#vodka tw

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Flashback for Tool :D

CW: implied college party, alcohol, hangovers

Practiced and causal, JJ secured their tie and grabbed another bite of toast, plate teetering on the edge of the counter. Someone on the couch behind him groaned awake, and they smirked. “Ah, he lives.”

Angelo grumbled something and rubbed his eyes roughly, already feeling sick. He felt like death. And like he was going to be in the bathroom for the rest of the day.

JJ put their plate in the sink and skirted around the mountain of trash from the party last night. He would take it out later - or Charlotte would. Grabbing a water bottle, he leaned back over to the mirror to check his hair.

“How… how are you not dying this morning?” Angelo asked, voice rough and tired from what could graciously be called singing last night.

“I’ve got shit to do today,” they smirked, leaning against the fridge. “I’ve got SGA where the robotics club has been up my ass for funding so that’ll be great. Then I’ve got class and research and I’m meeting up with Phi Theta for a study group.

“How many shots did you have?”

“Like three.”

“Then, they switched to this,” came Charlotte from the hall, holding up a bottle of premium vodka in an elegant bottle. Angelo’s eyes went wide at the gold designs.

JJ laughed and took the bottle from her, taking a drink. From the couch Angelo balked.

“Are you still drunk?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “He bought the bottle empty online and fills it with water.”

“And no one but me gets to touch it cause it looks like it cost about $200,” JJ gloated, guesting with the bottle causally. By then Angelo’s head was hurting so he laid back down.

“You’re nuts dude. Absolutely nuts.”

~~

Tool held the bottle for a moment longer than necessary, clearly lost in thought. The Mechanic smirked from his chair next to the fire, watching them intently in the firelight.

“Now don’t tell me you’ve had it before?”

Tool startled, quickly coming back to themself and bringing the man his drink. They shook their head. “No, no sir I’ve never had it. Just thinking.”

The Mechanic let it go, which Tool was grateful for, and went back to gazing into the fire.

Tool couldn’t seem to get the lump out of their throat.

@unicornscotty @as-a-matter-of-whump @starnight-whump @whump-me-all-night-long @whump-it @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @valkyrie-whump @whole-and-apart-and-between @misspelledwitch @fanmanga1357-blog @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @just-a-raccoon-in-a-dapper-hat @blackrosesandwhump @panic-and-chaos @savemycrustysoul @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are

[illusion-reality-steve]

[After being traumatized by the Minecraft menu and dealing with Sabre and Galaxy]

Reality Steve: Just two shots of vodka!

Reality Steve: [pours the entire bottle into a glass]

[aiden-is-not-real]

The god I know has five heads and he drinks a lot of vodka

[tfb-sellakink]

Strange Phone Calls At Night

-I didn't make it sad!!!¡¡¡ woooo! This is just Brian calling Mat while he's drunk. Enjoy!!- Brian really missed Mat. He missed the way he smelled and the way he laughed. The way he smiled when Brian would drive up to his house in the morning to pick him up for school. Brian really wanted to go home. College fucking sucked. He hadn’t made any friends and he'd sit at house parties getting drunk in the corner. Literally a corner of the room because he'd rather not get squished by a couple making out or get thrown up on by some girl getting drunk for the first time. It was nights like those--when he rubbed his tired eyes, took his beer outside to sit in the grass, and look at the stars--when he missed Mat most. When he was so drunk the stars blurred together and he went from Sitting to laying down on the grass he'd whisper Mats name into the cold air. He wondered if he said Mat’s name enough times, if Matt would hear him and come to his rescue. But every day he would wake up to the taste of stale beer on his tongue and the sunrise burning his retinas. He smelt like grass and beer and the sadness seeping through his pores. Brian’s phone was always dead when he woke up. To the point where it would beep and make Brian's hangover migraine pulse even more in tune with his heart beat. He'd leave it in his dorm room charging and when he'd get back he'd see all these texts from Mat consisting of only question marks. And the worst part was that he didn't remember what he said. He was always too afraid to call Mat, so he would just shrug it off while he thought of an explanation for to Mat. The problem was that he didn't know what he said so how was he supposed to explain it? Eventually it was February and Brian was sitting in his dorm room drinking a bottle of vodka. He didn't want to go to another fucking party and stand in the damn corner nursing as many beers as he could before sitting outside, then laying outside, then waking up outside. He got half way through the bottle before he called Mat. “I Miss you so much, Mat,” Brian slurred eyes droopy and smile dopy. Mat sighed because Brian always did this. “I know, dude,” Mat sighed because not only did this happen often, it was also 3am. Brian sighed contently. “Mat,” Brian offered far off before he was clear again, “I fucking hate it here because you're not here. Beer doesn't taste as good and no one laughs at my jokes like you do and no one wants to talk to me but it don't want to talk to them either because they're not you.” Mat was definitely awake when he heard that. His cheeks were engulfed in a scarlet red. “Oh,” Mat breathed out into the silence. “Yeah,” Brian offered as he laid down and got comfortable. “Good night,” Brian whispered as he dozed off. “Um, Good night?” Mat responded but Brian was already asleep. After that Mat didn't mind getting strange phone calls from Brian.