#drunk vibes

[mch3ll3]

When I’m drunk asf all I crave is a number 7 from mcdanks😩

[lilrebelkat69]

[audible301]

I keep seeing “8 hot women!” And “all the girlies” posts about this weeks Game Changer so here is your reminder that not everyone in that group is a woman.

In fact 25% of that group is not women.

Yes they’re all hot but lets not use that to invalidate Jiavani and Erika’s identities.

[pseudophan]

anthony is dead: the funeral roast (paid content)

[tmos-time]

juggling a lot of unfinished comics right now so here's a piece of humanstuck backlog i havent posted lol

[salmonight]

New Dimension New Me 2025 Day 3: Costume Swap

Prompts:

Bonus:

Danny's costume design (aka the one Tim's wearing)

[boarloved-art]

Wei Wuxian should be able to get drunk for once. I think he'd either be singing bawdy drinking songs on the roof of the Jingshi or he'd be getting irrevocably lost no matter where he is. He's found in the bushes behind the mountains like a cryptid, and then he's like "I can't believe you all got lost" (extremely slurred) as if he didn't get embarrassed by something Lan Wangji had said and just somehow disappeared when everyone looked back at him

oh ABSOLUTELY im walking with u and nodding and agreeing, i can see him becoming an absolute menace to keep track of at his drunkest.

anyway heres wonderwall The Gang (Wangxian & their fave group of ducklings) in a city known for its STRONG wine and wuxian being like well. ur all grown now, youre technically not juniors anymore. we have to see whos lasting the longest against this stuff!, smash cut to a suspiciously wei ying-less group of the worlds drunkest cultivators being wrangled through the woods by designated driver hanguang-jun, with at least 2 of them clinging to his robes at all times.

[horsegirlwarcrimes]

for @skeren ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

"Mu-shidi?" Yue Qingyuan asked.

Mu Qingfang was sitting on a decorative rock in one of Qian Cao Peak's small meditation gardens with his head in his hands. Yue Qingyuan paused, hesitating at the edge of the garden as he watched Mu Qingfang's shoulders heave with a deep sigh.

"Zhangmen-shixiong. In your purview as sect leader, do you believe I have the power to medically relieve someone from their position of authority on the grounds of madness?" He asked.

"Ah, I should have known this was coming," Yue Qingyuan said. He approached and sat next to Mu Qingfang on the rock, folding his arms over his knees and offering a small smile. "Will Mu-shidi finally be requesting this one's resignation?"

Mu Qingfang snorted a laugh and uncurled, but not without rubbing once more at his brow. "Actually, I meant myself."

"You?"

Mu Qingfang turned to look at him. Yue Qingyuan's brows shot up, startled at the absolutely exhausted and frantic look on his face. The healer was pale, his eyes shadowed, and Yue Qingyuan realised for the first time that some of his hair was slipping out from his wooden guan.

"What happened?" Yue Qingyuan asked, reaching out to catch Mu Qingfang's wrist. Mu Qingfang allowed the contact, not protesting at the reversal of their usual position as Yue Qingyuan probed his meridians, which Yue Qingyuan thought was a sign something was truly wrong.

"It's Shang-shidi," Mu Qingfang said gravely, which was not what Yue Qingyuan was expecting.

"What do you mean? Did something happen to Shang Qinghua? Did he—do something?"

"Is Zhangmen-shixiong familiar with the Bleeding Heart-Tongue Berry?"

"The one that causes full-body hemorrhaging?"

"No, that's the Crimson Bleeding Heart Berry."

"Oh. Oh, the one that requires oral dual cultivation to cure the deadly fever?"

"No, that's—it doesn't matter! The Bleeding Heart-Tongue Berry's sap and flesh is a powerful truth serum. It compels anyone who consumes or comes into physical contact with it to say whatever is on their mind, with complete honesty."

Yue Qingyuan looked around nervously. "We don't have an outbreak, do we?"

Mu Qingfang sighed one more, pushing his hand under his glasses to press against his eyes. "Shang-shixiong came into contact with some when he was on his last mission off the mountain. I have no idea how, since he was assigned to go secure a trade deal to the North East and they only grow in the South West, but—"

"But he was afflicted, and is now compelled to speak the truth?" Yue Qingyuan asked.

Mu Qingfang slipped his hand from Yue Qingyuan's so he could grip his arms, leaning in intently.

"He is driving. Me. Insane."

—

Mu Qingfang led Yue Qingyuan to one of the nearby patient rooms. Inside, Shang Qinghua sat at a low tea table, sipping at a cup that smelled medicinal and poking at some nuts and seeds on offer. Nothing looked amiss—Shang Qinghua didn't look damaged or ill, and the room was neat and orderly.

When they entered, Shang Qinghua's head shot up.

"Mu-shidi! Zhangmen-shixiong! This one is—not super glad to see you! Not that you're not great. Mu-shidi, I really appreciate how you keep us all alive. Remember that time I accidentally drank ink as a disciple and you had to pump my stomach? Yeah, I so am glad you were there to do that and not let me die. And Zhangmen-shixiong, you're very hot, and I love that, and I find how sad you life is—well, troubling actually, although not enough to do anything about it. You kind of make me uncomfortable to be around. But the hotness helps! Not right now, though. Right now I would love if you would leave, because I really don't want to tell you about anything I am thinking about, because I just got done spending three days sucking demonic dick and I really don't want to answer any follow up questions about—"

Shang Qinghua's eyes went wide. He grabbed a handful of the snacks and shoved them into his mouth, presumably hoping to stem the flow of words. Instead he immediately choked on them and coughed up walnuts and melon seeds over the table.

Yue Qingyuan rubbed his forehead. "Ah. I think I see the problem."

[joycrispy]

I'm seeing some confusion out and about over the title A Companion to Owls (generally along the lines of 'what have owls got to do with it???'), so I'd like to offer my interpretation (with a general disclaimer that the Bible and particularly the Old Testament are damn complicated and I'm not able to address every nuance in a fandom tumblr post, okay? Okay):

It's a phrase taken from the Book of Job. Here's the quote in full (King James version):

When I looked for good, then evil came unto me: and when I waited for light, there came darkness. My bowels boiled, and rested not: the days of affliction prevented me. I went mourning without the sun: I stood up, and I cried in the congregation. I am a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls. --(Job 30:29)

Job is describing the depths of his grief, but also, with that last line, his position in the web of providence.

Throughout the Old Testament, owls are a recurring symbol of spiritual devastation. Deuteronomy 4:17 - Isaiah 34:11 - Psalm 102: 3 - Jeremiah 50: 39...just to name a few (there's more). The general shape of the metaphor is this: owls are solitary, night-stalking creatures, that let out either mournful cries or terrible shrieks, that inhabit the desolate places of the world...and (this is important) they are unclean.

They represent a despair that is to be shunned, not pitied, because their condition is self-inflicted. You defied God (so the owl signifies), and your punishment is...separation. From God, from others, from the world itself. To call and call and never, ever receive an answer.

Your punishment is terrible, tormenting loneliness.

(and that exact phrase, "tormenting loneliness," doesn't come from me...I'm pulling it from actual debate/academia on this exact topic. The owls, and what they are an omen for. Oof.)

To call yourself a 'companion to owls,' then, is to count yourself alongside perhaps the most tragic of the damned --not the ones who defy God out of wickedness or ignorance, and in exile take up diabolical ends readily enough...but the ones who know enough to mourn what they have lost.

So, that's how the title relates to Job: directly. Of course, all that is just context. The titular "companion to owls," in this case, isn't Job at all.

Because this story is about Aziraphale.

The thing is that Job never actually defied God at all, but Aziraphale does, and he does so fully believing that he will fall.

He does so fully believing that he's giving in to a temptation.

He's wrong about that, but still...he's realized something terrifying. Which is that doing God's will and doing what's right are sometimes mutually exclusive. Even more terrifying: it turns out that, given the choice between the two...he chooses what's right.

And he's seemingly the only angel who does. He's seemingly the only angel who can even see what's wrong.

Fallen or not, that's the kind of knowledge that...separates you.

(Whoooo-eeeeee, tormenting loneliness!!!)

Aziraphale is the companion.

...I don't think I need to wax poetic about Aziraphale's loneliness and grappling with devotion --I think we all, like, get it, and other people have likely said it better anyway. So, one last thing before I stop rambling:

Check out Crowley's glasses.

(screenshots from @seedsofwinter)

Crowley is the owl.

Crowley is the goddamn owl.

[huginsmemory]

The one thing led to another night is very much likely hinting at Bill and Ford fucking, but considering Stan's penchant for getting married while drunk, LITERALLY at one point to ol' Goldie, a horrifying gold panning statue souvenir dispenser(?), may mean that Ford would also have a penchant for that. So Ford marrying Bill that night, instead of them fucking (or marrying and fucking) is actually plausible, and also EXTREMELY FUNNY to me. Both of them have such terrible romance track records.

Also like, I know there's a lot of jokes going around about Stanley being like YOU FUCKED A TRIANGLE? Which I love btw, but like. SIR YOU MARRIED A MAYBE CURSED SOUVENIR DISPENSER THATS A STATUE OF A HORRIFYING OLD MAN GOLD PANNING, DO YOU REALLY HAVE A LEG TO STAND ON?

[mythmagicetc]

it's 2019, and eddie's in his kitchen, grabbing snacks while buck and chris color at the dining room table. buck's cast is set up on a chair, resting on pillows, and he said he was comfortable but eddie should check again when he heads back in. over the waxy scribbly sounds of their crayons, eddie hears them talking.

"were you scared?"

"hm? when?"

"when you hurt your leg."

"oh. hah. right." eddie can picture the way buck ducks his head, the self-deprecating grimace on buck's face. he smiles.

someone's stopped coloring. probably chris. when that kid has a question he does not let it go.

"so were you?"

buck makes a non-committal noise, weighing his options. how much of the truth to tell to a child so young, who recently lost his mother? is it better to hide your pain, or to make sure they know pain is okay? is it possible to do both? this one, eddie is still asking himself.

he trusts whatever buck decides to say, but he moves the bags of chips a little slower, trying to catch the words.

"yeah, buddy, i was scared. but your dad was with me, so i knew it would be okay."

oh.

that's sweet of him to say. like, really sweet. and eddie knows, of course he knows, buck is saying that for christopher's benefit, that it very much might not have been okay, whether eddie had been there or not. that eddie hadn't been, at first, and buck had been all alone, crushed and bleeding and on fucking video, jesus christ. that when they got to him, all eddie could do anyway was hold his hand, with a fucking glove on, for fuck's sake.

he doesn't know why it matters that he had to have a glove on. but it does matter, okay, it would've been different if they had been able to touch.

eddie looks at the ceiling, blinking back to the present moment. he tries to tune back in to what they're saying, make sure they haven't noticed he's gone quiet.

"that makes sense." oh, chris. "he's my hero."

"you wanna know a secret?" buck whispers, and eddie can't tell if he means for it to be loud enough for eddie to hear, or if buck just sucks at whispering.

"he's mine, too."

[lilrebelkat69]

[kurokmask]

DONTTTTT ever call me Frauncis again >:(((((

[hotwife-fling]

[serpentface]

Wardin provincial tax magistrate on the annual Apomalo Tlinya (phrase close in meaning to 'journey of the late (autumn) sun'), which is a tax collection tour.

His station is marked by his white cloak, royal blue belt, gullfeather khattanocuy, the ability to bear a sword, and a scroll containing documents stamped with the Usoma's seal confirming his identity and authority. He does not travel alone, but is accompanied by a large retinue of scribes, soldiers, advisors, and servants.

All citizens have tax obligations regardless of class, and these are owed primarily in grain and livestock. This is based in this internal economy being predominantly a barter system (with its coin currency having direct value as precious metals and serving as a means of establishing fixed values for various trade goods) and heavily reliant on agricultural goods. It is significantly more difficult to evade or cheat on taxes when what you owe can be established by sight, measured in hard to miss livestock and fields of crops.

As such, taxes are collected via annual tours in which these magistrates (personally appointed by the Usoma and collecting in his name) tour their lands in person. The Apomalo Tlinya serves multiple purposes. It is primarily a method of collecting tax, but also doubles as a way to assess a province's agricultural wealth and well-being as a whole and to take an official census of the population.

This routine act of taxation has been integrated into official religious practice, being looped in with the bounty of the harvest season and thanksgiving to the face Inyamache for having provided the necessary long summer sunlight as the days grow shorter. The actual Apomalo Tlinya begins upon the official celebrations of the New Maize day in each capital city (usually observed on a separate day at the actual end of the harvest for each village), where the festival ends with the tax party leaving the city in procession. The magistrate always ceremonially rides a red bull khait, bearing a solar disk framed by royal dual-viper insignia on its horns. The bull's journey is compared to the ideal seasonal behavior of the sun, generating new life out of rain-fertile earth and then 'dying' after the harvest to allow for the rains to come. Villages who host the Apomalo Tlinya entourage each night experience a fringe benefit via permission to introduce any receptive mares to the bull and possibly get some (very valuable) calves out of it. The bull will be sacrificed at the end of the journey in a final act of thanksgiving, in hopes this offering will help ensure the next year is bountiful.

The attempted veneer of solar thanksgiving and harvest cheer aside, the Apomalo Tlinya visit is enjoyed by just about no one (except for perhaps the people lucky enough to get a pretty khait calf out of it), as it entails the personal loss of some of this aforementioned harvest. Nobility owe SUBSTANTIALLY higher taxes than commoners (given that they are considered to Own the majority of the crops/livestock, which is only Tended by their land's peasants), though the actual tax burden is proportionately steeper on the peasantry (whose tax obligations will come primarily out of their allotted share of the harvest, and/or any livestock they raise on the side). Taxes don't tend to be outright devastating in years with average crop yields, but an already bad year can be made ruinous by this visit. The timing also coincides with seasonal harvest festivities. A few unlucky villages every year may have their New Maize feast day interrupted by the sound of horns and a small legion of white-clad taxmen bearing down to collect.

Each province has only one tax magistrate, making this a lengthy and logistically complicated undertaking. It begins at the end of the harvest season (late summer), and the rounds may not finish until early winter. While it might be easier to divide these duties among a greater number of less-powerful officials, this allows taxation to remain Relatively centralized and performed by trusted appointees (often friends or relatives of the Usoma himself). This has had side effects of these officials becoming especially powerful individuals within each province, with very little checks in place to prevent corruption (beyond hope for sustained loyalty, often reinforced with special privileges and favors). Flagrant abuse of this system is rare, but more unpopular magistrates are commonly suspected to leverage additional off-the-books taxes for their own personal gain.

[cxffecoupx]

warning: mentions of alcohol

"well, hellooo~"

you turn towards the voice, and find a very drunken (and very adorable) soonyoung standing to your right, a glass of whiskey (?) in hand. he was loud enough to be heard over the noise of the club, yet you still perked up and leaned towards him.

"hello."

"what'ss a pretty lady like you hic... doing over hereee?" his voice sounded almost like a sing-song. he probably had a little too much of the drink. confirming your thoughts, he stumbles into the chair next to you.

"just winding up after a long day, you know? what about you?"

"well, i jus wanna let loooose tonight. with my friendsss. they're prolly out there, hic, dancing or drinking," he waves his hands around, pointing towards his friends. but you're only looking at him. a small smile forms on your lips, but you're quick to hide it.

"i see... it's too crowded here, you wanna go somewhere private?" you offer, pretending innocence.

he lets out a loud gasp, "oh no! i have a girlfriendd!! hic she's somewhere around here. she'll end you iff she finds out."

"is she that dangerous?"

"sometimess, but she's veeery sweet. hic always takes care off me. kisses me goodnight and goood morning. hic, always sends me cute stuff that reminds her of me... hic-"

he stands up as he's speaking, but then stumbles again and falls into the seat, face first onto the counter.

you gasp and rush over to him, patting him on the cheek, "omg, soonie? soonyoung? are you okay??"

he lets out a slow groan before raising his head and looking at you. his eyes sparkle with recognition

"y/n!! omg you're here! i was hic just talking about you! come on, let'ss have a drink!" he shouts and turns to call the bartender, "sir-"

"soonie, come on, let's go home. you're way too drunk," you pull him by his hand to get him to stand. even in his drunken state, he laughs and let's you lead him.

"y/n you know something? i met a lady back at the counter. she kind of looked a lot like you. But! she tried to hit on me!!"

you play along, pretending surprise, "really? what did you say?"

"I pushed her away, of course. can't ever forget my baby. my sweet, lovely babyyy..."