but i feel like plague. i need sleep

Life with the Schuylers - Chapter Three (Peggy)

a/n: here is chapter three. I’ve had some trouble writing this chapter because due to a lack of response and feedback more than people just asking to be tagged I’ve lost a lot of motivation for this series which makes me really sad. I love this world I’m creating and I’m really enjoying writing it and coming up with ideas and I hate that that’s being tainted. So please, please if you enjoy this please tell me what you think!

warning: I don’t think anything in this chapter

word count: 3,424

tagged: @tailored-shirt-tails @legendaryapplesauce @turtlenecks-coffee @pheonix-fire-fangirl @eliza-the-actual-ray-of-sunshine @hercules-mullifan @musicalmoriarty @serkewen12 @lupinschocolatefrog @imagineimeliza @wrotemywayoutimagines  

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“Hercules, it’s 2 am what do you want?” Peggy groans, rubbing her hands down her face after hitting the speaker button on her phone.

It might be 2 in the morning, but Peggy definitely wasn’t sleeping. She’s pretty sure her sociology professor hates her, springing a 1000 word paper on them out of nowhere seemed particularly cruel to her. So here she is, hunched over her laptop at 2 am desperately trying to finish this paper before she has to submit it tomorrow afternoon.

“I figured you’d want some company,” Herc says and by his tone, she can tell he’s probably sitting there shrugging like it’s no big deal.

She sighs, slipping her glasses off and rubbing the corners of her eyes. After staring at her computer screen for hours on end, her eyes feel like they are burning and even with her glasses on, they still seem to be going blurry at times. She wishes she could have gone to bed hours ago, but every time she looks over her document it seems like she’s found another problem to fix.

“You should be asleep,” she mumbles, paying more attention to her computer than the man on the other end of the phone.

“So should you, come on pegs go to bed. You don’t need to finish tonight it’s not due until tomorrow night,” he says.

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The Unexpected Arrival: Part Seven

The Unexpected Arrival: Part Seven

This story was inspired by Acid/C2ndy2c1d (http://c2ndy2c1d.tumblr.com) and her undying loyalty for one of my favorite cartoons, Courage the Cowardly Dog. And since she’s shown so many wonderful drawings to help sate my cravings, I thought I would write something in exchange.

This particular scenario is inspired by her awesome comic:


Rating: K (for Katz~)

Summary: After Muriel and Eustace’s passing, the Middle of Nowhere finally seems too empty for Courage. But some familiar, frightening faces will soon change all of that.

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N7 Month: Day 6 - Omega

Stolen moments was all Omega would ever be to Shepard.

Kaidan turned over in Shepard’s arms, the red light streaming through the window showing him wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that John never imagined a year ago as he laid in this same motel dreaming of Kaidan in this bed with him.

Kaidan stirred, opened his eyes to slits, just enough to fix his gaze on Shepard staring down at him.

“Can’t sleep?” he muttered. Shepard tried to shush him back to sleep, but Kaidan nuzzled up under his chin with a questioning hum again.

“A little bit, yeah.”

“What’s up?” Kaidan pushing himself up the pillow and out of Shepard’s grip, and Shepard wished he would just settle and go back to sleep.

“Guess I’m not as worn-out as I thought I was, that’s all.”

“Yeah. I forgot that eighteen hours ago you were running all over this place clearing out Cerberus,” Kaidan bunched up a pillow behind his back and pulled Shepard into himself. Well that was an acceptable compromise. “Didn’t even consider you might still be a little rattled about that.”

“It’s not that.” Shepard frowned, let himself fall into Kaidan’s chest. This wasn’t quite as comfortable—the rearrangement made him realize how sweaty he was in certain places, how this or that limb had fallen asleep, the cold spot on the sheets he was now dead center of—but he’d get used to it quickly. “At least I don’t think.”

The lovers were silent for a moment.

Silence. That was the problem.

“…God. We need a fan or something in here,” Kaidan grumbled sleepily after a moment. “It’s too quiet.”

That made Shepard want to lean up and kiss him deep, but he was just settling into Kaidan’s body again, and it seemed important to let that happen.


It was one of Aria’s hotels. Not directly, obviously, she didn’t need to deal in anything so legitimate directly. But it was at her beck and call, as everything was.

Omega was loud. The streets outside Afterlife were a throb of music, drunken calls, speeding cars, and the occasional gunshot. Deeper into the ward, it was a cacophony of industrial buzz. And more gunshots. The eezo colony was supposed to be loud. And it would always be too loud for Shepard—it was important that it always be too loud.

He’d died listening to his own heartbeat race in his chest, his air steaming into cold space, and the silence. He’d woken up from the dead on a slab in a laboratory directly to someone shouting orders in his ear and gunfire whizzing past him and exploding consoles all around him.

And where did he go first? Afterlife. Omega. Too many lights, too much noise—he’d practically heard Kaidan’s voice in his head. The whole damn colony was a reminder that he was alive when he shouldn’t be, that life was a messy explosion of light and sound and nothing more than that, and he was unwelcome and unwanted in it.

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The Sun Shines Brighter While Running Away At Dusk

I like the feeling of this comfort.
I find it in the way I can shut my eyes and you are here.
We are in each other’s company and I am finally at peace.
Granted, you are pseudo-sentimental, anti-existential, and borderline conceptual.
You are an artist’s imitation of life, as much as I wish it to be vice versa.
That begs the question: are you really granted if all you are is a wish in high definition?
How much do you exist if you are one step closer to tangibility, but still always one step separated from reality?
Why are you a plague when I introduced you as a cure?
You have become worse than the dalliances I’m used to watching in front of my eyes because you are behind them.
You are internal, incomparable, intangible, and sadly almost integral.
I need you.
Or at the very least, I very much want you.
Not inside of my head but in front of it.
This is sadly just the consolation and consoling I recieve.
I like the feeling of discomfort.

mjonesy18 replied to your post “The first day of classes was great! I woke up at 5:30am. Worked out….”

How do you find the energy to wake up so early? What time do you go to bed as a college student lmao?

First of all, I want to put out the disclaimer that I don’t participate in a lot of what most other college students do. I don’t hang out with friends terribly often aside from meals and studying. And I don’t drink, do drugs, or party. So. That’s an important detail as far as time management, because that means I have more time to spend on meditation, exercise, extracurriculars, relaxing by myself, and—you guessed it—sleeping. Though not that much.

But to answer your actual questions…

I wouldn’t say I necessarily have the “energy” to wake up early. I press snooze like everyone else. But recently I changed my alarm to the Pokémon Theme Song. So I might press snooze once. The next time the song starts playing I listen to it while I gradually wake up. As silly as it sounds, I try to sorta half-awake dance to it. Then, where it gets to the ending where it’s like, “Gotta catch ‘em all… PO-KÉ-MON!” I try to force myself to jump outta bed and pump my fist. Silly, but hey, it works.

I think the Pokémon Theme Song is a great song choice because it starts out saying, “I want to be the very best,” which gives me a reason to wake up. And, practically speaking, I also use a light alarm clock (I set both, but I set the light alarm slightly earlier), which helps wake me up naturally, especially when it’s dark outside.

So, all-in-all, it’s discipline, not energy. I have issues with energy due to depression, so I had to find another way (it was definitely a process, but it can be done). I heard in a TED Talk that you have about 5 seconds to do something unpleasant before it actually requires significant energy on your part to decide to do that thing. So try to give yourself a time limit to start.

As for what time I go to bed, it’s generally between 9pm-12am. It varies day to day. If I get home around dinner time feeling tired, I force myself to work until 9pm so I can go to bed early and get the extra rest I need (sometimes I push through it once I start, though!).

I’m not gonna pretend I’ve never done all-nighters, but I avoid them like the plague because they’re miserable af. I’ve learned that sleep is very important to my success. So it’s up to me to be diligent enough in my work to where all-nighters don’t become necessary at all.

Please let me get back to sleep now. I need to be up in 6 hours to sit uselessly again, except this time at our desk and actually get something done. Maybe.

Plague Garden is a little rough to just jump into when I know little about the Stormcast, re: Unit names and general organization, but it isn’t difficult to pick up or at least picture whats what.  I feel like I have a good idea of what they’re about, now. Also, Sigmar is a little on the nose with his naming conventions. I choose to believe that he, as well as Ezekyle Abaddon, are actively terrible at naming things but nobody has the guts to call them out on it.

You’d think I’d have started with that giant book about skeletons but nay. I read like my ancestors, completely out of order and very poorly.

The Order of the Fly is going to keep me sane tomorrow, in the spirit of Jolly Pustulation. \[T]/

28 Days - Harry Styles One Shot

Request: Can you do Harry Styles and #61?? All the love x 

#61 “I love you.  I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married.”

28 days.

The number felt like a punch to my stomach as I glared at the mirror.  There was an unwelcome stranger in it who seemed to resemble the woman I used to be.  She wore the same white dress I could’ve sworn she loved six months ago, but now it was her anchor, a thousand pounds of lead dragging her down to a place she wasn’t sure she wanted to go anymore.  She held vaguely familiar eyes, though now they were tired, the twinkle in them overshadowed by puffy bags from sleepless nights.  This woman was an empty shell more accustomed to misery than happiness.  And for some reason she was staring back at me.  

It was perfect wasn’t it? We were the perfect couple, weren’t we? The ring fit, the invitations were written, our families were excited, and he was…good to me.  He was nice. And thoughtful.  And stable.  He’s safe, a little voice murmured.

He had done nothing wrong, in fact, he was pretty much textbook perfect - Harvard degree, steady job, an honest gentleman.  My mom was practically obsessed with him.  And that’s why I felt even guiltier for feeling this way.  

I should be feeling ecstatic counting down the days until our wedding, but instead, each mark on my calendar, each big red x that moved me closer to the date marked “happily ever after,” made the gnawing pit of anxiety spread like a weed until it was all I had become.  I literally couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares that plagued me. They say that everyone experiences some case of cold feet.  But does everyone feel like they’re making an irreversible mistake?  I tried to ignore the fact that Harry hadn’t returned any of my calls.  I tried to ignore the fact that my best friend seemed to be leaving me when I needed him most.  Most of all, I tried to ignore the fact that each time my phone rang I hoped it was Harry, and that a crushing wave of disappointment dragged me lower each time it wasn’t.

A dress consultant knocked on the door before popping her head in.

“There’s a visitor here for you.  Very handsome,” she added, raising her eyebrows like we were close friends.  Her voice was too chipper, too…happy for what I was feeling right now.  She’s what you should be right now, the little voice reminded.  I put on a smile that didn’t reach my eyes, but she didn’t notice.  I’d been doing it for months and no one had noticed.  

I gave her a little nod. “That’s my fiancé, you can send him in.” My voice was so quiet, seemed so detached, that I was surprised she’d heard me at all.  But the door clicked behind her and she was gone without another word.  I looked back to my reflection, absentmindedly tying my hair in a bun so that loose tendrils fell free around my face.  I was going to be happy with him.  I had to be happy.  There was no reason not to be.  Besides,

everyone was expecting this. We’d been dating for several years now. It was only natural.

He’d said if he could get out of his afternoon meeting he’d come by and see how the fitting went, but I didn’t think he’d actually come.  Usually he could never “get out of meetings.”  My hands toyed with my engagement ring as I tried to decipher what it was I was feeling. Harry would know.  He always seemed to know.  And if he was with me at this appointment like he was supposed to have been, like he’d promised, he could’ve helped me.  But nowadays all he was good for was disappearing.  Harry had fallen off the face of the Earth apparently.  I even tried knocking on his door, and he’d left me standing there like an idiot.  His lights were on and I could even hear the dull noise of the TV in the background, but no matter how loud I called for him, he wouldn’t answer.  I was starting to believe he hated me.

A sigh left me when I once more looked at this foreign sad reflection I still refused to believe was mine.  What was wrong with me?  I had no real reason to be complaining.

Snapping me out of my selfish thoughts, footsteps approached and there was a lingering pause outside the door where he seemed to hesitate before there were two soft quick knocks.

“Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding?” I teased.  But only partly.  As playful as my tone was, I didn’t know how much longer I could play the part of blushing bride.

The door creaked open and my heart dropped as I saw the figure standing behind me in the mirror, time seemed suspended.  And for the first time in a long time, I felt relief as I made eye contact with the only person I’ve been wanting to see.  In all my excitement I turned around, but I almost gasped at the appearance of the person standing before me.  This man was Harry, but wasn’t him completely.  He looked haggard, under slept, and rough, even from this distance I could see he’d allowed the stubble to grow in.  He wore a simple pullover sweater and jeans, but I knew for a fact he hated that sweater (Anne had given it to him for a gift last year and he felt too guilty to rid of it) and that told me he had been in a hurry to get here. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were unreadable as their intense gaze pierced me, saw me, read right through any pretenses I could have upheld. When I spoke his name, quietly, softly, but ever so broken, he became my Harry again, his unreadable persona falling, and his eyes instantly softening with concern.

“Y/N,” was all he whispered, opening his arms just in time before I practically crashed into him. His arms instinctively wrapped around me as tightly as they could and I buried my face into his solid chest.  I breathed him in, savoring his scent that despite everything made me feel like I was going to be okay.  His lips were on my hair, pressing light kisses to the tops of my head.  “‘M so sorry Y/N, I’m so sorry.  Sh, you’re okay.”

“Where have you been you asshole,” I didn’t even realize I was sobbing until the choked words came out between gasps of air.  I was falling apart like a crazed madwoman, and all Harry could do was hold me.  His hands gripped me tighter, a hand coming up and entangling in my hair to clutch my head against him while the other one stayed firmly around my waist, his sprawled out hand comforting me with soothing pets.

This was exactly the kind of affection my fiancé had disapproved of in the past no matter how many times I’d tell him that Harry and I were just best friends, had been since the summer between middle and high school when he’d become a regular at the restaurant I worked at.  But his paranoia never left him and eventually it caused an awkward layer to Harry and mine’s relationship when we felt like we were being under constant scrutiny for what came so naturally to us.  I’d missed this closeness.  I’ve missed Harry.  My fiancé would have forbid if he was here, but he wasn’t.  And I couldn’t be happier for that.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.  I’m here, I’m not leaving you again,” he murmured.  “Please forgive me, I- I couldn’t live with myself if you didn’t.” His voice cracked at the end, but I was too distraught to notice.

“Then why did you leave,” I cried. “You left me Harry! You left me!” My fists met his chest in an angry desperate attack.  I was so frustrated, so hurt, so confused that every emotion came washing over me and I could no longer contain it.  I could no longer pretend.  I was completely overwhelmed with the wedding, the fiancé, and now Harry’s sudden appearance pushed me over the edge, and he stood there taking my hits until I once more collapsed against him with another sob.

“Y/N, love, look at me,” he croaked. The brittle tone of his voice caught me off guard and quieted my sobs.  His hands moved around my face so they were tenderly cupping it, pushing it back just enough so I could look at him because my hands clutching his jumper weren’t going to let him push me far.

Through my own blurry tear-stained eyes, I saw his own, reddened with tears.  My hands immediately left his jumper, and caught a single tear before it had the chance to fall.  I let out a small gasp at the way he nuzzled into my hand so gently, before he looked at me again.  I wasn’t the only one who was broken.

“It’s my fault you’re feeling this way, and I can’t apologize enough.  I fucked up and-and I’m so sorry.  I’ve never felt worse about something and I know I should’ve been there for you, but I wasn’t.  God, I’ve been so stupid!  And I’ll never forgive myself for doing this to you.  Spending all that time away from you was torture Y/N, but I know something now. And if it’s completely selfish of me and you don’t feel the same way I’ll pretend like it never happened.  No matter what Y/N, you’ll always be my best friend.”

I felt a pang of disappointment at the word friend, but I wasn’t in a state to question anything now.  What hurt me more was that he thought my distress was all on him, that my solid rock, my Harry, was cracking before my eyes.  There was a determination in him I couldn’t yet decipher the root of that was barely holding him together.

“It’s not you Harry.” My hands caressed his cheeks and he closed his eyes at the touch. “I’m hurt, yes, but you’re not the reason I’m feeling this way right now.”  His eyes flew open, a flicker of anger shining through his worry.

“Did he hurt you?”  His voice hardened and he took in my appearance.  I looked down, unable to meet his gaze.  He could probably hardly recognize me.  He’d probably scold me if he knew the real reason I was feeling this way.   The reason that was becoming ever clearer to me the longer he stood holding me like this.

“There’s 28 days until the wedding Y/N, you can cancel and they would understand. This is a life decision you’re making you can’t do this to make other people happy.  And don’t tell me that you are because you’ve been miserable ever since you’ve put that ring on.  We’ve both been.”

“You’ve been counting down the days,” I whispered.

“Yes,” he said softly. His pained eyes looked over my dress and suddenly I felt ashamed for even wearing it.

“What are you saying Harry?”

“I love you.  I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married.”

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It’s December 1st, 2:44 AM. And I can’t sleep because you plague my thoughts. I can’t put myself to rest without knowing what you feel like. What it’d be like if you were right here next to me. It’s been like this for months. I haven’t slept for 3 months knowing that every night, you lay just a mile across town, so innocent and clueless to how you’ve wrecked me. How could you not know? How is it possible that you could think of a person, want and need them so badly for so long and they could never know?
—  E.S.
The Moment I Knew pt. 2

part 1

“Open the fucking door, Taylor,” the man shouted, shaking the doorknob. Taylor was crouched in a ball across the room but she still felt as though she was still too close to the door. The door seemed to grow and the noises and shouting got louder.

“Adam!” she screamed, looking for him. He had been here only moments ago but now she couldn’t see him.

“Run, Taylor!” his voice cried out from somewhere. She tried to get up but she couldn’t move. Suddenly, the door burst open and the man was standing there, smiling down at her. 

“That’s a good girl. Come here, Taylor,” he said.

“No! Stop! Don’t come near me,”

“Taylor! Taylor!” Adam called. “God dammit, Taylor!”

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