drink to write

Make yourself a priority. Answer back late. Skip a lecture, go back to sleep or read one of your favourite books. Drink lots of tea and write about your feelings. Connect with your inner self on a deeper level. Reflect on what’s going on inside of your mind. Take a walk in nature, breathe, keep breathing until you feel alive. Truly and undoubtedly alive. Not just existing. Tell your friends how much you love them. Call your mom back and tell her how much she means to you. Most importantly and above all, know that the world will keep going even if you can’t always. Protect your mind, body and soul at all costs.
—  Note to self
Long summer nights with new friends are always fun. Learning about each other in different ways. Getting drunk under the sunset, acting like fools. Being high as the night keeps going on and on forever.
—  summer nights // excerpt from a book I’ll never write #16
4

thoughts, feelings, y’know that sorta thing

edit 2: this is a post about bipolar disorder, made by me, an artist with bipolar disorder, strictly for other people with bipolar disorder. stop tagging it for unipolar depression, anxiety, bpd, psychosis, or anything else (those are just the most used tags on this) because it’s not about those. even if you think you can relate, tagging this as anything other than bipolar disorder is stripping my meaning away from my work, and invalidating my feelings as a mentally ill person AND an artist. stop doing that.

edit 3: do NOT put this on gore/guro blogs. thanks.

She tells me
she hates the taste
of whiskey
except for when
she tastes it on my tongue.
And I want to be the one
for her but
loving me is lonely
and the hangover is hell.
I don’t want to become
the bad habit that
she has to recover from.
—  The Taste of Whiskey, V.P.
team voltron as drinks ive had at parties

shiro: straight whiskey in a styrofoam cup

keith: 5 shots of fireball in quick succession

lance: mixing whatever is in the kitchen (at least 2 different liquors) with some juice and praying for the best

pidge: cheap vodka and mountain dew

hunk: the only sensible drink, like a vodka cranberry or something

allura: white wine but like…a step above cheap wine. like Stella or smth.

coran: absinthe

A concept:

- Eddie falls asleep while sunbathing one day when they’re all relaxing at the quarry and Richie takes the opportunity to stick a bunch of yellow dandelions in his hair.

-When Eddie wakes up he frantically starts pulling them out, swatting Richie’s hand away and complaining about bugs and allergies. 

-Richie whines, telling him that they make him look “so cute” and that he has zero sense of fashion

-Eddie has to storm away when he says that because he’s sure his face is so red you’d be able to see it from a mile away.

-He takes the rest of the flowers out as he walks home but keeps one. He presses it between the pages of a book and tries very hard not to think too much about the fact that Richie Tozier actually thought he was cute. 

Some people drink themselves sick night after night.
Others get high almost as often as they take in oxygen.
And some find a new lover every other month.
And the sad part of that isn’t the fact that they’re destroying themselves, though it may be true.
The saddest part of all of it is that each of those people are just looking for a remedy for whatever bullshit they’re forced to feel.
Lets be honest, we’re all just looking for a pain-killer. And mine just so happened to be you.
—  You were the only remedy.

If you cannot handle your alcohol you cannot handle me. I am the strongest drink you will ever have and the quickest drug you will ever get addicted to. Like the whiskey you’ve grown to be fond of since you were 16 years old I’ll be there when it feels like nobody else is. I will be what you drown yourself in when you’re overwhelmed with both happiness and sadness, I will be what you wake up wanting and go to bed dreaming of. The first swig of me will leave you wondering if you want more but with each new sip you’ll fall more in love with each taste you get and ask for another shot. But unlike the alcohol you’ve learned to rely on, even when you split ways, I will not come back. One day I’ll wake up and leave and you will go through a withdrawal that doesn’t really end, you just find ways to bury it. But I’ll have scarred you and you’ll never really want whiskey again, just on the nights you miss me most and you can’t fight the urge to do whatever it takes to have the taste of me on your lips again. So when she asks you why you drink yourself to death with whiskey on the days it feels like the worlds falling apart or the days it feels like it’s all falling together? Tell her that the tequila from your trip with her to Mexico, or the Vodka you got in Moscow, or the wine she got you from that Vineyard back east doesn’t make you feel like I did.

And when you’re drunk in your whiskey that’s the only time you feel like you’re home

More Ace Dex

Ace Dex combating the casual aphobia that we all deal with at some point.  

“Dude, you’ve never done the nasty?”

Dex rolled his eyes, hard. Whiskey’s tone was just this side of shocked, and it made Dex was to take back the fact that he had said anything at all. It wasn’t exactly that he expected the team to be more understanding than other people, but he hoped that was the case, anyway.

On top of that, Whiskey managed to catch the attention of Ransom and Holster, who were walking past, heads close together.

“Wait, what’s this about someone never smuggling the ol’ bone?”

Ransom gave Holster a critical look, then grinned in that way that only someone on the wrong side of tipsy can. “Playing hide the sausage.”

Holster countered quickly with, “Making the beast with two backs.”

“Assault with a friendly weapon.”

“Entangling the lower beards.”

“Joint sessions of Congress.”

Holster held out a fist. “Bro, pound it out for that one.”

With a solemn nod, Ransom offered tapped his fist to Holster’s. Dex hoped that their (truly awful) back and forth would distract them from what was going on, but instead they plopped onto the couch to join in the conversation. Well, they pushed their way onto the couch, which was already too full, Ransom on one end and Holster in the middle of Nursey and Dex.

Whiskey pointed in Dex’s general direction, and told the captains, “Apparently, Dex has never had sex.”

Holster threw a big arm around Dex’s shoulder and turned toward him. Dex could smell tub juice wafting off of him. “Dex! My dude. My man. Bro. We gotta resolve this.”

“It’s not a problem. There’s nothing to resolve.”

On the other side of Holster, Dex could see his boyfriend’s concerned face. Nursey knew that Dex’s sexuality (well, his asexuality) was still a touchy subject. On the best of days, it was hard for him to have a conversation about. On the days after a game loss and with a group of drunken and less than subtle frat boys, well…. Chances were that it wasn’t going to go well.

“No, but Dex. Dexy. Dex. Sex is so good. Tell ‘im, Rans, tell him about… Shit, what’s a good one for Dex? Crab fishing in the dead sea.”

Dex scrunched up his face. “Dude, that’s fucking gross. And no, whatever fucking euphemism you use, the answer is no.”

On the other side of Holster, Nursey stood up and held a hand out to Dex, and yeah, that sounded like a better idea than having a discussion about life choices with a very drunk Holster. Dex pushed off the couch with a solid fist to Holster’s thigh, maybe a little harder than strictly necessary. He followed Nursey under the caution tape and up the stairs to Chowder’s room.

They spent the rest of the not-kegster (because apparently it could only be a kegster if they won the game) hiding out, watching Brooklyn-99. Dex could feel Nursey sending him concerned looks, but he ignored them. They fell asleep together, cuddling on the thin mattress.

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World Mental Health Day

Here’s a list of things to do for world mental health day:

  • Take a bath
  • Read some poetry
  • Take a walk
  • Do some yoga
  • Draw a picture
  • Talk to a good friend (no negativity today!!!)
  • Watch some Bob Ross
  • Do some face masks
  • Meditate
  • Organize something (this always calms me down)
  • Compliment somebody
  • Do a puzzle
  • Eat three full meals! (Healthy!!!)
  • Drink lots of water
  • Write a letter or diary/journal entry
  • Do what makes you feel happy!

[Short KageHina coworker / drunken flirting / accidental domesticity AU ??? IDK]

Now on AO3!


It’s Friday evening after the work day is done, and Kageyama is uncomfortable.

He’s not sure why, exactly, but it may have something to do with the fact that the izakaya is too stuffy, and all the beer he’s ingested is already making him sweaty, and the stiff collar of his shirt is beginning to chafe him, and his new coworkers and boss all want to make small talk with him, and he just wants to go home and watch the volleyball games he recorded the night before.

It could be any number of those things that are making him uncomfortable, but Kageyama thinks what really might be doing it is the way one of his aforementioned new coworkers has been looking at him for roughly the past twenty minutes or so.

Hinata has been working in the sales and marketing department at their office for a couple of years now, and seems much more suited to rowdy after-work drinking events, if his alcohol intake the past few hours is any kind of indication. Kageyama knows his own face is probably a healthy shade of pink, but Hinata is verging on crimson. His round cheeks are like two squashy apples. Probably squashy apples would be spoiled and therefore disgusting, but on Hinata, the look is nice. Like, maybe apples should consider being squashy more often, or people should just accept squashy apples as they are, without being so critical of their squashiness.

Kageyama is probably pretty tipsy, yeah.

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