silverslipstream
silverslipstream
writer, reader, habitual procrastinator | ask and message friendly! | I mostly write sci-fi, horror, maybe the odd romance | studying creative writing at university!
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Cause It’s A Bittersweet Symphony, That’s Life
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the 'making breakfast for them after a one night stand' is fucking hilarious (not least because I've thought of doing that multiple times if I were to be in a similar situation)
One Night Stand Prompts
by creativepromptsforwriting | do not repost
Person A is not a kiss and tell kind of person, so their friends start to think that they have been alone for way too long now and set them up with Person B. What the friends don’t know is that they both already know each other – intimately.
It was supposed to be a one night stand. Then it became a second night. A third - and suddenly they realized that they had never left.
Person A normally does not go out to clubs. They normally don't accept drinks from strangers or dance with them. And they normally do not go home with them.
Remembering every last inch on Person B's body is not a weird thing, just because they only hooked up that one time. They had just been very thorough. And now the memories are haunting them. In the best way.
Person A's last one night stand ended with a misunderstanding and a lot of awkwardness. To cheer them up again, their friends set them up with a blind date. They meant well, it’s not their fault that it’s the person they had previously slept with.
Person A's friends are obsessed with setting them up with blind dates, and A knows they mean well, but they are just not interested in dating, so they just ask their last blind date and one night stand, Person B, to fake date them, so A's friends stop setting them up.
Can you still call it a one night stand if they actually already had one years ago?
Person A had never had a one night stand before, so they don't know what the correct etiquette is. They are currently bringing breakfast to Person B, who is still in bed, because that's the polite thing to do, right?
What is the worst thing that can happen when you have someone in your bed that you just had an amazing night with? Your parents deciding to pay you a visit, who are just so excited to meet your new partner.
Person A and Person B are in a committed relationship and very happy. So happy that they decide adding a third person for just one night won't change anything.
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the chuckle I chuckled
And when everyone’s autistic…no one will be
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i don't know man, i just wish that we could [suddenly realising i'm coming dangerously close to expressing a real and earnest thought instead of filtering everything through several layers of intangible running bits] blow up the entire world. or something.
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I have to laugh to hide the real and excruciating pain of having to exist in a society built for the able-bodied. I hide my agony in every millimeter of my taut smiles
accidentally called @silverslipstream "mum".
yeah thats how my day's going
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fucker? wow. demeaning much. sometimes I think these jokes give you too much happiness
accidentally called @silverslipstream "mum".
yeah thats how my day's going
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fucking ableist just say you hate disabled people and go then
accidentally called @silverslipstream "mum".
yeah thats how my day's going
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come in for dinner sweetheart how was your day at school
accidentally called @silverslipstream "mum".
yeah thats how my day's going
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NEW ZEALAND MENTIONNNNNN
More cow art from earlier this year, this painting is of a Hereford cow. I remember seeing a lot of Herefords when I lived in NZ so painting them has a nostalgic vibe for me.
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On the topic of images that scare people while high, here is a wonderful photograph I found when I got high as fuck (and the resulting Discord interaction)
i hope i never ever ever see this image while im high or it will also straight up kill me. it would make me so scared my skeleton would run away And id be a boneless scared heap on the ground
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Happy April 25!
I have been waiting all year to post this.
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Nail-Biter
I found an old story in my Google Docs from last year that I actually enjoyed re-reading. I might rewrite it one day but as of right now I'm not doing anything with it, so I figured I might as well post it here. I hope y'all enjoy!
I used to bite my nails.
Usually when I say this, people start to reassure me that they do so as well, and that it’s not anything to be ashamed of. What they don’t realise is this: when I say I used to bite them, what I really mean is I used to chew them down into pink stubs, tearing right into the quick, and nibble at the skin around them too. Frankly it’s incredible I didn’t get an infection from that old habit, but my fingers were always red and sore, with a tendency to bleed. But I kept biting. Whenever I was nervous, or agitated, or even just a little absentminded, my teeth would find my fingers and bite them until I physically couldn’t anymore. Then I would feel stupid and insecure for having such a shameful habit.
I used to joke about it, too. Whenever my more fashionable friends commented on their own nail polish, I would feel the need to bring up those little warped gravestones on my fingertips, as if by drawing attention to them they would become less of a burning point of inadequacy for me. I’d go even further and say I took pride in that rather ruinous part of my personality.
One day things changed—or more accurately, I forced the change upon myself. I went out and bought myself a tiny little bottle of black nail polish. That set me on a vague path to recovery, forcing me to consider whether it was worth wasting nail polish just for that momentary relief. It wasn’t an overnight change by any means, and I definitely chewed off more coats than I care to admit (and accidentally consumed more polish than can possibly be good for someone) but it gave my poor hands a chance to heal and made my nails much easier to look at in the process.
Months went by and my nails were now at a decent length for the first time in my life. It may sound trivial to some, but I felt good flaunting my progress, and they looked even better. I had even graduated to various other colours. It feels ironic that on the morning that changed I was painting them black once again. I was just finishing my pinkie finger when my phone rang, almost scaring me into smudging them. I answered knowing full well it would be my mum—nobody else would call when a single text would suffice. Sure enough, I heard the sour notes of her voice greet me. She sounded upset, and since I was unclear on whether I was the cause, I decided to treat her as one treats a landmine.
“Hi, mum.” My voice rose a few notes and I winced, blowing absently on my nails to dry them. “Is something up?”
“I’m just wondering,” I flinched at the accusatory tone—so I was the cause after all, though I’d be lying if I said I knew what I’d actually done, “Why exactly have you been lying to me.”
“Lying about what?” I said, but my mouth was dry and my chest was starting to fill with fear. I began to raise my hand to my mouth.
“Lying about your boyfriend. Or do you not remember? Come clean, Alice, I know you’ve not really been seeing him.”
“No mum,” I mumbled through my fingers, “I told you I stopped.”
I heard her irritable sigh through the phone and felt my ribs tighten. Mum always had liked my boyfriend much better than I had, enough that when we broke up she refused to listen to my reasons and instead insisted we still see each other. I may have told her, aeons ago, that Maybe We’d Try It Out Again, but I certainly hadn’t told her I was seeing him nowadays. She continued to sink her talons of disappointment into my brain with her next words.
“I don’t know why you didn’t stay with him. He was the best you’re ever going to get.” These words made my sore eyes overflow, and I started to sniffle. I don’t remember the rest of that dismal conversation. In all honesty I was just trying to get off the phone as fast as I could, but what I do remember is that when I did put the phone down, I realised that my hand was now free of polish and that my fingertips looked red and wet with spit. I almost howled in outrage—it was just like that woman to take my one good accomplishment and turn it against me.
In the next few weeks, I tried everything to set myself back to rights, but it was all for nought. As my mother’s words played on repeat in my head, my mood sank lower and lower, and my nails seemed to get shorter and shorter. My fingertips started bleeding again. I stopped wanting to show them off.
It all culminated in one particular night. It was raining outside and instead of being out with friends, I was just staring at the wall of my bedroom and biting relentlessly on what remained of my fingers. I could feel the warmth of blood trickling down my hand as I tore into my flesh but I couldn’t stop. My face was numb. Everything was numb, all sensation centred on my hands, as I ripped into them like a starved animal. My breathing sounded weird. My eyes were tearing up. The sensations intensified and I started to pant, sweat dripping down my face. And then…I wrapped my hands around the first bottle of nail polish I could find, and stared at it hatefully. If I hadn’t started painting my nails, I wouldn’t have had the fragile illusion of recovery, and I wouldn’t be stuck in this rut now, feeling so weak and helpless and…and…
Crash.
I don’t allow myself to be around my nail polish anymore. I scrubbed for weeks, but the neon green is never coming out of that wallpaper. I don’t really care anymore though. My fingers are worse than ever and I’m pretty sure one of them is swelling up, but I don’t care about that either.
I just can’t stop biting my nails.
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I'm immaturemaxxing. I'm so inner child-pilled
i love turning acronyms into little nonsense words. hi i'm part of eljibbety (lgbt). I have osiddy (ocd) and bippidy (bpd) and maybe even assiddy (asd).
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i love turning acronyms into little nonsense words. hi i'm part of eljibbety (lgbt). I have osiddy (ocd) and bippidy (bpd) and maybe even assiddy (asd).
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I love to have buttsex (buttsex) with your mum (your mum)
i love turning acronyms into little nonsense words. hi i'm part of eljibbety (lgbt). I have osiddy (ocd) and bippidy (bpd) and maybe even assiddy (asd).
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I'm over here blowing my shit right now, I got a tissue on my nose, I'm just pinching my shit man, I'm nasal as fuck man, I'm a freak
@silverslipstream is the sneeze-pilled achoomaxxer
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