drink to write

grant’s facial hair makes him look like a hipster who hangs out in coffee shops on his laptop, drinking straight black coffee, writing his Next Big Manuscript that he believes is really deep and introspective but its really as deep as a Very Special Episode of full house.

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.

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

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.
Whose name made you drink enough to forget your own?

I love how Blizzard and some boring people try to make Roadhog into a ruthless killer with nothing good to offer and then there is Josh Petersdorf, official VA of hog like… “Yeah, Hog’s new years resolutions is eating more raviolis… He runs a Pachimari orphanage, he loves his boyfriend Junkrat and serenades him with Enrique Iglesias songs and buy him gifts… He plays StarCraft with Dva and drinks tea with Ana. He writes poetry too and –”

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.

AU where Geno and the pens are part of a secret organization that time travels to maintain the flow of historic events, and on one mission, Geno is tasked to go back to the 1820s to save a man (whose great-great grandson will eventually be key to a medical breakthrough that will change history) from a freak accident involving a horse carriage gone rogue. 

Anyways, the man is super thankful and insists on treating Geno to dinner, and Geno is hesitant because he’s really not supposed to interact this much with the subject but the man won’t hear a no. So Geno gets taken to this guy’s estate and meets Sidney, the man’s youngest son, who is beautiful and intelligent and basically Geno’s exact type. So right there and then Geno knows that he’s screwed. 

Keep reading

Pacts

Characters:  Dean x Reader, Sam

Summary:  The reader made a pact with Dean and Sam to meet up on a special date.  Do the brothers keep their word?

Word Count:  2821

Warnings:  Shower smut, language

This for @winchester-writes Birthday Drinking Challenge.  I chose Four Roses Bourbon and the prompt: “Can you help me take a shower?” (I played with the wording slightly. 

 HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ROSE!

Tags are at the bottom.  As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

Pacts

“Happy birthday to me,” you say with a sigh as you sit on the edge of the bed and flip through the shitty basic cable programming on the motel TV.

The knock at the door pulls you out of your pity party. Cautiously, you pull back the curtain. As soon as you see who is at the door, you pull back the deadbolt and throw it wide open.

“DEAN!” You throw yourself into his arms. The elder Winchester laughs as he wraps his arms around you tightly. Pulling back from his embrace, you tilt your head to look up at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you think I’d forget your twenty-first birthday?” he says.

God, it’s good to see Dean. Really fucking good. Until you saw, you’d hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed him. You peer around his shoulder, looking expectantly for his brother.

“Sorry, kid. It’s just me,” he says apologetically.

“What? No, I’m so glad you’re here! Come in,” you say, stepping back. Dean steps in, surveying your current digs.  

“Are you hunting alone?” Dean asks with concern, you can hear it in his voice.

“I can handle myself,” you retort, automatically falling back into the role of younger kid, Dean was always the oldest. He was the one who told you and Sammy what to do, how to do it, and when to do it. You were the one that argued with him, the defiant one, the one who questioned his orders.

“No, hey,” Dean replies. “I know you can. Let’s not - I’m here to celebrate. Whaddya say we grab some dinner and I buy you your first legal drink?”

“I’d say it’s fitting, since you’re the one who gave me my first illegal drink,” you tease.

Dean laughs. “Oh yeah, that’s right. You still a lightweight?”

“Let’s find out,” you say, throwing him a wink.

Keep reading

The Five Times You Encounter Dean Winchester

Word Count: 2,914

Warnings: Drinking. 

A/N: I missed writing Dean, so this happened :) Hope y’all enjoy! Let me know ^^ 

Originally posted by out-in-the-open


Five Years Old
There is a new kid in your kindergarten class. He’s quiet, has freckles all about his tiny face, and wide green eyes. He stands next to the teacher as she introduces him to everyone and you smile widely when you realize that the only open seat in the classroom is the one next to you.

A new friend and you’re thrumming with excitement as he takes his seat next to you.

“Dean!” you exclaim, making him jump.

Keep reading

I don’t drink to forget you, I drink to forget that you’ve forgotten me, and to remember the times when you hadn’t.
—  drink to forget // excerpt from a book I’ll never write

You destroyed a part of me
That I’ll probably never get back.
You took me into the night
And now my heart is black.

You didn’t even know my name,
I think your name was Zach?
Now I’m stuck here with these scars
And the bruises on my neck.

I haven’t slept in days,
I feel so dead inside,
I jump when people try to touch me,
And I have no tears left to cry.

I wish I could forget
Everything you did to me.
Now every time I close my eyes
It’s all that I can see.

—  K.N.B.