#weed onesie drip

[mon-moonfae]

Quick Michael doodle before I go to bed.

[harringtonstudios]

vegas run (IV).

plot: it’s the annual las vegas run. let’s see what kinda trouble you get into this year!

A/N: CLIMAX!!!! i hope yall like pls let me know <3 ty ellie for the gif hunting ily

masterlist! (previous parts can be found there soz got too lazy to link)

Shuffling with the others was entertaining. You didn’t know any of these people but everyone seemed to follow one another, pointing out the fifth Elvis they’d seen or the dude standing in the middle of the street buzzing his hair off. 

The crowd had thinned out a little, people disappearing into the casinos and bars lining the streets. Colson was walking in front of you, fingers still stuck with yours as you trailed behind just a little bit, trying to match pace with the rest of the group around you. 

The weed seemed to be wearing off now, fading into the background as your view sharpened just a bit. You didn’t really know what time it was, or how long you’d been wandering the streets with Colson right by your side, but your phone was tucked into your back pocket and you hadn’t had the heart to check it yet. You knew by now the squad would have left the first casino, but these spontaneous moments were what the Vegas run was all about and you wanted them to last longer.  

Just then, Colson sidled up next to you. He let go of your hand before wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You huffed at the loss of contact, wanting to feel his palm against yours again. Hesitating for a second, you raised the hand that was closest to where his arm was draped over you. He let out a little laugh and then his fingers met yours again. 

“Needy baby,” he mumbled, still smiling as you looked up at him. 

“Not a baby,” you uttered, scrunching up your nose but smiling at his words all the same.

“Mhm,” he hummed out, squeezing his fingers against yours to make a point. 

“I’m hungry,” he stated, and you realized that’s why he’d come back up next to you. 

“Yeah, time to break away?” you asked, turning your head to the side trying to spot some place to grab a bite. 

He didn’t even respond, just nudged his shoulder at the guys you’d been rocking with before creating a path out of the little group. You stumbled a little at the awkward positioning of your bodies, but you didn’t want to be the first one to break it up, so you quickly aligned yourself against him and followed his lead.

-

Ten minutes later, you guys had wandered into a shop called Bruxie. The lights were dimmed, soft glows barely lighting up the menu but Kells had spotted a powdered sugar covered waffle and immediately veered the two of you in. 

The spot was small, but metal stools lined the front, a countertop propped up against the full-length windows. It was amazing, you could sit and eat while watching the show that was Las Vegas at night. People were milling by, the ever-present lights highlighting the streets as the city bustled around you.

Grabbing two stool seats, you pawed at the menu trying to figure out what you were in the mood for. 

“Fuck Y/N, look at this,” Colson said, shoving a finger at the plastic menu, pointing at the waffle chicken deluxe. It was huge, covered in syrup and sugar from what you could see in the picture. The weed had left you both with the munchies and sticky syrup was exactly what you were craving right about now. 

The order came in a few minutes later, ringed up at the counter. Bringing it back to the table, Colson couldn’t help the smile taking over his face. He set the plate down, and then tugged a little at his hoodie like he almost couldn’t believe his eyes. 

“It’s a waffle,” you chuckled, making fun of his reaction.

“It’s not just a waffle. It’s the waffle,” he scoffed as he pulled out his phone to take a picture of the drippy, sweet mess in front of you two.

You waited a second, and then grabbed your fork, tearing up the side to take a bite into the famed breakfast food. 

“HEY! Wait for me,” he shouted, and you groaned impatiently as he cut off another piece. 

“Count of 3,” he said, raising a finger towards you. 

“Nope,” you responded, and then shoved the waffle piece into your mouth. The flavors hit you immediately, and you looked at the plate in front of you impressed at the different tastes you were getting. 

The waffle was gone soon enough, and then Kells was hopping off the stool and striding up to the counter to order another one and a round of beers to keep you both happy as the food started flowing in.

---------

You could feel the drinks you downed earlier hit you all at once. You hadn’t gotten drunk in so long, busy with getting your store on its own feet. Sipping on warm beer in your empty apartment just never gave you the same feeling as you had now. It was like there was something warm wrapped completely around you, lighting you from the inside. You could feel the flush on your own cheeks, the way your head felt kinda full.

It took you a minute to realize that there actually was something wrapped around you, a chin coming to rest on top of your head, grounding you down. Two arms covering your front as you shifted a little, trying to figure out exactly where you both were. 

“Stop shifting,” Colson mumbled from above and you pouted at that, tilting your head up so he had to lift his chin off of you. 

Your eyes met his as he looked down at you, and you could tell he was just as gone as you. His eyes looked blurry as if he was gonna cry and moved your gaze downward focusing on the scar at the bottom of his chin. It was an old one, but it still raised against his skin, standing out so close to your vision. 

Pulling your arm from out of his hold, you lifted your finger trailing it against the puckered skin. You’d been tilted back too long, could feel the blood rush to your head in a way that made you feel dizzy. Closing your eyes, you pulled your head back, licking your lips as the blood settled back into your veins again. 

“Where are we?” you mumbled, not sure how’d you both ended up on the corner of the street, facing a bright pink wedding chapel. 

“I have no idea,” he murmured into your hair. 

The light turned from red to green as a car turned the corner, driving past where the two of you stood on the curb. There was a neon heart pulsing on the window of the chapel, a blue arrow running through it and you watched the light switch on and off as he rubbed his cheek against the top of your head. 

Two people stumbled out of the chapel, flowers in hand laughing as they walked off into the other direction. You watched the girl stop, throw her bouquet backwards before he picked her up in his arms. The flowers landed on the floor, petals breaking apart against the cracked cement. 

“Wanna get married?” came a whisper above you. 

Your breath hitched, the pink heart pulsed again. 

“Yeah,” you nodded slightly, feeling something pull oddly tight at your heart.

-

A minute later, you both were crossing the street. You could feel your heart thudding against your chest, feel the way Colson’s own heart was beating steadily behind your back. You stopped in front of the entrance, feeling the tips of his Converse against your heels as he abruptly paused right behind you. 

Picking up one of the roses from the trashed bouquet, you turned around, holding it out towards him. 

“For you,” you murmured, feeling the faint warmth of a blush rise up on your cheeks again. 

“Why thank you,” he exclaimed, exaggeration dripping as he bowed down before plucking the sole flower out of your hand. 

You smiled up at him before stepping aside, trying to hint at the fact that he should take the lead. You weren’t used to this at all, and even though you knew he’d never been married before, something told you this was more in his wheelhouse than yours. 

He raised an eyebrow up at you, and then took the first step into the already open door. 

Following behind, you were immediately struck with the absurdity of it all. There was a woman sitting at a counter, dressed in all pink with a feather pen in her hand. There were chairs lining the lobby, and you spotted the door towards the chapel part of the room. A wooden heart was carved right above it, and you tried to stifle your laughter as you spotted a treasure chest in the corner overflowing with different costumes. 

“We’re here to get married!” Colson proclaimed, walking towards the counter as you moved towards the golden chest. 

You laughed at the words, spotting an Elvis wig thrown in and a cow onesie right underneath. You could hear him discussing things with the lady at the desk, but you were so enamored with the eccentric outfits that you tuned him out. Shifting through the clothes, you laughed at the red cowboy hat, paired perfectly with the one ruby studded cowboy boot tossed in. 

You got caught up searching for the other one, moving through the chest at a record pace before realizing that someone was calling your name. 

“Y/N!” Colson shouted again, and you whipped your head up seeing him lean against the desk. He was grinning, arm up in the air waving you over and you suddenly flashed back to a couple hours ago at the casino, the way he’d pulled you in from across the room. 

Fuck, only a couple of hours ago you’d been wandering around with another guy, aching for some action and now you were going to get married? The sentiment suddenly hit you, and you let out a breath, sitting down on your knees.

 Married? To one of your closest friends? To the guy you’d swore you felt nothing about until a couple of weeks ago? 

Lost in thought you didn’t really notice when his smile dropped as he caught sight of you staring into space. He pushed himself off the desk, coming up to you before getting on his own knees right across from you. 

“You okay?” he asked, hand going over to where you were clutching the sole ruby boot with a tight grip. 

You blinked once before coming back to your senses, “Yeah, no? I’m good.” 

“We don’t have to do this,” he murmured, eyes meeting your own. He seemed so sober at that moment, words dripping out of his mouth with ease. Your gaze caught on his chin again, the scar sticking out. 

At that moment, it really hit you. You did want this, wanted everything that came with it even if you both didn’t exactly know what that was. The alcohol in your system craved this more than anything and you smiled up at him, dropping the boot back into the chest as you got up off the floor. 

“I want this if you want it,” you announced, dusting off your jeans. 

“I want it,” he declared right back at you, and you grinned before extending your hand to pull him off the ground. 

The lady at the desk clapped pulling you both out of the moment and you laughed a little as you walked over to her. 

“Great idea sweetie! He’s a looker that one,” she chipped as you got a hold of the papers that she had laid out. 

“Yeah Y/N I’m a looker,” Colson repeated, leaning back against the desk, smirking at you. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, catching the raise of his eyebrow as the words came tumbling out of your mouth. 

And then all of a sudden, you were leaning in to where he was, softly kissing the bottom of his chin right on the scar.

“You missed,” was all he mumbled and you flipped him off as he laughed, signing your signature right next to his. 

“You’re all set lovebirds. Go pick something crazy to get pictured in and then you can walk in. Father Michael will be waiting for you,” she smiled, stapling the sheets together as you handed her the feather pen back. 

You wandered back to the treasure chest, this time feeling Colson’s gaze on you as you reached back down for the red boot. 

“I wanna find its twin,” you said, turning around to show it to him.

He was smiling at you, and you felt a sudden warmth build up in your chest at the way he was looking at you. Pulling the boot out of your hand, he held it up to his face, turning it around as he inspected it. 

“Nope,” was all you got before he tossed it back into the chest.

“Hey what the fuck,” you scowled slightly, turning back around to pick it up. 

He stopped you before you could, arm pulling at your wrist. You paused, moving back towards him, pulse speeding up at the way his grip felt against your skin. 

“If we’re gonna do this,” he started, and you couldn’t meet his eyes at the sound of his words and how close they sounded to a promise, “I want it to be us.” 

“Us?” you mumbled, teeth biting down on the edge of your lip. 

“Yeah, no gimmicks, no costumes. Just us,” he responded, and you looked up at that, seeing the smile hidden in his eyes. 

“Okay,” and a grin spread across your own face. 

“Okay.” he nodded and then you were both crossing the room to the chapel entrance. 

- 

taglist: @iamdorka​ @no-shxt-sherl​ @bakerkells​ @findingmyths​ @rosegoldrichie​ @mayaslifeinabox​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​​ @hnbtx​​  @backoftheroomandnotbelonging​​ @nowhereiswhereibelong​ @whyisgmora​ @oopsiedoopsie23

[darkdevasofdestruction]

BakuSquad In Jail

I saw these pics randomly and talking with my friend, @thatweirdfrenchcanadian​ , we came up with some funny HCs for the BakuSquad and the reason they got in jail.

I have no idea who the artists are, I’ve been having the pics in my phone for a while, but if anyone knows the artist, please let me know so I can tag them appropriately!

Beginning: 

They were at a party, just the 5 of them, and they were happy for getting into Pro-Hero agencies, and now they weren’t side kicks anymore, so of course, they had to celebrate accordingly!

A huge party where they all let loose and have fun without anyone judging!

What none of them were expecting was to get shit faced drunk and do lots of weird shit, enough to somehow get into jail for whatever reason.

Kaminari Denki:

Baby Pikachu got so drunk that he made Momo make a Pikachu onesie for him, on the spot, along with a Naruto headband, and made Mina do some lines on his face, to resemble Naruto, then went out to the nearest monument and threw paint at it.

If they were human statues, he’d draw lightnings on their foreheads and write “VOLDEMORT WAS HERE” on their torsos.

If they were animals, he will paint them in weird colours.

And if they were some new art, he’d just throw random paint and say “IT’S MODERN ART, YOU’LL NEVER UNDERSTAND, NORMIE!”

If that wasn’t enough, he stole a shopping cart and made Kirishima push him in it down the street.

Street that was actually a slope made by Todoroki in an attempt to ice skate and show off.

Unfortunately, Kirishima got distracted by a pigeon and started running after it to become the new Snow White, and Denki kept going down the ice slope, shrieking in the cart, thinking he was in a roller coaster.

When the policeman got him, he started giggling, saying he’s not drunk, just super LIT, FAM, and started doing a super fast triple dab.

Triple dab that he ended up slamming his arm into his head so hard that he knocked himself out and he was out like a light.

Bakugou Katsuki:

You can’t blame a guy who goes to sleep earlier than 9pm and barely drinks alcohol, so he can have a perfect hero-training schedule that he got drunk from very few shots of vodka and now he was feeling light like a feather and wants to entertain people...

More or less because their awes and gasps of wonder boost his ego so much that he wants to show off his explosions.

Katsuki starts doing random explosions around the house, then, when people tell him to do flashier tricks, he goes out and pulls lots of different typed of explosions, flashier, with more light, with more heat, with more colour, with more sound and whatever else the audience wanted.

When the cops came, they wanted to charge him for illegal use of fireworks, which sent Bakugou into a blind frenzy since NOBODY CALLS HIS EXPLOSIONS MERE, LAME FIREWORKS, OKAY?!

He started roaring and growling at the policeman, showing him that he can do EXPLOSIONS not some stupidly lame fireworks, which only ends up with lots of curses, fighting, and it takes a lot of new policeman to get him an elephant tranquillizer to make him stop.

Of course, they needed special restraints for him, since he’s so violent, but that wasn’t a problem, and Bakugou was used to these restraints, since he was forced to wear them twice before.

SERO HANTA

Poor Sero was mostly innocent, and he is pretty used to light drinking and these types of parties, but he really wanted to let loose this time around, so he started playing beer pong, never have I ever with vodka and tequila shots, and many other drinking games that made him SO happy in his drunken state.

As well as that, he had some weed joints that he really wanted to smoke...

And some LSD, because what could be better than trippin’ at a party when you’re so happy?

Always time for first times!

He used his tape to get into a spiderman position, hanging down from the ceiling after getting the LSD and started smoking some joints, letting the euphoria take effect on him.

Hanta started grinning and giggling, swaying back and forth with that tape, until someone, that he still has no idea, even to this moment (Definitely Denki) dared him to play Tarzan out in the city, so he started jumping from building to building, yelling incoherently that he is the KING OF THE URBAN JUNGLE...Or something like that, it was mostly unintelligible.

When he got arrested, he got into a spiderman position again and winked at the policeman, asking if he wanted to be his Mary Jane.

Then passed out and fell on the ground...For some reason, giggling in that unconscious state.

Ashido Mina

Mina was drinking cocktails, martinis and tequilas with each costume she would do for the catwalk she created in the house, each time, flashier and more ridiculous outfits, but hey, they were fun, and for some reason, most of them had holes...From accidental acid drips.

She MAY also be on acid anyway, who knows...Mina says her name is symbolic for more than her Quirk...

She got dared to recreate some iconic make ups from James Charles and mid-way to her look, she realised she didn’t have everything she needed, so she went to the closest shop and raided the make up isle, trying out each and every one of the products there, using her selfie camera as a mirror and trying to do her best.

The shop assistants were horrified at the girls behaviour, but her only answer was “Hi, I’m the Alien Queen, wanna be my Predator?”

When the cop car came over, and the lights started going red and blue, she thought she was being photographer by the paparazzi, so she brought a random pair of sunglasses, with the tag in the middle of her face, and put her fluffy boa around her shoulders.

And started posing.

She didn’t have perfect balance for most of the posings, but she tried her best to mimic all those cool fashion pics she saw in magazines.

At the end, she asked the cop if he wanted an autograph, and when he refused, she giggled, took out her eyeliner and wrote on his forehead ALIEN QUEEN XOXO

Kirishima Eijirou

Kiri was the most innocent in all of this, and he shouldn’t have been arrested in the first place, but he wanted to be where he best friends are, so that’s just that.

Well, he was convinced by the rest of the BakuSquad that it’s MANLY to drink, so he had a drinking contest with TetsuTetsu, that ended up with both of them under the table pretty fast.

The bet of this contest was that whoever was the first to wake up would win, and since TetsuTetsu won, Kiri had to take the water gun that Tsuyu brought and pretend to play CS:Go in the nearest store.

Of course, he did just that, but he was completely oblivious to the fact that Tokoyami wrapped his bandana to his face, instead of his forehead, to look like a funny western cowboy or whatever, and when he got in the store, all not-so-stealthily, the shop assistants hit the alarm and called the cops for having a robber.

With all that loud noise, he started squirting water everywhere, shrieking and saying WATER IN THE HOLE, THROW THE GRENADE, TAKE COVER, HIT SPACE, AHHHHHH!

Needless to say, the assistants and customers were more confused than scared.

When the cop came over, he blinked at him confused, saying that he can’t get in jail, since he’s a shark, and then shoot water in the cop’s face.

Oops?

The end:

When they all woke up, Mina was the first to realise what happened, due to her phone buzzing like crazy to her Snapchat stories, and only then she realised what happened...At least to her.

Then, her jailer told her how she got there, and she could only laugh at how bad she was in only a few hours of the night.

Of course, Yaomomo was graceful enough to bail them out of there, was the caution was nothing more than a breeze and they didn’t actually do anything too bad to actually keep them there anyway.

All that, while Midoriya was bawling his eyes out like a waterfall to some random jailer, telling them how amazingly kind hearted and nice heroes they are, and that they did a mistake, and it won’t happen again...

Blah Blah Blah.

He didn’t even realise how Mina walked out of her cell and sprinted to the boys’ cell, where she stood on the ground, telling them what Jirou, Tsuyu and Tokoyami told them happened that night and how they all ended up there.

Of course, it was all in good fun, despite the fact that they were sure Aizawa was going to hunt them down and kill them for the idiocy they did...

But they aren’t called the 1-Braincell Squad for no reason, right?!

To commemorate such a weirdass experience, Mina took the picture with her phone, telling them all to look natural, so they did as told.

Except Bakugou, who was beyond pissed off at what happened and kept grumbling something about stupid fireworks.

They were SO doing this shit again.

[beerandpresentdanger]

Curieux and Curieuxer

When you become a parent, there’s a few things that everyone feels the need to tell you. They tell you that the day your child is born will be the most special day of your life. They tell you that you’ll be overcome with emotion as the centre of your world shifts from inside your own head to the screaming creature in front of you. And they tell you that you’ll be tired.

They’re right, I guess. But they don’t tell you a lot of other stuff. They don’t tell you about how your hands will shake as you order a taxi in the middle of the night, even when you’d already put the number on speed dial. They don’t tell you about how the deliriously unsuitable talk radio conversation the driver has on at full volume (“Can you beat cancer with mind over matter?”) will stay burned into your consciousness for weeks to come. They don’t tell you about how labour might unspool from night, into day, and back again. They don’t tell you about the unmerciless, unyielding rigidity of the hospital-issue chairs, and the impossibility of sleeping on them. They don’t tell you about the shift changes, the comings and goings, the passive-aggressive mutinies of midwives and doctors, the alarms, the check-ups, the paperwork, the relentless light. About the room filling with people, things suddenly happening, the monitors blipping, reassuring voices, a sudden cry. They don’t tell you about the panic of trying to hold a wriggling, still damp baby, when you’ve never even held a baby before.

They don’t tell you that you might be in the hospital for another week. They don’t tell you about cannulas, and blood tests, and twice-daily trips to the fourth floor, making weak eye contact and half smiles with other sad parents in the same boat. About numbers without context, graphs without meaning, about light tests and incubators, eye-masks and formula, 3am updates interrupted by pagers. About sleep deprivation caused by other people’s babies, by cleaners and technicians, by machine whirrings and squeaking wheels and clanging bins. They don’t tell you about how awful the food will be. About waiting in the carpark in your slippers in the January drizzle for a lukewarm pizza to be delivered and how it will taste like the best meal in the world. About finding some kind of comfort in a small franchise of a cafe chain that sells passable coffee and surprisingly decent muffins. About finally being discharged and realising you have no idea how the straps on the car seat work, even though you practiced putting it into a car and everything.

They don’t tell you about coming home and realising that everything is the same as before except for the small box in the corner where she’s asleep. They don’t tell you about coming home and realising that nothing is the same as before, all thanks to the small box in the corner where she’s awake and crying. They don’t tell you about the trial and error, about how all the books were worthless, about how you live on your nerves to survive, about how you never have a hand free, can’t even hold a book, can barely change the TV channel, about how you’ll stand in the kitchen in the middle of the night, somewhere between despair and elation, and watch the foxes roaming the weed-clogged garden. They don’t tell you about how your mouth will fill with ulcers and your legs will ache with swaying and your arms will strain with the cradling. They don’t tell you about how she’ll look at you and her eyes will seem to focus and your heart will just stop. About how you’ll forget the lyrics to every song you’ve ever thought you’ll try to sing to her. About how sometimes when you’re holding her up she’ll rest her hands on yours, not on purpose, but it will almost seem like it, and it will be wonderful. About how her hand can barely wrap around your little finger.

It is, frankly, a lot to take in. Normal life sloughs away from you as you shift through this hourless time - work, friends, hobbies, all fade into the background behind the urgency of the bundle of instincts wrapped in a onesie you’re trying to keep alive. Even drinking, that wonderful, centering pastime, becomes hard to do. But at some point, you have to wet the baby’s head. The question is, what could possibly live up to it?

In the end, I went for something I’d had in the cellar (well, cupboard), for a while - an elegantly corked and caged bottle of Allagash Curieux. This beer was born of an accident - an American tripel that was going to go to waste after their usual bottle delivery was held up in customs following the chaos and confusion of the September 11th attacks. Without bottles to empty their fermenters into, the beer was set for the drain, until they decided to decant it into a brace of Jim Beam bourbon barrels that were sat around the brewery. After one of the barrels exploded, and Allagash founder Rob Tod took the brave move of tasting the foamy mess dripping from the ceiling, they realised they’d stumbled on something - and thankfully for the rest of us, they put it on sale.

I bought it a couple of year back in the States, on the back of the recommendation of Will Gordon, who claimed it as his favourite beer. I’m not going to make the same assertion, but it’s certainly good enough to live up to a special occasion. They tell you that it will be a traditional tripel, with clove and banana that general fiery sweetness. They tell you that it will be overlaid with that bourbon barrel aged sweetness - a smudge of vanilla and a peppering of coconut. And they tell you that it works. But they don’t tell you about how it works - how the strength of the base beer is tempered by the candied oak, how a fug of old leather cracks through the light, prickly spice, and the whole thing is like lightly toasted granola, but so much better than that sounds. They don’t tell you about the supreme balance, the gentle poise, the happy accident that ended up with this, a flipped coin that has somehow landed exactly on its side.

It’s a unique beer, for a unique situation. I just thought I should tell you.