#insomnia writing

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Can't sleep, and this post from @v88sy inspired me.

****

Tommy had never been a deep sleeper, and his line of work made it even worse. He was more than used to the klaxon pulling him from sleep, signaling that they had a call. But that didn't prepare him for the pounding on his front door.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Tommy looked at his phone. 12:46.

Silence. Then more pounding.

"Wake up Tommy, piece of—"

Tommy pulled open the door. "Hey Buck."

"Don't you 'hey Buck' me," came the angry response. " I'm not Buck to you. 'm Ev-n."

Oh. He was drunk.

"Okay, you're right. Hi Evan."

"You ruin-d it, T'mmy." Buck slurred, swaying slightly. "You blew us up and It's not fair."

"I'm so sorry, Evan."

"I went on some dates."

"Oh yeah?"

"Hated 'em."

"You did?"

"They all sucked," Buck mumbled.

Tommy raised his eyebrows.

"Not like that," Buck slurred, waving his hand dismissively. "They were stupid and boring."

"Really? All of them?"

"They weren't you."

"You don't want me, Evan," Tommy said quietly, his voice heavy with resignation.

"Why do you get to decide that?" Buck's voice rose with frustration. "I'm a grown man. Why do you get to tell me what I need and what I feel?"

"Evan, I'm not—" Tommy tried to interject.

"Why don't you want me?" Buck's voice cracked as he started to cry.

"Evan, that's not—" Tommy reached out instinctively but stopped himself.

"I went on a date tonight," Buck announced, his words still slurred but clearer now.

"I kinda figured," Tommy replied softly.

"He was handsome and charming." Tommy flinched at Buck's words. Buck's voice dropped to almost a whisper, "And it was awful. All I did was talk about you the whole time."

"Evan—" Tommy began gently, but Buck cut him off.

"He got frustrated. Said I was wasting his time," Buck's voice was hollow. He paused, swaying slightly. "And I was. There's no one after you, Tommy. So if you won't have me that's fine, but you're still my last. I'm giving up on love."

"You don't mean that," Tommy protested.

"Don't tell me what I mean," Buck's voice rose sharply before breaking into louder sobs. "I love you, and you ruined me for everyone else. You showed me what the world could be, and then you ripped it away." His next words came out in a rush, raw with emotion. "I am so mad at you, Tommy. But I still want you. I wanna be your boyfriend."

"You do?" Tommy's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Have you even been listening, dumbass? I'm yours. I will always be yours whether you want me or not."

"We need to talk," Tommy said carefully.

"Yeah, no shit," Buck retorted, but there was less bite to his words now.

"How about we get you inside and sober you up, and then we'll talk. Really talk."

"You mean it?" Buck asked, vulnerability creeping back into his voice.

"I do."

"Wait," Tommy reached out and wiped a stray tear off Buck's cheek. "You didn't drive here, did you?"

"Of course not. I'm clearly drunk off my ass."

"Fair enough."

"I walked. It was like 3 miles. Helped me get good and mad."

"You walked?" Tommy's voice rose with concern.

"I had to get to you and my fingers couldn't figure out how to order an Uber."

"Oh sweetheart," Tommy said softly.

"You called me sweetheart!" Buck's voice brightened despite his tears.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"You loooove me," Buck sang out, swaying slightly.

"Evan, let's go inside," Tommy said, fighting back a smile.

"Whatever you say, boyfriend," Buck replied with drunk confidence.

Tommy shook his head fondly as he guided Buck inside. They were still broken, and it was going to take a lot of work to repair them, but Tommy knew now that they were both willing to fight for it.

[d1sc0-1nfern0]

Enderian has resting bitch face and you cannot convince me otherwise.

[clockwayswrites]

It turned out that when you befriend the local ghost population, they ended being obsessively committed to making sure that you stayed alive. Or at least that's what Jamie Brant learned in his first year at Our Lady of the Lake Finishing School, Maine branch.

He rather wished he hadn't.

In fact, Jamie wished he had never come into his powers at all. He was perfectly satisfied being average. He was a solid B student with one and a half extracurriculars. He had a little sister who hated to love him, two parents who (mostly) tried their best, and a solid half-dozen friends. He had brown hair, hazel eyes, freckles, and was right in the middle of his class height wise.

In other words he was perfectly average... if you ignored the ghosts, that is.

[justlikeawartimenovelty]

For @carter-burke !

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Floch Forster/Jean Kirstein Characters: Floch Forster, Jean Kirstein Additional Tags: Warning: Floch Forster, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Omegaverse, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Cheating Summary:

Floch was forbidden, a challenge, and something exciting.

Floch was never gentle and loving. His tone always held a bitter sting to it. He was aggressive; he fought for dominance, and he didn't take kindly to being bossed around. This, of course, was the exact opposite of Jean's mate, Marco.

[redheadosity]

Had insomnia and wrote 2 chapters last night. Which means I’ve officially hit the climax of my story! Excited for this, but not so excited for how exhausted I’ve been this Monday at work! 😩

[idknikkip]

As a server I believe it is my god given right to guilt trip customers into acting right. my current favorite is when a couple sit down at the ~only 8 top~ in our restaurant while there are multiple 2 and 4 tops available. While dropping their waters I hit ‘em with a “im gonna go grab the rest of the waters 😊 how many more were you guys waiting on?😇” said like it’s almost an after thought - they look at each other, sitting at the end of this big long table (couples always sit at the end, almost like they subconsciously know it’s bad form for them to use up the whole table!!!) trying to figure out the way to say “it’s just us” that doesn’t make them look like the assholes. I prompt them with a doting smile, I do NOT speak first (huge key, you say your piece and do NOT talk, make them break the awkward silence). When they finally say no one else, I let my face fall, steal a quick glance at the numerous empty tables, quickly but visibly compose myself, deflated “oh, ok 😔Got it” a lil nod, and then usuuuuuually by this point they offer to move. I brighten up, smile big, positively reinforce this choice with excited & open body language, I ask “are you sure? I mean you really don’t have to” and at this point they turn to reassure me, “oh we’re happy to save the day by moving!” They pick up their glasses, I grab the carafe of water they’ve forgotten, “I really appreciate you guys helping me out! 🥹🥹This is our ~only~ big table, you guys know how it is haha” they’re in on the joke, obviously, a mix up that they’ve sat here!

I’m not spending my time explaining to you how restaurants work, pleading with you to move, or just putting up with you fucjing up my seating. In 2 sentences I’m gonna make you think about your actions & give you the clear opportunity to make better decisions this time; & usually, they’ll take the better choice with a smile on their face.

[novelistdaviswrit3s]

Reflections of My Emotions

I have to say that working in this shadow work journal and dealing with my personal life is hard as fudge. I can’t understand why these things happened the way they are for me at this point in my life. Sometimes, being a Cancer can feel like your going crazy because when you have past trauma and self doubt you tend to stay in your head a lot. Being me isn’t easy. I am trying to sort through the…

[crippledpunks]

my heart goes out to you if you're a disabled person who has a complicated or negative relationship with sleep. if you need to sleep a lot but can't due to life circumstances, or sleeping extra causing other symptoms to flare up. if you can't sleep enough due to pain, or nightmares, or psychosis, or bipolar, or depression. if you sleep way too much and find it hard to stay awake. if you can't fall or stay asleep. if you need medication in order to be able to sleep. if you don't feel rested from sleep. if you wake up a lot in the night. if you have bladder or bowel accidents while asleep. if you twitch or convulse or move too or get injured in your sleep. if you can't control your sleep schedule no matter what. if you can't sleep during "normal" sleeping hours. if you can't sleep for 8+ hours straight but can sleep for shorter amounts of time. if sleep is what you need but for one reason or another you just can't or refuse to do it.

i care about you. your disabilities deserve to be seen and acknowledged

[mushroomsoupofficial]

It's 2:48am on 2.2.23 now, it took me a few minutes to collect myself before I could write this all out

There was a busy intersection that people often set up stalls on, it was pretty busy with vehicle traffic, double turn lane type beat but I knew some of the people who sold there and it was really early or really late, no sun, so it wasn't super busy.

A younger woman who I recognized came up to my car, her mother was selling (cookies?) And she asked if I was interested, I said yes. She went to get her mother and she did not speak English (Spanish maybe?) like her daughter, but I could catch enough of what she was saying to answer in yes or no's. "Do you speak language" and "can you understand" were the two questions asked. The light changed, so she told me to pull into the Shell gas station on the opposite corner since I was turning left. I did, I remember parking and getting out to exchange details with the daughter before placing the order with the mother.

The next thing I knew I was sitting in the back row of my own car. It's darker now, I'm shaking and I feel like I'm drunk but I haven't had anything to drink, I know that much. I can recall everything that happened above, but I can't stop shaking. My breath isn't coming easily, and now I start to freak out in earnest. I have my purse on, before it had been in the front passenger seat but now it's slung across my body and when I open it I find a lighter and a nearly empty pack of cigarettes. It's my brand, I can smell them, but I stopped smoking years ago and this pack looks really new despite the number missing. I pull out two, I put one in my mouth and hold it there, lighter in hand but not taking that final step. My motions are mechanical in a way that looks intentional, but I am simply watching from inside.

My head is still full of static, anxiety pulling at my chest, and I think maybe I just got really tired and pulled into the gas station to sleep for a bit? I can't make sense of why I'm sitting in the third row of my car. I decide to climb toward the front, and despite my head feeling incredibly dazed and drunken I am able to move easily, climbing over the middle row.

I notice that the driver's seat has been moved forward against the steering wheel, which doesn't make sense because there are doors on both sides of the back that open into the second row, why was the driver's seat collapsed against the steering wheel? I move it back and sit down. I still have an unlit cigarette hanging from my lips and another in my hand along with a lighter. I don't smoke anymore. Pulling the cigarette from my lips I drop both and the lighter into the center console.

My keys are not in the ignition but there's air coming out of the vents. I can't feel it so I don't know if it's cool or warm, but I can hear it. Based on my shakiness, it must be cool. My keys are sitting on the steering column, so I grab them and put them in the ignition. I am filled with the sudden urge to run from this place as fast as I can, but my vision is darkening around the edges and my head feels like it's full of sand, too heavy to keep up. I turn the keys in the ignition despite knowing I am not safe to drive, maybe I am drunk? It doesn't matter because the starter isn't catching. Have I been sitting in here with the ac on for hours, killing the battery?

I hear a voice now, it's loud and masculine but a bit distorted. They're speaking English but I can't understand what they're saying. The words aren't catching in my brain. I try the ignition again, still no luck. The voice speaks again, this time I hear "pump three" "will be here soon" "you cannot leave" "please sit tight" I'm filled with panic again. Did they think I was trying to drive drunk and called the police? I look out the window now and see that I'm still as the gas station, pulled haphazardly into the space for pump #3. I didn't recall parking at a pump.

It's too dark though, and there's no way that my window tinting caused the total loss if saturation I see. Maybe my head is way more fucked than I thought? No, the lights aren't on. Normally the awning of the fuel pumps are spectacularly well-lit, but it's dark now and it feels extremely wrong. What kind of 24hour gas station turns their lights off with so many cars at the pumps? I cracked the window open a bit to look out, just to make sure that the world is as dark and colorless as I am seeing from this side of the glass.

I see lights bounce off the cars at the other pumps, but they're just normal headlights not the red and blue of a police car. The flight part of my fight or flight is still triggered, but I have nowhere to run. My car won't start and my vision is getting worse, my eyes as heavy as my head now. I hear a new voice, bold but feminine. My driver's side door is opened and a few seconds pass. I don't know who's there, so I move out to grab the door and close it. Blue latex gloves hands latch onto my arm and I'm being gently pulled from the car.

I panic, thinking it's the cops again and start insisting that I'm not drunk, there's something wrong with me, my head is not okay. There's a soothing pat on my hand from the gloved woman, it's dark but I can see a yellow and blue (bus? Transit van?) With its headlights on that I am being led towards. "Do you know what happened?" No, I'm crying now, my chest is tight and my vision is swimming but no longer fading away around the edges. I insist once more that there is something wrong with me.

The woman made a sound of confirmation and then said, "There was a shooter at the gas station." I'm watching the ground as we walk and I finally recognize the dark puddles all around, the red color of one ahead of us illuminated by the buses headlights. There was blood everywhere. I'm sobbing now, I don't understand still and I'm terrified, but I let her lead me onto this bus where I see several others huddled just within the doors.

People are taking turns touching my hands, and I hear someone else crying too, and the realization sets in, burning through my lungs and settling like a lead weight against my ribs. There was an active shooter, I was bleeding, I had a concussion, and I am in shock.

I wake up.

It's 3:36, my eyes are heavy again and I'm going back to bed.

[concentfortea]

[akindplace]

some nights are made for contemplating the spectrum of all human emotions and your brain just won’t fall asleep thinking about love and grief and how to change your life and how despite everything you’re glad you’re alive. but then the next day you have to wake up and deal with the horrors of a poorly slept night. how can I fall asleep when there is so much beauty to behold, almost at my reach but not easy to grasp. it feels like the night is slipping through me when I should be sleeping through the night

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Featured

People magazine does an article on queer firefighters across the US and Buck and Tommy are asked to be featured in it.

***

"So, what do you think? Should we do it?" Buck asked, his voice a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

Tommy sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know I sound cynical, but I'm really hesitant. What's their angle? What are they trying to prove? I just want to do my job well and then come home to my handsome boyfriend. I'm not interested in being some kind of gay firefighter poster child."

Buck nodded, understanding Tommy's concerns. "I mean, I get that, but this is huge, Tommy. This is People magazine, and they're only featuring ten firefighters in the whole country!"

Tommy massaged his temples, feeling the weight of the decision. After a moment, he looked up at Buck. "What does Hen say about it?"

Buck leaned against the kitchen counter, his expression thoughtful. "She's torn too, but she also feels like it's her duty to say yes. She told me it would have meant a lot to her during her probie days to see a proud Black lesbian firefighter featured in People magazine." He paused, his voice softening. "Think about little Tommy. How would it have affected him?"

Tommy's eyes met Buck's, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "I hadn't thought about it like that," he admitted, his voice quiet. "Seeing someone like me in a magazine... it might have made a difference."

Buck nodded, moving closer to Tommy. "It's not just about us anymore. It's about all the kids out there who might see themselves in us, you know?"

Tommy took a deep breath,considering. "You're right. But I'm still worried about the attention. Are we ready for that?"

Buck squeezed Tommy's shoulder. "We'll face it together, whatever we decide.

Tommy nodded. "Let's sleep on it and talk more tomorrow."

"Sounds perfect," Buck said, kissing Tommy's forehead. "No rush. We're in this together."

Read the rest on AO3 🙂

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57165475

[d1sc0-1nfern0]

it's 2am and these enemies will lover if its the last thing i do.

[justlikeawartimenovelty]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia) Characters: America (Hetalia), Russia (Hetalia), Prussia (Hetalia) Additional Tags: Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Masturbation, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk Summary:

Alfred, who thought he was a Beta finds himself actually going into his first rut at a college party. Ivan rescues him before he gets his ass kicked. Same nature pairings are illegal and they will have to navigate how to deal with their feelings.

[snowyroads]

he’s a sleepy guy

[feral-ballad]

Craig Morgan Teicher, from To Keep Love Blurry; “On his bed and no longer among the living”