#sobriety counter app

[endlesstwanted]

before the party’s over and we are too

My entry for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt #296 — Before the party’s over. Ao3 link here!

Fandom: How to Get Away with Murder

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Characters: Laurel Castillo & Connor Walsh, Oliver Hampton & Asher Millstone (mentioned)

Warnings: alcohol, drunk Laurel, canon murder talk, mention of puking

Summary: A chat between Connor and Lauren during the party at the end of season two.

Wordcount: 659

Connor leaned on the counter as he drank another shot. Oliver was too busy on the dancefloor dancing with Asher that he didn’t pay attention to a red flag violation of Connor’s sobriety for that substance addition he had been faking for months.

But the guilt feeling came back, crawling up from the inside and making his throat close like a rope wrapped around it. Not even alcohol was enough to cope with the feeling anymore, but at least tonight, he wasn’t drinking alone.

Laurel appeared, unsteady, and rested her face on the counter right besides Connor. “Is it tomorrow already?”

He didn’t know how he managed to understand her; firstly because of the loud music, and secondly because she was so drunk he was sure Laurel had omitted a few vowels his mind had covered up.

“I have secrets too.” Oliver’s words came back, echoing in his mind, and Connor realised he was right where they had been having that conversation an hour before.

He had to bite his tongue not to say anything back to that; not to snap back at Oliver and tell him the truth of what really did go on in that house, the truth about what was really haunting him, the murderers and the pain and the horror they had gone through, they had put others through, would haunt them to the last of their days—

“Walsh?” Laurel was waving a hand in front of his face, and Connor blinked, back at the club.

“I’m calling you a cab,” he decided, and she didn’t argue.

“Keep an eye on your boyfriend, or Asher may hit on him,” she joked, pointing at the dancefloor.

Connor raised his head from his phone, glancing toward the dancefloor. Oliver was laughing, his hands loosely gripping Asher’s shoulders as they swayed to the music, offbeat and free. At least, he hoped she was joking.

He laughed. “If anything, drunk Millstone is less harmless than sober Millstone.”

“Cheers to that,” Lauren agreed as he picked up one of the shots Connor had ordered for himself, clinking it against his shoulder.

“Okay, a cab is on the way so I’m gonna walk you out.” He managed to make Lauren let go of the empty glass, and made sure to hold her as they walked downstairs.

The night street was cold, and Connor just then realised he had left without a jacket. It would be just a few minutes, the app told him. “Connor.”

Laurel’s tone was more demanding, and for a second he thought she was going to puke and he had to hold her hair.

That didn’t happen.

“Laurel.”

“You should talk to him tonight.” She didn’t need to say Oliver’s name. “We could all go to jail tomorrow… or die… or, like, worse. What’s worse than dying?” She frowned, then snapped her fingers. “Oh, yeah—kill someone and have to keep it a secret again.”

Connor didn’t know if he liked or hated drunk Laurel. “I’ll take my chances with the psychopath.” He pulled her closer wrapping an arm around her jacket.

Laurel shot him a look, unimpressed. “I’m serious. At least, he has time to run,” she made him realise. “Maybe one of us gets a happy ending. Not you, obviously.”

The conversation stopped because Laurel’s drive pulled off, and Connor helped her inside, leaving to her telling the driver where to go. And he returned to the party.

Laurel was right.

They may not see another day, that’s why they were in the club for starters. He may as well confess all his sins and go to bed clean for once.

He was scared as hell that Oliver would leave him after that, of course. But maybe Oliver was too drunk to understand anything and remember a thing the following day, too.

Connor came back to the party.

The music swallowed him whole as Oliver pulled him in, making him forget every single thought on his mind.

[kinardbegins]

lil fic i wrote when i was in my feels the other day bobby nash & gender-neutral reader (platonic but could be read as possibly romantic) wc: 340 no warnings just talk of reader being sober

Looking out across the room, you can’t help but sigh. Everyone seemed to fit in. They had their place. And you… you were just there. No one knew you. Not the way you wanted to be known, anyway. And it stung more than you thought it would. Because you’d always been an outcast of sorts. The one hovering to the side. Just there for the sake of it.

So it surprises you when Bobby appears next to you and says, “I’m proud of you, ya’know? And congratulations.”

“I’m sorry?”

Bobby smiles. “On your one year of sobriety.”

Your chest tightens. How did he know? “How–”

“You left your phone on the counter earlier. I didn’t mean to look but I noticed a notification you got from one of those apps. It said you hit one year of being sober.”

“Oh.”

He raises his hands slightly. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. But I need you to hear this from me, okay?” He drops his hands and smiles. A genuine smile that reaches his eyes. There’s a fondness to his gaze. Care. Love. “I know it’s hard to talk about this stuff. And I understand why you’ve never mentioned it before. I’m sorry for bringing it up unannounced. But one year is important, and I know it’s hard. I know you’ll be thinking a lot of bad thoughts right now–trust me, I’ve been there. But you’ve been so strong. And I’m proud of you. And everyone else is too, even if they don’t know what for.”

You take a moment to process his words and he lets you, never once leaving your side. His presence comforts you immensely. After a while, you finally let a smile grace your face. “Thank you, Cap. I mean it, that means a lot.”

“Always.” He reaches out to pat your arm, squeezing comfortingly. “And I’m here for you… if you ever wanna talk about it.” 

“I appreciate it. And I’m here for you too, if you ever need someone who understands.” 

Bobby squeezes your arm again. “Thank you.”

“Always.”

[flygutz]

does anyone know of any apps or strategies for sobriety? i know there are ones that just kind of keep track of time with a counter but it doesn’t work for me. is there a community on here maybe? (or something of the sort)

i keep managing for about a week or so, then binging, & then drinking every night for a week. & then snapping back into abstinence for another week, rinse, repeat..

if anyone has any resources or tips, i’d be grateful. tonight’s a hard one

[iloveboobsandbookz]

Mensaje del día de Sober Time: Pon tu interés en tu futuro, porque vas a pasar allí el resto de tu vida.

Obtenga Sober Time aquí - https://sobertime.page.link/share

[loosidapp]

Together we will #FightAddictionStigmas 💪 • repost from @monumentmike • I am holding up 3 fingers in solidarity with @loosidapp to help #FightAddictionStigmas by bringing positive awareness to addiction & that recovery is possible! Join the #GetLoosidChallenge by posting a picture holding up 3 fingers, nominating friends & donating to help others battling addiction. Together we can make a difference!! 💪

best sobriety app

sobriety counter

[humandrift]

Manifesting: my best sober, authentic self. And good hair days ^

FEELING it all. Working through the hard, messy stuff. Paying attention. Choosing healing.

A few people on here have messaged me asking about my sobriety date so I opened this app back up and found that it’s been over 6 months since I committed to this lifestyle! 6 months of staying true to myself and waking up with a clear mind and bright eyes and working on healing from my ED and saying no to shit I don’t want to do and running fast and being authentically ME!

I don’t open this app because I don’t often think of myself as a sober person. I think “I don’t really drink” or “I’m alcohol free” or even sober curious. In the last 6 months I had one reminder where I got drunk with friends from work and immediately knew the next day that the sober lifestyle was the one for me. I also had a drink on 3 or 4 social occasions.. not enough to even get buzzed just drinking for the “show” of it so people wouldn’t bug me about not drinking. However I never restarted the counter because it’s not about the streak of days for me but more about the commitment to showing up for myself and feeling it all every damn day.

[onechicagorpf]

Not A Stranger - Part 4

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader (Chicago Med intern)

Waking up in bed next to a random naked guy after a drunken night out usually sucks, but eh, whatever. you’ll never see him again, right? Well except this time, random naked guy turns out to be your ED attending’s little brother, so maybe you’re a little bit screwed…

Read Part 1 here Read Part 2 here Read Part 3 here

Warnings: Very mild mentions of sex. Swearing, the usual cuss words.

A/N: The final chapter! Woohoo! Honestly I was having so much trouble with this chapter - I actually ended up writing about 7k words total of 3 completely different plots when I suddenly got this idea yesterday and I decided to go with this one. Anyway, thank you SO MUCH for all of y’all who’ve showed the previous 3 parts so much love! I really appreciate it so much! 

PS: Send me asks/messages/leave a note if you liked this and want to see more - it really makes me feel so much less insecure about my writing ahaha! Also do send me short prompts or requests that I can fill as blurbs (i.e. nothing that’s going to be a several chapter story - I will request those later on!) - preferably for Jay but I can do Will as well! Female!Halstead sibling is also okay :) Enough talking, enjoy!

The music is so loud you can barely hear your own thoughts. Or your own voice.

“HELLOOOOOO! BARMAN!” You yell at the guy making drinks 5 feet away from you. Your body is almost entirely atop the counter as you lean forward, trying to grab his attention. The couple next to you throw you a dirty look, but who cares? You’re 3 shots in, and you’re –

“ – drunk as fuck!” Lucy shouts in your ear, trying to pull you up so you straighten.

“What?” You slip off the counter and land back on your feet, wobbly. Your best friend shakes her head. “You’re drunk as fuck! How is that even possible? You barely had anything!” Lucy looks disappointed.

You laugh – a high-pitched drunken squeal – and lean in.‌ “I haven’t gone out in like, four weeks, y’know! My tolerance is down!”

Lucy throws her hands in the air, almost knocking a drink out of someone else’s hand. They yell at her, but she doesn’t notice or care. “This is why I ask you to come party with me like every week, bitch!”

You waggle your finger in front of her. Or, you try to. You’re tipsy enough that standing straight is a little difficult so you keep swaying, and you’re also fairly confident you’re seeing two of Lucy right now.

“The last time I went out with you, I got plastered and woke up next to – ”

“A total hottie! WOOO!” Lucy exclaims, shaking her fists in excitement.

“Yeah except he was also my boss’s brother, but okay.”

The bartender finally comes to you and Lucy, dropping two shots in front of you exasperatedly. You and Lucy each down one. When you flip the shot glass upside down on the counter, you can almost feel yourself losing what little awareness and sobriety was in you.

The music changes and Lucy’s eyes light up. “This is my song!” She howls, before starting to obnoxiously (and very much off-key) belt out lines. She grabs your hand, trying to lead you to the dance floor. You wave her off, saying you’ll be right behind her in a minute, and she nods before heading off.

Turning back to the counter, you lean against it dependently as you struggle with your clutch. You curse under your breath as your fingers repeatedly slip against the clutch opening, even though you had zero trouble opening it when you were sober two hours ago. Finally, your clutch opens, and you pull your phone out. Immediately, your fingers tap the messaging icon, and press on Jay’s name.

No new messages.

“Ugh,” You groan, dropping your head down in your hands. Your phone beeps randomly, but you ignore it in favour of moping.

It’s been about two weeks since that night. Two weeks since you told Jay he was ‘just some guy you were sleeping with’.

Two weeks of complete radio silence.

“Come on, don’t you want to say something to me?” You bitch out loud, glaring at the back of your phone. “I know I fucked up, I know I said mean shit, but my god, I didn’t fucking mean it – I was just. I was stupid and scared…and now I’m at the Verge again and I’m drunk, I’m soooooo drunk and my friend is – oh, she’s making out with some dude! Fuck, I was gonna ask her to book me an Uber but now I can’t and I don’t even know where my Uber app is on my phoneeeeee - ” You whine – a real full-on, high-pitched drunken whine – as you turn your phone screen around.

Voice message recorded.

Voice message sent.

“Huh?” You frown at your screen, trying to figure out what you just did, when someone knocks into you and you teeter over, almost face planting on the counter. “Fuck!” You curse, straightening and trying to look around for who did that, when a blonde head suddenly appears in view.

“Okay listen this is Alex and he’s a cutie and he wants to take me home but I gotta check if you’re okay?” Lucy informs you with the immediacy of a someone about to miss their last bus to work. You want to beg her to stay, but a) you ditched her last time when you saw Jay and she didn’t hold it against you, b) she was insistent that she had to get laid tonight, and c) Alex was hella cute.

“Get it girl!” You cheer, kissing her on the cheek and she beams. Once she exits, Alex in tow, you look around not sure what to do.

“HEY BARGUY? CAN I HAVE ANOTHER?”

***

It’s 30 minutes later that the bartender finally cuts you off and tells you in no uncertain terms that you have to go somewhere else if you want to keep drinking.

“Rude!” You exclaim into the cold air as you exit the back of the bar into a dark alley. “Fucking – I’m not even that drunk, that asshole. Like I don’t know my own limits?” You bitch to yourself as you wobble down the alley in your stupidly high stilettos. Bright lights suddenly shine at you, and you cover your face with your arms. “Motherfuck – !” You squint, trying to see which moron decided to flood the alley with his headlights.

“Jesus Christ,” You hear, and you almost immediately turn sober. You’d recognise that voice anywhere.

The lights go down, and just as your eyes adjust you see Jay Halstead exit from his GMC Sierra. Dressed in a black v-neck and dark jeans – god, does he own any colour in his wardrobe? – he steps towards you, a tight look on his face that’s otherwise devoid of any emotion.

“Why’re you here?” You ask, trying to hide the fact that your heart is beating so loud and fast you feel like you can hear it in your ears.

Jay stops in front of you, raising an eyebrow. “You called.”

You frown. “No I didn’t.”

Jay pulls out his phone and presses a button. You hear your own voice saying something about being drunk and not being able to order an Uber.

“That’s not – I didn’t – how the fuck…” You just trail off, confusion written all over your face.

“Well, I’m sure you’re not the first person to drunkenly send a voice message asking someone to come pick you up.” Jay supplies, pocketing his phone. There’s a note of judgement in his voice and you don’t appreciate it.

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to come and pick me up! I’m fucking fine!” You announce, before shoving Jay to the side and walking past him.

“You’re swaying like a leaf in the wind, you know?” Jay comments, behind you.

“Fuck you!” You swivel around sharply, pointing an accusatory finger at him, which proves to be a bad decision when you trip sideways and just about slam your shoulder into the alley wall. The only reason you don’t is that Jay lunges forward and grabs your arms, pulling you to him.

There’s a moment of silence.

“I’m not that drunk, it’s just my shoes, I swear.” You mutter into his chest. It’s true – almost. You were a little wasted when you exited the bar, fine, but in the same way that drunk people can get immediately sober once they see, say, a train collision, the sudden shock of seeing Jay seems to have burned through the fog in your mind.

You’re not sure what that says about your feelings for him...

The two of you separate, but Jay’s still holding you at an arm’s distance. As he looks down at you, he frowns. “What…are you wearing?” He asks in a judgemental tone.

You look down at yourself – it’s a short, red figure-hugging dress with side cut-outs. Looking back at him, you respond: “A dress.”

Jay snorts derisively. “Not exactly leaving a lot to the imagination.” He mutters under his breath.

“Hey!” You raise your voice, and take a step towards him to – to punch his arm or something – but once again your heels fail you and you just topple straight into his chest.‌ “Fuck!” You shout, cheeks burning, and you push back from him. Bending over, as gracefully as you possibly can in your tiny dress, you try to get your stupid shoes off. Meanwhile, the sound of Jay’s laughter is in the air and you throw a dirty look at him.

After watching you struggle with the straps of your heels for about a minute, Jay crouches down in front you. “Alright, alright, hold on,” He says. Getting on one knee, he tells you to stand and you do.

Jay’s hands wrap around your right ankle gently, and his fingers move deftly, undoing the multiple straps of the heel. You place your left hand on his shoulder, steadying yourself, and try hard to breathe regular. The feeling of his fingers against your skin is tantalising, and the sight of him crouched down before you is putting racy thoughts in your mind.

Without even thinking about it, you move your hand to hold his face.

Jay looks up at you as you run your thumb over his cheek. He holds his breath as the pad of your thumb gently swipes against his pink lips.

Bending over, you lean downwards and capture Jay’s lips in yours.

The kiss is gentle and sweet for all of three seconds, before you run your tongue over Jay’s lips and he escalates it. Starting from your ankles, his hands run up the back of your legs as he gets up. Once he’s halfway up the back of your thigh, Jay swiftly stands, lifting you effortlessly. You hook your legs around his waist like a good girl and continue the heated, ravaging kiss. Jay holds you against him with just his right arm – and my god, are you ready to come just from that because holy fuck how strong is this guy to be carrying you with one arm! – as his left hand grabs your jaw in that authoritative, bossy way that has your head spinning.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this, you know it’s going to hurt so bad when he leaves, you know the smart thing to do is to put a stop to this - to stop being with the one guy you can’t have; the one that sees you as a hookup and nothing more. But god, the way he makes you feel, the way he kisses you like he’s taking your soul – so hard and deep and yet so passionate – and the way he holds you to him like you’re his…the way he’s got your toes curling, he’s got you not giving a fuck that you’ve got one heel on and the other…somewhere on the ground – fuck, you’re so fucking gone for him.

He walks, steady and confident, and you don’t know where he’s taking you until he drops you against the hood of his truck.

You’re panting heavily, your hair fanned out around your head as you lick your lips, your pulse thundering between your legs. Jay looks down at you with nothing but lust in his eyes, before grabbing the back of your thighs and pulling you toward him roughly so that your ass is right at the edge of the hood, Jay’s hips right between your legs. The movement causes your already short dress to ride up even more, and now it’s bunched up around your hips. The cool air of the nice is cold against your legs, and especially cold against the growing wet patch at the crotch of your panties.

You look up at Jay – your eyes wide with salacious want, a desperate need for him, to touch you, fuck you, come for you –

A cacophony of sounds is suddenly in the air. A group of people are exiting the bar, loud and boisterous.

And just like that, the moment between you and Jay is over. You sit up at lightning speed, getting off the hood of his truck, pulling your dress down just as Jay steps back, swearing under his breath.

The group take their own sweet time to leave the alley, to get out of sight, and you’re so impatient you briefly consider tossing your other shoe at them to get them to move faster.

Eventually, the last of them turns the corner and you let out of a breath of relief. You turn back to Jay, opening your mouth, and he just shakes his head.

“No, no, no.” Jay runs his hands through his hair, looking agitated. He sighs deeply, before looking straight at you with the most apologetic look on his face. “We can’t be doing this, Y/N. I’m sorry, but...I can’t.”

Your entire body goes cold. 

You shake your head, eyes pleading. “Jay, no – I’m not drunk I swear – ”

“It’s not that, Y/N – ”

“Then what is it? What did I do wrong?” You whisper, reaching towards him.

“It’s nothing you did.” Jay smiles ruefully. “It’s something I did.”

You frown. “What did you do?” Jay doesn’t answer, instead just walking past you.

You grab his arm, stopping him. Jay turns, his green eyes slightly wet, mouth open but you cut him off.

“What did you do? Dammit Jay, stop shutting me out!” You exclaim, begging, and the two of you are so close now you can see Jay’s pupils dilate, and a pained expression fixes itself onto his face and it kills you seeing him this upset.

“I caught feelings for you.” Jay whispers, and your heart stops. “You said I was just some guy you were sleeping with…that you didn't feel like that about me and – and I was going to put distance between us, I swear.” Jay sighs, and you just try to keep up with what he’s saying but it’s tough because you feel like your head is underwater, like you can’t breathe. 

Jay doesn’t notice any of this, and he continues. “But then you called tonight and I heard your voice and I don't know what it is about you but I just – I just lose my mind. I was halfway down the block before I even realised I was coming to get you. And that night you came over – you were under me, taking me so well and so hot I didn't even think before – I just went so hard on you because I wanted you so fucking bad – Y/N I want you so fucking bad, all the fucking time – ” Jay’s shaking his head, his voice is cracking, there’s tears in his eyes and you – you just – 

“I'm going to fucking kill you.” You announce, and Jay closes his eyes.

“Y/N – ”

“Jay, I'm in love with you.” You admit, your voice clear as can be, and Jay’s eyes open, stunned. “I thought you thought I was just some hookup – ”

A deep frown embeds itself between Jay’s eyebrows, “Why the fuck would you think – ”

You raise your voice, slightly affronted. “I asked you about the Army! And you didn't open up to me and I thought – ”

“Oh my god – ” Jay drops his head in his hands.

“How was I supposed to know you felt the same way – ”

“I didn't tell you about that shit because I hate it! Y/N, nothing good came out of my time over there and I saw that look on your face when you found my scar and you looked horrified – ”

“Of course I was horrified – someone stabbed you!” You exclaim, your voice high, your breathing erratic. Jay looks at you, and he’s also breathing heavy...but slowly, his face just splits into a smile. You smile too.

Both of you lean in, pressing your lips together. Jay’s arms wrap around you, tight, and your hands cradle his face as the two of you sink into one another in an intimate, tender moment. Your heart feels like it’s weightless – all the happiness in the world resides within you, for a moment, and the feeling of Jay around you – your Jay – brings tears to your eyes.

When you separate, you barely move – your faces are still so close, Jay looking down at you with all the fondness in the world, and you looking back up at him, teary-eyed.

“I need to get my shoe.” You whisper, the first one to break the silence. Jay laughs, throwing his head back. You laugh with him, a giant grin on your face, as he gently rests you atop the hood of his truck again before running to retrieve your lonesome heel.

He tosses it to you and you grab it. “Do you want a kiss for that?” You ask him, smiling sweetly.

“Oh, one hundred percent.” Jay grins back, and you throw your arms around his neck. “One more thing – ” Jay interrupts you just as you pull close, and you raise your eyebrows.

“Yes?”

Jay scrunches up his face. “Someone needs to tell Will.

You roll your eyes. “You’re scared of that?”

“Hey, he’s not your big brother. I’ll bet my entire savings account he’s going to give the shovel talk to me, his own blood.” Jay counters, and you laugh. “Well, he’s a gentleman like that,” You say, slipping your hands into Jay’s pocket to pull out his phone.

Jay gazes at you with amusement in his eyes as you type a few sentences – out of his sight – and send it to Will.

“Done!” You announce cheerily.

Jay raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure – ” He’s cut off by his phone buzzing in your hand. It buzzes again. It then buzzes a third time, before it starts ringing.

“Three messages and a phone call, in 30 seconds. That’s never good news.” Jay notes, a strained expression on his face. “What exactly did you tell him?”

You shrug, pretending to be innocent. “Well, I definitely didn’t say anything along the lines of ‘Hey I’ve been bedding your intern for the last few weeks behind your back, and yes we definitely had sex the night you came over for hockey. Anyway, we’re a thing now. Bye!’.”

Jay drops his head. “Oh my fucking god – ” His phone goes off again, and Jay just curses, shutting it off. “Y/N – he’s going to kill me.” He says, eyes wide with incredulity. You just giggle, pulling him close to kiss him again. You heart soars as you feel Jay smile through the kiss. ***

Tag List: @elliee1497​ @scorpiomindfuck​ @lookatallthefeels

[hczcls]

hello hello hello !! it’s been a minute since i was in a group setting so forgive me for any mishaps, i am but a lost soul. anywho under the cut is a bit about my child lottie, she’s a mess and a thousand but love her anyways! hmu if you would like to plot or have any wanted connections you can see this child fitting in!

tw:  alcoholism, drug addiction, death, grief, overdose, child neglect, child abuse, underage sex, porn.

APP.

( dove cameron, cisfemale ) - Have you seen CHARLOTTE HALE? LOTTIE is in HER JUNIOR YEAR OF STUDY year. The JOURNALISM MAJOR is/are 23 years old & is a SCORPIO . People say SHE is/are CHARISMATIC, INDEPENDENT, AGGRESSIVE and CRUEL. Rumors say they’re a member of CALLOWAY. I heard from the gossip blog that HAS A ONLYFANS.  (mon. 25. est. she/her.)

AESTHETICS.

the last breath during a chilly night out, champagne flutes and forgotten cigarettes on bar counters. melodic laughter of a child unhinged,  fur coats and ripped fishnet stockings, warm hands on cold bodies, spinning until your ears ring and your stomach curdles, the 3 AM headache from a long night out. the screeching sound of the electric guitar, broken glass scattered across an unkempt home, the hollowness of loneliness, blasting music echoing through empty halls, sandy hallways and discarded clothes, screened phone calls and short voicemails, stacks of medical bills and scattered chips of redemption.

- here’s her board!!

SYNOPSIS.

In short, Lottie Haze fits into the cliché realm of a spoiled rich socialite. Growing up the daughter of a famous rockstar did nothing for her humbleness, being the heiress of a family fortune made before her father in the fashion of famous Las Vegas casinos, Lottie was doomed to a life of narcissism and selfishness from the start. Her life is a blur before coming to Yates, she doesn’t delve much into her past and doesn’t stand for the curios pokes and prods from her fellow peers after they watch all the documentaries about her past. Drug abuse, life on the road, the death of her mother, her own overdose at such a young age before being plucked out of her father’s arms. Lottie doesn’t think about it, doesn’t speak about it, but it’s all there, edited from time to time on Wikipedia. Famous for being nothing but the child of the rich, Lottie’s a lot more than meets the eye, but at paper-thin, she’ll allow most to think she’s the typical Instagram influencer, rich, pretty girl plagued with basicness and ignorance.

HISTORY.

Charlotte Haze’s parents weren’t good for each other. It wasn’t a healthy relationship; it wasn’t made from start dust and fairytales. It was a match made in hell, two selfish souls uniting in a mix of tequila and heroin in the back of the Stillborns’ tour bus. Ricky Danger was her father, a name coined from the mind of a self-indulging teenager with too much time on his hand and brain clouded with too many pills. When Jeanette Haze, daughter of a multibillionaire hotel and casino owner, told him the news of their child he was excited, not thinking of the dangers and responsibilities that came along with a child born of wedlock and on the road. Charlotte couldn’t remember a time in her childhood when things were normal, nothing was the cookie-cutter dream house that most children fantasize about, they had no real home, she had no real toys, no friends her age, everything was clouded with smoke and glamour, money and gifts sent to her by her grandparents who couldn’t gain control of their wild daughter and her idiot of a boyfriend  who was too busy dragging their toddler all over the world with them.

Her mother died of heart failure when she was eight, something that happened so fast that she barely had time to register what it was. There were two funerals, the respectable one full of family members she’d never met who touched her blonde curls, cradled her chubby cheeks, told her how much she looked like her mother and the one thrown by her father. Where men all spoke highly of her departed mother, where alcohol was passed around, stories were told, and the friends she grew up with made her smile and laugh, instead of feeling lost and alone. Lottie was too young to know what was going on behind closed doors, too sheltered from her grandparents to know that they were doing everything in their power to take her away from her father, who simply brushed the death of her mother off his shoulders, and carried on in life, numbed by booze and drugs. This lifestyle wasn’t something a child should grow up in, an idiot knew that, but Ricky didn’t see a problem with it, he didn’t see how damaging it was, he didn’t care, and once he thought Lottie was old enough, he shared it with her.

Charlotte was 11 the first time she got drunk, 12 the first the time she smoked weed, 13 the first time she had sex, and fourteen when she first got addicted to cocaine. The list grew as she did, the perfect little star on the road, the daughter of the world’s ‘best’ guitarist, the lead singer of The Stillborns. He was so proud of his girl, he loved her more than anything, and she lived to make him proud. She could remember the concerned looks from tutors on the road, her father hiring them to make sure he could keep Lottie at his side, having her learn from the strangers when she could, paying them off not to speak about the things his daughter was involved in, and everyone turned their head, said nothing. Charlotte didn’t know any better, the life she lived was all she knew, all she loved. Sex, drugs, and rock & roll, just like her mother, she was truly the perfect girl, just like her father had wanted her to be.

That all changed when she was seventeen. when one night her father must have misjudged the dose he helped her shoot into her veins. Ricky had had his fair share of overdoses, his own, his buddies, even the one that put his wife into cardiac arrest and took her from him. Though when his daughter started to convulse, he couldn’t bring himself to do much of anything but push her onto her side and dial 911. He left her in the dutiful hands of his band manager and a family friend before he left her alone to wake up in the hospital with no clue what had happened, no idea where her he was, and an onslaught of CPS agents, police, and paparazzi.

It was all that was needed for her grandparents to finally get custody of Charlotte, proof of her father’s neglect, proof of his horrible influence of the young girl. Lottie waited for him, waited for him to show up at the hospital, show up at court, show up to fight for her, but he never did. He never called, he never wrote, and when Charlotte was moving in with her grandparents in their little ranch in Las Vegas after spending months in a rehabilitation center, she still heard nothing from her father. The tides changed then, Charlotte realized she couldn’t go on living the way she had, the way her mother had, so rather than wait until the day she was eighteen to go back to her old life, she made a new one, or at least she tried to. It was a twisted Cinderella story, at least that’s how the news showed it. The once tragic life of a child of rock & roll turned into the sugary sweet life of a beautiful Instagram star, Charlotte Haze coined a new life for herself, with the watchful and worried eye of her grandmother.

PRESENT.

College seemed like something that would be good. A set routine, a new chance at life, a way to start over…  sure she didn’t do the best at school on the road but was that her fault or the environments. It would be something normal, a true school environment she never got to experience.  Vermont was far, but with some tears and lots of convincing, she was able to get them to agree to let her leave. , and they made sure to give her everything she needed to get on well, with a few standards she had to meet at least. Music would always be apart of Charlotte’s life, even if her father wasn’t, so she figured journalism would be good for her, getting to explore the lives of all the musicians and artists but while also keeping a safe distance from the true lives some lived on the road, not wanting to break her vow to herself, to avoid any and all triggers to her past.

She’s been sober for a while, though the bumps of life have given her a few setbacks, relapsing is part of the process, after all, at least that’s what she told herself each time she embarrassingly returned to her NA meetings or faced the disappointed look of her grandmother who controlled her allowances, basing how much money she fed to the spoiled girl by how stable her life seemed to be at the time. Lottie was going to live her life for herself, she did what she wanted, how she wanted it, though she put on her best appearances for her grandmother, after all, it wasn’t like she was actually going to get a job to support herself, not when she had all the money she could ever ask for in her namesake alone.

SECRET.

Lottie is used to having things handed to her, she’s used to being able to spend her money frivolously, with no care or worry of consequence. But when her grandparents cut her off and the cash flow stops coming in, there’s not much for her to do to keep her materialistic life up. Sure she could get a job on campus, work at a book store, the coffee shop, the record store… but Lottie doesn’t like to work… and she has little patience for tedious things… and so her genius idea was to make money off doing the one thing she never got bored of, sex. Lottie has a secret camgirl/porn account that she earns extra cash from, it’s not something she’s ashamed of at all, but she doesn’t want it getting out on account of her old money grandparents and her widely known father, the last thing she wants to be is a cliche, even if she’s happily living as one.

TLDR.

So basically, Lottie’s got a tricky background, she’s rich af, spoiled af, bitchy af, and kind of just does what she wants whenever she wants. She’s up and down with her sobriety, views everything pretty cockeyed, considering she doesn’t want to trigger herself into using again, but will down a bottle of Grey Goose with little consideration of the consequences. She’s got a lot to hide still, gets her inheritance from her grandparents and that can be easily toyed with, considering they view her life with a magnifying glass. Connection wise she’s open to anything, hookups, passed hookups, ex’s, FWBs, frenemies, best friends, she’s bi and ready to cry so please, love her.

[cute-butthole]

I’ve recently had a huge relapse and had to reset my sobriety counter. This is what came up in the app when I did it. I thought it’d be nice to share in case anyone else needed to see it. One day at a time my loves. 🦋

[crazypossumman]

Apps I Recommend (Part 1): DayCount

Honestly, this is just a super cute little app. You can use it to count down to or up from a desired day/time, making it useful for a multitude of purposes.

For me, I find it extremely useful as a tool to track and try to control my bad habits. It can also be used as a more subtle addiction/sobriety counter (a lot of apps marketed as such tend to have obnoxious titles that can make you feel self conscious of others seeing).

As another plus, you can create cute custom widgets for your home screen (on iPhone, at least). The app will tell you that you can’t apply custom widgets without the premium version, but I found a work around fairly quickly. After applying the default widget, stay in the “edit home screen” mode. Click on the widget, and a selection menu comes up that will allow you to apply your custom widget in place of the default one.

Anyway, just a cute little app that may be worth a peek if you get bored/could find a use for it. Have a nice day!

[helenamars30]

Il modo migliore per venirne fuori è sempre buttarsi dentro.

Robert Frost

Quitzilla https://goo.gl/2RgPFW

[siscovanillaisstepping]

Since I mention in my last post that I use the Quitzilla app to track my abstinence from meat and hard liquor, I wanted to post a link to the app in the Android app store. Since I don’t use an Apple product, I can’t say if it is available for Apple products. 

The free version (with ads) let’s you track two difference “commitments to quitting.” You kind of set it and forget it with notifications at reaching certain milestones. 

[loosidapp]

23.5 million Americans struggle with addiction to alcohol and/or other drugs, that’s 1 in every 10 Americans over the age of 12. Add to that the loved ones affected, the number goes up drastically.

We are holding up 3 fingers in solidarity with @loosidapp to help #FightAddictionStigmas by bringing positive awareness to addiction & that recovery is possible.

Join the #GetLoosidChallenge by posting a picture holding up 3 fingers, nominating friends & donating to help others battling addiction. All money raised will benefit @herrenproject & @rocktorecovery

aa meetings near me

How to get sober

sober apps

[sidisgettingbetter-blog1]

I’ve been gone a lot of days.

I know I’ve been gone a while and there are several reasons. First is that the day before I went back to work I relapsed and I didn’t know how to tell all of youse. First of all it had nothing to do with what I do for work. I was looking forward to it. I crave routine almost as much as I missed hanging out with all my mates. They had been checking in on me either via text or dropping in but I was 110% ready to get back into the swing of things (so to speak). I fucking hate the “happy hooker” trope (why is it that I have to love and/or feel empowered by my job to make it a “valid career choice”? Hell, we live in Late Capitalism, what job is even a choice? If you don’t make money you literally can’t survive and the only way to make enough money to live (thanks for nothing, Centrelink) so your only choice is to work) but I legitimately love my job and missed it dearly.

But on this particular day that I relapsed Carrie Fisher, aka second mother, had died and I cried a lot. Like, a lot. Then a very routine and manageable bill aka financial responsibility fell up on my shoulders and I had about $11 left to my name. Then I said goodbye to a lover at my tram stop for what would be the last time I’d see them for about a week during which time we would have no contact (perhaps they’d find themselves in the wilderness and come to the realisation that I’m bad news? And it’s 110% not their fault; apart from the fact that they can do things by themselves, who could blame them?) and did the reasonable thing that every self-loathing alco does - traipsed to the nearest bottle-o and bought the cheapest bottle of wine going. It was a sauv blanc. +1 to every roll on self-hatred.

I drank 1/4 of it and was instantly hit by a) how awful it tasted then b) momentarily after how shitfaced I felt. Considering I was consuming at least 30 units of alcohol a day and still relatively high functioning, I’d say I needed around 3 or 4 units to stabilise me in the mornings. 1.2 having a noticeable effect on me was almost embarrassing as the fact that I’d relapsed. Three months prior I could’ve drunk anyone under the table (then probably made out with them if they were willing just for the hell of it) but this was a thing no more. Then came the awful moment  of “oh Jesus, now I need to tell people about this” so I did the logical thing and drank another quarter bottle for Dutch courage. I then poured the rest into the front garden. First up was my partner who I have been with longer (and is also my best and oldest friend and the sunshine of my life) because I thought it’d be easier. They’ve seen the darkest, most ugliest part of me (I’m talking multiple spews on ER floors because oral diazepam isn’t a thing when you’re that far into alcohol withdrawal) and I felt overwhelmed by a sense of disgust but I did it and they were beautiful and wonderful and understanding, as you would expect from the most special and handsome prince alive. The worst was telling the lover who was going away. Not only are they one of those strange creatures that I’m fascinated by who can have one beer and be like “nah that’s enough,” they are also one of those people who is like “I just don’t like to drink for my health.” (I’M SORRY WHAT? YOU DON’T WANT TO LIVE THE HEDONISTIC LIFESTYLE OF WAKING UP IN A PILE OF YOUR OWN SPEW WITH NO PANTS ON IN THE OPEN WALKWAY OF YOUR APARTMENT BLOCK AT 7AM ON A WEDNESDAY?? YOU DON’T WANT TO BE GOING INTO ORGAN FAILURE BUT SOMEHOW STILL KICKING BECAUSE ALL YOUR DAILY CALORIES ARE COMING FROM STRAIGHT VODKA?? (True story bro, also sorry Mum)) And although I knew they wouldn’t be mad I was terrified of them being disappointed. Plus I was putting them in the predicament of saying “hey so this bad thing happened and now we can’t talk about it for a week BYE HAVE FUN XOXO” Anger is easy to detach from. Disappointment infers very real attachment and this kind of love I’m not used to where you’re at the point where you’re like “so wait,,, you love me but you don’t, like, have to??”. Also deep-seeded abandonment issues, but that a whole other post, hey. Anyway I told both partners and they were both lovely and terrific.

I reset my sobriety counter app the next morning amidst the first hangover I had in a while (If you just keep drinking, hangovers don’t happen!) and felt something I can only equate to the feeling of “sub drop” for those of you acquainted with BDSM terminology. If you’re playing a sub role in a BDSM scene, in a meta sense you are totally in control. Unless this is some 50 Shades shit (ie. rape) you can tap out at anytime. But aftercare is still important. That’s the part where the other person is like “hey, you’re not a piece of trash. You’re a precious and important person and people love and care about you, even if you don’t believe it.” and they give you a cuddle and a glass of water and something sugary and bring you back to the real world. I straight-up didn’t make myself available for that. I felt that I needed to be punished. I deserved to suffer, to pay penance. It did not feel good. I felt that all the “good work” I’d done had been reduced to numbers and no longer counted. All 43 of them days. Over a half bottle of Bowlers Run of all things too. It could’ve at least been for something good, hey (like Four Pillars Navy Strength or Talisker. I’m a picky bitch when I want to be.) But from three hours between drinks to 43 days is a good effort, hey? I’ve since deleted all my sobriety apps. I don’t like counting by days. If I’m doing the right thing by me who gives a fuck about numbers?

After the Bowlers Run incident a few weeks later I thought I’d bounced back and so agreed to go to a pub with an old friend of mine. I’d told him I’d quit booze but when we got there (I suppose out of instinct. Guess how we met) he tentatively asked me if I wanted a pot. There was zero pressure and he was very sweet and cautious. He was just being social. I thought “fuck it, I have to learn how to moderate sometime!” so I said yes. We had a lovely time. Singing the songs of the old country, so to speak. Talking business (his, not mine). I may have punched another pot. I left on time for work. Also a guy I went to school with was bartending. ’Twas not bad, just surreal.

And I felt like utter trash. Not on the principle of having a drink and not the next day re: hangover, but i could actually feel the psychophysiological depresso sink in. It was not a pleasant feeling. I wasn’t pissed. I wasn’t taking that medication where every time that you ingest a drop of booze you spew. It’s just not fun anymore.

Anyway, this is my vent for today. Tomorrow is V-Day and we’re gonna be delving hardcore into some gender and sex work stuff. Content warnings will be up if you need bbs <3

[guttertales]

Day 52.

Being on my period is fucking with my new “get up, be active” sobriety routine. My cramps are so goddamn bad. But whatever, it’s hell, what’s a little more hell on top of hell at this point.

I reached out to my internet friends about getting sober today and got a few insights and a lot of encouragement. I also reached out to Hannah and we talked for two and a half hours. Can’t wait for another 8 months to go by when we can talk again. Love that she’s a hardcore antivaxxer. Love that she and her girl are doing so well. Also love that she read my horoscope out of her astrology books and it actually was spot on. In getting sober I want to fully become the person Hannah believes me to be. She truly thinks I’m the worlds ninth wonder. All those shitty graphic design nightmare signs that say “be the person your dog thinks you are” for me it’s “be the person Hannah thinks you are”

I just signed up for a seven day sobriety challenge on my app. It unlocks something called “the new me pack” -I just want new skins for my counter. But it’s exciting to look forward to, it’s kinda like an advent calendar. What the heck am I gonna get in seven days for Christmas? The heck is a “new me pack”? Guess we’ll see!

I wish that SMART Recovery wasn’t all capitalized.

Lately I’ve been thinking about how I’d like to get to a point where my sobriety isn’t at the forefront of my mind at all times. Wish it would just swim somewhere in the background. But I’ll get there. I feel like these entries are only about my sobriety now, and I think that’s probably very boring for the imaginary person who is never going to read this. Instead of sober living I’d rather be living and also happen to be sober. But. I’ll get there. 9 days is a lot and not a lot all at once. In positive updates I think I’ve gotten my sleep schedule relatively under control.

Hannah and I talked for a bit about how I can’t tell my family what I’m going through because I can’t admit to them how bad and how dark my life has been for the majority of my 20’s. Maybe one day I’ll tell them. When it’s not so fresh. Maybe when I’m two or three years in. When it’s no lies, just love.