elytra
a beetle may or may not be inferior to a man
Staying up late wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Charlie.
He was pretty sure it wasn't uncommon for anyone on his particular path. All pre-med students had stayed up 24 hours or more at points; if they hadn't, it was likely they were failing their classes. It was that or they were some sort of genius. He wasn't one for cramming, of course. That just led to disaster. He did, however, have a lot of material to cover in a short amount of time. If he didn't, he'd fail his exams, which meant failing his classes, which meant dropping out of school, which was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.
So, no, it wasn't unusual, and no one was surprised to see him in the library right up until it closed, at which point he switched over his dorm to continue studying more. He did this until about 6 am, at which point he switched over to getting things ready for his 8 am class, and the cycle repeated all over again. It was common. He only got sleep the night afterwards, when he was completely sure that he had done everything he could and when he knew not getting rest was going to be detrimental to him. It was all normal.
What wasn't normal was the sleep paralysis.
He knew what it was, obviously. It was when your brain, essentially, 'fucked up'. You would wake up, but your body would still be in the mode of sleep, mostly in the way that your breathing was slowed. You wouldn't be able to move or speak, and so your brain would conjure up an image- a hallucination of sorts -in order to give the nonsensical situation some explanation. He hadn't ever experienced it though. He assumed that if he did, it wouldn't really do much to him. Since he knew what it was, and since he knew the things he saw wouldn't be real, he'd remain calm. He completely forgot that thinking about situations was entirely different from actually being in them.
Unlike what he assumed, he freaked out. In his head, obviously. He couldn't speak or move, which was disorienting in itself, but it was only made worse by the thing that was at the end of his bed. Dark, shadowy, probably literally the stuff of his nightmares, and it was just standing there. His thought process mostly consisted of what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck for the first few moments, before shifting over to him anxious reminding himself this only lasts two or so minutes this only lasts two or so minutes thisonlylaststwoorsominutes. It didn't help, but it wasn't as if he could scream or force himself to sleep. He was stuck until his brain decided otherwise.
He was pretty sure it wasn't uncommon for anyone on his particular path. All pre-med students had stayed up 24 hours or more at points; if they hadn't, it was likely they were failing their classes. It was that or they were some sort of genius. He wasn't one for cramming, of course. That just led to disaster. He did, however, have a lot of material to cover in a short amount of time. If he didn't, he'd fail his exams, which meant failing his classes, which meant dropping out of school, which was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.
So, no, it wasn't unusual, and no one was surprised to see him in the library right up until it closed, at which point he switched over his dorm to continue studying more. He did this until about 6 am, at which point he switched over to getting things ready for his 8 am class, and the cycle repeated all over again. It was common. He only got sleep the night afterwards, when he was completely sure that he had done everything he could and when he knew not getting rest was going to be detrimental to him. It was all normal.
What wasn't normal was the sleep paralysis.
He knew what it was, obviously. It was when your brain, essentially, 'fucked up'. You would wake up, but your body would still be in the mode of sleep, mostly in the way that your breathing was slowed. You wouldn't be able to move or speak, and so your brain would conjure up an image- a hallucination of sorts -in order to give the nonsensical situation some explanation. He hadn't ever experienced it though. He assumed that if he did, it wouldn't really do much to him. Since he knew what it was, and since he knew the things he saw wouldn't be real, he'd remain calm. He completely forgot that thinking about situations was entirely different from actually being in them.
Unlike what he assumed, he freaked out. In his head, obviously. He couldn't speak or move, which was disorienting in itself, but it was only made worse by the thing that was at the end of his bed. Dark, shadowy, probably literally the stuff of his nightmares, and it was just standing there. His thought process mostly consisted of what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck for the first few moments, before shifting over to him anxious reminding himself this only lasts two or so minutes this only lasts two or so minutes thisonlylaststwoorsominutes. It didn't help, but it wasn't as if he could scream or force himself to sleep. He was stuck until his brain decided otherwise.