three hours of my night

AU for 12x11

Sam hasn’t been blackout drunk for a couple of years, not since the night that he got Dean back from demonhood and put away nearly an entire bottle of Jack. That time he woke up face down in his pillows, fully clothed with his dislocated shoulder shooting violent bolts of pain down his spine. This time, he comes to with the sky wheeling white above him, his clothes damp and his knees muddy and twigs and leaves in his hair. He sits up, hauls himself to his feet and staggers forward a dozen yards or so to emerge onto a jogging track, a woman in bright lycra thudding past with headphones in her ears. His legs are bruised and aching and his mind is… fuck, so foggy, a great roiling cloud of nothingness, and he has to stop thinking about that right fucking now if he wants to stay calm. He runs his hands through his hair, dislodging a beetle and a shower of debris, tries to straighten up his clothes. He finds his phone in his pocket, the screen shattered and dead. Great. But the next woman down the track has a guy alongside her, a personal trainer maybe, so Sam steps forward hoping that he won’t intimidate them both away.

“Hey,” he says, hoarse. “Can I – I’m sorry. Can I borrow your phone?” 

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so, here’s something I’ve been thinking about for the last couple of days.
I mean, it’s something I think about all of the time,
but lately, it’s like, I’m always late for work, only have ten minutes to get ready, my room is a mess, I only eat junk food, 
and I’m like why? So whenever I try to diagnose the problem, it always comes back to, I just don’t have any time?
And people will agree with you, “Oh I never have any time! I wish there were just more hours in the day, because there just isn’t enough TIME”
and it’s so fun to agree! 
Oh yeah totally, I’m so fucking busy!

but honestly, what am I so busy with?I
Like, I remember leasure. I remember having plenty of time. 
I remember being “bored” but I literally don’t say that anymore,
and have no time ever
because I’m on my phone.

Like, I wake up in the morning and check my phone for like forty five minutes.
before i get out of bed or do anything else, i’m checking my email. reading the emails. checking instagram, checking my feed. Oops, something caught my interest, gotta read this article about statement sleeves, okay time to check twitter. 
THIS TAKES SO LONG, whyyyy do I do it. 
Okay, so then I try to think back to how I used to wake up, before this became a ritual. I would get ready, put on makeup, brush my hair, play music, make coffee. 
Now, I check my phone until it’s like, fifteen minutes before I need to get ready for work, and I just go to work in whatever shirt I slept in, and wear leggings. 
WHAT
but I just think, “Hey, i’m late because I ran out of time.”
then when it’s time to cook, I don’t want to make anything that will take over twenty minutes to prepare because i’m busy
I fall asleep with my makeup on every night because i’m reading through comments on twitter until 1am and my eyes just water themselves shut.

and I think this is like, pretty normal. 
If I just accounted for all of this time on social media, it would probably be like five hours.
Imagine if someone gave you free five hours to add to your day, imagine all of the things you could get done?? Like, imagine. 
I could exercise, buy produce, text back my friends, visit home, learn how to drive stick, do my laundry, 
Imagine!!

but I actually do have those five hours, I just waste them.
There’s so much shit on my to-do list that I’ll never do because it just feels normal to spend three hours in a row on my phone every night before I fall asleep.
It feels good. I’m checking up with friends, reading the news, shopping online, reading gossip, staying informed-
I’m getting cultured every time I go on social media, I can’t miss out on that. 

so the conflict is always this;
I’ve only had a smart phone for a few years. I was pretty late to the game, and honestly did pretty well for myself with just a flip phone.
So it’s really not that hard for me to think back to just a few years ago, and how much more often I was out doing something just because I was ‘curious’ or ‘bored’ and didn’t have anything else to occupy me. I used to meet up with so many more people, and ask my friends to hangout with me and we actually would. I traveled more, was in better shape, and just felt like I was more my authentic self. 

how many other people feel this way. Is this one of those cute millennial complexes where we remember **before iphones** and cannot compute
or is this just how i feel, and another symptom of ‘i hate myself but it’s cute’

so i’m challenging myself to be more conscious of my social media use and ‘wasted’ phone consumption time. 
and! I can’t use my phone if I haven’t completely, both feet on the floor, gotten out of bed. 

Roma

You wanna hear a thing or two about Rome? Here we go.

 I’ve had the time of my life, like I’ve felt so good, all the time. Happy, bouncy, excited. I’ve spoken a lot of Italian and people have complimented me on my accent, no one I talked to in Italian switched to English, I’ve solved problems in Italian. I’ve spoken Dutch to a native. I’ve been eating pizza and pasta every day, I’ve eaten pizza on the go while almost running to the Spanish steps, me and my friends were at a restaurant for three hours one night, eating and talking. I’ve eaten gelato in front of the pantheon, I’ve eaten gelato in the last twenty minutes before the monastery closed. I’ve seen a lot of cool buildings, colosseum, roman baths, churches, basilicas, forum romanum, Ostia antica, a roman domus, beautiful architecture. I’ve been with friends all the time, every day and my introversion has been on a low, I’ve built on friendships I’ve wanted to build on for a long time. We had the best weather, up to 20 C and shining sun every day, I’ve barley seen a cloud on the whole trip, I’ve gone without jacket and in a skirt, I got a little burned on my nose. I’ve managed not to get run over in the roman traffic and felt that the fast speed fit me. I’ve been thinking about if I prefer Rome of Riva and I really can’t decide. I’ve had the time of my live, I haven’t felt anxious, I haven’t thought about school, I have spoken Italian, I have felt sunshine, I have radiated sunshine, I have radiated happiness, I have been going and going all day everyday, loving it, I have felt so good, been so happy and I’m so sad we had to leave. I love Rome, I love Italy, I love Italian and soon I’ll be back, I have to go back or I won’t get any peace in my soul. I love my Italian me, she is fantastic and I’ll try to be more like her here in Sweden too. 

#intense #insane

ly--canthrope  asked:

Hey honey! I was wondering if you could write a cedric x reader drabble based off the prompt "green". Thank you :)

@ly–canthrope you have no clue how excited I was to see a Cedric request paired with a sort of abstract, open direction that I could interpret. Thank you so, so much for such a wonderful prompt. I hope you enjoy what I did with it.


Cedric makes another round around the block, breaths creating short trains that fall off their tracks and disappear in mere moments. The crisp smell of winter burns his nose as he breathes, but he doesn’t bother adjusting his scarf. Two crimson berries from mistletoe hang over the doorway to his right, and from the arching window, he can see a happy family with kids tearing open presents and a dog running around howling away. He drops his eyes.

The sidewalk’s a hazard of ice and snow and grains of salt that do nothing to melt their foe. December’s a cruel month, one of bitter weather and even icier memories. He never meant for any of this. All he wanted was to win that damn tourney to earn some money for the future, but if he’d known what lay at the end of it, he’d never have placed his name in the goblet.

A snowman stands in front of him, one he’s seen five times now. It still waves, but the smile is drooping and the carrot’s about to fall out, shaken loose by a raven with jet black wings and a charcoal beak that won’t stop pecking at the thing. Cedric stares at it, frozen in his place, watching this innocent thing be destroyed by something out of its control. Merlin, how he wishes he were anywhere but here.

A bark comes from somewhere far away; it’s little more than a haunting echo here, but it startles Cedric from his reverie and he starts forward again, snow crunching under his feet. The raven behind him dives for the carrot with a mocking laugh. Cedric doesn’t bother to shoo it.

The house he’s looking for is navy blue with a chimney and shimmering gold curtains in the front room. A horrid color for curtains but one that’s the perfect color for hair, or, at least, that’s what you claim.

He blinks back the pain, the image curling around his vision like smoke. It’d be so easy to be lost in it all again, to find you in his arms with your head on his lap, with you laughing as you both try to catch snowflakes on your tongues, spinning and spinning and spinning until you stumble and fall into a silver snow drift, tugging him down after you when he tries to help you up.

It’d be so easy to be lost in you again.

Cedric stares at the boot prints on the sidewalk in front of him, ones that match the soles of his boots perfectly, as he continues forward. The navy house looms only a few driveways in front of him, drive untouched by footprints. You’re still here.

The package in his pocket shifts. It’s a small box, no larger than the palm of his hand, and wrapped flawlessly in a rose-stem green paper. He’d tried six times to wrap it properly. It had to be perfect for you.

Head still bowed, he trudges through the deep snow in your driveway. Usually, he’d be out here, helping shovel, but not anymore. God, if only he could go back and change it all.

The door’s a cream color, one the two of you accidently splattered with bright yellow paint two years ago. A paint gun experiment gone wrong.

Cedric almost smiles at the memory.

Another train of breath appears in front of him, this one longer, staying on its track as it floats out then up to the light above the porch.

He spots you, curled up next to the fireplace, nose in a book. The sight nearly brings him to his knees as it solidifies it all. You’re not waiting by the phone for his call. You aren’t wrapping a present made for him. You aren’t staring out the window waiting to yank him inside as soon as he gets here. No, you’re just living as though everything’s normal. Which, he supposes, it is for you.

He struggles to breathe as he sees the towering tree, a deep green, covered in crimson and cream tinsel, navy blue and yellow ornaments, the black and silver one he’d bought you nowhere in sight. A golden star perches on top of it, balancing carefully. He can hardly see the green underneath it all.

Suddenly exhausted, Cedric digs the gift from his pocket. He hesitates, glancing at you one final time before knocking.

When you open the door, there’s nothing but a set of footprints and a small green box nestled in the snow. You scan the area, but all of your neighbors seem to be enjoying the holiday indoors. You don’t blame them as you snatch the tiny gift from the snow and shut the door, shivering. It’s freezing outside.

Padding back to your seat, you turn the box over and over in your hands. There’s no name, no to or from or even an indication that this is supposed to be a gift at all other than the wrapping paper.

You know you should set it aside, ask your family if they were expecting anything, but curiosity gets the best of you, and you slide a finger under the flap of paper.

When you finally pop the top of the box open, you can’t speak.

The silver pocket watch shimmers in the firelight. Squinting, you read the engraving on the back. Time stops when I’m with you.

You’re certain this can’t be for you despite your fondness for pocket watches. No one would be so sweet, not since… well, no one anymore. But when you go to place it back in the box, you notice a folded piece of parchment.

It’s a letter in Cedric’s handwriting, obviously written before everything happened, a thank you letter for supporting him, for listening to him, for caring for him in an honest way no one else did.

Tears prick your eyes as you notice the words at the end, an addendum he must’ve gone back to add after it all broke apart.

I want to come home. I miss you.

You wonder if he knows how desperately you agree with that sentence.

18/4/17 - april’s here with a flourish of burnt orange. it’s exam season & god bless i’ve been hella busy ;-; i’ve been surviving off of gryphon tea my geography teacher gave me :) pretty tired these days because I’ve been getting roughly three hours of sleep a night sigh… anyway my first paper is tomorrow, here goes nothing?

i’m suffering from “losing all sense of time while playing the sims”

dummy rival

Ethan/Gold set
Kris set

  • Me to Me: You need to get that chapter done. Your readers deserve an update.
  • Other Me: Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.
  • Me: *Spends three hours writing 14 words*
  • Me: Writing is hard.
2

so darling, let’s raise some hell in the clouds. (insp)

I did not know what silence was until I found myself glancing at the time and finding I had spent the last three hours in numb contemplation without realizing my night had worn away, leaving me much to far into the am to bother with sleep. I did not know what silence was until I heard the things my thoughts whispered when they thought I’d be sleeping. 

i remember one time i told someone i didnt like how they were talking to me over the internet and they were like, “blah blah im just saying blah blah” and i was like, “ye sure but i dont like ur tone” and they were like, “this is over text, u cant tell how im saying something, obviously” and like, i got so fuckin angry cause there are literal classes that teach u how to convey tone over text but this was back in middle school so i was just super pissed and didnt know how to defend myself so i called him a shitrag

Eros - Bar AU Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: THIS PIECE IS A MYSTIC MESSENGER AU.  IT IS HEAVILY INSPIRED BY THE AMERICAN SITCOM CHEERS, A SHOW CENTERED AROUND A BOSTON BAR CALLED CHEERS AND IT’S REGULARS.  EVEN THOUGH I HAVE TRIED TO KEEP AS MUCH OF CANON PERSONALITIES WITH ALL THE MYSTIC MESSENGER CHARACTERS JUST REMEMBER THAT IT IS AN AU AND A FEW THINGS MAY BE DIFFERENT THAN IN GAME OR YOUR HEADCANONS. THIS HAS BEEN FUN TO PLAN AND I HOPE YOU FIND A BIT OF JOY READING IT!  

PG13+ FOR SWEARIN’ AND BOOZIN’.


CH.1 PT.1 | CH. 1 PT. 2 | CH. 2 | CH. 3 | CH. 4 | CH. 5 |  Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |


Swinging in the backyard
Pull up in your fast car
Whistling my name
Open up a beer
And you say, get over here
And play a video game


I’m in his favorite sun dress
Watching me get undressed
Take that body downtown
I say you the bestest
Lean in for a big kiss
Put his favorite perfume on
Go play your video game

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