All of these are good and valid. Especially that last one on the bottom.
“No, i just dont want to.” You dont need a reason not to drink.
My 21st birthday, my sis took me out for dinner. “You’re 21 now; uh can legally drink!!” Yeah, but the smell of alcohol makes me vomit and has my whole life. “I will buy you ANYTHING you want to drink!” Anything? “Yup, anything.”
Sweet. Dr Pepper please. “No! You don’t have to get a soda, you can have alcohol now!” But I want DP and you said you would buy me anything I wanted to drink.
After much pressure (from her AND the waitress) I ordered some peach schnapps frozen thing bc it was the sweetest and least alcohol smelling thing on the menu. If I order this damn thing, do I have to drink it all? “No, but you’ll want to.” So I don’t have to. And can I still get the DP that I want? Like… brought out the same time, no more arguing?” “Sure but you won’t want it.” Umm… have you met me?
Took the mandatory sip, expressed the displeasure I knew I’d feel going in, and then made a big production of drinking the DP. That I wanted to begin with bc I knew I’d like it.
Tl dr: sister and waitress forced me to order a drink I didn’t want and were in general assholes. Don’t be that asshole. My body my choice isn’t just about sex.
This happened to me on my 18th bday, my mom said i could now legally drink and gave me a shot of tequila, i’ve always said that the smell of alcohol makes me want to vomit but anyway, i didn’t want to be rude so i took a sip and i swear that was one of the most horrible things i’ve ever had, like it was disgusting af, so the only thing my mom said was “Oh, you’re probably too young and can’t appreciate the flavor” and i was like no i literally just don’t like it and actually i didn’t even want to drink it.
So yeah, y'all, don’t be assholes to people who don’t want to drink, don’t force them.
My preferred drink is cheap dark rum and coke. I like it because it tastes like cough syrup.
The faces people make when I tell them this are HILARIOUS. Listen, you drink your alcoholic grape vinegar or your fancy mixed drink that smells like methylated spirits and cotton candy. When I have my semi-annual social drink, it’s going to taste like SWEET COUGH SYRUP BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT I LIKE.
Pro-tip:
Stare them right in the eye and say, “You know, alcohol is the only drug I ever have to explain not using.”
Makes them feel like an asshole and makes them reconsider their approach to alcohol.
Ever since I was a teen my dad kept offering me a taste of his alcohol whenever he had some. I always said no, and he laughed like I told a joke.
Then when I was close to turning 21, he amped it up. “Come on, you’re almost 21, youll like it.”
I told him I did not want to drink it. And I KNEW he wanted to buy me alcohol for my birthday, so I stared him down and told him not to.
Then on my birthday, I open the gift from my brother. Can you guess what it was? Yep! Alcohol! A bottle of scotch whiskey.
My dad beams and proudly announces that since I told him not to buy me alcohol, he got my brother to do it instead. Wow, cool loophole huh? How quirky!
Then he acted so proud about how he managed to get me alcohol anyway, and didn’t seem to notice how uncomfortable I was.
Fucking disrespectful. It sits on my shelf and I will not touch it. What part of “I don’t want to drink” is so hard to understand?
Ok, I don’t typically post reblogs on this account but this is a bit more personal to me than most subjects…
I’m a mix of 2-4 on this chart.
I don’t like how I feel under the influence of anything. I’ve only been alcohol buzzed a few times, but that was enough to make me hate the feeling. I don’t smoke weed for the same reason; i tried it a few times with friends and things seemed ok, but then one of them talked me into trying dabs. I took way too much, got really high, and did not handle it well. I was uncomfortable and sick and it felt so awful that it put me off the stuff entirely. I don’t like having my senses screwed with, especially in a public setting. That should be reason enough.
I also hate the taste, and to be honest, it all tastes the same. The flavor of wine is wine. The flavor of whiskey is whiskey, and i hate the burn that follows. The flavor of beer is beer, and my brother, who crafts beer and loves playing with flavors, hates it SO MUCH that I can’t taste all his hard work. But cause my brother is awesome, he also never pushes me. He and my best friend will enjoy sampling his beer flavors, and I’ll just hang out and have some water and chat. I wish more people were like my brother in that aspect. “What do you mean, you can’t taste the ___??” Dunno man. It tastes like booze, and I don’t like it. And that should be reason enough.
But the biggest thing for me is the alcoholism.
My mom was an alcoholic. It didn’t occur to me that it was weird that she would travel with a box of wine in the car, and fill a travel cup with it before going ANYWHERE, until I was like…26. That’s when I learned what cirrhosis is. My dad was also an alcoholic, or so I’m told. I don’t talk to him much, but my older sister claims that part of what caused my parents divorce was their dueling alcoholism. And then, the monster my mom married afterwards was also an alcoholic. He didn’t show his true abusive colors until we were completely reliant on him to survive, and when he got drunk, which was often, he became even more abusive. So, that’s two genetic parents, and learned behavior from a step…
My older sister is starting to show some signs of alcoholism. We have different dads, and I don’t know if hers drank as well. Who can say. And I know for a fact that I have addictive tendencies. Not with drugs or alcohol, but that’s cause I’m terrified I’ll get addicted to those and it changes how I approach any of them. Thankfully, my younger sister and brother don’t seem to be having any trouble with this.
Most people I know and spend time with are respectful of this. My closest few friends know my background, and those who don’t will usually accept things like “I don’t like the taste” or “No thanks, but if you need a driver i can come hang out”, on the off chance I do venture into public. But there’s still always someone who doesn’t get it. “Don’t you want some? Really? Are you sure? Just one? Do shots with us! its just a shot!”
Here’s the thing. I shouldn’t have to explain why i don’t want to drink to anyone. I’ll have a pop, i’ll play designated driver, I’ll carry you to the damn car if you have too much, and make sure you get all the way in your door before I leave. I’m good at that. I’ll do my part, and you can go have your drinks and have fun. As long as your drinking isnt’ hurting anyone, who am I to judge? You do you.
But if MY not drinking is that much of an offense to you, if its ‘totally ruining your mood’, dude, you are gonna fucking love me when I get sick of you asking and say, I don’t drink cause that’s how my mom died.
CW: Alcohol abuse, overworked and underappreciated hero
“Hero..? Damn… When Sidekick called and told me what happened, I never expected… this.”
Hero was standing in the parking lot of the bar, bottle in hand, glaring at Villain. “Why are youhere?”
“I’m here to stop you from self destructing.”
With a frustrated yell, Hero threw the bottle in their hand at Villain. It missed.
“Wow.” Villain looked down at the smashed pieces of glass now littering the ground.
“Get the fuck away from me! I don’t want your help!”
“Are you always this expressive when you’re drunk? You’re usually so calm.”
Hero took a shaking breath. “Don’t talk to me— I don't— You shouldn’t have come!”
“Sidekick is worried about you. I thought they were exaggerating, but… Well, now I’m worried.” Villain started closer to Hero.
“Stay away from me!”
“No. Hero, you’re coming with me. Make it easier and go quietly.”
Hero tried to push Villain, but Villain just caught them close against their chest. “Let go!” Hero started thrashing. “Let me go you— you bastard!”
“Wow. Creative.” Villain rolled their eyes, forcing Hero across the parking lot to their car. “I’d put you in the backseat, but I don’t trust you to sit still.” Villain shoved Hero into the trunk and closed the hatch.
—
“Get me out of here!” Hero screamed, kicking and hitting the trunk’s interior as they felt the car come to a stop.
A minute later, the trunk opened to reveal Villain.
“If you don’t get me out of here right now, I swear I'll—”
“What?” Villain interrupted Hero. “You’ll do what, exactly, Hero? You can barely best me on a good day. Right now, you’re drunk. You can’t even use your powers, so tell me. Exactly what do you think is about to happen right now?”
Hero spluttered, speechless.
“Good. I’m glad we see eye to eye.” Villain tugged Hero out of the trunk.
“But… but this isn’t your base..?” Hero was looking at a cheap apartment complex.
“No, it’s not. What, do you live in your base?”
“Yes.”
Now it was Villain’s turn to be speechless.
“What the hell do you expect?? My whole life is my work!”
“You have no life outside of work?” Villain stared.
“I don’t have time for life outside of work! I fight you, Other Villain, Vigilante when they get out of hand, and now I’m expected to help out with Supervillain too! When am I supposed to have time??”
“Well you seem to be able to find time to drink…” Villain muttered.
Hero shoved Villain away and fell, suddenly off balance. “You don’t know what it’s like!” They angrily swiped the tears out of their eyes. “I do everythingforeveryone! And then I make one mistake— Supervillain gets away with one hard drive— and I take all the heat!” Hero curled in on themself. “Sometimes… sometimes I don’t even know why I try…”
“Hero…”
“Don’t touch me!” Hero snapped, saying at Villain’s hand as it brushed their arm.
Villain stood in silence for a moment.
“I… I didn’t mean…” Villain crouched next to Hero. “Hero, I’m sorry…”
There was another long moment of silence before Villain helped Hero to their feet. “Come inside.”
Because Tumblr is a blog, this is the perfect place for me to post my sobriety posts. So, here you go:
Getting sober isn’t a linear process. It’s not black and white and it’s different for everyone. What works for me may not work for you or the next person and so on.
I have been struggling to quit drinking for over a year. I have failed multiple times. But, the key is to never give up. Ever.
I am going through painful detoxing today. Sweating, shaking (DTs), fatigue, anxiety, headaches, body aches, emotionally spent and on edge with everything and everyone. It’s no wonder we just choose to drink. It’s “easier” in the short term, but more difficult in the long term.
Water, food, rest and as much exercise as I can tolerate to help sweat out the toxins are the only things on my agenda. Ibuprofen for the pain. A little cleaning and organizing to keep my mind and hands busy. These are the things and the ways I have quit several times before.
I also try to avoid sad music or sad anything that will bring my mind to that place that wants and NEEDS sedation. Sticking with funny things and rocking out to upbeat music keeps my spirits up and keeps me from the spirits.
If you are struggling with addiction, I am praying for you. Tap into that inner strength you know is there and ride that wave. Let those inner demons drown in your inner power rather than a substance.
Sorry, tequila. it’s not you, it’s me. I just need to focus on myself right now.
Feeling really shitty and I have no one to talk to but I need to say something. For the last about 5 years or so, my father has been drinking. Drinking to the point of blackout, missing work, fighting, driving drunk. It used to be everytime he drank we fought physically. bruises I could hide from friends because “oh it was volleyball” or “ oh I’m clumsy lol” and it worked because it wasn’t too often. But now it’s every night.
He stumbles in, probably nearing his arrest or death everytime he drives home. The physical is less because of the several 911 calls from it. But now it’s deeper. Now I’m afraid he’ll hurt my 1 year old nephew. Now I’m scared he’ll use his voice to penetrate through the walls in the dead of night keeping us awake and scared he’ll come to our room next.
Just now, he asked me if I wanted food. I declined with a simple no. It started a barrage of questions. I looked away and answered in short consise words. He then said “look at me.” I couldnt. I didn’t. “So now you can’t look at me, huh?” Followed by cold laughter.
I closed the door quietly, counting his steps leaving my room and holding my breath crying, praying my knees wouldn’t give out.
I couldn’t look at him because last time I looked in his eyes they were bloodshot, combined with a mouth screaming at my mother while my nose was bleeding.
Just the smell of alcohol nearly brings me to tears and a documentary during psych class last year about alcoholism gave me such an intense panic attack, my friend almost called 911. I get chills just hearing his voice in his drunken state, instant regret fills my stomach when I hear the door jingle at 2 am.
It took 2 years for me to realize how bad the situation is.
I just needed somewhere to talk while he screams for no reason. Thanks for listening.
Please reblog this, or msg me if your going through something similar. The worst part of this is how alone it makes you feel.
The first of seven brand new Drarry fics inspired by the seven Weasley siblings.
@jessica-doom, one of our faithful original members, has been given the honour to open up this anthology with a story featuring our oldest Weasley sibling, Bill. At the same time, she offer us another instalment in her Comfort in the Unexpected series. (Might this be the happy ending we’ve all been craving for so long?)
In a way it never had before, Christmas suddenly felt so entirely domestic to Draco. This likely was in direct result of the floral apron tied around his waist and the scents of laborious cooking and spice-scented candles in the air. But the feeling went even deeper than those surface signs. It was an intrinsic feeling he had of warmth and wholeness, so new and unlike anything else.
A feeling which was very nearly ruined when Harry brought an unexpected guest to Christmas Eve dinner.
This weekend, we’ll post seven brand new holiday-infused fics, each one inspired by one of the seven Weasley siblings. Each story is a stand-alone work, but together they make up the anthology we call Seven Shades of Weasley.
Over the weekend, we’ll give you 7 fics — plus an accompanying Spotify playlist containing 7 songs, one for each fic included in the collection.
We — the Seven Shades of Drarry — are a group of Drarry fanfiction writers of different backgrounds, ages, and nationalities who work together in a rare collaboration. Seven different writing styles, seven different strengths, seven different weaknesses, all united in one project, working together to create unified themed collections based around the number seven. Each theme has seven threads, each writer assigned a thread to inspire their story, and all combined to create The Seven Shades of Drarry.
On the surface, of course Harry’s happy to have bumped into Draco Malfoy again. He feels giddy with anticipation for their breakfast “date” set for the next morning. He feels ready to move on.
But, down in that place where his feelings truly live, there’s apprehension. There’s fear. As his counsellor would put it, there’s something “unresolved” — something he can’t leave unresolved.
Temperance — moderation of needed things and abstinence from things which are not needed.
This week, we’ll post one fic per day for seven days, each one inspired by one of the traditional seven heavenly virtues —Courage,Justice,Charity,Hope,Prudence,TemperanceandFaith. Each story is a stand-alone work, but together they make up the anthology we call Seven Shades of Virtue.
Over 7 days, we’ll give you 7 fics — plus an accompanying Spotify playlist containing 7x7 songs.
We — the Seven Shades of Drarry — are a group of Drarry fanfiction writers of different backgrounds, ages, and nationalities who work together in a rare collaboration. Seven different writing styles, seven different strengths, seven different weaknesses, all united in one project, working together to create unified themed collections based around the number seven. Each theme has seven threads, each writer assigned a thread to inspire their story, and all combined to create The Seven Shades of Drarry.
((Serialized AU where Jackie’s a selkie and Anti’s a pirate for MerMay2022! =D Also on AO3!))
“Seal skin, ey?”
Captain Anti of the pirate ship Abyss squints at the strange man before him. Marvin is his name and magic is his game—so he claims. The bottles around him somewhat support this—strange in shape and color and ability…
But Anti’s not so sure. (hWat’s ‘e want SEAL SKIN fer???)
“No, no!” The so called mage hastily makes his way back over to the pirate, hands moving to wave an old, ruddy, leather-bound tome under Anti’s nose.
The pirate crinkles his nose in an effort not to sneeze or cough.
It comes out as a scowl. Or a sneer.
They aren’t quite sure which.
Regardless, Marvin ignores it in favor of opening the book and showing Anti… Well, he’s not rightly sure WHAT that is, but it’s definitely not a SEAL.
At least, not fully.
“THIS is what I want,” Marvin exclaims, finger tapping emphatically on the image of a man—or what Anti THINKS is a man—appearing to… both BE a seal… and wearing a seal skin like it’s clothing. A woman is doing the same next to him; but Marvin’s not pointing at HER for some reason. “SELKIE skin.”
“Seal key skin?”
“SELKIE!”
“Silky skin???”
Anti sighs, tough but tapered fingers dancing around the rim of his scotch glass. “Selkie,” he reiterates, mouth forming the same shapes and sounds as Marvin after numerous near mocking attempts just an hour or so before.
He’d celebrate the small victory if it didn’t feel like the mage won.
(Won what, though, he isn’t sure that it even matters...)
“‘E wants SELKIE skin.” The surly pirate scowls as he downs his third drink, slamming the thick-bottomed tumbler against the tabletop when he’s done.
A bejeweled finger—because no pirate is ever complete without some bling—taps against the glass and it’s the barkeep’s turn to sigh as he tops it up.
“Ar son Dé! T’at freaky diabhal an’ ‘is focain fetishes!!!”
“Ye can always say no?”
“Shuddup, Chase!!!”
Tap, tap, tap!
Anti and Chase turn as one to look at the entrance of the latter’s small town pub. A well-groomed man stands there, tiny smile hidden under a shocking mustache, with a top hat in one hand and a pimp (as Anti likes to call it) cane in the other. Both accessories match his alarmingly colorful, painfully detailed, silk clothes which only their beloved local tailor could ever be willing tomake.
Chase grins at his husband, “Ev’nin’, James!”
[Good evening, Chase.] The Brit signs this with a shift of his prominent ‘stache indicating that his smile has gotten larger at the greeting of his partner. [Anti.] The gentleman’s top hat finds its way to aforementioned pirate’s head as James, clearly happy to see him visiting, settles down beside his drunken friend.
Chase rolls his eyes and gets his other half a drink.
[Thank you.] James very pointedly knocks Anti’s glass with his own, eyes aglow, before downing his namesake in one go. The pirate grunts gruffly in approval. [Been a while, old friend. What brings you here?]
Chase quietly joins them, curious about the answer (although he already knows a bit of it) and knowing none of the other patrons would come bother them.
(And, honestly, it’s been a long day and he deserves a break!)
Anti hums, drinking his scotch to the beat of Jameson’s toast, and then answers while ignoring the way his blonde childhood friend leans in close with his love. They’re a sight to see, he’d always thought (with not more than a touch of envy): a fancy pants tailor as blinged as him and a simple scruffy ragamuffin bartender.
(He still questions how they got together—and he LIVED it.)
When dad calls from prison, it is mostly just to hear himself talk.
Sometimes I have these moments of clarity and I recognize that I know my dad far better than he has or will ever know me.
I am not a person to him, I am a symbol.
Something he has done in his life. A marker of time and he believes an investment he has made.
If I were his investment, though, there would have been little growth - even over a 23 year period.
It is not that stocks are down, it’s that the one time contribution was too small and the withdrawals, however microscopic each one was, added up to something almost equal to the deposit.
He is willing to see the fault in others but will not admit the flaws in himself.
My sister shares this facet of his personality but she puts my mother’s name on that deed of ownership and while my mother is a smart woman and she does not claim that responsibility, she has the good sense to see the choices she made that went awry.
“What’s done is done. We’ve all made mistakes we have to move on from,” I tell him when he argues for his presence as our father.
My favorite photo of my he, my sister and myself is one where we are sitting on him - shaking him as he sleeps under the covers of the hide-a-bed in the living space of the trailer we called home.
“Go wake up dad,” Mom directed us toward her husband one early afternoon as he slept off a long night of Coors, presumably.
Someone told me that a close friend of mine told them she was planning to kill herself in a month. This friend has a history of depression and alcohol abuse, and has already tried to kill herself once around 3-4 years ago. I am very worried, and angry at myself at the same time because I have been neglecting this person bc of my eating disorder which is making me isolate, but I don’t know how to approach the subject since the friend doesn’t even know that I know.
What is the best thing I could do for my friend right now? Please anyone who has known someone suicidal, or has been suicidal, all advice is appreciated.
