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Usually Bones is so casual when he’s off duty that people on board can forget that he knows all their personal information. Not that he’d ever misuse it. But one night everyone was very drunk, amd Jim was insisting that Bones couldn’t possibly remember who on board has an appendix. So everyone lined up and Bones walked down the aisle. Yes. Yes. No. No. Yes. Yes. No. Yes. No. No. No. You’re species doesn’t have one. Yes. Yes.
100% correct.

  • Yukimura: I wasn't THAT drunk last night.
  • Shingen: You were flirting with MC.
  • Yukimura: So? She's my fiancee!
  • Shingen: You asked her if she was single.
  • Shingen: And then cried when she said she wasn't.

my smoke,
your trip,
we’re both faded and gone.

while we sit in silence,
it’s like we’re talking to each other.
is your heart beating as fast as mine?

i’m sad,
you’re scared,
this is just a mess.

you see shadows,
i lost mine.
do you see my shadows dancing in the pale moonlight?

i’m alive,
on a high,
living on the soul delusion of time.

you’re here,
next to me,
with a mouth that’s cotton dry.

we’re both dead inside,
living on the reality of love and hurt.
will you still love me even if i’m sober?

3rd Victim

The sadness It got him
Despair it distraught him
Until there was nothing left to do
But move on.
Move on he did
To conquer his dreams
Ripped apart at the seems,
He lost his mind.


Text me when you’re drunk tomorrow. Text me when you’ve had three whiskey sours,two beers, and ten cigarettes.
Text me when you’re drunk and you don’t
know your left arm from your right but you wonder what it would be like to have my crimson lipstick all over your mouth again.
Text me because you’re bored, because you’re curious, because you want the scent of my perfume stuck on your t-shirt one last time.
Text me for the hell of it,because you want my sun soft fingers bending beneath your bones,because you still remember how pretty i look in parking lot light.
Text me because one day we won’t be able to blame our youth or the alcohol. Because one day I’ll have a husband, a new number or an apartment in New York City, and we both know that once that day comes there will be more than a nine character message keeping me from crawling back into your bed to say my goodbye.
—  Just Drunk Text Me. by brittney l. melvin
I walk without weapons now.
My finger’s off the trigger and my armour’s at home.
Call me a quitter,
but I’m done hitting self-destruct just to see what happens.

So let go of the guilt
and allow your broken body to rebuild.
Forgive your failings and keep on keeping on.
And I’ll keep on keeping on.
And we’ll both become strong.
We’ll both be around long after the burning bridges are gone.

It’s a hollow dream,
helplessly stuffing the holes inside yourself
with half-forgotten moments,
and hoping you hold on to the memories
long enough to say “That was me.”

It takes courage to be free.
I might still struggle with clarity
but I can finally see the path set out before my feet.
Right thought.
Right action.
Right speech.

You might stumble along the way,
but that’s fine.
We only get one chance at this life,
so take it one step at a time.

There’s a dark entity hidden in every mind,
and it wants us to fail.
It wants us to take the easy way out
every damn time.
It delights in torture, and gives bad advice.
You need to silence this voice.
Believe in yourself from time to time,
and you can take back your life.

I still have debts to pay.
I don’t know where the dead go
when they’re done with dreaming,
but I know the darkness is growing more afraid of me these days.
I know in the the silent moments when the world stops
and the ghosts come out,
I can hold these humble bones together
and let them drain themselves of doubt.

Don’t despair.

If you’re sick of seeing beauty through a darkened window,
wipe away the dirt.
Self-love does not have to hurt.
You do not need to justify the suffering you feel.
It’s ok to find this living thing hard,
but you are allowed to exist
exactly the way you are.

Embrace the struggle,
the overwhelming guilt
and desire to lose yourself in drink.
But no matter how many times you fall
or how close you are to drowning,
refuse to sink.

Killing time is no way to live.
Drag yourself from the wreckage
and resurrect yourself.
Stay in love with yourself.
Be yourself.
Open your chest and welcome the breath,
because life doesn’t have to scare you to death.
—  giraffevader - 100 days of sober