I’m making it,
and they smile at you, and you smile back,
and they say they are so proud.
—  What Do You Want to Be When You Grow Up?

Running into former high school classmates at the bars

I feel like when we were growing up, we were told that addicts and alcoholics were these bad people with no real direction in life. We were taught to “Just say no to drugs!” And if you didn’t, you would end up looking like you were 68 instead of 28. They left out the part that worst thing about addiction isn’t losing everything you have but losing yourself.

They didn’t tell us that years later we would be on our hands and knees searching desperately for change so we would have enough money to buy alcohol at the store. They left out the part where being sober feels like the worst thing in the world because you can’t stand another minute without being numb to it all.

They didn’t tell us that addiction is a disease and those of us who suffer from it are sick.

I wasn’t ready for this.

Merry Christmas to all Destiel shippers out there, I love you all! ❄

“Come on, Cas… I’ve got something to show you.”

Dean impatiently pulls Castiel along, leading him through the halls of the bunker, afraid that he’ll chicken out if he doesn’t get this show on the road right now. It’s Christmas Eve, and neither of them are actually drunk, but they are both pleasantly buzzed. Truth be told, there’s just enough alcohol in Dean’s system for him to not lose the courage to do what he’s been planning to do all day.

Their shoulders bump as they walk, Dean’s hand loosely grasping Castiel’s wrist. The angel doesn’t seem to mind, and Dean considers that a good start. He’s going to do this. He can do this. Because if he doesn’t do it now, he probably never will.

When they reach Dean’s room, Dean tugs his friend inside and firmly closes the door behind them. He sits on the edge of the bed, patting the empty space beside him to invite Cas to follow his example. Cas does, with a gentle smile and a hint of curiosity in those big blue eyes. God, Dean is such a sucker for those eyes; the look Cas gives him is going to make this either more difficult or -if Dean’s shitty luck takes a day off for once-, a bit easier.

Now that they’re both sitting here in their ugly Christmas sweaters (Donna had decided to knit one for everyone, and Sam had insisted that it would be rude not to wear them tonight), Dean realizes how utterly ridiculous his plan probably is. And this whole situation for that matter.

Yet, somewhere in some hidden corner of his being he gathers the strength to blurt out what he’d been dying to say all day.

“So yeah, Cas… About that other Christmas present that I mentioned earlier, the one I’d rather give you in private…” Dean clears his throat, stalling, deep down afraid of Castiel’s reaction.

But Cas’ eyes light up as he clearly remembers that promise, and it encourages Dean to keep going.

“I just… It’s something I kinda wanted to give you for a long time, but you can totally say no if it’s… if it’s not something you want.”

Cas looks confused now, and Dean’s voice fails to offer any more words. And so Dean points to the ceiling, hoping that the message will come across without him having to say it out loud. To let Cas know what he wants, Dean Winchester style.

Playing along immediately, Castiel tilts his head and follows Dean gaze, slowly blinking at the mistletoe that’s hanging right over their heads, there were Dean had put it up earlier that day when he’d come up with plan ’finally-confess-those-feelings-to-Cas’.

There’s a long silence, during which Dean feels his heart sink to his stomach, afraid that he ruined everything. And on freaking Christmas Eve, nonetheless. Stupid, stupid Dean.

But then he feels a warm hand on the side of his neck. And another one on his knee. And the second he actually lowers his gaze to look at Cas, soft lips are already crashing into Dean’s with so much eagerness that it instantly makes Dean giddy. He kisses back without a second thought, pulling Cas as close as physically possible. When they’re both out of breath they slow down, taking turns, pressing butterfly kisses to each other’s lips. After a while, they’re just resting their foreheads together, neither of them talking.

Dean’s thankful for the not talking part. He prefers actions, and he’s glad that Cas gets it. The two of them have a special way of talking, one that they can both understand without saying a word.

The only words that Cas gives him are “Merry Christmas, Dean”, and Dean enthusiastically says them back.

Sky Blue FC

Sky Blue FC enter the Starbucks in a whirlwind of energy. Two players get distracted by a dog before they even get to the counter. Sam Kerr does a backflip. Someone finds a watermelon and adopts it. Once the team has ordered, Christie Rampone quietly asks the baristas to make all the coffees decaf. She’s not able to stop the frat daddies, led by Kelley O’Hara, from slipping Skyy Blue vodka into their drinks, however.

“best friends in love” larry aka my favourite thing

  • when they’re cuddling after drinking a few glasses of wine harry takes louis’ hands in-between his own, they’re quiet for a while and then harry whispers “your hands are so tiny” and louis groans because oh no here we go again, and harry starts rambling and giggling “just look how much bigger my thumb is, this is so funny, look at them lou… you’re so much smaller than me..”
  • harry trying to teach louis how to bake, but louis is too stubborn to ask for help or admit he’s made a mistake. when they get their muffins out of the oven and harry tries one and ends up spitting it out because louis may have accidentally poured half a cup of salt in the batter, it was still completely harry’s fault for being too cute and distracting him
  • in the summer they’re outside enjoying the sun when louis gets up from their blanket on the grass and asks harry if he wants something to drink; harry replies with yes please and louis goes inside. he comes back with a water jug and plastic cups, and harry is lying so peacefully with his eyes closed louis just can’t resist and he dumps the entire jug of cold water on him. the older boy starts giggling at harry’s squeal and then runs inside to safety because harry will certainly want his revenge
  • So Many inside jokes… niall and liam are constantly annoyed because sometimes harry would say something like “ballet underwater” while they’re all eating breakfast together and it would make louis choke on his tea and the couple would always refuse to share the joke with them
  • sending memes to each other in the middle of the night when they’re apart (yes they do this and louis thinks the memes harry sends him might be even worse than his knock knock jokes, but he still laughs at them)
Frat Boy Pt. 8

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6,  part 7 (1), part 7 (2)

HELLO FRIENDS HE HAS RETURNED TO YOU. It’s shorter than most updates, but necessary things are happening to push the story along and one mystery is revealed! It’s always lovely to hear your thoughts or guesses about what’s happening. Your frat boy has missed you xx

It’d been an utter disaster.  You hadn’t eaten much at all last night and the dull throbbing in your head was a reminder that alcohol on an empty stomach wasn’t the best idea.  Especially when it’d been expensive enough to be smooth and light and what you think alcohol should taste like.  It had hit you even harder on the ride back to your dorm, the numbness in your hands not entirely due to the pricks of cool air against your skin, something you realized after you stumbled out of the passenger seat and Renny had to pick you up . Your whole body was completely numb at that point.  The reason for your numbness was the same reason you’d slept without a nightmare last night, and it was the reason you (almost) slept through your morning class and only had time to throw on a sweatshirt, jeans, and sunglasses before, quite literally, running to English.

You were late, making sure to close the door quietly behind you this time, but the pair of eyes you expected to see whipping around to follow you to your seat with a seductive glimmer weren’t there.

He’d ditched.

Only Niall was there to mutter a quick “Hey Y/N” as you passed him to reach your seat.  The teacher started talking about something having to do with how everyone’s analysis was sub-par on the last essay, but if you were being honest you didn’t care, you couldn’t even concentrate.  Though you were facing the front, your mind kept drifting behind you, to the image of the empty seat where you’d gotten used to seeing his long body confidently sprawled out and leant back, one elbow propped up on the arm chair and head cocked as if he were pretending to listen.  It was annoying how even though he wasn’t here he could still somehow take control of your thoughts.  It’d be easier to ignore him if he wasn’t so damn infuriating, just the thought of last night made your blood boil, but the words you’d said came back to you, slowly, bit by bit.

Go back to your fake girlfriend who clearly understands you so much better.

People have planes and go to Europe on a three day weekend…

Creepily small wrists!

Had you really ran your mouth that much? To him?!  You groaned a bit and the person beside you turned with a loaded look -Weirdo- before returning their attention back to the board.  No matter how true your words were, you wouldn’t have told him all that completely sober.  At all.  You had a mind that was quick to get indignant and when the alcohol came in, the filter went out and there was only the Lord to help the poor person caught in the crossfire.  A rush of embarrassment flooded you and you’d regretted saying one word to him.  You should’ve played it cool, acted like you didn’t care that he was with someone else, not made a fool out of yourself.  He probably thought you were someone easily charmed by money when he’d paid for your meal or some bitter charity case and your sad speech last night just proved it. 

You realized you were kicking yourself and tried to stop your mind from spiraling any further.  If there’s one thing you hated most about boys it was that they could make you feel absolutely stupid.

Yet here you were.

Keep reading

Do you know?
  1. A day on Venus is longer than a year.
  2. 33 light years away there is an exoplanet completely covered in burning ice.
  3. About 275 million new stars are born everyday.
  4. According to astronauts, space smells like seared steak, hot metal, and welding fumes.
  5. Each year the moon moves 3.8 cm further from the Earth.
  6. Earth has over 8,000 pieces of space junk orbiting around it.
  7. Earth’s rotation is slowing at a rate of about 17 milliseconds a century.
  8. Far beyond Neptune, there may be an object the size of Earth orbiting the sun.
  9. If you could compress the Earth down to the size of a marble, it would collapse on itself and become a black hole.
  10. One spoonful of matter from a neutron star would weigh about a billion tons.
  11. There’s a gas cloud in the constellation of Aquila that contains enough alcohol to make 400 trillion trillion pints of beer.