#I'm trying to get this story done but my brain can't concentrate on shit

[starkraivennemad]

Rooftop Confessions

TW: Talk of past suicide thoughts.

Greg Lestrade internally sighed as he stepped onto the roof of St. Bart's hospital and saw Sherlock Holmes already there. He just wanted to smoke in peace and not be harangued yet again that he should quit. It was his choice. 

Sherlock stood near the ledge looking out at the vista of London. The lightly breezy afternoon was taking delight in playing with the man's curls. The dark hair seemed to move as though under water, the smoke of the cigarette he held in his gloved hand at face level swirled around the sharp cheekbones of handsome man. 

Sherlock had a look of concentration. Greg would have thought he was in his Mind Palace again, but that was not quite - right? Greg was trying to decide f he wanted to go a different section of the roof of the roof to smoke or leave altogether…

Then Sherlock gave a different choice.  

"Lestrade come over and smoke or go away but for God's sake stop hemming and hawing at the door. Its squeaks are more irritating than Anderson's voice!" the curly haired genius called out. 

Greg chuckled to himself as he joined the genius for a smoke. The two stood in companionable silence simply smoking. Sherlock finished his cigarette but remained on the roof. Greg has known Sherlock for several years now. Well as well as anyone can know such a man as a Holmes. He and brother were masters of hiding their feelings from people. Greg considered himself blessed or perhaps cursed in being one of the few people who had the fortitude to stay around long enough to begin to see beneath the surface. 

"It's nice up here on clear days like today." Greg broke the silence at last knowing Sherlock was not going to. "I'm glad I chose to stay around and enjoy it." He should have known the ever-observant Sherlock would hear the slight tone in his voice. A dark eyebrow rose curiously. "You, Greg?"

"Yeah me." 

"Do spill the tea as I hear is in vogue to say these days."

Greg sighed, knowing Sherlock won't let it go, and buried memories came to the surface. "I was having a shit time in my life.  In a six month span me mum had died. My shite car had broken down - again. My wife was all on my arse about my hours and never being there. I had a run of cases that were shite, and my superiors were all over me at work. Then came Markell …"  Greg stopped to light another cigarette. He shook one out of the pack and stared at it as he spoke.  "Yeah, they tried to tell me there was nothing I could do. The rookie was determined to go it alone and prove himself and he got killed for it. And I know that now, but just then? Danny Markell was the last straw. I figured I'd blow my brains out. I knew where I could do it. I had done a bust there weeks before, knew how to get in the building. Knew I could score what I needed there to fry my brain. What else I had to lose - right? I was pants at home, pants in the job I thought I loved, and pants at life. Who would fucking care if I was gone? I felt so… So worthless!"

Sherlock looked at him intently for a moment, something subtle shifting in those mercurial eyes, but said nothing, so Greg continued.

"I was on the top landing of the stairwell on my way to the roof that night to toss my life away - literally, when I heard a door open some stories below and someone speaking. The voices were kind of warped given the distance and echo, but I distinctly heard him say you have a choice, wallow in your misery and prove the idiots right or rise up above it and prove you have half the brain were blessed with and use them. Use them and show them how wrong they are or let them waste but choose because you can't keep going like this! I don't know who he was or who was being spoken to, but I swear it felt like he was speaking directly to me. There I was a copper in a derelict building known for drug use with enough shit to fry my brain. I knew I was a good cop. I knew I was a good husband. I knew I was a good man, but could all of them be better? Yes. So, I stood, went to the roof and made a choice. I chose to wait a day to see if I would feel better. If I could do better. To BE better." 

Greg smiles as different memories, better memories come forth. 

"The next day I met Linda Younger. I talked her down from jumping off the ledge of her building. Fifteen minutes after she was safe, I went to the loo and flushed the drugs. Had I made a different choice the night before would Linda Younger be alive now? Whose life will I be saving the next day besides my own because I decided to stay around that one more day?"  Greg reached in his pocket and pulled out his keys. He showed Sherlock a sterling silver key fob shaped like a horseshoe. "She gave me this on the first anniversary of that day. Said her luck had changed after we met. Three years later she was married and had named her first son after me. I don't know if someone else would have saved her, I just know because I made the choice to stay one more day, I did. Because I chose to stay, I saved more than one life. Because I stayed, I caught killers before they could kill again. Because I made the choice to stay, I met you. It's what gets me through the shite days of this job - like today. Sorry, I got a little maudlin there. And while I'm sure to catch some shite for your barely legal methods - thanks again for your help, last week, a little girl got to see her mum again because of us. It all balances out." He looked at his watch and winced at the time. "Need to head back to The Yard for my press conference for the suicide murders soon. It's going to be a shit show, I know it."

"It would be less of one if you-" Sherlock tried.

"Zip it you. If something changes, I have the new address, I'll come, alright? It's cold, let's go and I'll treat you to a cuppa first?" Greg gestured towards the door. 

"Are you offering me hospital coffee? No, thank you, Graham." Sherlock huffed as he checked his buzzing phone. "Fresh meat? Excellent! You do your press conference; I'll watch. Then I think I will make the choice to run an experiment with a cadaver, Molly Hooper and a riding crop. See how the rest of the day goes…"

"Your choice." Greg laughed. He reached in his pocket and made another choice: he crushed the cigarettes there. He will purchase nicotine patches later and try quitting again. 

"Greg…?"

"Yeah, Sherlock?" Greg blinked and looked at the call of his name. It was the second time Greg could recall Sherlock using his correct first name - ever. Oh, Greg knew once they left the roof Sherlock will go back to pretending otherwise, but Greg understood the importance of it being used then and was honored.

Again, something important shifted in Sherlock's eyes. "For the record, I… I for one am glad you made the choice to stay that night."

"Thank you, Sherlock." Greg smiled up at the man as the. "As am I, mate, as am I."

-----------------------------------

Read on AO3 @calaisreno @MayPrompts2024

#MayPrompts2024 - Prompt 10: Choice

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[kaiasky]

What was your salvia experience like?

Interesting. Drug talk under the cut.

I wouldn't recommend salvia w/o like, considering if it is Right For You, because I know a number of people who've had absolutely abysmal times with it, even when done in good conditions. That said, I personally really enjoyed it and never had a bad experience with it the ~10 times I did it (usually a few trips per night). I stopped doing it for the same "hmm, I feel like my beliefs are getting disconnected from reality and I don't want to continue that" reason I stopped doing other drugs.

I'm going to paste some shit that i wrote after the first time i did salvia, because i think it's really funny how unhelpful it is, and then I'll try and explain those more. This was written October 2021 after a night of taking hits of 5x concentrated salvia, and as you'll be able to tell i was fully in the swing of Narrative Bullshit:

---

I'm not a fan of smoking any drug but. salvia smoke is hot and sucks. [AN: would highly recommend a bubbler of medium size to cool down the smoke.]

It's not a particularly euphoric high, so it definitely feels like it could be bad if you have bad trips. I think the easy way to think of it is, it's basically whippits but for ur brain instead of ur body. [AN: e.g, disassociative feelings]

The body high is a heavy feeling--you could move your body if you had to, but why would you? wouldn't it be better to drift away? It's pretty easy to trip kill by moving a bit. Touch, motion keeps you grounded, so if you want to come down you just wiggle your fingers, touch the world around you. if you want to get high you get comfy and relax. It feels pretty controllable, like I've pulled the ripcord a few times when I wanted the feelings to chill out a bit, which is pretty nice (compared to like acid you can't "get normal" at will, and why I don't think lighter doses would particularly need/benefit from tripsitting. Bear in mind that this may not be a universal experience idk)

[AN: Borderline effects: hands shaking, colors look flat, a strong urge to sit down and close your eyes. When I tried taking a dose and then keeping my eyes open, I just felt kinda weird and uncomfortable for a minute.]

[AN: with eyes closed:] Geometry folds in on itself and a strong feeling of being pulled sideways or backwards, wheeling around, or your body sorta smearing away from you.

Alright. we gotta talk about the clowns. Clowns and other circus performers do make an appearance, as advertised, but classy clowns, not scary ones. I think that's why people in trip reports call them jesters, but it's definitely a circus vibe imo. I don't really know why but like. it feels deeply correct that this is the clown drug. I know that sounds fucking stupid.

The feeling is very much about performing and interstitial states, and verbs being the base thing of existence (like. Normally you can have man, and you can have a man running. But what if instead, you could have "running" and "a man running" but not really "a man" without a verb) That's why clowns are so good because they highlight that existence is performance that "to be" is a verb with many layers. To be a clown (noun) is indistinguishable from clownery (verb).

If don't particularly approve of the gender politics of salvia.

Very common to feel like "oh I need to tell xyz" but multiple layers of people who need to be told things. (I need to tell yall about telling the narrator about telling the wind about the eternal farmers I saw, spinning their merry way around the field of the universe).

Sensory experiences feeling fresh and new. The comedown is full of feeling sensory things and thinking "I was maybe put on earth to think about touching carpet, this is what I am for, born anew as I am now, to explore the carpet and to tell myself about the experience of touching the carpet. And to tell myself a story about how I was put on earth to touch carpet."

Acid music isn't as good, it just feels so complicated that my brain tuned it out. I think simple music that carries you along narratively is what you want--soundtrack music and stuff.

Obviously like. These are impossible to separate from what I expect of salvia and who I am as a person so take with a heavy grain of salt. Narrativizing myself is a very me thing, clowns is something I read online to expect.

---

So yeah. I think the biggest effect was feeling "lost" from myself and getting totally engrossed in what felt like many layers of a story. As an example like, I see a book unfolding and the pages start telling me a story of a fisherwoman on a lake, and she gazes into the lake and sees a delinquent teen smoking on a park bench, and the teen dreams of a giant switchboard that's alive. and the giant switchboard feels something grand and incredible and it [me] wants to hold onto it. we need to tell this to our husband when we get home from fishing--no wait, our friends at high school--no wait, who are we again??

It is definitely less euphoric than a serotonin psychedelic. As a baseline I'm uncontrollably euphoric on acid, and the pervading emotion of salvia for me was a kind of beautiful, contemplative melancholy. the dark souls of drugs, thematically. I would expect that if you're baseline less-of-a-happy-camper on other psychedelics then salvia might just be extremely unpleasant without the beauty or contemplation feelings.

Physically, it was a mix between stunningly pleasant and strikingly uncomfortable. The feeling of 'getting pulled apart' or 'reality flipping inside out' can be extremely weird and off-putting OR kinda exhilarating, but I liked the heavy relaxed feeling a lot.

The visuals salvia were really interesting to me. They're less detailed and pattern-y than a classical psychedelic (less whirling patterns and fractals) and more dreamlike. A lot of soaring over a landscape, or drastic changes of scale. It felt like I could control them the same way you might be able to lucid dream, by making 'suggestions' that my brain could run with. "We're zooming down endless green hills [conscious thought: but what's that? a castle on the horizon?!] we zoom into the castle, across it's countless parapets and towers, and into..."

(I'm happy to expand on anything or answer further questions, etc.)

---

as a final part i will paste excerpts from things i have written about salvia experiences, shortly after having them:

I met the embodiment of capitalism it was offices and piers and shipping containers that formed into a face on a throne. the ground dropped away from me and I started falling/being drawn toward the face. my body was spinning but my sight was unchanging and locked on the shifting face. and I started to get pulled apart and turned into components but then my headphones said "low battery" so I lost the vision.

Then I saw like a really cool anime opening for a mech anime where mech was being assembled in orbit. pieces snapped together like magnets and hovered a few mm apart like superconducting magnets levitating. it was cool

hilbert curve dandelions. also i owned a haunted fungal mansion in the dandelion dimension but I couldn't find it. too many dandelions.

I was the primordial sports ball. like if u imagine every sentence you could write about sports it is essentially the same. the goalie blocks the shot. the hockey player slaps the puck. the archer looses the arrow. they're all subcases of the primordial sentence "the [sportsman] [triumphs upon] [the sportsball]" (we must accept that salvia as it exists in my head is a very jungian-by-way-of-jordan-peterson drug and move on. im working on it dw). U might think that it is impossible to be the sportsball but think of sentences like "the safety tackles the running back". sometimes you can slide into being the sportsobject even if you are a person. and that's what I did. i one-electron-theoried the entire narrative space of sportsball.

[epitome-of-an-openbook]

op I read your steddie fic where post and specifically the part abt Steve being intelligent got my attention bc (and also youre so right abt the whole thing)

-what about the fics where Steve is visibly (?? idk englishs not my thing) autistic? Cause if you're neurodivergent and can actually follow his thought process along he's super smart (unconventionally smart my beloved) but for neurotypicals I'm told it makes him sound some variation of stupid/oblivious/dumb (when he's def not haha)

-what are your opinions about the fics where Steve is _pretending_ to be stupid? Like, plays into the jock bit, and makes people think he's slow to use it to his advantage? not necessarily in a "bad person" way (and especially if you can tell he's smart from the outside/his own pov)? >>>esp if he doesn't even realize he's doing it?

-how about Steve's concussions/neurodivergency affecting the more "conventionally smart" aspects of his brain? like, his memory is shit and he can't spell properly or he can't do complex math, but he knows everyone's expressions and holds a scary amount of talent in physical activities he's never done before type thing (insp after me who got complimented by the "hardass" coach after trying boxing simply because I watch and calculate and how that's easy for me to switch into my own movements)

-opinions on Steve "looking dumb" because he's simply...not American? Like, his English is plenty good but that's because he's been copying speech patterns for so long now, and the Harringtons are tied to some p important Italian families so he almost never speaks English there either, and I personally like the fics where he's frustrated simply because he can't understand (like the story about the Korean immigrant and the lovely teacher) and also the scene in modern family where Gloria says "I know what I meant to mean! do you know how smart I am in my own language?"

-thoughts on someone lifting their head up from nerd shit and realizing Steve's been making like many smart remarks that nobody listens to cause he doesn't know nerd lingo?

(also unrelated but trans!Steve MTF _or_ FTM is so important to me <3)

I've a whole "trope theory" about different types of intelligence groups tend to have, and simply put it goes

book smarts, street (survival) smarts, emotional smarts, social smarts

and how those mix and match to show through in characters that are disregarded as stupid and I personally believe Steve is very Socially _and_ emotionally smart but because he's arguably in line to be the most toxic masculine people by reputation (not personality but the past -both his and his dads- linger) people don't notice it.

I'd love to chat more both abt my theory and Steve in general <3

Hi anon, of course I want to talk about Steve's intelligence - because I am so so so tired of him being written off as the fool, and I am especially tired of people pretending like he is not the most emotionally intelligent person in the show other than potentially Will or Joyce. Also in advance, I totally go on a BUNCH of tirades and rants so I'm sorry if you lose the thread at all, I just have a lot of thoughts and they all FEEL important to me. So yeah, this is a long one.

-what about the fics where Steve is visibly (?? idk englishs not my thing) autistic? Cause if you're neurodivergent and can actually follow his thought process along he's super smart?

I haven't read many fics where Neurodivergent! Steve's divergence is specifically autism and personally I feel that other divergences fit him better such as OCD (see - his need to keep things tidy, instances of reduced impulse control, repetitive/ritualistic behaviors, hypervigilance, and agitation), ADHD (see - his need to be moving lots of pacing and bouncing, difficulty concentrating on the group discussions, impulsivity), Dyslexia/Dyscalculia (personal/popular headcanon), or something that would affect his audio processing (personal/unpopular headcanon; see- being unable to get past the music on the recording, difficulty following along with the group discussions, immediately losing track of the group in the Upside Down Wheeler's house when he thinks he hears Dustin)- but I definitely read him as someone whose brain works in a way that is non-typical which is something we ABSOLUTELY see in season 3 where he focuses in on the music and it seems like he literally can't focus on the Russian words until he knows what the music is.

But what it comes down to is that so many people read the fact that he didn't get into college (which is more indicative of a lack of testing skills than it is for actual intelligence) and his inability to follow along with group discussions about Upside Down stuff (which could point to issues with concentration or audio processing or just a lack of knowledge regarding the lingo being used) as a way to characterize him entirely as an idiot/fool. This of course isn't helped by the Duffers refusing to deepen his character beyond "he was bad but now he's good because now he's interacting with intelligent™ people". So to answer this question, I'm all for fics that explore Steve's intellect through a lens of "no he's not dumb, he just processes information in an atypical way".

-what are your opinions about the fics where Steve is _pretending_ to be stupid? Like, plays into the jock bit, and makes people think he's slow to use it to his advantage? not necessarily in a "bad person" way (and especially if you can tell he's smart from the outside/his own pov)?

I'm not 100% sure I'm interpreting this question correctly but I have some issues with fics where the character of interest is 'pretending' to be stupid so it entirely depends on what the motivation behind doing so is.

If the motivation is "I play dumb so that I can fit in better and not be bullied for being smart" I don't like it that much - I feel like in a lot of media, and American media especially, there is this perpetuation of Smart=Unpopular/Bullied/Unathletic and Dumb=Popular/Bully/Athletic and I don't like that because in my lived experience that really isn't the case - I have friends that were the Valedictorian's of their high schools by gpa that were also class president and soccer captian and genuinely good people and some of the meanest people I have ever met were stereotypical™ nerds. So if the motivation is that he pretends to be dumb specifically to fit in and not get bullied I don't really like it. HOWEVER, if the motivation is "I downplay my intelligence so that people underestimate me" that's different and I can get behind it to a degree - no one is perfect and Steve was not the best person at first so him having a little manipulation bit like this would make sense.

Also this leads into another thing I feel we don't talk about enough - Steve is a jock with a head for STRATEGY and you cannot tell me otherwise. The ability to strategize is something we like to take away from jocks all across media, but as a former athlete myself I can tell you that a LOT of thought goes into athletic strategy and it translates well to other aspects of life. We also see Steve make quick strategic decisions A LOT but we never mention them - some examples include when he leads the scoops troop through the crowded russian base w/o getting caught - some of this is simply poor writing/tracking and i will admit that but if we suspend our disbelief for a second it's Steve that looks at the set up takes in the information and says "Follow me, stay low and be quick" as they navigate that scene, we also see it in season two when him and Dustin get to the junkyard and he says "oh yeah this will do nicely" and then he proceeds to set the stage for catching Dart with a clearing to trap him, a reinforced fort for protection and surveillance and honestly the only reason this goes wrong is because there was more than one demodog. So yeah being good with strategy lends itself well to Steve using his intelligence as a manipulation for others to underestimate him. I personally would love for there to be a fic where one of the kids challenges Steve to a strategy game like chess or risk or something like that and for him to DECIMATE them because strategy is the thing he's good at.

-how about Steve's concussions/neurodivergency affecting the more "conventionally smart" aspects of his brain? like, his memory is shit and he can't spell properly or he can't do complex math, but he knows everyone's expressions and holds a scary amount of talent in physical activities he's never done before type thing

For one I would like to quickly put out there that Steve almost definitely got a TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury) from the Russian Torture - and probably PCS (Post Concussion Syndrome) from the fight with Billy (I would also like to quickly mention that these are different things with different causes and potential future outcomes/side effects, I feel like they get confused a lot in this fandom which is totally fine but just a reminder that a concussion comes specifically from your brain impacting your skull and how he receives his head injuries from Jonathan and the Russians would indicate to me that he probably didn't have a concussion those times but when he crashes the car in season three he could have easily gotten a whiplash concussion which is something we don't talk about but does actually happen a lot and it's less likely to get treated because people don't realize you can get a concussion w/o hitting your head. Also I am so sorry about this head trauma info dump, it's just a subject I have lots of experience with/knowledge about).

ANYWAY, yeah TBIs and PCS can really mess with your head and are often the cause of things like memory loss - as well as vision and hearing impairment. Also TBIs have been studied a lot in American Football players and sometimes they can even cause shifts in personality. (Also @peter-pantomime has some really good discussions and headcanons regarding Steve's head traumas so I highly suggest their content both here and on tiktok.)

And yes, Steve consistently proves to be extremely socially intelligent. You do not get to the top of the high school food chain by simply being attractive or athletic, you have to be capable of understanding and manipulating certain social interactions - walking into a room and knowing who to talk to and who to avoid, popularity is often just a matter of networking and part of the reason Steve loses his popularity is because he abandons the network he built himself up through and switches it out for a group of people much lower on the social ladder. We also can tell he's incredibly emotionally intelligent through his interactions with others - scenes that really show this are Steve cleaning up the theater sign and going to apologize to Jonathan (some might say this is just emotional maturity but i would like to point out that he was emotionally intelligent enough to realize that it was Jonathan that deserved the apology instead of just Nancy) (s1), when Will comes home and we see him empathize with the worry of Joyce & Jonathan (s2), when he can seemingly tell that something happened between Nancy and Jonathan but instead of lashing out he supports her (also s2), when Robin comes out to him and also technically rejects him but he just treats her like normal (s3), like… every scene with him and Max in S4, and also when he tells Eddie that he needs to stop being so hard on himself when he keeps talking about how much of a coward he is (also S4).

-opinions on Steve "looking dumb" because he's simply...not American? Like, his English is plenty good but that's because he's been copying speech patterns for so long now, and the Harringtons are tied to some p important Italian families so he almost never speaks English there either, and I personally like the fics where he's frustrated simply because he can't understand (like the story about the Korean immigrant and the lovely teacher) and also the scene in modern family where Gloria says "I know what I meant to mean! do you know how smart I am in my own language?"

I have never seen this done before, but I absolutely adore this concept, if you (or anyone else) has some fic recs with this trope 👀👀👀 please share.

-thoughts on someone lifting their head up from nerd shit and realizing Steve's been making like many smart remarks that nobody listens to cause he doesn't know nerd lingo?

Yes do it, caveat: I think it needs to be Robin, Eddie, or Will - I think everyone else is a little too in their own way of realizing Steve has consistently made good points.

For Robin, as a Queer Platonic Stobin truther, I feel like if anyone were to really get into Steve's brain it would be her.

For Eddie, I feel it comes from that same vein that we see people pointing out that Eddie is the only person who directly answer Steve's questions, so it would make sense for him to be the one to say "wait hey - Steve is actually asking incredibly relevant questions that lead to a point he wants to make."

For Will, I simply think that he's the most emotionally intelligent member of the original Party and also the one with the fewest interactions with Steve so if he were to be with Steve in a time of crisis he wouldn't ignore Steve's thoughts the way that sometimes happens and notice something about how he processes information or something and be like "why did you guys all tell me he was dumb, he's making extremely relevant points right now?"

(also unrelated but trans!Steve MTF _or_ FTM is so important to me <3)

<3 Trans!Steve 🤝 GenderFluid!Steve solidarity

I love fics where Steve explores gender identity or at least his relationship with gender presentation, I'm partial to GenderFluid!Steve but regardless I love this.

[practically-an-x-man]

7, 8, 17, 23, 31, 35, 47, 52, 57, and 70 for the fic writer ask game!

Ooooh thank you so much!!

Ask Game for Fic Writers

7. tell us about the plot of the first fanfic you ever wrote

Technically it was this 5-page-long, super shitty fic in the Terfy Wizard Fandom that I wrote when I was 10 or 11. But we're not gonna talk about that.

My first fanfic that I wrote with the knowledge of it being fanfic, and posted on AO3, was an X-Men fic featuring an OC named Mira Hart. The plot basically just walked through the events of First Class and DOFP with Mira included (and in a semi-tumultuous relationship with Hank McCoy), and I had plans to eventually include Apocalypse, Dark Phoenix, and some original plotlines as well (though that hasn't happened, and I kinda doubt it will. Maybe maybe one of the original ideas but I'm not sure)

Given it was my first fic, I think some of the ideas still do hold up, though the writing does make me cringe a little lol. I think it would be cool to rewrite/revamp it and give Mira the love she really deserves, but on the other hand I have a much more interesting idea to write between Hank and a new OC that I think I'd rather focus on first. Not to say I can't write both eventually, but... Delphi is really fucking cool dude you'd love her.

8. what’s your relationship with constructive criticism and feedback like? do you seek it out? how well do you take it?

Hm... that's a tough one. I'm used to seeking out and receiving feedback thanks to theatre and FX work and all that (though the RSD is brutal sometimes and I hate that), but unsolicited feedback is one of my biggest pet peeves. I can take feedback pretty well when I'm expecting it, but when it comes out of the blue then my brain just will not let go of it and it leaves me feeling insecure and awful.

When it comes to fic writing, I don't usually seek out constructive criticism. I'm posting my fics for free, for fun, and to relax, I don't need people picking them apart (unless it's to point out what they enjoyed!)

17. what is your favorite line you’ve ever written?

Answered previously, but I also can never decide lmao

23. how do you deal with writers block?

In the short term, I try to switch to a different task to give my brain a break. I'll walk my dogs, play a video game, practice guitar or draw a couple sketches, whatever I feel like that doesn't require the same type of concentration. It helps unstick the gears a little.

In the longer term, I'll pick up a few new books or reread some old favorites. I call it "recharging my words", it's something I've done since I started writing and it really helps! I do still love to read even when I'm not under writer's block, but making a targeted effort to notice the author's voice and style can sometimes help me get back to my own author's voice.

31. tell us about one of your characters who’s an absolute joy to write

QUINN!!! Holy shit she's SO fun dude you have no idea!! Sometimes writing her is fun because it's cathartic, since some of her experiences with disability, counterculture, and gender are reflections of my own, and sometimes it's just fun because it's fun - she's so sassy and just a total ball of chaos, there's never a dull moment!

35. tell us about a character who’s very different than you who you love a whole lot

All my OCs tend to reflect me in some way or another, even if that's just a single trait or interest of theirs, but I think the one that's the least similar to me is probably Eris. I'm not a violent or angry person in the slightest, and their experiences are vastly different from my own, but he has just such an interesting view on the world and I love her to the ends of the earth.

47. what story are you most proud of?

Oh man... all of them? In their own ways? They each accomplish something a little different, and it's hard to compare them directly.

But if I had to pick one... Heartstrings. I love the dynamic between Jasper and Kyle, I think there's a lot of emotional depth to it, and we're at the point in the story where the plot is starting to pick up a little speed.

52. how many unfinished ideas/stories are you working on at the same time?

Oh man... I think I'm running at 7 simultaneous longfics (Smoke and Mirrors, Catch and Release, Who Waits Forever Anyway?, Heartstrings, Taking Flight, Heart in Your Hands, and Desert Song) at the moment, plus... I don't even know how many separate pieces. Let's see...

Eris (oneshot series, got 3 upcoming ideas)

Nikoletta (oneshot series, got 2 upcoming ideas)

Gia (oneshot series, need to start writing out her main story, no idea how many fics that'll end up being)

2 upcoming ArchAegis oneshots

Vivienne's story (probably a longfic but I need to start writing it)

Spider's story (also probably a longfic, albeit a shorter one, still needs an outline and a full OC bio and everything else)

Plus my writing ideas masterlist has 43 other ideas, in various stages of complexity and readiness, that I haven't even begun to start writing yet

57. what is the last thing that a fic made you google when you were reading it?

HAHA okay

"friends singing to marcel"

Context: mentioned it as a throwaway detail in the new chapter of Heartstrings, I was pretty sure the song was The Lion Sleeps Tonight but was just uncertain enough that I had to check

70. are you very critical of your own writing? how much do you find yourself editing (either during the writing or after the fact)?

I used to be very critical of my own writing, but now as I've gotten more comfortable with my style and voice, I'm a little more comfortable with it. I don't do a ton of editing, honestly: each writing session starts with me rereading what I wrote last time and making some minor tweaks as needed, followed by one more quick scan as I'm in the process of posting the finished piece/chapter, but I don't do a lot of intense editing.

[child-of-diaspora]

Tune out the noise

My brain has been on overdrive recently. Do you ever get an internal monologue going around and around in your head? I recently watched a stand-up by Drew Michael (Red Blue Green). It's not your typical stand-up that makes you laugh. He speaks about his struggles with his mental health, and it triggered my brain to go on the tirade about my own, and it's tiring.

For as long as I remember I've always felt detached. So many of the things I have endured in my life has left me feeling this way. Growing up mixed raced in Britain, living with a racist family. Intersected with a violent father during early childhood (who luckily wasn't around long), then left with a schizophrenic mother (those who have read my previous blogs will know my origin story by now).

As I've gotten older the impact of this is catching up with me, or more accurately I'm not able to block them out anymore. I really struggle with displaying my emotions. It's frustrating because I've spoken to various therapists and ex-partners and they are like, just do the thing, but I'm screaming, I can't! If I could just do the thing then surely I'd be doing it by now? It's like trying to learn a subject when the textbooks are written in another language. This has all come to a head recently when my partner of eight years (and mother to my son), decided I am no longer the right person for her.

In some ways I get it. I know my short comings. I lack empathy and don't show affection in the typical way. Shit, I don't even know if I love anyone or anything at times as I feel so destitute. I'm more comfortable when I shut myself down. My childhood left a chronic loneliness lurking over me due to the emotional abandonment. Despite having lots of people around me that care for me and let me know, I don't know if I'm absorbing it, or at least that's how my brain thinks right now. The past few years the life events I've experienced have taken their toll. I used to count on myself for stability, stubborn and defiant, but losing my grandad changed this. I've thought about suicide during these times. The only reason I'm still here is because I'm scared of the pain I might inflict on myself (yes myself, I'm not thinking of others during these moments) and that I may survive and make things worse. If there was an app I could download and press a button, I'd have done it by now.

There is tonnes of advice out there which teaches us not think about the negative and concentrate on the positive (looking at you CBT), but this just feels like I'm gaslighting myself to be happy, is that what it takes? I'm drawn to meaningful and emotional art in music, films and media, i.e. the stand-up I mentioned earlier. Like a moth to light. It's comforting yet hurtful due to the reminders of my own pain. These blogs posts sometimes feel like that. Is this helping, or am I talking myself in circles. Maybe I'm fine and I should just shut up. Is this a curated identity I've made for myself. The tortured soul.

A shared experience I think you might be able to understand which exasperates my mental health (and probably yours) is living through the internet age, where we have access to all of the information, all of the time. Current events feel like a fever dream and the media feeds us disaster after disaster until we are catatonic, unable to imagine how we can make the world a better place. Again, I am drawn to these news cycles and struggle to ignore it. The antidote piece of media to this problem would be my film of 2022, Every Everywhere All At Once. It gives a heartfelt message that we need to tune out the noise and focus on love, connection and understanding.

The main thing keeping me going at the moment is trying to be a good father to my son. Since the breakup I've become a lot closer as I don't have to worry about the failing relationship anymore. I have to break the generational trauma I've inherited. Despite the disconnect I feel with people and the world, and the difficulties I went through during the early stages of raising him, I don't doubt my bond with him. I still occasionally struggle when he is difficult or tantrums as it can throw me back into the dark place in my head I'm strenuously trying to avoid (yet another symptom of my childhood trauma). I just need to tune out the noise and remember what is important.

[frazzleboop]

The writer's block keeps coming back to bite me in the ass. Someone save me.

I also have the really strong urge to want to like... RP or something on Twitter or here but I'm also super nervous to. ^^;;;

[harryswatermelonsegment]

Pool Party

Pairing: Reader/Harry Styles

Rating: R, text book smut

Word Count: 5k 😳

Warnings: Slight sub/dom tones I guess? & alcohol consumption

A/N: Sorry this is late, life somewhat resuming here in the UK so it means I’m back at my job. I managed to fall asleep mid edit folks 😳, this is my entry for the @helladirections Summer Feeling Fic Challenge, with the prompt “pool party” click the link for the masterlist. I’m still writing two more, one for @berrynarrybanana ‘s Sex Bucketlist Challenge but it’s turning out to be a 20k slow burn I wasn’t expecting 😬.Oops. But enjoy this one, I’m proud of her. My one other blatant thirst fic can be found here. Reblogs get free gratitude for the next 5 years 🍉💕

You'd been friends with Jeff since your teens, when his parents (despite their wealth), wanted him to get a job at the restaurant you worked at. In their rightful thinking, they wanted him to learn you had to work from the ground up.

Despite your clearly different class background you found a ton of common interests making the whole thing immaterial. He was a caring, down to earth guy and you were both people who really enjoyed sarcastically taunting each other every shift. You'd got used to visiting his house in the hills even though you'd been scared to get lost at first around his parents large house. Becoming solid friends quickly, you'd managed to keep in touch, as much as adult life would now allow anyway.

You knew his main role was managing a pop star but you'd not caught up in a minute and when you did, you kept your job chat out of the conversation where you could. This is why, as you barge through the kitchen, to the pool outside, you're shocked to nearly knock a stunned Harry Styles onto his behind.

"Fuck, shit I'm so sorry" you clutch your chest looking at the red wine on his tank top and his now empty glass. The soiled garment was tucked into some dressy shorts and partly covered by a loud hawaiian patterned shirt. Oh god what had you done?

You were quite honestly mortified. You'd never actually met the man himself, usually meeting Jeff at his for a few drinks or at a restaurant. You'd heard him mentioned in stories about travelling or how his campaigns were running Jeff into the ground with meetings. So, although you weren't a massive fan of his per se, in the way you didn't ask Jeff for updates or info, the way you'd hope you'd meet the attractive pop star was definitely not this.

He looked down at the offending stain then back up into your eyes, keeping his head angled down and blinking through his lashes. You couldn't read his blank expression and it put you on edge.

Maybe it was the heat trapped in the doorway, but as your eyes stayed locked you suddenly felt a fire spread from your navel up to your cheeks, and then from your center down to your toes. Your lower stomach clenched as you stared back at the guy covered in a good 2007 French rouge.

Fuck me he's pretty, you thought.

A rapid film reel of moments; sweaty bodies, those large biceps holding you against the nearest wall, smacking of lips against skin and moans of release flashed in your brain.

It had definitely been a while since you had got laid in your defense, your mood and pent up sexual frustration getting worse by the day as you tried and failed at the L. A. dating scene. Maybe you were picky, but horny and picky was an awful place to be.

However, the reality of the embarrassing scene you were currently a star of, flipped you back into the present.

Seemingly over the initial incident and hopefully not a mind reader to your thirsty brain, he takes you in and smirks.

Harry knew from the way your breathing hitched looking at his torso that you were at least a bit interested. He had clocked you the second you walked in through the big glass doors. A shirt of a band he liked and a natural beauty he wanted to spend some times with you he pondered. Ideally naked.

Zig zagging across the world promoting the album and had left little time to enjoy another person. Status and obligation to his job making it hard to just go out and meet someone. But here you were, dressed unlike anyone else, looking absolutely adorable in your embarrassment. You must be trustworthy if you're in Jeff's home,he wasn't a "bring your friends too" kind of host with his clients usually around.

This could be a fun evening for you both, he thought. Something unspoken, almost magnetic, drawing you both to one another. Surely that wasn't all his side right?

"I was told it was a good year, but I wasn't planning on consuming it quite this way?" inwardly he rolled his eyes at the barely there quip. But you laughed anyway.

"I am so, so awfully sorry, look, let's see if there's some dish liquid or something, possibly some of my next months rent in there too if I have to replace it" you let out a nervous laugh as you walked towards the kitchen. But in all honesty you weren't kidding.

Harry laughed at your sarcastic remark, impressed by your confidence in owning the situation and getting on with things. He casually watched your hips sway past a few people in to the open plan kitchen with as much subtlety as he could, you were confidentially locating all the parts needed to try and remove the offending stain.

"You seem to know your way around 'ere. I'm er…I'm Harry by the way" awkwardly waving as you mixed some solution in the sink drenching a sponge in it.

"Yeah" you smiled turning from the sink with the damp rag "known Jeff a good while, have definitely spilt red wine here before. I'm Y/N" you giggle. The beam from his own mouth matching.

"Ah! Y/N, of course, I've heard him mention you, didn't you once hide rotting mackerel in a unpleasant guys blazer?" he chuckled

"Heyyyy. Only after he spanked my ass getting him the check. Deserved a hot plate to the crotch too" you shot back.

You weren't sure where to go from here the thought of wetting down the white tank yourself definitely appealed but also seemed far too forward.

"Um…" you began gesturing with the sponge in your hand. You expected him to take it from you to sort himself out but..

"Oh yeah sorry" he replied shimmying his shirt off, dumping it on the back of a bar stool, then, crossing his arms across his stomach and lifting the tank top over his head you were slack jawed and frozen taking in the lean muscles and tattoos littered intermittently across his abdomen. He spread the top across the islands worktop flat, then grabbing the sponge with a simple "thanks" and knitting his eyebrows together in concentration as he tried to rid the dull red mark from it's center.

You still hadn't moved. A pink twinge to your cheeks as you watched his shoulder blades and back muscles scrubbing. Dirty thoughts circling your brain still.

"I would have helped you but I didn't want to start a wet tshirt contest in such a high end establishment yknow?" you thought out loud.

"Oh yeah, good call. I'm fiercely competitive Y/N so would probably be under that fancy waterfall thing by now showing off m'moves in my pants" he wiggles his hips trying to suggestively show you his "moves" but you can't help but smirk at just how endearing this man is. Dammit.

When he's finished with his shirt he drapes it over another barstool before handing you the sponge back.

If anyone asks him if he blatantly and deliberately got naked to gauge if you were into him he'd definitely deny it. But the truth is, he definitely did. Luckily for him, with the way you bite your lip and drag your eyes down his flesh as he brushes past your side to get back to the sink, he's right.

"Speaking of getting in the water in your" you use air quotes "'pants' I'm off to get out of mine" you declare, pushing yourself from the counter and keeping eye contact a second as you stroll back to the sliding doors leading to the pool.

"I… What??"

" The pool Harry?.... What did you think I meant?" you narrow your eyes and press your lips together before shutting the glass door again and turning once more to smirk at the opened mouthed man still by the sink.

--------------------------------

You'd been schmoozing in the water for a few hours now. There were probably only 20 or so people still here and the 3rd frozen marg had got you buzzed. You were in the small hot tub type pool, attached at the top of the main one on a slightly higher level. You hadn't seen Harry for a while but the last few times you caught his eye he'd been surrounded by at least 3 other people fighting for his attention, so you banked your flirtations to soothe your own ego, grabbed another marg and tried to forget about how he had started a tornado inside you, yearning for his hands on your thighs and head peering up at you from where they met in the middle. The strong pull of lust was clearly in your head then. What a shame.

You put it to the back of your mind as you finished catching up with Glenne. Both flushed and giggly as usual, she was the perfect match for Jeff and their chemistry unmatchable. You always enjoyed hanging out with the both of them, if anything, they gave you hope your own match may be out there. She left you in the tub alone, as she went to grab herself another drink and check on her host duties boyfriend.

"Don't you find drinking whilst already in water the weirdest thing?" you look up to find Harry standing over your right shoulder as you sit with your back against the pool wall and your elbows propping you up behind you, drink in one hand. His eyes unsubtley slip down to where your breasts lay pushed together in your halter neck bikini. You definitely weren't imagining it then. Fucking fantastic, you think.

"I mean drowning yourself on the inside from the alcohol and being in more than 4 inches of water really adds a danger element to my life if I'm honest" you reply sipping your drink.

And there goes those dimples again.

He's just in a pair of yellow swimming shorts now which doesn't help the alcohol flush at all. Sitting by your right side, putting his short glass full of amber liquid and ice, on the side of the pool and sliding in to join you. He leaves a small gap, as to not appear a total letch but your smart mouth has him hooked.

Taking a sip of his drink with the water up to his collar bones he hums.

"I do feel incredibly dangerous now, you've got a point"

"I mean if you think that's danger" you edge closer, not drunk but buzzed enough to take your chances you whisper into the shell of his ear. "You should see what thrills are in the guest bathroom. 1st floor on the right? " he chokes on his drink as your suggestive whispers make his dick twitch. He definitely couldn't get out of the pool for a while.

You're gone before you get a verbal reaction. If this all goes badly then you can just hide in there and slip out to an Uber and never see Jeff again right? Right. Cool.

With a soft white towel around you and your heart rate high as you reach the main guest bedroom you enter the room, you notice a large weekend bag in there and freeze. Shit. Someone's staying over, you hadn't factored that in, but a glance to the tag and the embossed H. E. S tells you you're good. Well, if not you'll just be a creep hiding in someone's bathroom but let's not think about it too much. Your faux confidence was working well so far and what other chance was going to arise like this one? Hot celebrities need fun with strangers too right?

Entering the bathroom you rub the towel over you, leaving mostly dry skin. You'd peel away your bikini if you were definite you wouldn't need to peel it back up your limbs should this plan backfire. You move to the mirror to adjust the black flecks from your minimal makeup dispersing under your eye and just as you're about to smooth down the stray baby hairs that humidity has got to around your face, you see Harry appear in the mirror behind you. Your belly flipping over and over with the thrill he'd took the bait.

Wasting no time he smirks and holds your gaze, wrapping his hands around your waist whilst his lips attach to the junction of your neck and collarbone. His tongue drags over your soft skin and he licks and softly sucks swirls onto it with his plush lips.

"Hm. You're right. This is a more fun type of danger" he says between kisses but before he's even finished his sentence you've spun around in his arms.

The bottom of your spine cold against the marble countertop, arms around his neck as you smash your lips into one another's with urgency. Tongues and wet noises as you get to know one another through your bodies alone.

He runs his hands down your back and presses his hard length against your thigh. He's definitely packing you think as you lift up a little rub your pubic bone against his front, panting out a little moan as the sweet friction of your bodies colliding sends you into overdrive. Catching the noise through your parted lips he gently tugs on the bottom one, teeth grazing the supple flesh. This combined with his large palms kneading your ass and pulling you further, tighter, into the roll of his hips. Only two layers of damp clothing separate you,forcing your lips to break from his mouth and fully moan, not caring who may be around. You could not remember the last time a perfect stranger knew your body quite this well.

His own grunts were speeding up when he suddenly grabs the back of your thighs and hoists you up beside the sink, you gasp in shock but it was more the way the lean man thrusted you up there like it was nothing. What else could he do? You expect him to go back to kissing you but instead he pulls back with his rock hard erection outlined in the wet shorts he still has on. Looking at you dead in the eyes both raging with lust and concern. Whilst you try not to worry how you were going to accommodate him inside your tight walls.

"Is this…? I mean, you want this too right?" his hands are resting at either side of your parted thighs. You nod. "Need you to say it Y/N" he steps forward, lips wet and brushes the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip that was now puffy and pink from the earlier biting. He knew you were down to fuck, but now he wanted to test your preferences. What kind of fun you were about to have shall we say. So when you lick his thumb tip, holding his fist still and grazing your wet tongue up and down from knuckle to tip before closing your eyes and humming around the entire digit, he knew you were both in for a good time.

Removing the thumb he whispers a barely audible "fuck me" before smashing your lips back together, tongues massaging together as he peels your underwear to the side with his hand swiftly and presses digit you'd lubricated with your mouth against your clit, moving it fast from side to side with just the right amount of pressure to make your head spin. Gasping, you throw your head back, hands clasped around his neck as you lean back and feel yourself start to leak a little with arousal. The few spots dripping down on to the counter.

You could say it had been a while but really this guy was moving his way round your body in the same way you tune a guitar in key. Calloused fingers applying the right amount of pressure as you felt yourself start to get to the edge already. He was kissing down the front if your chest, between your breasts, not missing a beat when he pushed both triangles of your bikini aside and you moaned loudly as he kissed and sucked hard around your nipple, tentatively pulling it between his teeth firmly, the sound you let out made him clamp a little harder before sucking in the whole nipple again, soothing the skin his tongue. Most likely leaving a mark behind, but you kind of liked the idea of proof he'd been devouring you in all honesty.

You were becoming blissed out from all the stimulation. Clenching and moving your hips around nothing but this magical thumb working your clit up and down hard. You were overcome with this whole situation playing out the way it had. You broke away from his mouth again.

"Oh fuck.. Harry, I'm… FuckFuck I'm going to come, I'm gonna fucking… Ahhh" he pulled back one arm steadying you as your head hit the mirror behind you in your release. He just watched you and slowed his thumb down watching as the liquid cascaded onto the counter.

After you'd come down you open your eyes and shyly smiled before kissing him passionately, his hands moving around your waist tightly. You moved your hand to his shorts, teasingly grazing the outline of his cock between your fingers in hopes of repaying the favour. He does a single throaty laugh and removes your hand, holding himself against his thigh. You look at him in confusion when he splutters,

"Sorry, sorry its just I'm going t'blow my load if you touch me." then he's back on your lips "Too. Fucking. Sexy" he says between wet kisses to your jaw, neck and clavicle. "Wanted to do this since I first set eyes on you" one hand is on the back of his neck twisting nape curls between your fist whilst the other rests behind you, stopping you from hitting your head on the mirror again.

"Oh yeah? Before or after I ruined your clothes?" you laugh teasingly as he slides his hands around your back to finally remove the bikini top properly, lifting it up over your head and tossing it aside somewhere on the floor. He let's a laugh out himself completely entranced still by how natural you are around him, it was often hard to connect with strangers in his position.

"I'd spotted you walking in, was trying to open the door for you m'love" he says before sucking a red mark into your breast and massaging and pulling the other nipple slightly with his hand.

You struggle through sharp intakes of breath for a reply.

"Well….ah...that's what chivalry.. Oh.. Get's you these days I guess" and you're both laughing a little.

"Hmm. Have to try harder with my manners then won't I? I mean, I've got to clear up the mess I've made here" he cups his hand against your pussy rubbing it up and down a little with his palm. You let out a guttural noise at the friction. "Ladies first and all'tha too right?" he giggles again at himself.

You're practically cumming right then, you couldn't remember the last time someone actually went down on you. Your previous boyfriend not particularly into offering you foreplay. A main point of why he didn't stick around too long.

Harry kisses down your abdomen now, soft sloppy, sensual pecks, humming into your skin every so often in appreciation as he works at removing your soaked bikini bottoms with his hands, pushing them down to your knees before you help, letting them fall from the remaining ankle to the ground.

Harry is moving far too slow for you, kissing across each hip down to the top of your slit, breathing over where you desperately need him before paying the other side the same attention. Then he's licking up each crease where your thigh meets your pelvis.

"Y/N, just.. Just turn, that's it and lean back as far as you can there, shuffle forward until can't balance anymore" you shift your ass as forward as possible on the lip of the sink and prop yourself up on your elbows trying to be as flat as possible on the cold counter as you could, your toes behind the sink with one foot the other dangling over the edge. You keep you thighs open as Harry hunches over the counter where you now lay diagonal. He places his arms under your thighs and bends your legs flat out as he can stretch you, you're expecting some more teasing but he just looks down at your pussy licking over his lips and almost whining before burying his tongue inside you immediately. The force of his tongue lapping up your previous climax causes you once again to knock the side of your head against the mirrored wall. You turn and watch the scene almost as a spectator, witnessing yourself bare to this beautiful man, curly brown hair between your fists and making sounds like he's savouring every taste. He catches you watching before taking his mouth off you, immediately, you're whining in protest.

"Watch my eyes not my reflection baby, I'm right here"

His authoritative tone eclipsing every thought you had about the casual nickname, you stared down at the wonderful site of him lapping and suckling on your clit. Pointed tongue and firm laps against the swollen button. He then starts lapping up at your glistening hole,unhooking an arm to spread your lips open between his fingers and licking right from the bottom to the top with all the sloppy wet noises involved. He was feeling you contract as he locked faster and faster over you. His tongue deserved an award never mind his music. You couldn't believe you were on the brink of a second orgasm so quickly but when he sunk his middle finger into you at the same pace his tongue was working at, you were screaming his name into the extractor fan above before you knew it. You felt waves of liquid cascade from your pussy as he gently lapped up the produce of his work from you. You flinched in overstimulation but he cleaned up every last drop tenderly before carefully closing your legs and pivoting you round to your previous sitting up position on the counter. Neither of you had spoken a word since you came but as he leads your arms to drape over your shoulders, holding your fucked out body against his chest whilst peppering your temple with soft pecks . Then he kisses you intensely, letting you taste the sweet juices of yourself on his lips. You hummed in approval of the sweet taste as you came round.

A few minutes of carnal making out and things were heating up again. Your hands cupping his jaw then sliding to graze fingernails up and down his back, digging them in a little harder now and again and causing goosebumps to pierce through the skin rapidly under your touch.

You could feel him swallowing down grunts from the friction he was getting from his shorts covered cock brushing up and down between your slick folds.

He'd made you cum twice. Hard. He always got off of making his partners cum of course, so he was feeling beyond turned on and the slight heat of your glistening folds against his length was almostvsending him over the edge.

"I want you inside me" you whispered against his lips desperately.

No sooner had you said the words, his left hand was frantically searching through the vanities top drawer in hope. Finding a packet, checking the date quickly then tearing it between his teeth, spitting the seal onto the floor and pushing his shorts to his ankles, stepping out of them at speed before kicking them away.

He smirked when he caught your eyes bulge at his cock. He knew it was above average but the reaction was always a further compliment he thought.

Stepping forward he put on a show of putting the condom on, first rubbing the drops of sticky pre cum at the head and down his length keeping his eyes locked to yours as you wriggled on the counter with anticipation. He whined a little as it squeezed him rolling it on, so red and over sensitive from turning you on. So that's why, when you grabbed for it, he stilled your hand. Dimples appearing back in his cheeks as you looked again in confusion. He kisses you, languishing the moment before grabbing you forward from the countertop to the floor again, still keeping your lips attached. He lightly grips at your hips and turns you round to face the mirror once more.

Harry lightly grabs your throat, and the way you whimper and push your ass back against him, makes him mentally bank that idea for later perhaps. He runs his left hand up the column of your neck lightly holding your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him with his hand on your face and the other already working up and down your folds.

"I want you to watch us. Want you to watch yourself come apart. Want to watch you cum around my cock yeah? " he whispers in your ear. You noticeably shiver with excitement of what's to come.

"Please Harry, please, need it, need you."

You watch yourself babble and beg for his cock. The pathetic whimper from yourself as you try and circle your ass into his crotch again to encourage it happening. You were never patient and he's driving you insane here.

Bringing two fingers infront of your lips as you watch yourself in the mirror he looks you dead in the eye through the reflection.

"Spit" so you do, "good girl" he says kissing your cheek. His saliva lubed fingers are back rubbing your clit quickly whilst his knee nudges the back of yours to spread your feet wider as he kisses the back of your neck and shoulders. When he pauses next you're not expecting the hard thrust of him entering you entirely, sure you were dripping wet with the result of two orgasms but you cry out in a mix of stretch and pleasure as he pounds into you at a furious pace. His spare hand not on your clit is holding the bottom of your spine down as he keeps up his rhythm. His pace was that of a man desperate for release after watching you fall apart on his fingers and tongue. The build up meant he was already close as you tight walls fluttered around him. He pleads with you to stop tightening your walls around him or he's not going to last he whimpers.

You were already close again, you'd never cum this many times or this quickly in your life but you were ready for another round and by the sounds of him and the stutter his pace kept slipping you knew he was close too.

You quickly removed his hand, sucking your own fingers into your mouth to replace his own at your clit.

"M'gonna cum, but… OhOh fuck.. But need you harder. Deeper" you manage to get out.

He grunts a curse before squeezing your hips at a pressure that will leave marks tomorrow but the delight in the speed he was now able to snap his hips against the swells of your ass, was well worth it. It only took a few more seconds with the fingers that knew you best, for you to gush against his cock. Feeling absolutely exhausted you slump your sweaty chest onto the cold counter.

His orgasm taking him by surprise when you clenched up to milk him dry. He all but shouts your name as his hips stutter and you feel the warmth of his cum fill the one barrier between you.

His lips were back on your sweaty neck for a second whilst he disposed of the used condom. He ran the walk in shower and wordlessly you took his offered hand to join him under the hot spray. You'd never had an encounter end like this before not that you were a seasoned professional but after 3 orgasms the way his hands moved round your body under the water, washing away your antics with sweet strawberry-banana smelling suds on the flannel, left you with a warm floaty feeling the worn off alcohol never had.

He gently wipes your makeup from under your eyes then, smiling at the cute way your nose wrinkles slightly as he rubs at each eyebrow.

"I don't even have words" you finally laugh out blushing, not able to stand his gauge as you say it.

"Oh. So that's how to make that smart mouth o'yours stop is it? " he grins, you gasp in mock offense and go to say something but going under your chin with his thumb with his forefinger to connect your lips under the warm water spray he kisses you when you pull away you can't help but ask.

"So does this make us even on one ruined fancy vest then?"

"Hmmmm" he ponders with both hands on your face looking at the ceiling out if the falling water. " I'm not sure, I mean it was a custom, pretty high going rate those yeah"

"Yeahhhh you're right, you're right. Better factor in the cost of the custom job then hadn't I huh?"

You hurriedly sink to your knees on the tiled floor.

[samtheflamingomain]

25.21%

I've been sober for 3 months today. 92 days. 25.21% of 2021.

I could've posted more updates, more milestones (it took a LOT not to post on Day 69) but I wanted to kind of save it up for a Big Day. It was also a decent way to continue to incentivize my continued sobriety: a full pass to do a shameless, hardcore bragging sesh.

Anyway, this post comes in 2 parts: the TL;DR for those who only want the gist, then more in depth on my ability to stay sober, the lasting effects of rehab, etc.

I tried my damnedest to pare this absolute novel down, but it's long, so feel free to dip out if you just get bored. Onward!

TL;DR: I went to rehab the beginning of July for 3 weeks and haven't had a drop of alcohol since. I've lost weight, I'm more healthy, my daily anxiety level went from 8 to 2, I haven't had an anxiety attack in 3 months, and everything generally just seems... easier. My memory and concentration have improved. I've been productive and I've been meditating every day. I'm saving money, and while I sometimes fantasize about getting drunk, that's usually all it is.

Honestly, it's been much easier than I expected, but I think a lot of that is because for the first 3 weeks, the time in which I would usually break down and start drinking again when trying to get sober myself, was spent behind a locked door. So far I haven't had any days where I was close to giving in. I haven't had many days where I've been depressed about it, missing it or really tempted. Maybe 3-4. I've basically just gotten on with my life as if alcohol doesn't exist.

To wrap up the short version for those ready to peace out, I'll leave it with a bit of advice.

I don't feel qualified to give any specific advice, because my story feels very unique to me, and I honestly don't think what worked for me will work for MOST people. Sometimes people spend a year in rehab and still drive straight to the liquor store on their way home.

That said, there's one thing that I've found pretty universally true: you have to really want it. For a while, I floated about without much of a "reason" to stay sober. I don't have a spouse, kids or a job I've been fired from, so I didn't see the point.

It's taken me a while, but after not being "convinced" by a few superficial "reasons" like weight loss and saving money, I thought I needed something more... permanent? Consequential? I now realize that my "reason" for getting sober at a young age after only a few years of alcoholism is that I don't want it to get to a point where I'm hurting other people, drinking myself into multiple lasting health problems... I don't want it to become permanent or consequential.

Anyway, that's my two cents. If you do have something like kids or trouble keeping a job, definitely use that as your reason. But for anyone who's a pretty "functional" alcoholic like I was, "not letting it go on long enough to become disfunctional" is a good enough reason.

This is going to get stupid long, so feel free to walk away now, just glad you read this much and it really does mean the world when people listen to what I have to say.

Now some more things in depth. I'll go in chronological order: what made me get sober, what I took from rehab (and what I left), and how it's been the past few months.

I started drinking when I got kicked out, manic out of my mind and homeless unable to sleep. It took a while until I was able to sleep without alcohol, but by then the addict brain had taken over. I'd tried a few times to get sober myself, but I never made it more than a week without, and always got back to daily drinking after a few months maximum.

Some people need a "wake up call", a "last straw" or a "rock bottom". Something external to make them realize they can't go on as they are. For me, the catalyst was my health, which is more of an internal reason I suppose. I didn't have a heart attack or liver failure, but my anxiety was getting uncontrollable and I knew it was directly tied to my drinking.

My life had been starting to feel tolerable, and I was more financially secure than ever before. Things were looking up... except for the alcoholism. This is a weird analogy but the only one that makes sense to express why, if I was doing so well on paper, I decided to go to rehab: you have to sweep before you mop. If I hadn't been in the place I was, I don't think I would've been successful at rehab. I had to sweep up the cat turds from the floor of my life before I was able to mop up the shit stains with sobriety. I know, I'm a true wordsmith.

When I finally called the hotline that hooked me up with a bunch of different rehabs, I knew I was in for a wait. It was about 5 months from that call to checking in, which isn't too bad considering I've been on the waitlist for a neuropsychiatrist in ALL OF CANADA for 4 years.

That brings us to July 12th, Rehab Day One. I've gone in depth in multiple other posts but to touch on it briefly, if I had to describe my experience in a sentence I'd say "the place I went to got very lucky with me".

What this means is that, of the 5 people in my group, I think this exact program was only ever going to help me. At the same time, I didn't even know what I would need, but this exact program was 90% of it. I didn't think 3 weeks would be long enough, but for me it was. The hours-long, repetitive, basic-ass CBT groups held 5 times a day 7 days a week was absolute torture for everyone but myself. While it was a drag to spend an hour on defining what a cognitive distortion is, the routine and repetition, something I've never gotten out of any outpatient program, helped me to really absorb the information and let it rewire my brain.

I've always said that I'm someone who should be spending an hour a day with a therapist for the rest of my life, and while that's not even remotely feasible, this was as close as it's ever gotten, and it proved me right, because it worked. I've done biweekly therapy for a short time but even that didn't come close to the way my brain changed in those 3 short weeks.

This program required absolute commitment and open-mindedness. This isn't because it was hard work or difficult concepts, but quite the opposite. While I hate the entire concept of art therapy being used as a cure-all for mental illness, I willingly got out of my bed, went downstairs and tried doing a dot mandala for an hour because I'm willing to try anything to get better. A lot of people might think they are, but really aren't. To use the mandala as an example, one guy was really into it, I wasn't, but we both finished. The other 3 tried, messed up a few times, and then scrolled through their phones. When I say this program necessitates complete engagement, that's not a compliment. It shouldn't be a chore to engage with the program. It shouldn't take me actively saying "I know I've known this basic concept since 4th grade, but maybe hearing it again will help" to get something out of a rehab program. So again, in every way, I got lucky, and so did they.

Before I finish with the rehab section, having had a few months to reflect on the whole thing, I now have an endless list of things wrong with it. I arrived, greeted by the most jaded and disillusioned of staff, and quickly became disturbed and at points concerned with just how negligent the staff are.

Maybe it's because I've been on the psych ward where they won't even let you have shoelaces and shine a flashlight on your face every half hour through the night, but it could've been so incredibly easy to sneak in alcohol. I brought 2 full water bottles, fully expecting to have to dump them out upon arrival, but they said "nah it's fine". Is it though?

Then there were actual counsellors there who were... okay. I recall one, the one I thought was the smartest, reading a handout aloud and coming across the word "delve" as in "let's delve into..." and stumbled, then said she doesn't know that word. The room was silent. As she pulled up Google on the screen I said, "it means to dive into it". She Googled it anyway. Synonyms include "dive in". If that was the only example I wouldn't mention it, but this was the first of at least 10 words she had do Google, none past a 10th grade level, from HER OWN MATERIAL. From that point on it became clear that they had no fucking idea what they were doing.

We had one last one-on-one counselling session before we left and the counsellor just filled in boxes to questions on her computer, rephrasing everything I said to fit into the buzzwords and "lessons" we'd "learned". Example. Me: I do think I'm better able to catch myself thinking 'oh I can just have one drink' and say 'no I can't'." Her: "Okay, so would you say that you can recognize negative cognitive distortions like permission-giving thoughts and counter them with a more rational and less emotional mind?" Like girl, blink twice if your boss is holding your family hostage. She gave me some papers, detailing all the online courses they were signing me up for and options for more treatment they'd be sending me, a phone number to call and a phone appointment for the next Monday. I never got that call, the phone number is a hotline, I never got a single email from them, and given how shitty they really are at their jobs, I didn't feel the inclination to try and get those resources. If they even exist in the first place.

In summation, it was a place where it was physically impossible to get alcohol. That's really all I can say in its favor. Oh, and they let you have your cell phone.

Now on our timeline I'm back home. I want to kind of analyze why it's been easy for me.

I often said that my main goal of going to rehab was to lock me away from alcohol long enough for it to reset my brain. Most people thought that was naïve, but that's exactly what happened. But I'm well aware that my experience of "instantly became sober and literally hasn't had a single hard day in 3 months" is absurdly unusual.

I put this down to a few things. Firstly, I'm on seven different meds for my mental health. Almost all of them have their effects dulled or even eliminated when you drink. So when I noticed my mood, fatigue, memory, concentration etc all getting better at once - right about as I left rehab, I don't think it would be a stretch to say that all those meds started working properly.

Secondly, I've been keeping myself busy, but that's something I've always been good at. Now I specifically choose to undertake projects that will eat up a lot my time and put me in a state of flow. I recently made an entire card game from scratch, and let me tell you, I didn't think of alcohol for a week.

Thirdly, my other goals now get in the way of alcohol. I'm getting old and my body is deteriorating. But I've always wanted to do just one last season of gymnastics. Well, I need to lose weight for that to happen. I've already lost 35 pounds, and after another 20 I'll be ready to go. Also, I used to spend more on alcohol per month than rent. Even though I've done a few shopping sprees lately, I haven't come remotely close to how much I was spending before.

I want it more than anything. I want to be sober more than I want one night of "fun" that will more likely than not lead me back to where I was a year ago. I never want to need anything as much as I needed alcohol.

Lastly, just a few more random thoughts.

A lot of people, myself included, worried about the fact that I work at a bar as a cook, but honestly the entire time I'm there I'm thinking about food, not alcohol. If I'm hanging out with some regulars before/after, I can watch them drink and be perfectly fine with my coffee, because the coffee is $2, and I used to spend $20 after every work shift.

I also decided in rehab to start taking better care of myself as best I could. This started with getting my second vax which I'd been putting off, then an eye appointment, then new glasses, then a dentist appointment where I was informed I need to do $3000 worth of work on my implant that's erroding my bone matter, so that sucks, but I caught it early. I've also been meditating every day. In just 3 months, I've made pretty big improvements to my self-care and my daily routine.

One of my fears about sobriety was "missing out" on "having fun". A few days ago, all my housemates got together to play Mario Party, and it was kind of my first night doing something social while sober. It was a breath of fresh air - I wasn't constantly running to piss, I didn't worry about running out of alcohol, I didn't get sloppy and obnoxious as I can sometimes do. I even came very very close to winning my first game of MP. When I reflected on the night, I realized that, if I'd been getting drunk the whole time, I would've sucked at the minigames, been a hindrance to anyone unfortunate enough to be teamed with me, and likely would've stopped caring about the game itself after the first few turns.

Yesterday I was making my 4th pot of coffee of the day when I realized there was a full glass of wine just sitting on the counter. I had absolutely no idea where the hell it came from - nobody in my house drinks wine. I shrugged and poured that sweet sweet bean juice. It was only when I sat down and took a sip of coffee did I find myself thinking automatically, "this tastes so much better than wine". I only realized then that it had been rose wine, the only kind I've ever been able to tolerate. It was the ultimate moment of possible temptation, and the thought of just chugging that glass - as I may've done in the past - didn't even cross my mind.

I'm so glad to be where I am. I'm about to undergo some serious financial changes - i.e. going absolutely broke - but drinking isn't gonna help that, so I'm cautiously optimistic.

Stay Greater, Flamingos.

[napitali]

Kids are naturally designed for you to question youself in the matters of philosophy and meaning of mundanity.

So let me tell you a story

My little cousin was staying with me for the holidays and obviously I couldn't babysat her all the time, not to mention I'm not the best with kids, which unfortunately doesn't stop them from liking me for some reason- but that's besides the point.

Since she wasn't leaving my side from the morning to the night and I didn't want to stay up for another whole 24 hours to get some work done, I used the ultimate, revolutionary babysitting technique called "Yes, You Can Download Some Games On My Phone"

Let me tell you, it works remarkably well.

She's got my phone and I've taken my laptop - all is good. But you see, she's that kind of kid who loves to bury you under a pile of questions, so of course she eventually asks what I'm doing.

What I was doing, in fact, was writing a chapter for Calm After the Storm.

Don't get me wrong, normally I would, although awkwardly, start to ramble with all the love and affection this story is always getting from me, but at that time even my nerdy brain figured that excitedly talking about murder to a 6-year-old wouldn't be the greatest idea of mine.

So I go with "Just writing"

And bless her soul she asks "To whom?" instead of "about what?"

At that I, in a purely socially inept fashion, start overthinking and second guessing my life choices, because that's just my thing. I couldn't answer with "my readers". First of, it souned as if I was so full of myself when I rolled it around in my head lol; second - she assumed I was texting and if I've went with that answer she could view it as if I was some legitimate author and kids don't see those often (at least I haven't). Futher questioning would be inescapable and I was really not looking forward to having to say "I write books for adults".

My aunts and their romantic novel loving hearts would eat me alive.

"A friend" wasn't right as well. She would simply hit me with "Your boyfriend?". I would know, because for some reason, little girls these days are obsessed with boyfriends. Don't ask me why; at her age I was searching for a husband for my barbie not myself! But I digress. Anyway, being mocked for my single status by some little shit wasn't on my to-do-list either.

Sure, I could lie and say "It's an important business e-mail I need a vast levels of concentration and undisturbed attention for", but seriously? I can scam responsible adults, but little girls? What am I, a supervillain?

That's how my thought process had become dumb enough to consider "to myself" an excellent answer.

Curiously, my cousin didn't view it as such and went with "how does that even work!?" in the most scandalised voice I've ever heard. Lmao, it was hilarious. So I've teased her a little and we've gone back to our things.

But then she totally nuked me with a petulant "What's fun about writing to yourself?"

And I don't even know what my answer was because my whole head was like:

That's so deep!

Like, my inner philosopher has woken up from slumber and went You. Shall. Not. Pass. on the electrical signals stuck on my brain highway.

While now, I partially write for my readers - because, duh! when you share your stories you can't escape that mindset even if it's just a bit - it started by writing just because. In CAtS case I was writing it for a full year before posting it. I wasn't even considering it before. It happened only because I knew I had the tendency to eventually throw away the things I write and since I've fallen in love with that one I decided that "nah, I won't let you perish".

And now that I think about it, there's something freeing in writing? In my case it's something in the shape of Catharsis perhaps. I don't write my own feelings, my ideals or my own experiences (usually at least), but I always feel better afterwards.

It's like the expressionism but you don't express yourself. You go full analysis mode without even trying.

The next thing is the beauty of what you can come up with. That unexpected creativity, making something thrilling from the scratch and just looking at it blossom into a full-blown story, a whole plot that keeps even you - the author, awake at night. That unknown of "what will I fuck up this time?"

It's great because you can take your time to just sit and notice how great you are. How amazing your thinking is. And it sounds like I'm boosting my ego, which - okay, fair. But seriously, I suck at thinking in a day-to-day life, exactly when it matters, so having the comfort of knowing that "Hey, you. Yes, you. You came up with that. That blast of the story was written by you. This shit's your creation" is something I never knew I needed, but am glad I have it

[momo-de-avis]

How do you cope with school? I'm always so stressed on weekends knowing school is going to start the next day. Mostly because most of my classmates are awful, they keep talking loudly during every single class and my teachers never do anything, the noisy ones hate me because I kept telling them to shut up when I thought I could stop them and the one that hates me most and is more noisy is now sitting next to me and the class director told me we can't change because him sitting next to me 1/?

Was the only way to keep him quiet. I'm also really afraid of "wasting time", because we can't learn anything with this class (I can't change class or school). To make matters worse my noisy classmates keep making bigoted jokes (the teachers don't care) and the rest of the class laughs and tells me that it's a joke when I tell them to stfu. I'm in 9th grade so next year I'll go to a good school with better a better class and I'll learn what I want, but it's so hard to wait...

Focus on yourself. IF there are teachers willing to do it, dont be shy in asking where you can read more on this or that topic, just make it seem like you’re just curious about it so they don’t think you’re coming off as the pretentious classmate (I say this as someone who was often looked own as that from some of my teachers whenever I asked a question like that cause apparently in private school, if you build a reputation for being dumb, you can’t really come out of that).

I know it’s shit to say something like this but learn to shut down from your classmates. The fact is, how to study is something that we’re not really taught and schools don’t seem to care (I honestly only learned in college). When I was younger, I realized I couldn’t pay attention unless my hand had a pen in it and I kept scribbling something. But of course, because most our teachers are dumb fucks who don’t know shit about education, they thought that was distracting, that I was just rebellious(god they love using that word in here) and forced me to stop. As a result, my grades were shit, I didn’t listen and I couldn’t concentrate. Then in college I learned to adapt that to really listening. Basically, I wrote and wrote and wrote endlessly as I listened to the professor.  I wrote my notes like in a story, and EVERYTHING the professor said, I wrote down (even the moments where he took a break for a parenthesis). The fact that it was structured like a story helped me remember things for upcoming tests, and it kept my brain moving while paying attention to what I was hearing (it also produced a series of fucking notes that got my classmates in tears of laughter, I’d often get texts from them going ‘ANA YOU WROTE ‘#YOLO’ NEXT TO ‘CARAVAGGIO KILLED A DUDE FOR BUTTER’ WHAT IS GOING ON’ lmao)

If you’re a person who prefers to study on your own, take the time for yourself at home to read more, but like... outside of your classes. Not textbooks, no class notes. Other things. Read online and study on your own. Things that give you pleasure---this is really important. Nurture your liking for learning always, no matter how they try to disrupt your learning environment. The secret might just be your own time, your own space, the things you do for yourself only.

But if you’re switching schools soon... Man, hold on to that. Like, for me, keeping what comes after in mind, just reminding myself of the gratification I will receive from myself after the thing is done, is like heroin for me. I swear to god, it feels so good. So keep that goal in mind. Remember, it won’t take long. Focus on what comes after rather than how long there is left. 

I know it sucks to be in that situation, wanting to learn, to do well in school but being surrounded people that push you down. But keep true to yourself. I mean in. In like, 10 years, maybe even less, you’re gonna look back and think ‘man, I was one resilient little shit and I was amazing for it’. It’s gonna boost you up further along the way. Youre going to do amazing no matter what other shits throw your way, that I promise. And a little bump and fall along the road is just a step ahead into becoming yourself❤