i don't know if she is awake or not

Chapter 2: Sleepiie Speaks

@piierogi Realizing She Isn’t Making Any F***ing Sense Because She’s Been Awake So Long: A Verbal Memoir

it’d be funny if in elevators people would randomly waddle to the corners and stand there facing the wall being all sad twiddling their thumbs “I don’t wanna talk to anyone”

I imagined these like kinda like a gif but it’s black and white and there’s a long hair lady and another person idk what they look like but they look at each other and someone is like “now kiss” and they’re really in love

I wonder if you can radio skate when you’re drunk as funk

these poor birds are gonna like, be why am I in this Christmas party

you were pecking a rock with your nose making the game grumps face :I

shimmies with the bear on the floor, so I don’t shimmy alone, but this bear may actually be a dog

I gotta go sleep, maybe if I draw Connie it’ll help me sleep, so I gotta pee, did I mention that yet? / wait, you’re going to sleep? / NO I’m going PEE / ..you said sleep, but also how would drawing Connie help you sleep? / it was Stevonnie / that doesn’t answer my question at all

I was trying out the sniper, the wind is here, and so is my food, and my daddy’s gone

you should tell your dad next time to give me some delicious green tea

apparently I just trapped him into helk- hel– heck. with junkrat. he can’t compete with my awesomeness

the movie came out when I was 7 years old? Pokemon 2000. I’m ash from tallet pown and I gotta catch em all!!

I don’t think there’s any more chronic ones to open. listen. listen. listen. listen. listen.

justpidgance  asked:

Pidge woke up from another nightmare and thankfully Lance walked in at that moment.

Pidge woke up from another nightmare and thankfully Lance walked in at that moment.

“Pidge?” Lance raised a brow. “What are you doing up so early?”

She stretched, pretending that she hadn’t just woken up after falling asleep in front of her computer sometime in the last hour. “I wanted to get in some work before everyone else was awake. What about you?”

“Couldn’t get back to sleep, so I figured-” He paused and leaned in close, frowning when he caught sight of her. “Wait, are you crying?”

She froze and brushed her fingertips across her cheeks. Sure enough, they came away wet with tears. “I, uhhh… No, I just-”

Lance dropped to the ground beside her and pulled her into a gentle, one-armed hug. “Hey, let it out, okay? No one’s gonna judge you for being scared for your family.”


Send me a sentence, and I’ll write five (or so) more!

Heteronomy

A/N: My love letter to the reset theory. And by love letter, I mean gdi i hate it and here i am. 

She has no freedom.

It is 3am and she is awake.

Her eyes are wide open and it feels like she was never asleep. The room is quiet, so quiet she can hear the inhale exhale of her breath. Her heart beats so loudly in the silence. It feels more burdensome than it once did.

New chatroom

The knowledge burns in the recesses of her mind, it’s why she’s awake after all. But she doesn’t want to be. Let her sleep. Let her rest. She locks her muscles in place, tenses all of them but still, a will greater than hers directs her to pick up the phone. Open the app. Enter the chatroom. Rinse and repeat and rinse and repeat. Her responses are mechanic by this point, the exact same lines repeat repeat repeat and she marches along, playing a different tune every time.

Finally, the chat finishes and she can return to sleep. Her heart whispers at her to dream of Jaehee, it’s who she loves therefore she should think solely of her. Sleep comes but there are no dreams. Her heart once said the same of Zen and Yoosung, and even then, she did not dream. She suspects, her heart will say the same for Jumin and Luciel soon enough. It is only a matter of time.

Her body never really feels physical exhaustion but as always, she blacks out.

It is 8am and she is waiting for Jaehee to call.

She has already finished the chatroom and it is only a matter of time before the call comes. Right on time, her phone starts ringing and Jaehee’s profile pops up. Briefly, the urge to reject the call surges and her thumb manages to hover over the red button before it swerves abruptly to the green one. Jaehee’s voice filters through, warm and friendly, and her heart skips a beat. Jaehee asks if she’s eaten and her voice cheerfully says yes. She doesn’t remember though; when she had gotten up, if there was even breakfast, if there is even food in this stupid apartment.

Finally, the call ends, her voice participating automatically in the conversation as usual. Three hours later, she is seated at the same spot, waiting for a chatroom.

Did she move? She doesn’t know. Does she have a job? She doesn’t know. Who is she? She doesn’t know.

The chatrooms come, the chatrooms go; RFA members call, RFA members text; people email her, she replies as if she’s memorised the lines. This is all she knows. Her parents, if she has any, do not call her; her friends, if she has any, do not text her. She was made for the RFA and there is no existence otherwise.

If she could cry, she would.

Of everyone, I suspect Threepio was the only one who heard Leia’s screams on the lonely nights when she locked herself into her rooms

Carlist heard her cry out when she would jolt awake after falling asleep at her desk

Luke and Han heard her yell, sometimes, on missions, the sounds coming muffled through the walls–and then heard her footsteps echoing around the Falcon as she ghosts from hall to hall

the Rogues, her Company…they all knew she doesn’t sleep well, that she’ll jerk awake at the slightest sound, that she’s the last to sleep and the first to wake…

but Threepio?

Threepio is in the hall when she staggers out, ashen and soaked with sweat, feet bare as she throws herself into a desperate sprint through the base, trying to drive the feel of needles and hands and fire from her skin

Threepio is in the corner when she wakes up shrieking, clawing at phantom fingers and phantom faces who leered down at her and gave the command for the Death Star to fire…

Threepio awakens, and totters into the ‘fresher as she leans over the commode and retches, hair plastered to her face and her entire body shuddering. She screams at him to leave, tells him to “Leave me the kriff alone!” and that “I’m fine, Threepio, no don’t get Artoo or Luke.”

(Sometimes though…sometimes he disobeys and goes to get Artoo or Luke anyway)

And she swears him to silence (threatens to install an internal restraining bolt, to hack into his programming and make it so he can never talk about it, to wipe his memory)

And he keeps that silence, even when he goes to get Artoo or Luke–

(there is a whisper of memory, a fragment of binary that seems to whisper to him, seems to recall a boy with sand-blond hair so like his, with eyes of a desert and bones made of sand; and there’s a woman so like her standing on a balcony in a blue dress, with tears on her cheeks and pearls in her curling hair… But no, no that image is gone, fractured, shattered and wiped clean, and there is nothing in his mind but static now…)

–because, though Leia is not yet his Master, she is–

(who is she? she is the child… the child….. the child…….)

–the one he has been told to serve, and so he will serve her with every last gear and bolt and fractured string of binary he possesses.

I asked my mum what she thought and she said she didn’t know but she always thought I was hyperactive because I didn’t sleep. I had really awful insomnia as a child and I would sleep like 4-5 hours a night right up until I was 14 when I went overseas and I think the jetlag fixed it? But I also still have issues sometimes. It comes and goes.
As a baby I was awake from 7am-11pm and I’d wake up around 2/3am as well. I didn’t have naps.

|| @azulscarcb.

     “Can I, uh — stay over tonight?”

  Normally she wouldn’t feel like she has to ask; she would just do. But some days she thinks she can feel a gap opening in the ground between them. Worse than that, Alice knows it’s her fault. Will still be her fault when this finally falls through.

  Not tonight, though. Not yet. She isn’t ready.

merrill with ink on her hands and pages everywhere. every bit of lore she knows, copied down and copied again. she’s not a first anymore and not bound by those rules. if she wants to preserve elvhen lore, it starts here.

anders in his little clinic. not just the manifesto: potions lists. bombs, healing poultices, sleeping potions. things that will make you awake, things that will knock you out, stuff to cure a hangover or a headache. revolution isn’t just about war, honestly, it’s about accessibility.

fenris and orana. letters carefully traced. their own names. each other’s. misspelled and misspelled and misspelled again. every word wrong and every word right. names of places, names of friends. they’re learning, they’re careful. this is what freedom feels like.

aveline and lists. list after list. and letters. secret things. passing notes with donnic. brief but lovely, and he’s so kind with his words. she melts. he knows how to make her feel like she’s made of gold without making her feel like all that matters is her face. he tells her her hands are big and he feels like she could hold him up and never let him fall. she keeps that letter folded against her breast when they get married.

isabela and a diary. every adventure she’s ever been on, every place she’s ever seen. places she wants to see again. people she’s laid with. if she can’t remember a name, it’s no less important. she goes to write her worst things down because if she loses those too, she might forget why it was she came back to hawke in the first place.

sebastian in the chantry. what has he written that hasn’t already been said? sometimes he feels like he’s not allowed to hurt anymore. he should be happy. but some things go to the bone. so sometimes he writes letters to his family that he throws into the fire, sometimes he writes letters to his friends. heavy confessions he can’t give because he works the confessional. he throws them all away because sometimes, you’re allowed to keep secrets.

bethany and carver, dozens of letters home. to hawke, to gamlen, to leandra. stuffed into a parcel and snuck out of the circle, or carried by a templar courier, or postage paid with warden gold. a book in their knapsack full of each letter they get back, each one they don’t manage to send.

what i’m getting at is: varric is the only one who’s writing, and sometimes the most important stories go untold because they’re not meant to be stories in the first place.

awake my soul

Fandom: Sense8
Pairing: Will x Riley
Words: ~11,000 because apparently I am incapable of writing anything short

Summary: When Riley is 10 she is given a diary to share with 8 people around the world. (or, Riley finds a family and learns how to live again)

Basically pen pal AU/Internet AU everything hurts but is also kinda happy??

Featuring: Actual puppy Will Gorski, a really sad Riley (Magnus gets a substantial mention), a red journal and a wedding.

Read on AO3.

Violet didn’t want to open her eyes but she was already awake. The light was too bright and everything was so cold. What had happened to her? She couldn’t move and Violet found that she was strapped down to a cold steel table. What on earth?

The room was empty, sterile and far too bright. There was a light shining on her, in her eyes, blinding her. All the surfaces were what appeared to be stainless steel, and clinical. Where was she? Was this an operating room? An observation room?

The last thing she remembered was being at the club. She’d performed well and wowed the crowd. She was still in her burlesque gown and from what she could tell, her face was still painted. Or was that all a dream?

A quiet mechanical whirring could be heard and Violet noticed a tiny camera, staring at her from across the room. Who was watching her? She had so many questions. How did she get here? Who was watching her and what did they want?

Violet didn’t have long to ponder before a door opened and her eyes darted over to see who entered the room.