vodka water bottle

  • Me: *has bad habit*
  • People: hey thats not healthy you should stop doing that
  • Me, having realized Bad Habit will get me Attention: *does bad habit even more* *only ever talks about bad habit* *centers identity around bad habit*

Ok so in theatre, one of the things I was tasked to do was keeping the costumes smelling fresh

Without washing them

For, like, 4 months

All I’m saying is that Ford is gonna take one sniff of those hockey bags, and immidiately take a trip to the murder stop and shop.
She returns with an armful of vodka and an empty windex bottle .

She then gathers the bags, puts a mix of vodka and water into the bottle, and sprays them for all it’s worth.

When its done, she lines each of em with dryer sheets

“So do we still need a dryer, or can we just clean everything with vodka from now on?” Tango asks

The foxes as a list of shit i pulled in high school

Dan Wilds: Told someone to get their fucking act together back stage when my mic was on and it rang out over a sea of toddlers who were just there to see the wizard of oz (sorry guys)

Andrew Minyard: had an illegal copy made of the keys to the drama room and used them to break in whenever i felt like for all of senior year

Matt Boyd: used said keys to break in the night before the last day of school and filled the drama room with over 700 balloons (all blown up by 3 people and w/o pumps we’re pretty sure we passed out from lack of oxygen at some point)

Kevin Day: one time my friend brought vodka in a water bottle and you better believe i did shots and then went to history class

Neil Josten: Fell off the set of the musical i was in, badly sprained my ankle, told everyone i was fine and went on to finish the show in high heels (i was, in fact, not fine)

Nicky Hemmick: Went to the first GSA meeting of the year, told everyone i was gay and did not return for any subsequent meetings

Aaron Minyard: once kicked someone in the shins because they wouldn’t stop making fun of me for being short (they went on for like an hour in my defence)

Renee Walker: Someone told me i was intimidating and i said “good” and then “but why i’m literally the nicest person ever”

Allison Reynolds: someone bet me i wouldn’t tell my theatre teacher to shut the fuck up and guess who was $20 richer? that’s right i was

Seth Gordon: my friend convinced one of my classes that i was dead when i was out for three weeks after an appendectomy and when i came back a girl screamed

Wymack: once drove my car to school, turned into the parking lot, drove around the outside of the parking lot and went home because i was not fucking feeling it

me on tumblr: stay hydrated! drink water! :)

me irl: drinks nothing but coffee, soda, and vodka, hasn’t purchased a water bottle since 2009, vitamin deficient and being followed by vultures

BTS as kids from high school
  • Jin: That guy on the swim team who walked around in his speedo way more often than was necessary.
  • Yoongi: The kid who assisted in the front office, knew everybody's business, could make things happen.
  • Hoseok: That guy who always asked all the new kids to sit with him at lunch, probably streaked at a football game, generally beloved.
  • Namjoon: Mall goth.
  • Jimin: The only boy at school to get busted for dress code.
  • Taehyung: That hot sax player that everybody in band wanted to nail, brought vodka in water bottles on band trips.
  • Jungkook: That kid who grew a lot over the summer and went around physically lifting girls for no reason.

anonymous asked:

one time in like eighth grade some friends of mine got caught drinking vodka from a water bottle. they only got caught cause they were passing it around the table.

I have been through this exact experience what the hell

I Want To Save You; Connor Murphy x Reader

Word Count: 6,232

Request: I loved “All my hope” so much I wanted to request you do one with an alcoholic reader? I’m struggling with things rn and it would be comforting-it’s a demanding thing to ask but I would read the shit out of your work all day if I could- something like Connor and reader are friends and he notices that maybe their water bottle is filled with a lot more than just water- arguments cus he’s worried and a hypocrite cus weed n shiz- drunk texts and sadness vent? Fluffy end -Sincerely Me..:

A/N: I fulfilled my first request! So, here’s the thing. The writing in this story is horrendous. (I also didn’t do a very good job proof-reading this) My dear anon, whoever you are, I am so sorry that I probably butchered the hell out of the story that you asked for. Nevertheless, I hope you find the comfort in these words that you were looking for even if my execution of this idea was a hot mess. I hope I did some justice to this and I sincerely hope that none of this comes off as offensive because that was not my intention in any way. 

Warnings: Alcohol usage, cursing, & (some of my worst writing, ever.)

Skill is defined as the ability to do something well. It is not something that you are born knowing how to do, it is something you learn and acquire over time. People typically think that skills are harmless things. Some people are skilled at dancing or painting. They are little talents that make you different from everyone else. But some skills are darker. They are private. They are not the type of skills that people talk about with envy. They are hidden and you intend to keep them that way.

At some point over the years you had acquired the skill of pouring vodka into your water bottle and resealing it perfectly. You were very careful and particular about it. You didn’t want to take a chance of anyone knowing. You poured the alcohol into a water bottle with the steadiest hands you could conjure and you hid the bottle away behind other items. When you ran out of it and had to throw it away, you would cover it up with milk bottles and empty boxes. You hid and repressed.

Your best friend, Connor Murphy, did not know that you had acquired this skill.

Connor has seen you get drunk before and it was no secret that you could drink a lot. He never really thought anything of it because he’s usually getting drunk with you. It’s hard for him to notice the extent of your alcohol consumption when he is also consuming it himself.  

Although, he would be lying if he said that he didn’t suspect something.

It started when he wanted a drink from your water bottle.

He grabbed it right out of your hands while you were walking in the hallway.

“Oh thank god, you have water! I’m so fucking thirsty.”

Your voice grabbed his attention before he could even touch the lid. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“….I’m getting a drink of water. I told you, I’m fucking thirsty.”

He looked over at you and was surprised to see that you were…flustered. You seemed nervous. Like a deer caught in headlights.

“Well, get your own fucking bottle, Murphy. This one is mine.”

You reached out and snatched the bottle from his grip.

“What the hell has gotten into you, Y/N? Jesus, it’s not like I’m contagious. We’ve shared drinks before.”

“I-I’m sick! I think I’m really coming down with something. I don’t want you to drink after me. Maybe you aren’t contagious but I am.”

“You seem fine to me. When did you get sick?”

“It just started last night! I have to stay hydrated and drink plenty of liquids. That’s what everyone always says to do when you’re sick, right?”

He didn’t really believe you. He’s seen you when you were sick and he didn’t think this was one of those times, even if this sickness was supposedly in its early stages.

“Well, if you’re sick, why the fuck are you in school? Shouldn’t you be resting at home?”

You laughed and for a moment he forgot that there was anything wrong at all.

“I’m not dying, Connor. It’s probably just a little cold or something. I’ll be fine, just keep your hands off my water bottle, okay?”


He spoke up again a few moments later, “Are you sure you’re okay, Y/N?”

“Yes, Con. I’m fine. Can we talk about something else?”

You spoke your words quickly and Connor noticed that you didn’t look him in the eyes when you said it.

But he did what you asked. He dropped the subject because you were his best friend. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He didn’t want to upset you. If he did, then there was a possibility that he could lose you. So he pushed away any possibility that something could be wrong and he changed the topic. But he did not forget about it.

He got high that night. He sat on his bed in the dark and tried to remember the exact look on your face when he tried to drink from your water bottle. It wasn’t just that you were nervous, it was more than that. You looked… scared. You seemed angry at him. It didn’t add up to him.

He tried to tell himself that you were telling the truth. You were sick and it would make sense that you wouldn’t want him to get sick also. But the look on your face, the nervousness in your voice, that was more than just concern over him getting sick. You got defensive.

The frustration was growing in the pit of his stomach. Normally getting high helps him calm the fuck down but tonight, it seemed like all it did was heighten his anxiety. He played it over and over in his mind because he wanted to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Every time he went over it, he came back to the same conclusion. There was definitely something off about you.

But he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

As far as he could tell, there was absolutely no fucking reason for you to get so defensive about a water bottle.

Unless… it wasn’t water.  

He’s heard stories about people putting vodka in water bottles before but he’s never actually seen anyone do it.

It looked like water but he had to admit, he wasn’t really looking at it that closely. He was too busy focusing on your reaction to notice what exactly was in it.

But you wouldn’t do that, right? He’s seen you get drunk at parties before but everyone does that. Surely, you were not the kind of person to get drunk in the middle of the day.

He wasn’t even sure what time it was anymore. It had to be late, Zoe wasn’t blasting any annoying jazz music anymore and he couldn’t see any lights on from the crack of his door. He should probably go to sleep, but he felt wired.

If there was something wrong with you, he didn’t want to be one of those people that ignored the signs and missed all the clues. He didn’t want to be one of those people that said, “I never knew they had a problem. If I did, I would have helped.”

On the other hand, if there was something wrong with you, you would tell him. He was sure of it. You and Connor did not understand the concept of the word, “secret.” You shared things with each other; it was one of the many things that made the two of you so close.

You knew about all the times he got high. He told you about the shit that he did. You knew about the weed. You knew about his mental illness. You knew about all the dark and depressive thoughts that he had because that’s what friends do. They talk to each other. He told you about the days that he felt whole and he told you about the days that he didn’t. He expected the same from you.

He tried to not overthink it. He kept reminding himself that he didn’t actually have any proof of anything. He had no way of knowing if that bottle was full of vodka or water because he hadn’t actually opened it. All he had was a gut feeling of dread which didn’t really mean anything.

He needed to sleep and calm the fuck down. So he told himself that you were telling the truth. He repeated it over and over like a mantra under his breath.

You were sick.

The reason you got so upset was because you didn’t want him drinking after you.

It wasn’t vodka.

He was overreacting.

It was just water.

He let those thoughts float around in his head while he smoked some more. He did this until he was sure he believed it. He let himself believe it because he wanted it to be true. You were fine. You had to be.

He fell into an uneasy sleep. He didn’t really dream that night, it was more like random flashes in his head. There were images of you standing there in the hallway, looking like a scared, wounded animal. There were images of you reaching out your hand to rip that bottle from his grasp. There were images of you smiling, blurred, and drunk, holding a bottle of vodka in your hand. By the time he woke up, his chest felt hollow. It was like there was this deep, dark hole with no beginning or end and no substance in the world could fill it.

The next night came around. Jared Kleinman was throwing a party and honestly, if Connor wasn’t friends with you, he probably wouldn’t even be going.

You opened the passenger door before he could even put the car in park. He felt relieve when you climbed in the seat because you were smiling. You seemed happy or at the very least you seemed to be back to your normal self. He was looking at you beside him. There was something about the muted, grey skies outside that made you shine bright. In that moment, you were just his best friend that he knew and loved so well. Of course, nothing was wrong. You were fine. He knew he overreacted.

“So, I guess you aren’t sick anymore?”


He couldn’t really see the look on your face because he was trying to focus on the road. He allowed himself to steal a quick glance at you and he was surprised to find you looking… confused.

“You said you were sick yesterday, remember? You thought you were really coming down with something. You wouldn’t let me drink after you.”

Even though he was half focused on you and half focused on the road, he noticed how you suddenly seemed frozen at his last sentence but you quickly recovered. In fact, you recovered so quickly, Connor wasn’t even sure he saw you freeze at all.

“Oh yeah, I guess it was just a 24 hour virus or something. I’m feeling much better now.”

He thought it over while you flipped through the local radio stations.

He still wasn’t really sure if he believed that you were sick but he did have to admit that you seemed to be doing better than you were yesterday. He still had to remind himself that he had no proof that anything was wrong. All he had was his thoughts, which was a dangerous thing because it was so easy to assume the worst about every situation.

“Oh, I love this song!”

You turned the volume up on his car stereo and he allowed himself to steal one more glance at you. You were singing along to some song he didn’t really know and “dancing” in your seat. Well, it wasn’t really dancing; it was more like wiggling around your upper body and waving your arms in every direction. But you looked happy and free. The sun was shining bright that evening. It was cutting through the gloomy skies and illuminating through his windshield. The sunlight wrapped around you like a silhouette. You looked so safe and beautiful in the passenger seat of his car and he wanted to capture that moment and live in it forever. He wanted a world where the two of you could just be people. He wanted a world where you could just be best friends and he didn’t have to worry about intrusive thoughts, vodka filled water bottles, or lies about being sick. He wants to cut out all of the bad things in life and surround you with only the good. But unfortunately, life was not made up entirely of happy moments. Happiness is like a fizzy soft drink. It is sweet but it doesn’t last long. You have to drink it before it goes flat. So he soaked in your happiness all the way to Jared’s house until his heart felt full to the brim with love and then just like that, when he stopped the car, the happy moment went flat.

Connor’s original plan when the two you arrived was the keep track of how many drinks you had that night. Since he was driving, he was staying sober but to be honest, he lost track of how much you were drinking. It was a house party and there was alcohol out in the open everywhere he turned. There were people everyone. It felt like everyone he had ever met was there and as the night went on it was becomingly increasingly difficult to keep you in his sight. At one point, he lost you completely. The house was a like a sea of intoxicated students. He ran into people he hated and people he didn’t know but the one he was looking for was nowhere to be found.

You were already feeling a buzz that had grown so incredibly familiar to you. The thing was, it was hard for you to tell if you were drinking because you wanted to be happy and feel the buzz or if you were drinking because you couldn’t stand not feeling the buzz. You had reached the perfect moment. You were in a stage where all you could think was, “this is great. I feel happy. I don’t want this feeling to end.” Theoretically, this is where you should stop. This is the moment where you should switch your alcohol out for water and start to put a close on your night but you have often found that your drunk self has no empathy for your sober self. Once you start drinking, the word “stop” seems to no longer be in your vocabulary. So you kept going. You grabbed another drink even though it would ultimately only make you feel worse.

You were a wreck by the time Connor found you. You were a mixture of stumbling and slurred words. He couldn’t even understand some of what you were saying. He couldn’t let you stay any longer. He needed to get you home. Or at least, he needed to get you in a non-alcoholic environment.

What ended up happening was that you went to bathroom and started vomiting. Connor sat on the edge of the bathtub and rubbed your back and if anyone tried to come in, he would tell them to fuck off. The smell of alcohol was almost unbearable.

How much did you drink?

He cursed himself for not keeping an eye on you like he intended. What kind of best friend was he? He was supposed to be looking out for you, damn it. He was worried about you. He was supposed to take care of you and he couldn’t even seem to do that right.

If it was hard for him to tell just how much you had consumed. Everyone smelled like alcohol because it was a party and everyone was drinking. You always drink a lot. He never thought anything about it. Plenty of people drink a lot. But it was hard for him to tell the difference between drinking a lot and drinking so much that it was a problem. How was he supposed to tell when you crossed the line?

His brain seemed to be divided between two options. He could believe that you had a problem or he could believe that you just liked to drink but it was nothing to be concerned about. But you were his best friend and no one wants to think that there could be anything wrong with their best friend. So he lets that part of his brain win.

It was just water.

It wasn’t vodka.

You were sick.

You were drinking but it wasn’t dangerous. Everyone gets like this sometimes. Everyone drinks and throws up and has hangovers. This wasn’t a problem.

He told himself this over and over again while he continued to rub your back because he wanted so badly to believe it was true.

It wasn’t until the third encounter that Connor realized that maybe this was a much bigger problem than he wanted to admit.

He came to visit you because he needed to get the fuck away from his family. His father was in one of those moods where all he wanted to do was talk about Connor’s wasted potential.

His father seemed to have this pipe dream that Connor was going to take over his firm one day. Personally, Connor would rather slam his own tongue in a car door than become a lawyer.

For some reason, his mother decided today would be a good day to clean out their attic. His father came across a box that contained a baseball glove that was very stiff due to the fact that it had never been used. His father pulled the glove out and turned it over in his hands and let out a deep sigh.

“Guess I should probably get rid of this thing. The only thing this glove has done is collect dust.”

Connor hated the way he said this because it sounded insulting as hell. His father might as well have looked him in the eyes and said, “This glove has gone to waste, just like all my other hopes and dreams for you.”

Larry Murphy was always excited at the idea of having a son. He had images of teaching his kid to play catch and taking him fishing because that was what his father did with him. But Connor wasn’t interested in baseball gloves and sporting events. Larry wasn’t sure what his son was interested in. he couldn’t really figure out how to talk to his son and Connor was at a point in his life where he had given up all hope that his father would ever learn how to do it.

So this was how he found himself at your house with some movie on in the background even though neither of you were really paying attention to it.

At one point, you left to go to the bathroom and he saw a water bottle sitting right there next to your bed. He knew he shouldn’t be invading your privacy. That was the kind of shit that parents did to their kids and then they tell them it was just because they “had your best interest at heart.”

But he couldn’t deny that there was a curiosity taking over. He figured it couldn’t hurt to just check. If he could just confirm that you weren’t drinking than he could finally put his anxiety to rest and just you could just be friends again. He peeked out into the hallway to make sure that the bathroom door was still closed and he immediately reached out for it.

He read somewhere that you can tell the difference between vodka and water by shaking it up and looking for bubbles but that didn’t seem to help him much. He figured “fuck it” and just unscrewed the lid instead. He didn’t know too much about vodka. On the occasions that he would get drunk, it was not usually the type of drink he went for. It didn’t have a distinctive smell but it definitely smelled like alcohol. He didn’t need to be an expert to know that this wasn’t water.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Your presence startled him so much that he actually jumped and spilled some of the liquid on your bed sheets.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Connor?”

“This isn’t water, Y/N.”

It felt stupid as hell to be pointing this out. Of course you knew it wasn’t water, you were the one that was drinking it.

“I don’t really see how that’s any of your business.”

It felt like his blood was rushing through his body. The anger was rising, he could feel it.

“Not any of my business? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re my best friend. I think I have the right to know if you’re a fucking alcoholic.”

“I am not-“

“Yes you fucking are. You think this is normal? Drinking vodka out of a water bottle in the middle of the day? What is going on with you, Y/N? Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t.”

His fist was clenched so tight that his knuckles were white. His jaw was clenched and he was right on the brink of exploding.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because you wouldn’t underst-“

“Oh that’s such bullshit. Of course, I would understand. You’re my best friend.”

“That isn’t enough, Connor! This isn’t the same thing as a bad day or shitty parents. This is the kind of thing that you can’t empathize with unless you’ve experienced it.”

“Well you can still talk to me about it. I’m fucking worried about you, Y/N. This isn’t normal. Let me try to help you please.

He holds up your water bottle. “You shouldn’t be fucking doing this.”

He was not expecting you to laugh, but you did. It was harsh and cold. In that moment all traces of his best friend were gone. He barely even recognized you. It was like you were composed of nothing but sharp edges. Normally, Connor considered you to be gentle. To him, you were a kind soul. You were a calming breeze during the most violent storms of his life. Every sense of calm was gone now.

“Why the fuck are you laughing, Y/N? This isn’t funny.”

You were still laughing, cold and cruel. “Yes it fucking is, Connor. You’re really going to stand here and lecture me on being sober? What about you? You really think you’re such a saint? You get high all the fucking time, Connor. Have you ever even gone a week without smoking weed? You’re such a goddamn hypocrite, Murphy.”

Anger. So much anger was rising in his throat like bile.

“Maybe I am a hypocrite. But you want to know what the difference between me and you is? I own up to my shit, Y/N. I can actually acknowledge the existence of my bad decisions. I know that I get high all the time; you know that, everyone knows that. You’re too busy covering up your darkness with fucking lies about being sick and water bottles. At least when I fuck up, I can openly acknowledge it. You’re too fucking scared to own up to your problems. You make up fabricated illusions and then you get defensive when anyone tries to call you out on it. You can’t own up to what you are.”

Your eyes seemed to be iced over. You were so angry that you were terrifyingly calm. It made the hair on the back of Connor’s neck prick up. He’s never seen you like this before. This was not the face of his best friend.

“I may be an alcoholic, but I am a damn good one. I don’t need help, Connor. Especially not from someone that can barely stay sober himself. Get the fuck out. Now.”

He didn’t see any point in arguing with you. He was running out of things to say and he was sure you wouldn’t listen to it anyway. So he left but he could have sworn he saw a empty vodka bottle peeking out from under a milk carton in your trash can.

Connor was thinking about getting high when he got home just to spite you.

I don’t need help, Connor. Especially not from someone that can barely stay sober himself

Fuck that. He could get high whenever he wanted and as far as he was concerned there was nothing you could do about it.

He didn’t end up doing it though. He was too busy thinking about everything.

The two of you had never had a fight before. There were slight disagreements sometimes but nothing on the level of what happened today. He also never knew you were hiding something like this. Why didn’t you tell him? You were right about him being a hypocrite. Who was he to tell you about being sober when the idea of getting sober himself seemed unfathomable? You were both hiding behind the masks that you made to disguise all of the shit that you’re ashamed of.

He wasn’t sure what to do. This problem was much bigger than him. It was serious shit and as much as he wanted to help, he had no idea how to do it.

Connor didn’t know much about alcoholism. Society always paints alcoholics as 55 year old men that sit on their couch and get drunk before 11 AM. He had a relative on his father’s side of the family that was an alcoholic but he didn’t know much about him. He’s pretty sure his father mentioned at one point that he was in AA meetings now.

He thought about suggesting AA meetings to you but if you weren’t even willing to have a conversation with your best friend, he didn’t think you’d want to do it.

There was this small part of him that wanted to talk to his mother. He actually used to have a pretty good relationship with her when he was younger. He had always been closer to her than his father because she didn’t try to force him to be someone he clearly wasn’t. It got harder as he got older. Unlike his father, she did actually try to help; she just didn’t always do it in the best ways. He tried to explain it to her once by telling her that it wasn’t just sadness. He felt empty. It felt like whatever part of his body that allowed him to laugh and love had been surgically removed. She didn’t seem to understand what he meant.

He debated it for several minutes before giving up on it. She would probably ask too many questions. He didn’t want you to know that he talked to his mother about it because he didn’t want to make you any angrier than he already had.

So, he turned to the internet.

Can you help an alcoholic friend?

He skimmed through multiple articles and message boards; it all seemed to come back to one simple message:

You can’t help someone that doesn’t want to be helped.

He’s heard this before and he expected this to be the case but it was frustrating. Surely, that couldn’t be it, right? There had to be something. If you could make him feel saved, then surely there had to be some way that he could save you.

You can’t help someone that doesn’t want to be helped.

It may be true that you can’t help someone that doesn’t want to be helped.

But it is an absolutely dreadful feeling to love someone and not be able to do anything to help them.


Jared Kleinman texted you to tell you that he was throwing another party. His parents were out of town so he figured, “why have one party when you could have two?”

He asked you if you were bringing Connor along but you still felt an angry bitterness settling inside at the argument the two of you had. So you texted back, “no.” and went on your own.

You wasted no time finding your way to the alcohol on the kitchen counter when you arrived. Your argument with Connor was still ringing loud and menacing in your head.

Anger was coursing through your bloodstream so you soothed it over with the familiar taste and sensation that a shot glass provided.

You shuffle through the crowd of students to make your way to the bathroom, you find it empty and you squeeze yourself inside and shut the door. Everyone on the other side sounds like they are underwater.

You pull out your phone and Connor’s number is one of the first things you see. You suppress a giggle and pull up your text messages.

To: Connor

Are you awake???

C’mon Con. I know you are up. You like never sleep

Are you ignoring me now

You waited and waited and all you were greeted with was silence. You were still holding a bottle in your hands. Sitting on the bathroom floor alone at a party is lonely and the loneliness makes you want to drink, so you do. Drinking seems to increase the loneliness, which causes you to drink again. It was an absolutely vicious and never ending cycle. But it was easier to do this. It feels easier to numb the emotions than to walk through the fire with your eyes wide open.

You nursed your drink and stared at your phone.

Maybe he hates me.

The loneliness grew with each passing minute. It filled you like an endless ocean. It was deep and dark and seemed to have no ending in sight.


You woke up at home. You woke up abruptly, your breathing was uneven and your heart felt like it was trying to pound its way out of your skin. Your mouth was stale and you can immediately tell there is no way you were going to be able to go back to bed. The light is shining too brightly through your window. You didn’t feel rested at all. You were awake but you didn’t want to be.

You had a terrible hangover, which was to be expected, but there was also a layer of anxiety there on top of it all. There was a sense of shame and self-loathing and you wished desperately that you could feel anything else.

You thought about the loneliness from the previous night, you thought about Connor yelling at you in this very room and it all seemed like a lifetime ago. The shame and anxiousness only grew when you recalled your fight with Connor.

He wanted to help. All he wanted to do was help and you didn’t even give a chance. He was your best fucking friend and you shut him out.

You dragged your hands over your face. It seemed strange. Your face, your hands, your body; it felt like it somehow didn’t belong to you. It was like you didn’t belong in your own skin.

You reach for your phone next to your bed and pull up your messages.

To: Connor

I’m so fucking sorry.

Is there any way you can forgive me

Can we talk?

Connor, I need to see you please. Can you come over?

You felt desperate for something.

You couldn’t help but think; maybe this is what rock bottom feels like.

You kept checking your phone and there was nothing. No response from Connor at all. He had completely shut you out. You weren’t even sure if he was reading your messages.

It was this complete silence from your best friend that made you realize that not only had you hit rock bottom but that the floor had just given out.


Connor hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. He spent much of his time researching everything that he could and the little bit of sleep that he was able to get was a very superficial kind of sleep that left him feeling more tired than energized. He may or may not have noticed the text messages you sent him in the middle of the night but he purposely ignored them. He still felt angry. He was angry that you didn’t confide in him. He was angry that he didn’t know how to help. He didn’t know what to say so he decided it would be better to say nothing at all.

When he woke up to text messages from you saying you were sorry and asking him to come over, he immediately headed out to see you. At the end of the day you are his best friend and even though he had just spent hours reading countless articles about how he couldn’t save you, he would be damned if he didn’t try.

He cracked open your bedroom door and dipped his head in. “Y/N?”

“Come in.”

He saw you lying in bed and you almost looked sick. He was sure that you had a hangover, so he made his way to your bed and crouched down trying to speak quietly so he wouldn’t irritate you.

“How are you feeling?”

“Horrible. I feel horrible.”

“I’ll get you a glass of water and then we can talk if you want, okay?”

You nodded but didn’t say anything. Connor left your room and you let yourself focus on the sound of his footsteps and the running of the water. He was back in no time.

He sat down a glass of water and some pills on your beside table and settled himself next to you.

“Connor, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t have but it’s alright. I mean, you weren’t completely wrong. It is pretty hypocritical for me to tell you to stay sober when I can’t do it myself.”

You stayed silent and fiddled with your fingers.

“Can you explain it to me? I tried to look it up last night but none of the websites were particularly helpful. I don’t really get it.”

You let out a soft laugh. “It’s like I said, Connor. It’s pretty hard to get it unless you’ve gone through it yourself. It’s like I’m completely powerless when it comes to alcohol. I don’t have the self control to stop. Some people have the ability to recognize that it’s late and that they have somewhere to be in the morning, so they can put a stop to it. I can’t do that. I also can’t just have one drink. The only time I’ve ever had one drink is if there is no other alcohol physically available to me.”

You paused and looked over at Connor. His face was scrunched up in confusion but there was also a great level of concern. He wanted to understand, but he just wasn’t grasping it.

You took a deep breath and readjusted yourself.

“Okay, think about it like this, Imagine that you put a six year old in the middle of a birthday party and you tell them they can’t have any sugar. No birthday cake, no soda, nothing. I have the same willpower as that six year old when it comes to alcohol.”

This seemed to be the explanation that made the most sense to him. Even if he still wasn’t completely understanding it because his relationship with alcohol was different, it was the first time that he felt like it was spelled out in terms that he could comprehend.

You were both silent, lost in your own thoughts. Connor spoke up first.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You remained quiet for a moment going over your own thoughts.

“…I’m not sure yet.”

“Well, if you want, I can stay with you until you figure it out.”

“I’d like that.”

Connor traced his fingers against your skin and you could feel his breath against your neck. Even though you felt sick and your body didn’t feel like your body, Connor’s hand still felt like his hand. Connor still felt like Connor and in that moment Connor felt like love.


There is a common misconception that once you make the decision to get sober, all of your problems go away. This idea is bullshit. Other problems arise and you have to deal with them while maintaining your sobriety. It is not a straight line and it is not a problem that you can fix overnight. It is a process and frankly, it is an exhausting one. If you go out, you come home feeling tired as hell because you spent the evening focusing all your energy on not drinking instead of enjoying yourself. You have your willpower tested every time you go to a party or stand at a bar. Everyday feels like a test and there are a thousand different ways to fail. You’re never really done recovering. Sometimes you still have to leave a party early. Sometimes you shake and cry because you want this thing that could ultimately kill you. People like to tell you that “it gets better.” But that isn’t really true. It doesn’t get better. You get better. You get stronger.

One beautiful thing about life is that if you don’t like where you are, there is always a new moment and a new day to start again. Opening up allows you to heal. Keeping things inside of you only makes you want to hide from yourself and you can sometimes go to dangerous methods to do it.

Connor never gave up on you. Even on the days when you wanted to give up on yourself. He taught you there is good in this world, if you’re willing to look hard enough in the right people. He gave you wholehearted love and support especially on the days that you felt you didn’t deserve it.

He loved you for who you believed you were and when that happened to change, he embraced the person that you ultimately discovered yourself to be.

It was as if you had been living in a bleak and never ending winter. You felt as if you were taking your first steps out into the sunlight after being buried in the snow.

There was no more winter. There was only Connor and a future filled with the brightest days of spring.  

-Throughout 7th and 8th grade these 2 girls I know would occasionally sneak in alcohol (like beer, vodka, etc) in a water bottle and drink it during lunch. They never got caught.

- In 7th grade this girl I used to be friends with was suspended for 3 months for having/smoking weed on school grounds.

- One time in 7th grade, during the reproduction unit in science class, I asked the teacher “Do snakes lay eggs out of their month?” (this was a serious legitimate question). And my teacher’s response was “Seriously? That is the stupidest question I’ve ever heard. They have vaginas.” Which was really rude to say because I honestly didn’t know that. In my defense, who’s ever seen a snake’s vagina?

submitted by @99centgay: shiro headcanons because im gay

  • you bet you make those “self care is (implausible and/or dangerous thing)” memes        
  • him and Matt were legends at the Garrison. Only Keith and Pidge know and are both sworn to secrecy.
  • His emo phase was way worse than Keith's     
  • He made edgy sonic OCs when he was 12
  • When he goes back to earth he dyes his tuft lots of different colors. Matt thinks it’s adorable (Hint: it is)
  • Is he a cat or a dog person? Nobody knows. Nobody ever will
  • Drinks vodka out of water bottles and water out of vodka bottles
  • Somebody: Shiro is so responsible!                                                              Matt, holding back tears: sure
  • He uses slang in wildly inappropriate ways just to see Lance fucking lose it


















The Signs On The First Day Of High School

Aries: Easily makes friends with every person in all of their classes without even trying; seems to be completely confident and not even a tad bit nervous

Taurus: Is super nervous and uncomfortable with the big change of environment; carries around a jumbo bag of Sour Patch Kids to take their mind off of things

Gemini: Makes their mark as the class clown before anyone else can think about it; secretly studies each class’s syllabus so that they can study up beforehand and get ahead of everyone else

Cancer:  Picks out their outfit days before; wakes up super early to get ready; is a complete nervous wreck inside; gets lost at least five times

Leo: Struts the hallway like they’re the hottest thing to ever be seen; is secretly nervous and paranoid about what other people are thinking about them

Virgo: Doesn’t talk to anyone; takes notes of everything that the teacher is saying so that they can go out and buy all of their supplies and read all of the required materials before anyone else

Libra: Flirting with all of the hottest seniors and doing a good job of not looking like a freshman; walks out of school with twenty different phone numbers

Scorpio: Sipping on vodka out of a water bottle, observing everyone to tell who they can trust in the long run and who to cut off completely as soon as possible

Sagittarius: Has no worries; goes about the day as if it were just any other ordinary day

Capricorn: Sits down next to Sagittarius and offers them a piece of gum; chills the rest of the day

Aquarius: Walks in, slaps the tallest senior on the butt, and says, “Looking good, Short Stuff. “

Pisces: Shows up late; is really embarrassed when everyone turns to look at them; sits in the black, blushing and averting their eyes


  • Aries: Breaking someone's nose
  • Taurus: Ordered dozens of pizza on the principal's credit card
  • Gemini: Changed their grades on the teacher's computer
  • Cancer: Called the teacher a stupid cunt
  • Leo: Got caught watching hentai during class
  • Virgo: Hacked the school wifi and disabled firewalls
  • Libra: Snuck vodka into a water bottle, threw up in class
  • Scorpio: Stalking a cute teacher outside of school
  • Sagittarius: Brought their cat to school and it scratched someone
  • Capricorn: Had a nervous breakdown and punched a hole in the wall
  • Aquarius: Threatened someone with a pair of scissors
  • Pisces: Pulled the fire alarm to get out of taking a test they didn't study for
  • me: i am completely healthy physically and mentally. i don't need drugs or alcohol to feel good and i embrace every moment i am alive!
  • me ten seconds later once my two friends make plans without me: *stuffing weed up my nose and pouring vodka into a water bottle* papa's outside digging my fucking grave