#both of them trying to wring any kind of enjoyment from this world

[serendipitous-posts]

Order I think the Tadc appeared, shortest to longest, and stages of their shit

Pomni.

Duh. Still getting her legs and adjusting. Feels things too strongly

Ragatha

Wants to help Pomni but has no experience dealing with a newbie. Trying desperately to put a positive spin on this and convince herself it's not that bad

Gangle

Still enjoys some things but is much more resigned than Ragatha. Like Pomni and Ragatha, still in the feelings rather than numb category, but has come to terms with this being her life. (Everytime we see Gangle upset its never really to do with her being trapped in purgatory like Pomni and Ragatha, and more to do with. Jax being a dick. She still cares just not about her situation.)

Zooble

Apathy babey! Has completely stopped giving a shit at this point. Isolates themselves from others because they no longer care for any of the adventures. They're tired of playing along. Extremely understimulated because of this.

Jax

Jax I feel has been here longer than Zooble because his general dickishness is a natural escalation of their 'I don't care'ness. If none of this matters, if there are only six people who exist, no consequences, why not kill some npcs? If Zooble's apathy got so bad they stopped playing, I think Jax became a bit of an adrenaline junkie, trying to stave off the monotony for just another day, hour, minute. And the quickest way for him to get an adrenaline shot is violence.

Kinger

Complete mental collapse. Small snatches of lucidity but he spends most of his time dissociating, freaking out whenever he comes out of it because he's suddenly in a brand new place.

[words-writ-in-starlight]

for the ship headcanon meme: star trek pairing of choice, #16-#20?

Bet you thought I forgot about this ask meme, fuckers!  And you’re right, I did, but the beauty of forgetting is that sometimes you remember.  Anyway, as always, it’s Michael/Saru Hours, lads.

16) When the zombie apocalypse comes, how do they cope together?

This is not a headcanon, but I have this fragment of a fic idea in my head based on this question, and that fragment of a fic idea is like...some kind of case fic where Discovery finds a planet being ravaged by Basically A Zombie Apocalypse and Michael and Saru get stranded there.  Ideally, for my personal enjoyment, I would want to slot it into the plot of s1 as early as possible, because the best/worst dynamic there would be Michael choking with guilt and yet still one of the finest scientific minds in Star Fleet, and Saru unable to keep himself from pressing on the fresh bruise of loss, unable to trust her, and the two of them still working together flawlessly.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it?  Even when they can’t stand each other, they argue like a choreographed dance, and when the chips are down and they have to think on their feet, they still move like Georgiou’s trusted right and left hands.

Anyway.  That, but make it zombies.

17) When they find a time machine, where do they go?

If Michael came into possession of a time machine that actually allowed her to reliably control where she went and let her come back, I think she would sit down and try to do the temporal math to figure out how to avert the war.  I do not, however, believe that Michael and Saru, survivors of a fair amount of timeline hopping already, would actually risk going back in time.  I think they would both talk about wanting to go back, specifically because they know the other will talk them out of it, but I don’t think they would do it.

That being said, I would love a lotus eater prison AU where Michael and Saru are trapped in an idyllic dream of a world where the Shenzhou was never destroyed, Michael was being prepared to be promoted off the ship as a captain, and Saru was preparing to take her place, ft a lot of sadness about Georgiou and Michael and Saru working together to find a way to wake up.

18) When they fight, how do they make up?

Michael wears Raised On Vulcan tattooed on her face, sometimes, and especially when she defensive or guilty--if she’s angry with Saru, she’ll tell him exactly what she thinks he’s doing wrong, to his face, and it takes her a long time to learn that she should pull that punch a little more with people she cares about.  On the upside, that means that, when she feels like she’s been out of line and unnecessarily harsh, she’ll walk right up to Saru and tell him, blunt as anything, what she did, why she thinks it was wrong, and that she understands if he’s angry with her.  

This was initially…a weird experience for Saru on several levels, if he’s being honest.  A lot of his experience with people is colored heavily by the fact that very few people know how to deal with Kelpiens, and that means that he’s either handled like glass or he puts in the work to be treated like any of the other crew members. He’s not really sure how to deal with someone who handles him with exactly the same unemotional ruthlessness as everyone else, and it’s disorienting, and it makes him angry that it’s disorienting, because that’s what he wants, but also, Michael is sometimes an asshole.  She’s the first person that he’s ever argued with on the regular—really argued, a push and counterpush, shoving each other away from the science console and pulling out ad hominem attacks in a way that visibly infuriates Michael’s Vulcan training.  But quite frankly, they never felt like they needed to apologize for those early fights, under Georgiou.  It was part of the ship dynamic, to have Burnham and Saru trying to take strips off each other in a very professional and scientific manner.  As long as Saru never took a cheap shot over Michael’s upbringing and Michael resisted the impulse to go full xenoanthropologist on Saru’s species, they were very good at fighting.

(Personally I am of the belief that Michael only tried to pull the I understand where you’re coming from because of what your species makes you after the mutiny, after she was trying to be nice.  Before then, she expected Saru to perform to her standards and fuck the details.  Half the reason he’s so coldly furious with her over it is because he knows she’s trying to manipulate him, because if she wasn’t, she would never play that card, because no matter how nasty their fights were, she always fought with him as a person, not as a Kelpien.)

19) Where do they go on their first date?

There’s a fic that bounces around my brain every time I watch Discovery, and it’s about Michael and Saru having a first date (sort of) very late at night, when they’re both having trouble sleeping.  It’s not an arranged date, they’re not even really friends even though they’ve gotten past the stage of Michael letting Saru flay her alive for her guilt, but Michael is having trouble sleeping and she’s not a prisoner anymore, so she wanders, and Saru, frankly, sleeps like hypervigilant garbage since the Binary Stars, so he has a preferred hiding spot on one of Discovery’s few observation decks.  As Lorca likes to point out, they’re not a goddamn pleasure cruiser, but Star Fleet never built a ship without at least one view panel, not even their top-secret war machine.

Michael is avoiding people—she hates being asked why she’s awake, gets tangled up in her automatic shame over not being able to control her emotions.  It’s the middle of the “night” by ship standards, but Discovery seethes with activity around the clock, especially since Stamets pulls regular all-nighters when he gets really entranced and often has to be peeled away from his work by Local Exasperated Doctor Hugh Culber.  So she ducks into the parts of the ship that she usually doesn’t go, the places that are more for socializing and are empty at this hour, the places that aren’t often used, the places that are quiet.

She finds the observation deck dim and blessedly silent, with the stars spreading infinitely outside.  The room is faintly lit by the nebula off to the starboard bow, the one they’re using to hide their signature while they run some necessary repairs.  It’s a practical use, but it’s also beautiful, every window in the ship glowing with warm reds and golds, and Michael still finds the stars soothing after all this time, and so she drifts up to the glass with the vague plan of sitting down and spending an hour or two there in an attempt at meditation.  She only sees Saru, leaning back against the edge of the viewing window, when she’s close enough to nearly trip over one of his long legs, stretched out in front of him.

Michael, of course, apologizes, and turns to leave.  Saru never really does have a good answer, as to why he stops her.  But he doesn’t ask any questions about why she’s awake and she doesn’t ask any questions about what he’s doing here, and instead they sit in relative quiet for a while before Saru sits up straighter and offers Michael, again, a small bowl of fruit. It’s not familiar to her, this time, but he says it won’t hurt her, that it’s sort of like a lychee, and she believes him.  It leaves a bit of thin red juice on her fingers when she bites into the first one, and he recommends eating them whole to avoid it while she ruefully sucks the juice off her thumb.  It’s good—less sweet than she expected.  Saru settles next to her in the middle of the window and sets the bowl between them, and she asks how he always manages to have fresh fruit, and he admits that he can wring a lot more out of the replicators since he never gets meat. Somehow it turns into—talking.

Michael is startled to realize, around the hour mark of murmured conversation, that she might have literally never just talked to Saru before. It’s—nice.

(Because I’m physiologically incapable of letting things be nice, if I wrote this fic there would be an immediate sequel of Observation Deck Chats Redux, featuring them doing basically the same thing but after Michael gets back from the Mirrorverse.  Michael leans against Saru’s shoulder in a way that she would never, if she hadn’t been awake with nightmares and grief for pushing three days, and she tells him about the Empire like she’s confessing her sins, and they talk quietly about the ghost haunting their ship in the shape of Empress Philippa Georgiou. It’s not nice, but not for lack of kindness.)

20) Where do they go on holiday?

I think Saru and Michael would have two very distinct kinds of “holiday” and they have two destinations accordingly.

The first kind of holiday is Nerd Holiday, in which they find an unexplored planet and appoint themselves to the away team—everyone else on the away team is wryly aware that they are, essentially, third-wheeling a date, but Discovery has watched this whole situation unfold and honestly the popular opinion is that it would actually be easier to deal with a little bit of PDA than the current Very Professional Mutual Adoration Show.  Local Red Shirt Absolutely Agonized By The Very Correct Ten Inches Of Space Between Her Captain And First Officer, Reports As They Come.  Michael and Saru are pleasantly unaware of this and are having a great time arguing over whether they need another sample of that plant if it’s just a different color.

The second kind of holiday is actual fucking shore leave.  They both prefer planets or stations with a large variety of species—Saru is uneasy with being the center of attention among strangers, and since he stands head and shoulders above a decent percentage of the Federation, it’s hard to avoid unless they’re in mixed company; Michael never quite recovered from the perpetual sense of disjoint when it comes to being around all humans or all Vulcans, so being in a place where everyone is different makes her feel less out of place.  Neither of them like big crowds, so they’re the tourists who immediately leave the usual Tourist Area and find somewhere else to be, which has its ups and downs.  The first time they get into trouble on a totally safe colony planet because they decided to go exploring, there’s a beat of them looking at each other and silently agreeing that they won’t be telling the crew about this, because there’s already a running ship joke about what trouble magnets they are and they do NOT need to feed anyone more material.

[whoslaurapalmer]

shadow and bone 5-8 

okay first   -you know the more i think about it the more pissed i am that botkin only did show up for a hot second -i hope he shows up more if there's another season but?????? what a MISSED opportunity with alina!!!!! like!!!!!!!!!!! i can't believe it honestly  -not ONLY is there more of him in the book!! but it would've been great with alina being shu!!!!  -they really didn't think that through, did they. botkin is RIGHT THERE and they missed him  -take out nina and put in botkin!! or take out all the crows and give them the justice they deserve in their own season and put in botkin!!!! (the books, as enjoyable as they were to read, still suffer so much in terms of pacing and not having a super tight plot and the show should’ve taken advantage of the opportunity to make changes to make it better and 90% of the time the show just finds a way to drop the ball!!!!!!!!!!!!) 

-also i don't remember what article i read this in, if it was the slate one or a different one, about alina deserving a teacher who doesn't, know you, beat her with a stick  -like, as usual! ON THE ONE HAND baghra is allowed to be a character that's not a good person. characters are allowed to not be good people. that's fine. i like baghra!  -on the other hand..............................................don't smack your students nobody learns from being smacked around 

i was really excited to see alina not take the path baghra told her to -- because again i had been disappointed to see the show not make any major changes to make the plot better (crows interacting with alina doesn’t count bc as people have rightly pointed out, the crows plotline really doesn’t matter here it’s just them having a good time and filling in space) so to see alina do something different and actually show a lot of agency and be competent on her own was great!!!! wish it hadn’t taken like five episodes to get there, though!!!! i know a lot of it is because she’s completely out of her element in the little palace but that’s a big complaint about alina across the board, that she doesn’t have the most distinct personality, and to see her thinking for herself and especially thinking outside of mal was nice also her getting in the carriage the crows are stealing was the funniest thing  oh but her setting the maps on fire in episode one does not count, because that was completely unnecessary, there was no reason to not just have all the cartographers go in the first place like in the book. 

-i was kind of rooting for arken, because he was just enjoyable with the crows, and because i just completely forgot about kaz seeing him meeting zlatan, but good for kaz for being on top of that, that’s my boy 

-that’s a shame about marie  -but uhhhhhhhhh -“i don’t want to die with the wrong face on” i get what she’s saying but i thought that was. weird 

in the continuing ‘nina and alina have similar things happening and i still don’t know what to make of it????????????’ thoughts, nina and matthias trying to keep warm / alina and mal trying to keep warm, matthias being afraid of nina / mal not being afraid of alina i love nina a lot but i am just not invested in nina here  oh and nina was spying for the darkling??? i don’t have the energy to think about if that tracks for nina’s character  also i never thought about how kind of uncomfortable all her lewd lines are, not because matthias is uncomfortable, but because nina comes off sounding less teasing or flirty and more kind of pushy and creepy  they’ve only known each other for............how long  what is even time here 

-it’s not that baghra isn’t threatening but........no it’s that baghra wasn’t threatening  -her talking to the darkling was like. it was weird? there should be so much weight and power in them talking to each other 

-i did like that she said to alina that the darkling had a lot of practice manipulating naive girls cause, yeah girl that’s what it was -you thought you decided to kiss him yourself???? you think he was really surprised??????? nnnnnnnnnnnnnno  -the thing is i have like very little sympathy for the darkling. very little. i get the allure, everybody who was ever a teenager gets the allure of the dark emo boy wearing all black with the tortured past, i’ve been there!!! i did my time!!!!!!  -i am still doing my time. we’ve all seen kaz.  -and yes i suppose ben barnes is. good-looking. -look it’s the beard. i just hate that beard. -and the darkling and alina are, not an interesting pair, but interesting halves  -two people with completely opposite powers, one who knows how to use them and has for centuries and the other who just discovered them, both the exact match for the other in terms of dark/light and scope of ability and lifespan, who are looking for a place of belonging but also a place of power  -and then he puts a collar on her to use her as his own personal weapon and their possible existence on even playing ground stops, cementing the gap in power dynamics that has been there from the start in their relationship, and always would be, and confirming him as manipulative power-hungry jackass #1 who doesn’t care about grisha or ravka but himself  -and he deserves what he gets in the end. (both times, even!!!!)  -so much so that the demon in the wood is included in the back of ruin and rising and when i got to it i was like ‘okay but the dude’s dead now so i don’t care about this sudden backstory i am being given’ and i did not read it. to this day. i have not. 

-also the darkling kisses alina like he’s physically attacking her and you know what??? that tracks, i guess 

-i love the heartbeat in the scenes with a heartrender!!! i think that was a nice touch.  -i also love all the little hints about jesper being grisha 

-i don’t remember much about zoya in the trilogy since most recently i read rule of wolves but i do not recall zoya sleeping around with everybody and i don’t like it  -zoya’s very proud but??? even there she kind of kept to herself, didn’t she  -she literally has a million better things to be doing than fucking everybody  -and they just fling zoya’s aunt out there???? sure fine whatever  -we get zero good zoya content and then you just give that  -and now she and alina are friends enough for her to say a witty pithy hero statement?????????  -uggggg 

-we saw luda for a hot second so i do not care about her!!!!!  -must it always be For The Death Of A Woman 

-“most grisha aren’t fighters. they fix things, they make things.” wow i love that line a whole lot 

-inej is just gonna sew the wound herself!!!! a legend!!!!!!  -and then inej just STABBING THE DARKLING and kaz BONKING A VOLCRA ON THE HEAD -i love them with my whole stupid heart i love them  -like.......something something the best characters in this bright stunning magic world are the non-magical characters vibing on an entirely different plotline  - ~wring magic out of the ordinary~ 

-it is necessary to have the bones under alina’s skin. no  -noooooooooooooooooooo -noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!! 

-mal saying “you’ll wish you killed me here!” oh boy yeah he will!!!!! also, you tell him, mal 

-milo coming in HOT  -goat ex machina 

-“telling you half a story is not the same as lying” what are you, a child???? -man alina fucking slam dunks him in the tent! good for her. 

-i love snarky characters but again. jesper does it ALL THE TIME that his lines start to sound repetitive or he’s just doing snarky plot nutshelling 

-“remember who’s driving” WHAT ARE YOU, A CHILD?????? -in the last two episodes specifically i was like ‘WHAT is with this dialogue???’

-alina: /reaching for mal on the skiff  me: are you gonna. do the hint  me: oh well it’s fine if you don’t, alina deserves that 

-actually, i would kill for The New Crew of kaz, inej, jesper, alina, mal, and zoya -what a team..........what a time......... me: kaz is gonna say the thing he’s gonna say it kaz: the deal is the deal me: /fingerguns at the tv 

-oh re: is kaz too soft here  -................................actually yeah, maybe a little 

-with kaz having the hair pin instead of alina and mal selling the pin(s) for money, how will the darkling find alina? -not necessarily a BAD thing. just a thought 

-overall, did i like it??????? i don’t know!! some things were enjoyable!! sure failed at A WHOLE FUCKING LOT, THOUGH  -i do know i’m gonna reread six of crows, though 

-i just had a terrible thought. if we get a season 2 and they do the sea whip there's gonna be so many dawn treader jokes, aren't there. 

[umbry-fic]

Cobalt Memories

Summary: Colette, as Chosen, has never been allowed to play in the rain. Until now.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Colette Brunel, Lloyd Irving, Frank Brunel, Noishe Relationships: Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel & Frank Brunel Rating: G Word Count: 3372 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 25/06/2021

Notes: A fluffy gen fic involving the Noishe raincoat! Title from Harumaki Gohan's Cobalt Memories.

~~~

The first time Colette saw Lloyd, it was in the rain.

She was at home on that fateful day, as she always was on stormy days. Sitting by the window, listening to raindrops patter against it, she pressed her nose to the cold glass and watched the other children that were her age run around outside. She longed to join them, to know what it felt like to catch raindrops against her skin, to let water drip from her drenched fringe into her eyes, to laugh and dance despite the grey and dreary clouds and the cold that permeated even through the window, racking her with the occasional shiver.

But that was forbidden, for the Chosen wasn't to participate in such pointless merriment. "And what if you caught a cold?" was what the priests had used to dissuade her. "We cannot allow any harm to come to you, Chosen. Trust us, this is for your own good." And that marked the conclusion of that conversation. There was little point trying to resist, she knew, for it would all be futile in the end.

As for her father and grandmother, they were powerless to do anything, unable to defy the absolute authority of the Church. No one could stand up against the Church. Colette didn't want to consider whether or not her family wanted to help her, preferring to let that doubt sink into the back of her mind. Whenever they caught the pleading gaze she would turn on them once lightning began to split the sky in two, all they did was turn away, leaving her to drift towards her usual perch by the window. There she would watch with barely concealed envy, for that was all she was allowed to do. And so it was the case again today. She'd been here for the past ten minutes until her neck ached from craning it so much.

She supposed her mood very much matched the weather.

It was at that moment that a hulking dog with a strange green colouration that she'd never seen before burst out from the forest, causing all the children to scatter like leaves in the wind. They all stared at this new intruder with wide eyes, all chatter ceasing immediately. Following behind the dog was a boy with brown hair, struggling to keep up with his tiny stature and short legs. The dog and the boy began to run circles around each other in the mud, splattering it everywhere, the boy seemingly uncaring of the dog’s imposing size. Even as the dog's fur got more drenched, even as the boy's shorts got more dirtied with mud, rambunctious barks and laughter filled the air, the two looking like they were having the time of their lives. The other children were maintaining their distance, likely out of fear, but Colette only pressed closer to the window, splaying her fingers on it. It was at this moment more than any other that she prayed for the glass to magically disappear so that she could fall through, desiring to join the two and learn what it was like to be free.

She also really wanted to pet that dog!

The boy paused in his frantic motions, seemingly having caught sight of her, for he was staring right at her. How strange she must look, a girl in pure white robes undirtied by the rain, separated from all the rest of the children by a thick layer of glass. Almost like she was in an alternate world, one that couldn’t be touched by others. Most of the children understood that she was different, even if they didn't understand why. The boy must think her a weirdo too.

But instead of turning away and returning to his fun, the boy waved, a smile lighting up his face as he ran up to the window. He wasn't quite tall enough to reach it from the ground, so all he could do was jump up and down, his finger barely brushing the bottom of the window every time he reached the peak of his leap. Was he trying to put his hand on the window such that it was aligned with her palm on the other side? If so, he wasn't gaining enough height.

She moved her hand so that it was pressed flush against the windowsill, giggling as the boy outside laughed too. She knew they weren't actually touching and that it was unlikely for his warmth to be able to reach her through the glass, but she could still feel a phantom presence against her palm.

A particularly loud bark drew both of their attention. The dog ran up to the boy, tail wagging intensely. Up close, the dog appeared to be even fluffier than she’d thought, only intensifying her desire to bury her hands in its fur, maybe even her face. That would be heavenly. The dog barked again, inclining its head in the direction of the forest. The boy gave the dog a quick ruffle on the head before turning back to face her, a small frown on his face as he mouthed “I need to go”.

And in an instant, he and the dog had taken off and disappeared back into the forest. If not for the muddy footprints and pawprints littering the ground, and the tiny mark against the outside of her window, she might have thought she’d imagined the whole thing. But she hadn’t. All of it had happened.

She hadn't learned anything about the boy, of who he was - his name, his age, where he lived. She wasn’t sure she’d ever see him again. It was but an interaction with a stranger, a brief one that had ended and left her alone again. But what a kind stranger he was, actually bothering to come and cheer up a lonely girl he didn’t know. For he had left her with a smile on her face.

She would soon formally meet Lloyd at school, an insane event in-and-of-itself, whereafter he would become her first-ever friend, bringing with it the opportunity to meet Noishe and give him lots of pets. Genis would enter her life not much later, leaving her with two companions that expanded her world and brought so much joy with them. But she would always hold this memory dear, of a rainy day that was her true first meeting with Lloyd, where he’d shown her kindness that touched her heart. It was the kindness that he always extended to her, no matter what, for he was an inherently kind person.

It was the first rainy day she could recall where she had not been miserable, reminded of everything she couldn’t have, but rather smiling and laughing. The first of many.

~~~

Lloyd stopped playing in the rain once he learned she wasn't allowed to. He was adamantly against the restrictions placed on her, but learned rather quickly that all his protesting wouldn’t get anywhere. So he opted to stay indoors with her whenever it did rain, wanting to keep her company.

He claimed that getting drenched in the rain wasn’t all that fun and that he didn’t miss it, but she’d caught him looking out the window with a wistful expression more than once. She felt horrible for denying her friend something he clearly enjoyed, but he refused to budge whenever she told him that she’d be fine alone, even if just for a day. And, truth be told, his company helped immensely, for she could focus on his presence, instead of dwelling on what she was missing out on, her sky finally clear of storm clouds that blocked out the sun.

Most of the time, at least.

There were still moments when the longing hit her, when she looked at the raindrops running down the windowpane and desperately wished to be outside. Even Genis, the boy who seemed to hate admitting he was a child, had run around in the rain before. He had, of course, gotten the scolding of his life from Professor Raine once he’d gotten back in the schoolhouse, but watching the loving way Professor Raine had towelled Genis down, wringing water from his silver locks, filled Colette’s heart with stinging pain.

Today was yet another rainy day. Colette sat at the table, swinging her legs and waiting for a knock on the door. Lloyd had promised, earlier in the morning, to meet up with her in the afternoon, and he never broke his promises. Though the weather meant he was going to turn up at her doorstep with his hair falling into his eyes and his clothes dripping water - he never remembered to bring an umbrella with him when he left his home. They would likely need to wait a whole hour for him to dry out before they could do anything, but she didn’t mind. A quiet afternoon spent with Lloyd was just as enjoyable as one where they messed around.

Where was her father, though? Her grandmother wasn’t home right now, stuck at the Church because of the downpour, but her father wasn’t in the living room with a cup of coffee like he usually was at this time of day. Maybe he was working on that sewing project he’d been labouring over for the past week. She’d caught him bent over in his room in the dead of night, sewing needle held in hand, the room lit only by the flickering flame of a single candle. She doubted that her father knew that she’d peeked in on him from the doorway, for she was used to wandering around the house like a ghost on nights where she couldn’t sleep. She was an expert at making no noise, and hadn’t been caught once.

She didn’t know what her father was working on. He’d told her before that he’d learned how to sew from her mother, but he’d never put that skill to use. Not to her knowledge, anyway. Perhaps because it hurt too much, to do something that had once been a beloved hobby shared by two people who loved each other, but could no longer be together? In the same way that having fun with her friends stabbed at her heart, just a tiny bit, as she held the knowledge that it would all have to come to an end. Even then, she’d promised to herself that she would enjoy every bit she could grasp to its fullest.

She was curious as to what had reignited that passion, what was so important that he had to pull out the dusty sewing kit again, but she wasn’t going to ask. It wasn’t her place to pry.

Colette sighed, slumping over on the table. Lloyd was running a little late...

“Here.”

A familiar voice broke through the oppressing silence, Colette squeaking in alarm as something fuzzy and soft was thrown over her head, submerging her in darkness. She scrambled to get a grip on what she assumed was a blanket, pulling it off her head and holding it in her arms.

Now that she could see again, she spotted her father standing over her, arms crossed with a smile on his face. How had he snuck up on her?

“Father? What?” she sputtered in confusion. This was not expected behaviour. In fact, this was the furthest thing from expected behaviour. Her father had been nothing but kind and loving to her, but always with a sense of detachment, like he wasn’t really seeing her when he looked at her. She didn’t blame him for any of it, but it hurt, to realise the distance between them. “This is…”

She looked down and got a closer look, realising that what she was holding wasn’t a blanket. It looked like some sort of strange green top with long sleeves...? But it was far too long to be a top! If she put it on, it would reach the middle of her thighs! Turning it over revealed there was a tail poking out from the back, along with a hood attached. Stuck to the top of the hood were two beady blue eyes, a nose, and a familiar pair of ears with grooves that she couldn’t help but run her finger over.

It was absolutely adorable!

“It’s a raincoat. Something you wear to protect yourself from the rain. Your mother was making it for you before she… left. Why a raincoat, and why make it green, I’ll never know,” her father explained, placing a hand on her head. “Though I’ll never claim to understand Arielle,” her father muttered, looking away with a far-away expression.

“This was from Mother…?” she whispered in disbelief, rubbing at the material with her thumbs.

She didn’t have anything from her mother. The entire house seemed to be devoid of any of her mother’s belongings, perhaps because the reminder hurt her father too much. She couldn’t blame anyone for that, not really, even if she would have liked to have something, anything, to show her what her mother was like.

“I just put the finishing touches on it and added the accessories. After all, you love Noishe so much. I know I’m nowhere near as good as your mother, but… I thought you might like it.”

Colette could see that the majority of the seams were more masterfully done than the rest, the minority a little wobbly and less confident. One of the ears was crooked, and perhaps the eyes weren’t aligned on the same line.

It wasn’t perfectly made, nowhere near it, but she could feel the love poured into every inch from both of her parents, seeming to spill out of the fabric and into her heart.

“I… I do! Thank you so much, Father!” she exclaimed, hands shaking. She had never expected to receive a present that was from both her mother and her father. This was the best surprise ever! “C - can I put it on?”

“Stand up; I’ll help you,” her father offered. “Otherwise, knowing you, you’re probably going to get lost in the fabric.”

Colette did as her father told her to, standing up and raising her arms. Her father brought the raincoat down around her head, and she shimmied until her head popped out the top and her hands came out of the long sleeves. As she’d predicted, the raincoat covered her all the way down to her thighs.

She flipped the hood up, her hair spilling out of the opening, marvelling at how snugly it fit. And it was warm, too…

“I’m glad it fits. Now, why don’t you play out in the rain with Lloyd today?”

“But I thought I’m not allowed to!” Colette retorted, hardly able to believe her ears. Could this day get any better?

“You didn’t have a raincoat before,” her father replied, something of a mischievous shine to his eyes that Colette had never seen before. Whenever she looked at her father, he always seemed sad, his eyes dull. Grieving the woman he loved who’d died in childbirth, and having to take care of a child who was doomed to die anyway. Was this who he’d been before tragedy had struck, the man who her mother had fallen in love with? “If you’re protected from the rain, I don’t see why not.” He lowered his voice, leaning closer like he was about to whisper a secret into her ear, his lips lifting into a cheeky smile. “Besides, this can stay between us.”

Colette threw her arms around her father, thanking him profusely and trying her very best not to start sobbing. She didn’t want to wet her father’s shirt, and neither did she want to meet Lloyd with red eyes and a running nose. Her father patted her on the head between the Noishe ears, chuckling.

Knock. Knock.

“Oh! Lloyd! He’s here!” Colette perked up, racing over to the door and throwing it open. She couldn’t wait to tell him the good news!

Lloyd was standing on the porch, back facing her and dragging his feet across the wooden boards as he waited for her. Turning, he grinned, waving, his appearance fitting the one in her imagination exactly. “Hi, Col -”

That was when Lloyd choked, face flushing an incredible shade of red.

“Uh, Lloyd?” Colette asked hesitantly, pausing with one foot on the porch. She clasped her hands before her chest. “Is something… wrong?”

“No!” was what burst out of Lloyd’s mouth, five times louder than his previous, unfinished sentence, and loud enough to make her flinch back slightly. “Wait, sorry for yelling! Wait, I’m still yelling!” Lloyd groaned, shaking his head. “Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all! Just... Um, nice new raincoat!”

“I love it!” she replied, spinning in a circle and giggling.

“Yeah, so do I. It’s… really cute… Is it supposed to be based on Noishe?”

“Yep! I’m glad you like it too!”

Lloyd laughed nervously, cheeks still containing a remnant of red. “Should we head in now?”

“Oh! Father permitted me to play in the rain! So can we do that instead?” Colette asked eagerly.

“Really?” Lloyd perked up too, eyes shining with excitement, nervousness forgotten instantly. “I’d love to do that with you!”

“But, uh…” Colette bowed her head, uncertain. “I’m not really sure what to do…”

“There’s no right way to do it! You just… Go! That’s what makes it fun!” Lloyd proclaimed, poking her right where the Noishe nose was and causing her to raise her head to meet his gaze again, eagerness and kindness there in equal measure that helped to melt away her doubts.

Lloyd took her hand, tugging her out of the shelter of the porch and into the ferocity of the storm - or rather, the gentleness of a drizzle, for the raindrops pelting against her bare hand were far gentler than she could have thought. It was almost ticklish, like when Lloyd’s fingers brushed her wrist.

She stumbled into a puddle, giggling at the splash of water and staring down at her reflection: her own happy face framed by her golden hair and the adorable Noishe face. She angled her face up, letting the raindrops fall against her skin and trickle down into her waiting tongue. They didn't particularly taste like anything, but they sure were cold!

She looked back at Lloyd to find him grinning, his already drenched self getting even more drenched with the rain falling on him, creating a halo above him.

He stretched out a hand to her and beckoned, a familiar smile on his face. The smile that was always able to make everything better, to chase away any amount of despair she might be trapped in.

“Come on!”

She laughed, feeling lighter than she had in months, and ran over to join him, ready to create another cherished memory - a first that she hoped would not be her last.

~~~

Frank sipped from his cup of coffee, watching from the window with a smile. Lloyd had started the chain of activities by jumping from puddle to puddle, Colette following behind and occasionally losing her balance, though Lloyd was always there to steady her. They were still going, having gone on to spin each other around in some crazy approximation of dancing, their laughter ringing through the air.

He watched as Colette tripped and fell into Lloyd, sending them both toppling into the mud like dominoes. Even with mud staining their faces and their clothes, they were both grinning, the smile on his daughter’s face more radiant than it had been in years.

There would be an incredible mess that he would have to clean up later, likely involving tubs of hot water, towels, and hours of scrubbing with the brush. Colette might even still catch a cold from being exposed to the elements. But Frank would keep his promise and hide the fact that this ever happened from the priests. Besides, an omission of information wasn’t a lie.

And the effort would all be worth it - the sleepless nights, all the times he'd pricked his finger on the needle because of how rusty he was - just to let his daughter have the experience of being a child, just to see her smiling and laughing with her best friend in the whole wide world.

[lettersofwrittencollective]

Prey

Author @lettersofwrittencollective

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Word Count: 3049

Prompt/kink: Knife Play 

Summary: You’d noticed that Stiles had a thing for knives during training one time and decide that you wanted to see what he could do with them, you’d told Stiles it was his turn to be the hunter. 

Warnings: Knife play, outdoor sex, risky sex, oral (female receiving), dirty talking, Sadist!Dom!Stiles (Characters are over the age of 18) 

Masterlist || Teen Wolf Masterlist

“I’m sorry you want to what?” You’d asked the brunette male that stood in front of you, unsure if you’d heard him right or if he was actually serious. 

“I want you to teach me to fight,” Stiles had repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

That had been about a year ago and while you’d had reservations you’d decided to go ahead and train him. After all, as one of the only humans in the pack, he needed to be able to defend himself and as a mercenary, you knew how to work with different weapons. 

Stiles had picked up on things pretty quickly. He was a great shot, something he had probably picked up from his dad, with both a gun and arrows. He was able to make an IED out of almost anything you put in front of him and he had absolutely no qualms about dropping you on your ass and tying you up. But one of the things you had noticed was the way he handled knives. 

There was something almost revering about the way that he handled a knife. And perhaps it was because you found them to be so intense yourself but when you’d asked him to give you a nick with it, his eyes had blown over with lust. Unfortunately, he’d backed off - terrified at what it was that he thought he was doing. 

You hadn’t failed to notice that the sex that night was much more intense and that he would, almost unconciously, trace designs over your skin. You were sure that it had something to do with the knife and you were bound and determined to get him to try something with it. 

Today was, hopefully, going to be that day. 

The two of you were training in the preserve today, a ways off the beaten path so that it was unlikely for people to stumble across you. Which meant that not only were you able to train, but if one of you was able to rile the other one up just right, you’d get to try some outdoors sex. It wasn’t so much the outdoors that turned you on as it was the idea of being caught and there was something for Stiles, about the two of you being on display during some of your most primal moments that made him desperate to wring orgasm after orgasm out of you. 

You’d decided to wear shorts and just a yoga bra for today’s session and that was Stiles’ first clue that you two would be doing something more than just sparring. Usually, when it was just a session you were yoga pants and high support sports bras but when you were feeling like you needed something more, your clothing tended to become less. 

He couldn’t help smirking to himself as he took off his shirt, leaving him in just a pair of joggers. As he watched her do her warm up stretches, he couldn’t help the twitching of his cock. No matter how many times he had you, it was always good. Always felt as incredible as that first time he’d sunk into you. 

He watched you stretch, the way your muscles moved, captivating him. The way that your hips swayed as you moved to a lunge so you could stretch out your hamstrings and your hips. The slow way you stood told him that you knew he was there and he wasn’t at all surprised at the thought. 

Moving swiftly, he had you wrapped up in his arms before you actually had a chance to turn around. One hand held at your throat as he tightened his grip ever so slightly, constricting your airflow. 

It was something you’d both learned about the other. There was something about him manhandling you that always got you going. You had said it bothered you with other boyfriends but one day, when he had been frustrated after a few Wendigos came through town, he had been unintentionally rougher with you than expected and he had been able to practically smell the lust rolling off you - which was saying something since he was fully human. 

Since then the two of you have learned that you’re both into some quite… intense… foreplay. Where most people enjoyed their sex - most of the normal world also kept it indoors or in private at least. He had been surprised when he’d jokingly suggested taking you in the forest and you had actually gone along with it, blowing him at the end of the session.

The reminder of that night, coupled with your wriggling against him made his pants tighten. 

You could feel Stiles thick length hardening beneath your ass as you moved against him and couldn’t help the needy moan that you let out. 

You couldn’t help it and you weren’t actually sure that you wanted to. With life being a bit hectic around Beacon Hills the two of you had this unspoken understanding that each time you were together was to be treated like the first and last time you would be together. You aren’t sure if that’s why it’s always as passionate as it is, or if that’s why you always feel as loved as you do when he’s through with you or if it is holding the two of you back in any way but either way it has made for some mind blowing sex. 

“Someone’s looking for a good fucking today,” his husky voice whispers in your hear as his free hand trails down your sides, avoiding your breasts and and you have to fight not to whimper. 

Stiles’ hand travels further, his fingers tapping rhythmically across your skin causing a warmth to begin to spread across your abdomen as Stiles whispers in your ear, “I bet you’d like me to rip you out of those shorts and bra and bend you over right here, fuck you on my cock until you’re voice is gone… I just bet you’d just love to cum on this cock wouldn’t you?”

You could feel your arousal pooling in your shorts, having forgone underwear, as he whispered. It wasn’t long before his fingers found your waist band and just as his hand dipped in, you remembered that you had plans. 

Wriggling out of his arms, you moved a few steps away before you turned to look at him and smiled at the pout on his face. Chuckling, you inform him,  “We actually have a bit of training to do before we get to make any of that a reality.”

Walking over to your duffell, you pull out a couple of the throwing knives you had brought, just for this. They’re sharp enough that they can cut through skin quite easily but you trust Stiles so you aren’t terribly worried about the possibilities. 

Taking two of them, you walk over him and hand them to him. His eyebrow shoots up and when he gives you a questioning look, you simply tell him, “You’ll be hunting me today but the only things you are allowed to use are the knives.” 

He slowly nods his head and you can see his mind working a million miles a minute, trying to figure out what kind of weapons he can create with the gifts in his hands and you can see as he settles on something and you click your tongue, shaking your head. When his eyes snap over to him, you smirk,  “You only get to use the knives. No creating anything else.”

He looks surprised, but nods his head slowly, “Rules?”

“If you can catch me in the first 10 minutes, I am all yours. You get to decide exactly how you plan on wringing each orgasm from me and how many. If it takes you more than 10 minutes, you get to watch me get myself off but you’re not allowed to touch or come,” you inform him with a smirk and he nods his head. 

“Alright, give me three minutes before the timer starts,” you tell him and he nods his head. 

Taking off through the preserve, you started making your way through the room. Ducking through trees and backtracking to and from you check the time before you realize that Stiles should be coming after you any second now. 

Digging in, it’s not long before you hear the snapping twig of someone nearby. You wait before you take off in the opposite direction. You can feel your heart rate and your body tingle from both the activity but primarily from the anticipation. You’d been working with Stiles for a bit and you were sure that he’d be able to find you. 

Looking down at your watch, you realize that about nine minutes have passed. Smirking to yourself, you start making your way back towards the clearing. It would seem that you were going to have fun riling Stiles up. It would make things much more enjoyable the next time he got his hands on you. 

As you’re making your way through the preserve, you hear a whirring and turn just in time to see the flash of a metal as it flies by you. Stopping, you hear the thudding and see the knife stuck into the wood just at your eye level. Turning, you found that a second knife was 

“So- what was that about me catching you in the first ten minutes?” came his husky voice and you could feel the tingling in your abdomen intensify as you looked around, trying to identify where his voice came from. 

Finding him stepping out from between a set of bushes, a third knife in his hand, you heard his chuckle and couldn’t help the tingle of excitement. 

Before you realized, he was on you. His free hand came up to cup your face and you couldn’t help but sink into it. With the other hand, he took the knife in his hand and slipped it up the center of your stomach. The presser was ever so slight, just enough to let you know that the blade was there but not enough to actually draw any blood. 

As he leaned in to kiss you, you felt the blade slip beneath the sports bra before Stiles somehow adjusted the blade to cut through the fabric but not your skin. With the material now loose on you, you could feel the slight breeze against your quickly hardening nipples. 

A whimper escapes you at the delicious feeling of the cool air contrasted with the warmth of his body on your bare chest. Nipping his lip playfully you pulled back, “that was one of my favorite bras.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he chuckled against your ear and the sound instantly made you wetter for him. 

You felt his legs slip between yours and he nudged your knees apart. Obliging him, you spread your legs slightly and Moments later, the very knife he’d used on your bra and one you’re not sure where it came from was slipped into both sides of shorts before he tugged it and the material easily gave way. 

Gasping as the cool air hit you’re heated core you felt and heard Stiles groan, “Not wearing any panties?” He questioned as you felt his leg move a little higher so you would were settled just over his clothes thigh. 

The fabric of his joggers created a delicious friction against your sensitive skin and you unconsciously bucked your hips into him. 

“That’s it sweetheart,” he whispered in your hear as a knife edge was dragged against your thigh, “I want you to make yourself cum on my thigh.”

You could feel the heat rise to your skin. It wasn’t so much that you were embarrassed at the actions or the words but there was always something about the way he said it that made it so much more… you had no words for it.

You rocked your hips against his thigh, grinding yourself into it unashamedly. This wasn’t the first time you’d gotten yourself off on him and it probably wouldn’t be the last. You fully intended to leave him fully and completely covered in your orgasm. 

Stiles continued to move the knife along your skin. He could feel you on his leg and he knew that he’d made a good choice with these particular joggers this morning. They had a ribbing across the thigh that he knew was driving you wild based off the increased speed of your hips. 

He moved the knife to travel up the sides of your body, and under the curve of your breast as he nipped at your neck and made his way up to your ear. Interspersed with his nipping lips, he’d whisper in your ear, “Such a pretty little slut, fucking yourself on my thigh.” 

He could hear your whimpers and your moans as you neared your orgasm. Just as your face tightened, about to reach your release he pulled away from you and he heard your disappointed whine, making him chuckle. 

He’d gotten painfully hard through all this and looking at you, flushed and wanton as you tried to glare at him made him lick his lips. Looking down at his pants he realized that you had left him drenched in you and he couldn’t help but feel a little cocky at the realization that you had managed to get that wet - just for him. 

“Stiles,” you growled out when he didn’t return to your body immediately. 

You watched as his eyes took you in and you could see that he was just as turned on as you were. A bird distracted him as it flew by but he seemed to realize that you stood in front of him, fully naked and a glint came to his eye. 

A glint you knew. 

Before you could say anything, he dropped down on his knees in front of you. You felt him alternate legs, kissing from one knee to the inside of your thighs and you felt like your knees would give out from just the sheer anticipation of what he was about to do. 

Moving your legs a little wider when Stiles pushed at them, your hands came down to his hair to tug at the soft brown hair. You could feel his warm breath on you and moved your hips against him. Moaning when he licked through your folds 

“You’re so wet,” he groaned into your skin and you couldn’t help the whine as you tried to find friction against him. 

“So wet- just for me…” he whispered before his mouth wrapped itself around your clit. You were so close to the edge, the coil in your lower belly ready to snap already that when he bit down you came screaming his name as your pulled on his hair. 

As you rode out your orgasm, on his tongue, you felt yourself being stretched as he slipped two fingers in you. It made you gasp and you tugged at his hair as he continued his assault on your clit with his mouth while his fingers curled inside you. 

It didn’t take him long for him to hit your g-spot and he continued with that spot. You could feel the coil tightening again as you moved against his hand and his mouth, trying to find some additional stimulation. 

A surprised yelp escaped you when you felt him lift your leg over his shoulder, and stood up. Your back scraped against the tree slightly at the movement but combined with the way his fingers moved it was more pleasurable than painful. His fingers found a new angle and he hit something in you you didn’t even know existed as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples

“Nggghh, fuck! Right there Stiles,” you begged him as you reached down and into his pants.

Trying to reach his cock, you were stopped when he gripped your wrist and growled at you, “Not yet darling. I’ll be in you soon enough, filling you up nice and full.”

His words pulled another orgasm from you and as you clamped down around him, he pulled his hands from you, replacing his hands with his thick cock.  You heard him groan into your shoulder as you continued to flutter around him.

He pulled your arms so that they were wrapped around his neck and you hooked your free leg over his waist. Giving you no time to adjust, it isn’t long before Stiles is pounding into you. 

“God baby, you’re so fucking tight,” he growls as he fucks  you through the remainder of your orgasm. 

In the back of your head, there’s a worry that he may drop you- after all this is Stiles Stilinski- but you aren’t really able to focus on that particular thought as he’s ramming into you so hard you feel another orgasm beginning to crest.

Doing your best to meet him thrust for thrust, you try to move against him in this position and while he’s done most of the work today you cannot deny that you have never felt so much. 

As he continued to bounce you on his cock you found yourself about to let go again. Squeezing around him, whimpering at the onslaught of sensations it isn’t long before you feel him cumming.

It pulls you over the edge, with him, one more time as you scream his name- only for it to echo through the preserve. 

He leaned into you and you could feel his breath heavy as you, also, tried to catch your breath. Stiles stayed buried within you as the two of you came down from the high of your respective orgasms. 

Chuckling softly, you looked over at him and leaned in to kiss him softly. Just a few, light kisses because you knew if either of you deepened the kiss, it would be another round. 

As you kissed him, you felt the loss of him and groaned at the loss of him. His hands had come down to hold your ass and you were able to loosen the hold you had on his waist. 

The two of you just basked in each other for a few minutes before your peaceful bliss was interrupted by his phone going off… It was Scott’s ringtone.

-

Masterlist || Teen Wolf Masterlist

-

taglist:  @stiles-o-dylan24 @nicole-lynne  @lucifersnipnips @all-will-be-well-love @n0rdicstar @mummybear Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is the property of lettersofwrittencollective . Associated characters belong to MTV and are being borrowed for this work, all OC’s are the property of lettersofwrittencollective. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

Posted 8 October 2019

[freyjawriter24]

Advent Omens: Pine

This is for the Day 11 prompt of @drawlight‘s advent prompt list! (Again, apologies for being so far behind and for now posting these out of order.) Enjoy!

-----

It hadn’t snowed yet, but the cold air was beginning to settle on the trees, clinging to any remaining leaves as frost in the morning, making their bark cool and damp to the touch throughout the day. The seasonal trees had already turned skeletal as winter crept in, but the pines were as green as ever, preparing for snowfall and sheltering the occasional people to pass below.

“Why didn’t you take a horse, my dear?”

“Ugh. Painful things, horses. Couldn’t be bothered with it. Rather walk.”

These two in particular were the only ones the trees had seen in days. They’d bumped into each other in the middle of a large forest, on their way to fulfil their respective miracles, and rather fortuitously were now heading in the same direction. The pines watched, knowing kin when they saw them.

“Wait, why didn’t you?”

“Sorry?” Aziraphale’s thoughts had apparently already wandered, and he looked at Crowley with confusion.

“Take a horse,” Crowley reminded him. “Why didn’t you?”

“Oh.” Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, looking like he was weighing up the pros and cons of telling the demon anything. “I, er... I did.”

“What do you mean, you did?” Crowley looked around them, as if expecting a horse to suddenly materialise from among the pine trees. “Where is it, then?”

“Um, I... I got mugged.”

“You got mugged,” Crowley said flatly. There was no hint of a question, but he was asking all the same.

“Yes, well...” Aziraphale trailed off. The demon tried not to stare out the corner of his eyes, and they walked on in silence for a while as the angel twisted his hands in front of him, trying to figure out the best way to explain what had happened.

Crowley waited patiently for him to speak. He knew it couldn’t have been bad – there wasn’t all that much humans could really do to a celestial being anyway, especially not with miracles easily to hand, and the angel clearly hadn’t been discorporated, or even particularly roughed up, from the look of it. But all the same, Aziraphale’s silence said that something had happened. And he was without a horse, so...

“He was really quite a nice young man, really,” Aziraphale said finally. “And it was his first time attempting something of that sort – which I suppose was why he was trying it on someone on a horse, as if that was a sensible way to go about it, that was inexperience you see – so I realised it was actually a real opportunity to do some good –”

“Wait wait wait wait wait,” Crowley said, touching the angel’s arm to both stop him and turn him to face him. “You’re saying he failed to mug you?”

“Well, ah, quite.” Aziraphale looked sheepish. “I told him becoming a bandit was a rather dangerous and sinful pastime, and that he would be much better off making the most of a kind stranger’s offer and getting himself set up somewhere with a proper job. Become a smith’s apprentice or a farmer, that sort of thing.”

Crowley stared at the angel in front of him. “What?”

Aziraphale sighed in a slightly irritated way, eyes flicking between the demon’s yellow gaze and the safety of the needle-strewn floor. “I gave him my horse, alright? He was such a dreadful mess at the whole thing, and I just thought – well, I thought if he had a horse to sell and maybe some small change for a room for the night, and he did look rather thin, so I gave him my food too...”

The demon was just staring, open-mouthed. Words ricocheted around the inside of his skull, a memory playing over and over and over again.

I gave it away!

You what?!

“You...” Crowley stuttered through a series of unintelligible sounds before finding his words again. “You gave your horse away?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said wretchedly, wringing his hands even more. “Oh dear, yes I did. Was that a silly thing to do? He’ll probably become a bandit anyway, and now I’ve gone and given him a horse to do it on, oh dear.”

“No, no!” the demon said quickly. The angel looked up sharply. “I think...” I gave it away! “I think you did the right thing. It was kind, right? That’s all you need to be.”

And suddenly those worry lines vanished and that look – oh, Lord, that blinding look of pure joyful gratefulness was there instead. Crowley suddenly felt remarkably weak at the knees and blinked once to remind himself to focus.

“Oh, thank you, Crowley. That really – that does mean a lot, you know. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” the demon said, shifting slightly uncomfortably where he stood. After a second he made a small gesture, and the two of them continued on with their walk.

Privately, Crowley marvelled at the being beside him. He’s done it again. Just – click, simple as that, here’s my horse, here’s my money, here’s my food, here’s my flaming sword, now off you go and make a better life for yourself out in the world. He just... That’s just who he is.

And Damned Satan in Hell, I love him for it.

The demon looked sideways at Aziraphale. He was gazing vaguely ahead of them as they walked, but the slight crease between his eyebrows said he wasn’t really thinking about the road ahead – more likely he was planning how to word all this to Gabriel or one of the other archangels if he was questioned for it. Or he was thinking of whatever the business was that he had to take care of in the town up ahead. Either way, he wasn’t paying attention to Crowley. Which for the moment suited the demon just fine.

And so the angel and the demon walked along, loosely together. Occasionally one would glance up at the other to watch them – Crowley mostly, sneaking looks every few steps, looking away hurriedly whenever the angel’s eyes met his. But when the demon looked over and found Aziraphale already staring back, the angel simply smiled and sent Crowley’s useless, unnecessary heart into overtime inside his chest.

After about another twenty minutes of walking, the forest began to become more densely packed, the trunks of the pine trees clumped more closely together. Crowley used it as an excuse to walk a little closer beside Aziraphale than he had been, still stealing glances at the wonder that was this being that was far too good for Heaven.

This was still early days. The Arrangement hadn’t yet been put in place, but it was only one drunken night away from being agreed to. They had yet to regularly meet and update one another on world events, but their whenever they happened to find each other the conversation was friendly, interested, enjoyable. Too much was still to happen to draw them together, but there was already something beneath it all – something barely named on one side, and firmly ignored and buried on the other. And so they wandered on towards their joint destination, pining among pines, waiting for the first snowfall of the season.

After another five minutes, Crowley subtly snaked his hand into his bag. There was some food in there – which he had taken to carrying around for entirely un-Aziraphale-related reasons – and if the angel had given his own snacks away, well then...

Ah, there we are. His fingers closed around something round, and a small voice in the back of Crowley’s mind – the part that wasn’t wholly focused on attempting to make Aziraphale smile – laughed.

“Here, angel. Fancy a snack?” Crowley held out the fruit, an innocent expression on his face.

“Oh, really? Thank you, Crowley, that’s –” Aziraphale froze for a second, eyes slightly widened, hand hovering over the apple.

Then he took it anyway. “That’s so lovely of you, Crowley, thank you,” he said, expression soft in genuine pleasure, all trace of uncertainty gone. He took a bite, teeth making a satisfying crunch into the juicy flesh, eyes closed in enjoyment.

Then the angel’s pale blue eyes darted back up to meet Crowley’s sulphur ones, and Aziraphale gave a sly grin. “I couldn’t possibly eat it all, though. We should share it.”

The demon looked at the apple, a single bite taken out of it, now being offered back to him. His gaze flicked back to the angel holding out the fruit, and he saw a flash of something there – something daring him, something laughing.

Crowley took the fruit, and took a bite right next to where the angel had. He chewed and swallowed, never breaking eye contact.

Then the pair of them burst out laughing.

“You snake!”

“You took it!”

“So did you!”

“...Fair enough.”

And so they passed the rest of the walk in jovial conversation, sharing Crowley’s carefully curated selection of food, updating and reminiscing, joking and laughing together. The pine trees smiled to themselves, or would have if they could, and the celestial beings continued through and out of the forest, to their own blessings and temptations.

And if that night there was wine to be had, and further laughter and further discussion and further debate, and finally an agreement reached, an Arrangement formed – well, it was all for the best in the end.

[espoirmerveilleux]

You’d think I would’ve learned by now

I’m going to be good. Sensible. Post this and then put the laptop away, the phone on the charger for the night and go watch football and not worry. So she says. And if you believe that I’ve got a lovely piece of oceanfront property in South Dakota, but it comes at a price.

Anyroad, I haven’t exactly got an update yet, but I’ve got a lot, and a big chunk of it from today alone. I’m happy with it, by and large. So I’m being foolish once again and sharing the newest bit (which I don’t think I’ll edit much in the end).

Right. So eventually this will be a part of the next chapter of Look After You. Which is taking on a life of it’s own and I’m kind of just along for the ride.

If you’re interested, you can read more below the cut.

He is gasping. “Isobel. Fuck, baby.” Like he’s every bit as much in disbelief as she. 

“Yes,” she agrees softly, finding her voice. It’s husky now; she’s given it quite a workout. She laughs at that, at the realisation that it’s just like it is when he’s there beside her, and she feels so good now, like everything is right with the universe. “Oh, my darling man, I love you!”

“And I love you. And whatever that was …” His voice is full and gravelly; she can hear sleep closing in on him. She loves him in these moments; there’s a bald sort of intimacy that comes after sex and just before sleep and she’d be hard pressed to quantify it, except to say that it’s pure. There’s a stillness of heart and a clear certainty that this is right; they are right. They are for each other. 

“We’ll have to do that again,” she tells him, “only I can’t figure how, seeing as you belong to me for good come Friday.”

“Oi,” he rumbles, “you’re wrong you know.” He allows it to sit there between them, and she could swear he can see her ire rising because he comes back with, “I’ve been yours for years now. You just needed to come to it in your own time,” at just the right juncture. 

She chuckles, hums her agreement. “I suppose you could always ring me when you’re out mowing the lawn. Start things going on the phone and then finish inside. Best of both worlds.”

“That turns you on, does it: axle grease on my shirt and bits of grass in my hair?” The grin he wears is audible and her heart does a funny little hiccup. 

She is caught on the back foot by the effervescent joy he radiates through the telephone line; she makes him happy. It’s still such a novel thought, and a part of her hopes that the wonderment will linger indefinitely. 

“As a matter of fact, yes, it does rather. As does finishing. With you inside …” She laughs in oversensitised agreement when he moans softly. “Better watch out or you’ll get me going again!”

“If that’s what you want, I'm happy to oblige, but I reckon I need a good few hours of sleep before a repeat performance.” He is slurring words now, clearly hitting a wall, and she wonders whether he’ll clean up first or simply collapse where he lies. 

“I’m so glad we played tonight, love. I took a big risk—“

“Tell me you weren’t thinking I’d be cross—“

“No; not cross, exactly, just … Look, we’re still new enough at this; there wasn’t a precedent. I suppose I thought perhaps you’d find me overly eager, or … I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter now because it went well and—“

“Isobel?” he interrupts. “Beauty, I say this … in the kindest way I know how … Do shut up.”

“I— Okay— I don’t—“ Whatever she thought he might say, that wasn’t it. 

“That was the single most erotic experience of my entire life. Don’t you dare go and try to qualify what you did. It was every fantasy I’ve ever had, all rolled into one, and you’d best be ready when I get home on Friday because, this quickly, I need you again. Alright?”

“What a hardship. However shall I bear it?”

“Are you ready, sweetheart? Because get ready—“ he tells her, but a yawn overtakes him, swallowing up the last few words. 

She laughs, full of joy and free of inhibition. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Major.”

“Oh, I’ll make a believer of ye.” He yawns again. “But now I’m for bed, and ye’d best be as well.”

She can see him stretched out amongst the covers, all loose-limbed and still bare, looking good enough to eat and warm and wonderful to lie with. The weight of distance rushes in, settles heavy on her heart. “I am, I— I will, soon. Just going to put the lad out, make sure we’re locked up. The trouble is, your pillow doesn’t hold me, or wake me up with a coffee and a kiss. Or wake me for other reasons entirely.”

“What can I do for you? Ring you in the morning?” He is so sincere; she can see the look in his eyes that accompanies his words. 

She swallows hard round the lump in her throat. “Only if it fits into your schedule. You know I’m alright. I’ll be fine.”

“Quite right; I do know. But you don’t sound convinced.”

“No, no; I’ll be brilliant. Elsie’s here and as soon as the tradesmen go we’ve plans to go shopping.  And I’ll cook something splendid in our brand new kitchen, and we’ll get squiffy together and it’ll be great fun. Alright?”

“There’s my girl,” he agrees. 

“ … But you’ll be on my mind the entire time, and I’ll be wondering what you’re doing whilst I’m getting breakfast, and trying on things I intend to buy for your enjoyment, and getting drunk and stupid.”

“That’s exactly as it’s meant to be, then. You know I’ll be waking up, wondering why you’re not there, soft and warm beside me, all sexy, sleepy eyes. And there’ll be a cold shower that’ll just succeed at taking the edge off, and after I’m through bitching about traffic and substandard coffee I’ll miss you beside me in theatre. Those looks you give that reassure me I’m still on my game; even the ones that say I’m making a hash of it and I’d best step aside. And when it’s all over and you’re not there to work the kinks out of my shoulders, or to lie on the couch with your head on my chest whilst the rugby’s on. You think it’s just you feeling out of sorts but it’s not, love. I’m only half myself when you’re not around.”

She’s silent for a moment, long enough that he calls her name. “Oh, hell, Richard. I hadn’t cried since early morning, and now that’s right out. I don’t deserve you, wonderful man.”

“That son of yours would beg to differ.”

He is referring, of course, to the conversation he had with Matthew in the pub as he was psyching himself up to propose to Isobel. The one during which Matthew told Richard that his mother was as happy with him in her life as she’d been with Matthew’s father. He’d also asserted that, between Isobel’s hand-wringing over whether he’d ever get round to asking, and Richard’s doubting that she’d ever accept him, they absolutely deserved one another. 

“Best not challenge him on that score then, eh? Right you are.” A conversational pause, and then, “You’re shattered, darling. I hear it in your voice. You’re a love to keep chatting to me, but I shan’t keep you any longer.”

“No, no; do stay on the line with me, please. I can’t feel you beside me, but you sound as if you’re right here. You haven’t got to say anything if you don’t want. Just listening to you breathe is lovely. Unless you think me exceedingly soppy, that is …”

“Hush, my love. There’s nothing I’d rather do. Now, are you comfortable? Not going to sleep on the wet spot, are you?”

He barks a laugh. “Nope. That’s what my t-shirt is for.”

“Ah. Very good.” She grins. “Alright, so we’ve just made love and you’re all … like you get—“

“Oh? And how’s that?”

“No more talking, pet. You’re all … lax and tousled. Sexy. Warm. Vulnerable. And you’re too sensitive, so you’ve turned on your side, facing away. But you fuss at me about wanting me close—“

“I do not fuss,” he objects. 

“I said, ‘hush.’ And you do so fuss, but luckily for you I find it endearing, so I press up against your back—“

“Still naked, I hope—“

“Oi. Whose story is this? I’m not the one has to be up for work in six hours. Now shall I continue, or what?”

“I’m a lovely man, remember. It’s what you said. And wonderful.” When she says nothing, he adds, “And I’m shutting up now.”

“Right. Yes, fine, I’m still naked, and I’m pressed up against your back, kissing the freckles on your shoulder blade. Running my fingers through your hair, across your forehead. Telling you all the things nobody else knows: that I love you, our life together. Who I am now that you’re with me, how you see the world.” She is rambling, but it’s just what she does when he’s there in her arms, both of them giddy with exhaustion. So she closes her eyes, breathing deep and becoming the story she’s telling. 

“I love the sound of your breath and the silk of your hair between my fingers, the way your heart beats through your back and into my chest. Like we’re one being. I love the way your brow smoothens out as you drop off to sleep, the way you breathe deeper, more freely. I love knowing that you trust me enough to let me hold you, your body and your heart, all the secrets you’ve shared with me. Just me. I’m so thankful that you’ve opened yourself up to me: your heart and your arms, your bed. Your life, present and future. I’m grateful to be where you are, darling man. I’ll always be yours. Your lover; your friend. Anything; everything that you need me to be.”

“I love you, Isobel,” she hears him breathe, barely conscious. 

“I know, husband mine. Sleep now. I’m with you. I am. And I love you so. With all I have and all that I am, I love you.”

[geminimoonbeamx]

Of All The Things Unsaid

A/N: Lately my life has been emotionally taxing af and I needed to project it somewhere. I’ve never written anything quiet like this- I hope you guys get some enjoyment out of it? Side note- listen to Goodbye by Apparat if you really want to hurt. 

Rating: Pretty M- heavy cursing, sexual situations, drug use and character death. All around heartbreak.

Summary: You loved him, and he loved you. That’s the tragedy of it all, isn’t it? A Bucky x Plus Size Reader one-shot

You and Bucky had a routine.

One that was easily fallen into- that you'd stuck to for months. Seven months and two weeks, give or take, to be exact...christ. Had it really been over  half a year since that fateful night in the thirty first floor commons? The one where he had been plagued by old demons, and you by new ones and the electric attraction that had always fizzed between the two of you, the one that you’d both shyly ignored and toyed with, had finally come to a head that night.

Both of you need a crutch. Something tangible that could quiet the dark thoughts that we’re pitt like in your head. You could keep them at bay during the day time- but there, in the midnight haze it was harder. 

And you’d found it, something to quiet your head, that chilly night in December.

In his arms, your back pressed against his chest as the two of you had turned your friendly cuddling on the expensive couch, into slow, deep dry humping. The kind where he had been panting in your ear hot and present and so real and you’d let out sweet little hums as you pressed your ass into his crotch, like you’d been wanting to for so long.

When he finally kissed you, his big hand cradling your jaw as he turned your head and sealed his lips over yours, you should have known you we’re way in over your head.

You thought you’d felt good before- thought you’d felt pleasure and attraction and all that good stuff- but kissing Bucky felt euphoric on a level that was, and is, still hard to comprehend. The way his lips felt, soft and firm and scratchy because of his close cut beard. Wet and warm and searching.

After that night, after the two of you had made each other come so many times that there was no room in your lust ridden heads for darkness-

The routine had started.

It only happens twice a month, on good months usually. Sometimes, rare times, its an opposite case and the two of you fuck every day for a week.

But it always goes a little something like this:

The two of you act normal around each other in public- like you haven't tasted every part of each other there is to taste; spit and come and the breath from each others lungs,

and the team is none less the wiser. For the most part- you do however work with the top agents, assassins and superheros in the world. A couple of people have figured out. Everyone keeps their respected space though, which is appreciated..

It’s always you asking for it.

By text, or call. By small touches and longing glances. You’d figured that it was because he still wasn't the best at asking for what he wanted, at first. That maybe it was just him not being the boldest crayon in the box.

But everyday he seemed to bloom brighter- Steve frequently telling him stories about the “old days”, about Bucky in his prime and how much of himself he had gotten back. That swagger- he’d never lose it. That magnetism, that charm that lied just beneath the surface. Well it wasn't so hidden anymore.

He smiled. Cracked jokes. Was a stark contrast to the man that you’d first met, all those years ago in an airport in Berlin.

And yet, for some reason, he continued to keep you at arms length. Sometimes farther then that actually.

He made you feel...so many things. Overwhelming things. For one, no man had ever put the effort into your body and making you feel good. Bucky would wring three, sometimes four orgasms out of you before he even fucked you some nights. Would make you scream and writhe and beg and then quiet you, by giving you even more.

It was more then the sex, too. It was the tenderness. It was the way he’d drag his hands, and his mouth across every part of you. All the parts you’d kept hidden. Jiggly parts, sagging, marked. Scars and stretch marks, Bucky didn't mind. He liked all of you. He wanted all of you, on those nights.

Worshiped every part of you.

And you did the same. All the ugly he saw about himself, you saw none of it. He was all hard muscle and sinew covered in soft skin and soft hair. Adonis, Apollo, Zeus himself. A god, your god.

Being on your knees for him, just felt so right.

At first.

But then…

Well there’s only so much one’s pride can take. Especially someone like you, who had always been so, so prideful. Out of the seven deadlies, that one had always gotten you into the most trouble.

It wasn't just that you always had to reach out first; the multiple calls and texts that it took to get through to him sometimes. Getting left on seen could make anyone itch, irritated.

But it was the fact that he’d open up to you, just tiny fragments and little bits at a time, and then close all the way up. Ziplock style. Airtight and unyielding

In the darkness of your room, or his; in soft sheets warmed by each other’s body heat you cracked open like an egg for him. Spilled your guts, yellow yolk of your soul to him as he massaged your scalp, his fingers tangling in your hair. Pressed kisses that seared into your skin.

He listened to you, talked to you. Laughed with you. Fucked you- hard and mercilessly and then gently like you were the most important thing, the most fragile, beautiful thing.

The intimacy that had built between the two of you was overwhelming and one day it slapped you in the face, knocked the breath out of your lungs that you we’re very, very much in love with him.

And Bucky? Well you could tell that those feelings we aren't reciprocated.

He didn't want this, whatever this was, to exist outside of the moments where it was hidden in the cover of starry nights and locked rooms.

It wasn't like you'd never experienced this before, because you had. Many a time. It came with the territory of being a plus sized woman in a world we’re European beauty standards didn't quite cover you.

Bucky wasn't embarrassed of you. You strongly believed that...at first.

He just wasn't ready for any kind of relationship. Not yet. Maybe later on…

But seven months later and you we’re starting to doubt what his intentions we’re.

It was little things:

The pats on the shoulder he gave you in front of the team.

The way him and that agent- the SHIELD one who was nice enough but looked at him like a piece of steak- seemed to be so chummy.

The way he ardently argued that he didn't want to go do things in the daylight; he was tired. Beat from missions. Hated people. Just wanted to be with you, or so he said. 

--

The beginning of the end came one night. After a long intense session of Bucky pounding you into the mattress, of his grinding hips and bruising lips-

“How was therapy today?” You questioned innocently as he laid his head on your chest. You played with the damp, sweat dried, tendrils of his hair idly.

“It was okay” Was all the answer you got.

“Yeah? How is it going with her? I was talking to Dr. Tessa(your own therapist) and she said that she was one of the best?” You press on. You shouldn't have.

Bucky looks up at you, resting his chin on your soft breast “I miss the ones in Wakanda, but she’s fine I guess. I just need to get to know her a little better before I can say for sure, you know? It’s not...easy...for me to talk about som’a the shit in my head”

Yeah you did know. You play with his hair a little more, as he stares at you and waits.

“You know you can talk to me, always. About anything, right?” you say, forcing yourself to look into his storm blue eyes. He blinks, long. And then looks away.

“I know. But trust me when I say you don't want that, Y/N” He announces after a moment and starts to pull himself from your breast, from you. From this conversation.

“I don't really think you know what I want” You reply strongly, holding on to him. Trying to keep him close.

It doesn't work. He’s stronger than you, in more ways than one.

The two of you lay there on your backs, for longer then a moment. Staring at the ceiling.

You don't know why you feel like crying, but this feels like all those thoughts that you’d had bubbling up- you knew he didn't want more and here you we’re, pushing anyway. He must be getting annoyed. Must be sick of the constant texts. Of you buzzing around him-

“What do you want?” His deep, velvet voice rings out in the dark room and you force yourself to stay calm. With his hearing, he’d pick up if your breathing changed. If you started sobbing.

Because you cant tell him- can't stand the idea of his rejection.

“I just want you to be able to trust me like I trust you” You whisper back and he wiggles closer so that your shoulders touch.

“I do trust you” He chuckles and you're happy he keeps it so damn dark in this room. If you guys we’re in yours there would be candles everywhere. He’d see your face and the expression on it.

“Then what happened on the mission? You came back...in pretty bad shape”

“It went south- I was able to get it right again. What happened in between isn't really any of your concern, baby doll” you wonder if he means to sound so? Void.

“But I am concerned...if you wanted to talk about it, about any of it-”

“I dont Y/N. Especially not tonight, okay?”

Ouch.

But you guess it was warranted. You we’re trying to make him do things he didn't want to. Trying to make him feel things he didn't.

You had no right.

“Okay, I understand. Um, sorry. I can go” You start as you sit up.

Where had he thrown your shirt?  You’re scrambling, trying to locate your clothes in the dark while pulling the sheet to your chest because it doesn't feel right to be naked around him anymore “I’ll go. I just”

“No, you dont have to” Bucky protests, as he sits up too,

and reaches for you  

You avoid his grabby hands and slide out of his bed. Hah, there's your shirt, tossed haphazardly on his night stand.

“Really, Bucky it’s okay” You insist, feeling stupid as you flail around in the dark, hunting for your pajama bottoms. Hating yourself and this situation. Why? Had you let it get this far.

“Doll, Y/N. Stop” He schooches to the end of the bed and grabs your small, doughy hand in his large one. You look down at him, can make out the silhouette of him staring up at you.

“Stay” is all he has to say.

And you should go. Protect what's left of your heart and run.

But you crawl back into the circle of his arms.

You don't feel much better as you drift to sleep. But you know he does, as he nuzzles his nose in your hair. Makes that almost purring sound he does when he’s truly content.

And you realize...you’ve traded your happiness for his.

Would move heaven and earth to see this man that had been through so much pain smile. Even if it hurt you. 

--

Days later- the nail is driven into the coffin when you happen to stumble upon a set of assassins in a conference room.

That sounds unlikely right? Like the universe would have to set it up for that to even happen?

You’d been running an errand for Pepper-  not minding because to you she was the queen of the universe and you liked hanging out with her, made you feel normal even though you’re literally the farthest from, when you stopped in your tracks.

The hallway outside the cracked conference room isn’t empty, assistants and Stark industry employees with clearance to this level  walk freely.

You think that’s how you manage to spy on the spy’s.

They speak in broken Russian, Bucky and Natasha.

He’s sat on one of the swivel chairs and she’s perched on the table.

You admit, you don’t hear much, as you stand by the door, just out of sight. Lurking in the shadows doesn’t feel as cool as it looks in movies.

“I don’t know, Natalia. It’s just- I’m overwhelmed a little bit by it. By her” Bucky admits, jaw clenching for a moment. You can only see the back of his head really but you can imagine he doesn’t look to pleasant.

“Then you need to tell her. She deserves to know” Natasha argues, soft and firm in that way that only she can pull of.

Overwhelmed? Who is She? Are you she? Is she you?

“She doesn’t deserve it- I- I don’t want to mess her up over it” Bucky goes on but Natasha cuts him off.

“So just being distant is your game plan? What? Are you just going to be an ass until she gets the point? You and Y/N both deserve better then that” and then she speaks in Russian, it sounds like a curse. She punctuates it with a shake of her head.

Your heart is pounding. You’re surprised he can’t hear it. It’s making you dizzy, it feels like it’s going to jump out of your chest- she said your name. It is you they’re talking about.

You should leave. Why are your feet suddenly cemented to the ground?

They speak in Russian some more and you’re really trying to grasp it some of it so you can look it up on google translate.

“I just need space to figure it out ? You’re not making it any better! I already feel like shit about everything, okay?” Bucky snaps in English and ice water floods your veins.

You knew it. You had overwhelmed him. He didn’t know how to let you down easy. He’s telling Natasha as much and you’ve never felt so embarrassed, shamed in your life.

You cling to the thin tablet full of documents Pepper had sent you away with, cling until your fingers ache and force yourself to walk away.

You don’t want to hear anymore. Think you’ll literally be sick if you do.

You’re halfway down the hallway, all but running away from the scene you’d stumbled on. You don’t have super soldier hearing, so you don’t hear the rest of the conversation-

“She deserves more than me. It doesn’t matter that I love- that I feel how I feel about her. She’s- she’s fucking sunshine. And I’m-“ Bucky struggled to get out. He feels so much for you, it’s hard to put it in words.

“A good man?” Natasha interjects with a raised brow. Daring him to deny it.

“Tainting her” Bucky corrects her. And he’s wrong, so wrong but he thinks he’s right and he’s so stubborn and Natasha knows not even she will get him to budge.

“If you don’t tell her how you feel, you’re going to lose her. You ready to deal with that, soldat?”

And Bucky's mouth gets dry at the thought.

What he doesn’t realize, in that moment, is he already has. 

--

It starts off with you being more distant towards him then you ever had. You keep a wide berth, never in the same space as him unless forced. Team meetings and meals/ but even then you are all but running away from him.

You used to text him all of the time- memes, asking him about his day. Little things that made him glow bright.

Not anymore- there’s radio silence from you now. He dims a little darker every day that he receives nothing from you.

Weeks go by. You drift further from him and it’s like his heart is unraveling in his hands. He can’t manage to pull on a string that will pull you back to him- when he tries it just seems to unravel further.

He texts. Multiple times. An embarrassing amount of times.

You don’t even read them. Don’t even open them.

He goes out of his way to aim conversations at you when you are around- and you avoid it. The awkwardness handing heavy around you as you avoid talking to him directly.

He wants to see you. He misses you. Wants you. Your skin and your laughter and your eyes- the way they used to be soft and accepting for him always.

What happened? Had you finally realized just how fucked up he was? Finally come to the conclusion that you needed to cut it off.

He hasn’t felt like this since before the war. He remembers the way heartbreak tastes, acidic and at the back of his throat.

Had it ever burnt this bad, though? Cut this deep?

He hates everything, the pain causing him to dig up old wounds.

He hates Hydra and what they did to him. He hates that he’s not dead, that it would take a hell of a lot to kill him now.

He hates that it takes Asgardian mead to get him drunk and Thor seems to be out of it at the moment and it takes three hundred years to brew.

He hates that Steve and Natasha and Sam seem to pick up on his sour mood and won’t leave him the fuck alone. He hates that Natasha had him thinking for even a moment that you loved him back.

He can’t hate you though. It would probably be easier than loving you, but Bucky can’t do anything but love you. It’s like he was built to love you- to adore you with every fiber of his being.

He’s tainted goods. Some days he feels like he’s redeemed himself- or at least is on that road. And others he feels the blood on his hands threaten to drown him.

He wasn’t kidding when he said you were sunshine - that you’d come into his life and brightened it in a way that he couldn’t have expected. That he now realized he didn’t deserve.

Bucky takes every mission he can. Anything to run away from the pain of you not loving him back. 

--

Three months later; Tony Stark decides to have a party. It’s not a rare occurrence by any means. This ones a luncheon for the reinstatement of SHIELD.

It’s a controversial topic and not everyone is on board, but the decor is beautiful and the catering is superb.

You’d forced yourself into your old routines- ones that didn’t involve Bucky. Kickboxing, yoga. Gotten your sleep schedule back to where it was- at least when you weren’t on missions. Flew back home whenever you could to see your family. Spent time with your friends *couch, Wanda*

You were still fucking devastated, but you were maintaining.

No one would ever know that you were heart broken beyond repair; not with the pretty, black and long sleeved off the shoulder pencil dress you wore. Not with how perfectly sculpted and highlighted your face was- your hair shiny and styled.

You charm with the best of them; mingling with the three hundred or so SHIELD agents, Stark employees and congress people.

If there’s one thing you’d worked hard to perfect in your time as an Avenger- it was your public persona. Your game face. It’s why you always made sure to look presentable, all caked up and girly. Being fat, you already had to try 10x harder than you would, but also being enhanced? A mutant? A previously labeled terrorist? Oh yeah, the game face was a must.

It breaks when you see Bucky at the bar, laughing with that agent. The pretty red headed one who looked at him like the whole meal he was; petite and tight all over, you’d be lying to yourself and also being the world's biggest hater to deny her beauty.

He looked...like he was having a good time. Laughing with her and Sam and Steve. Looked right next to her.

He had a thing for redheads, any how, right? Steve had mentioned one from the forties and him and Natasha…

Maybe you’d never been his type. That would make it all make sense.

You excused yourself from the conversation.

“Are you okay?” Wanda can feel you bubbling and you smile and nod, like you always do, but she knows you feel like you’re dying.

She can feel it, too.

“I just- um- I’m going to go powder my nose, or something”

Powdering your nose equals you doing a line of coke in a private bathroom. Trying to recenter yourself enough to go on with the rest of the lunch.

You knew it would help, it always did. Had been getting you through some nasty shit as of late.

So you suck up those fine white lines, off of one of your credit cards and let them turn the chaos in your head to a dull buzz. The drip tastes foul, but feels good, as good as you’re going to get.

You make sure your nose is clean, that your hair is fluffed and your lipstick is re applied. No evidence of what had happened.

You don’t need to be labeled the coke head superhero. You doubt that will do for the teams image.

Running into Bucky in hallway on your way back- well considering your life and luck, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

Hell, there were literal hundreds of hallways in this building- and yet there he was.

In his form fitting charcoal trousers and his black button down. With his hair pulled back into low bun. His sharp jaw on display.

You miss kissing it. Missed the way it felt beneath your lips.

“Hey…” you trail off. Feeling alien and high and anxious.

He keeps his eyes trained downwards at you, like he can’t look away and internally you squirm.

“Hi- it’s um, good to see you” He gruffs, sounding equally as awkward as you feel “I- you haven’t been around much lately”

“Yeah, I guess not”

He bites the inside of his cheek.

“I hope you’re doing alright” is all he can think to say, out of all the things in his head, that’s what he chooses.

And you can’t help it. You snort. At the audacity.

After all he’d put you through, for him to say that? God, why is your life like this?

“I’m fine, Bucky, if you’d excuse me” you try to walk around him and it’s like muscle memory, like he doesn’t even have control of himself.

His blood and bone hand reaches out and grabs your wrist, halting you.

Your stomach bubbles with emotion.

“I-I miss you” Bucky whispers. He’s so close you can feel that heat you’d longed for radiating from his body. You can smell him. Taste him on the back of your tongue…

“That’s so not fair” you protest, looking him in the eye as you say it. For the first time, mustering up your courage and saying your piece “You don’t get to say that to me- not after I literally begged you- you pushed me away, Bucky”

“I know”

“You did this to me. Fuck” your voice is shaky and his eyes are pained.

“I know, doll baby, I’m so sorry. If we could just, if you could just let me-“ You hate that you want to cave. That seeing him this hurt destroys you.

You can’t let him finish. You’ll want to do what he says, you’ll want to make him happy again.

And you can’t trade your happiness for his anymore.

“No, I can’t. I just can’t, so please let me go. I have to go” you tug your wrist out of his grip and he lets you. His own hand, balled into a fist slapping back down to his thigh as he watches you walk as fast as your heels will carry you down the hallway.

Away from him.

His face feels numb as the tears rim in his eyes.

Everything in his body tells him to chase you- but you’d asked him to let you go and although it feels wrong, and he hates it, he’ll do as you asked. 

--

It was supposed to be a routine mission. Not exactly an in and out, taking down a Hydra cell in Beirut.

You, Steve, Bucky, Natasha and Tony were supposed to be more than enough. Supposed to be, being the key word.

Hydra was a lot of things, never to be underestimated. And you guys hadn’t. All the recon, didn’t prepare you for the fact that they had been planning on you guys finding them.

There were extra men. It was a fire fight- with Tony in the sky and Steve and Bucky literally ripping men limb from limb in an attempt to even the ante-

You hold your own, your training coming in handy.

But it all happens so fast.

Youre caught mid teleport.

You feel a crushing weight in your chest. You just think you’d just been punched, hard. It’s just pressure, really, until the man in tax gear pulls the large knife from your flesh.

Blood, your blood dripping coating and dripping from the blade that had just been embedded in you,

Cold shock runs through you and your ears ring so loud you can’t hear anything over them. He goes to plunge it back, but your eyes snap closed and you use all of your energy to teleport from his arms.

You don’t get far. Falling in a heap at his feet, but it gives you enough time to watch the bullet pierce his head from behind. A bullet in his forehead oozing before he drops, dead weight beside you.

Youre gasping. Both hands clutching at your chest that you almost can’t feel. It doesn’t hurt, and that scares you more.

No pain. That’s bad right?

No pain, but your hands are slippery wet and when you look at them, coated in crimson.

No pain but you can’t catch your breath. Can’t take a breath. Are gasping around the hole inside you.

Then there’s black pant clad legs infront of you, heavy combat boots familiar, before you’re laid on your back, a hand coming to cradle the back of your head, tilting it off or her cold, cement floor.

Then, you’re looking up at Bucky who has yanked off his eye mask and who is staring down at you, his blue eyes wide. Scared, more fear then you’ve ever seen in them

His pink lips moving. He’s saying something but your ears are ringing so loudly still.

“B-Bucky” you gasp. Really- it comes out as more of a gurgle. Fear runs through you at the sound of it and you tremble.

“You’re okay, it’s okay, Y/N. Don’t talk- we have to keep pressure on the wound” he moves your hands so that his big one can hold the wound. Yours instantly reach to grip his, bloody fingers intertwining.

You’re leaking.

From your eyes and your mouth. From the hole. Tears and blood and soul exiting your body.

And all Bucky can do is watch. Is grasp you, try to keep pressure as he screams into his com that you need a medevac, that you’re hurt bad, that you need help bad.

He’s usually stony, calm. All his years in the army, and then in Hydra. He’s always calculated on missions.

How can he be calculated when you’re dying. When there’s nothing he can do. When sunlight is melting in his hands.

“I-“ it’s a gurgle again, bloody and frothy and your eyes unfocus. “B-b-b”

“Shh, baby, please don’t talk. It’s alright, you’re gonna be o-kay” he chokes on a sob because it’s a lie. You’re not. He knows the human body- he knows that where the knife had pierced you- he’d hit an artery.

You’re bleeding out, he knows it- you have minutes. Less than. And there’s nothing he can fucking do.

You don’t hurt, you want to tell him. It’s okay. You want to tell him.

I love you so much.

You’re so stupid for never telling him.

You try to open your mouth but it’s full- you can’t swallow and blood flows from the corners. Into your hair, across your face.

Instead you smile, and it’s bloody and morbid, and you squeeze his hand with both of yours. It’s weak and barley there but he can feel it. He squeezes back.

Squeezes long after you’ve gone limp and the spark, all that light and life and vibrance, leaves your eyes. Until Steve grabs his shoulder, forces him to let go of you. Of your corpse.

I love you, he thinks as he watches Tony, in his iron man suit, carry you away. You’re limp and stiff in his metal arms.

I love you.

Neither of you ever got the chance to tell each other.

And now you never will. 

@peacefulwriter88 @geekyweed @gifsbysimplysonia @prettybubblesintheair @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @lostinspace33 @4theluvofall @plumfondler @jaamesbbarnes @jalapenobarnes @sad-af1121 @thatawkwardtinyperson @brieannakeogh @paulxrudd @prettyyoungtragedy @whichwayisthebeach-seabass @shay-iamiam @kagome1414 @thejamesoldier @papi-chulo-bucky @spidey-babe-parker @rachelle-on-the-run

Aaaaaaand all I can say is I’m sorry? That I don’t know where this came from and I apologize for trauma? I love you guys?

Let me know what you thought of this one and we can all be sad together.

[progeny-of-the-fury]

Journey to the Twelve: Azeyma, the Warden

Log date: 1/1/18

OOC Note: The text in these logs are strictly for the reader’s enjoyment. Anyone using the knowledge displayed within this text without the participant’s knowledge risks the potential of blacklisting from future communication and roleplay. Please do not meta-game!

Tags: @truth-of-the-warden @pom-friend @notoriousmonsterhunter @ishgardianknightblogging

Dearest Warden, allow for me to confess unto thee my hardships. That you might console me of my greatest lies, and help bring clarity into my muddled life.

Hikari Inamoto takes Akito's hand to stand, then gathers up the material of her tunic to wring it out.

Adelise De'bayle turns back to Killian, spinning the man and leading him into the camp with her covering his backside.

Hikari Inamoto adjusts the brim of her hat to shield her eyes from the blazing sun. "Y...yee-haw..."

Lendroit Gatineaux: "What?"

Akito Saejima: ...What?

Adelise De'bayle smiles lightly toward the woman, shaking her head. "Let us get going."

Hikari Inamoto: "...It--uh...Dalmar told me to say it earlier." Hikari shrugs at Akito Saejima.

Adelise De'bayle and posse, approach the stone as evening begins to settle in, the young woman staring up toward the sky with a faint smile. "Good thing the stars are out. We will be able to see the Wardens heaven."

Killian Waltz shakes his head sharply, as if clearing it.

Akito Saejima: “The Burning Wall.”

Hikari Inamoto: "...It's kind of scary to look at, isn't it?"

Adelise De'bayle: "Killian. You are my Warden. Come closer," the young woman glances back toward the stone, then to the crystals behind it. "It has surreal sort of feeling. That evokes both a sense of fear and calm."

Hikari Inamoto: "The. Uh. The wall, I mean. Not the stone...of course."

Killian Waltz shakes his head again, making an uncertain sound as he steps forward.

Adelise De'bayle: "Is something wrong?"

Killian Waltz: "It--it's distracting..."

Hikari Inamoto takes off her hat and stares up at the sky.

Adelise De'bayle: "Huh... oh," she quickly glances back toward the crystals. "The aether here?"

Akito Saejima reached up to run a hand against the stone's face. "I have not made pilgrimages to any of the stones besides Rhalgr's own, and that was only at the urging of an elder. The Burning Wall makes for a nice training ground, however. The fauna that lurk within are quite formidable."

Jebe Qestir crossed his right arm over his stomach, letting the tips of his fingers tap along the hilt of the rapier that hung at his hip, watching very closely at what was going on.

Hikari Inamoto: "It's beautiful here, but, uh. But it also feels anxious."

Lendroit Gatineaux: "Fauna? What sort of things live in there?"

Killian Waltz shakes his head again in the same sharp motion, though not in response to Adelise. "Huh?"

Adelise De'bayle wraps and arm to Killians, tugging him along with her. "The crystals here are corruption from Bahamut. Back from the Calamity..."

Akito Saejima: “Creatures corrupted by the touch of the crystal. Massive cloudkin with feathers as hard as steel, for instance.”

Killian Waltz shakes his head again. "This is my stone? With all this? Where things are corrupted by aether?"

Hikari Inamoto holds out her hands to try to catch a wayward firefly.

Lendroit Gatineaux: "Hard as steel? Damn." He looks back to the massive crystal structure. "So, what, you need to bludgeon them - or slip a blade between the gaps in that armor?"

Akito Saejima: “I work with bludgeoning.”

Hikari Inamoto: "It's not--I mean, it's not actually yours, Killian. You aren't--aren't really Azeyma."

Akito Saejima: “Technically, none of the Twelve built the stones anyway. I imagine technically, the stone belongs to whomever owns this land.”

Adelise De'bayle: "Mm," Adelise nods, taking a hold of Killian's hand to pat at it. "In Eastern Thanalan. The Burning Wall. One of the few places where the scars of the Calamity still exist," she nods, "Azeyma. Keeper of the sun and goddess of inquiry. She commands fire and is the daughter of Althyk. Sister to Menphina. Often depicted as a noble woman holding a golden fan, She is represented as the radiant sun. She commands the heaven and hell of fire, along side Nald'Thal. Those welcomed to Her heaven are the fair, honest and philanthropic."

Hikari Inamoto: "But it. Uh..." She swallows. "...Dalamud...Garlemald...did this to more than just this place alone..." She trails off into mumbling, holding the caught firefly between her gloved hands.

Akito Saejima: “Scars of Dalamud's fall exist in many places. I have walked the bottom of a massive crater on the outskirts of Ishgard. The crystal is often too dangerous to properly remove, in many cases.”

Adelise De'bayle: "The stone of Azeyma was not always here. It was placed in different location after its previous was destroyed in the Calamity."

Killian Waltz: "Why...why here?"

Adelise De'bayle: "Perhaps because They represent truth. And this place shows a great deal of what came over Eorzea."

Hikari Inamoto closes her eyes.

Adelise De'bayle: "Lenny, Jebe. Come closer."

Jebe Qestir was hesitant but would, eventually, begin to make his way closer though not joining everyone else.

Killian Waltz sways a little where he stands, then shakes his head again.

Hikari Inamoto: "This is...this is one of the things that I have to work hard to help fix."

Akito Saejima: “...I do not think you will be able to do much to fix the Burning Wall, Hikari. The masses of crystal are exceedingly dangerous to try and remove.”

Hikari Inamoto: "I...I know that. Maybe not--maybe remove it. But I mean to...to help life exist after it."

Hikari Inamoto: "I came from people who were responsible for...this happening. I'm not them. I want to help for things to be better after the fact."

Adelise De'bayle: "New life came from the tragedy that befell here. Different, but still life," she shrug, gazing back up toward the sky. "The smaller, red stars. The constellations. That is the Heaven of Fire."

Akito Saejima: “Who you came from is a non-issue, Hikari.”

Adelise De'bayle frowns toward Hikari, her eyes narrowing. "I understand your feeling of responsibility, Hikari. Because of the blood that runs through you. You do not accept the nature where that blood comes from. You are not a Garlean."

Hikari Inamoto: "I...but I am. I'm as much Garlean as I am Doman. Just...just not Imperial."

Akito Saejima: “Garlean blood does not make you accountable for the sins of your sire.”

Adelise De'bayle gestures out a hand, "you are not the Garleans who did this. Right. An Imperial. You are not responsible for their actions. What actions you take to help make the world a better place, should be done because that is the right thing to do, not because you feel you are guilty of their crimes," she nods toward Akito. "As he says."

Killian Waltz steps forward somewhat unsteadily, past Adelise to place his free hand on the stone.

Jebe Qestir would listen quietly, though his gaze did tend to linger, as of now, a bit more on Hikari.

Hikari Inamoto: "It's not--not just for. Uh. For my sake. Someone I loved -was- Imperial. He played a part in this happening, as...as small as it was. It's...part of it is to redeem him, too."

Adelise De'bayle firms her face. "You will never be able to redeem what he did. You cannot save another from their sins, only they can try and save themselves."

Hikari Inamoto: "I don't think--I don't think he would have wanted all this." She gestures to the massive corrupt crystal ahead of them...He...he can't really. Anymore. But thinking that I, uh....that I can do something good in his honor...It makes me feel a little better, at least."

Akito Saejima: “Then perhaps you could absolve him.”

Hikari Inamoto nods to Akito Saejima.

Adelise De'bayle: "I suppose before the Warden, would be appropriate. They are just and fair in their sentencings."

Hikari Inamoto approaches the stone to put her hand on it.

Akito Saejima: “May he find relief by the grace of the Kami.” Akito presses his own hand to the stone.

Hikari Inamoto blinks at Akito, surprised by his added blessing.

Adelise De'bayle reaches her hand forward to place her hand on the stone. “May Hitokiri find the justice he deserves."

Lendroit Gatineaux silently looks to the group for a moment, then back to the crystals once more. He nods, to no one in particular.

Hikari Inamoto: "Please watch over Seros, wherever he is now."

Jebe Qestir looked back over to the others and then looked to Lendroit before shaking his head and then looking back to the crystalline formations.

Lendroit Gatineaux glances to the approaching Xaela. He takes a breath, and gives a slow repeated nod. He looks back to the crystals again, letting out a quiet sigh.

Killian Waltz stumbles aside as rain and wind abruptly picks up, too distracted to catch his hat as a gust of air snatches it off his head and well beyond the cliff's edge.

Adelise De'bayle steps off to the side, to look at the crystals. "Mm. And to think. Shinryu could have caused such destruction had he not been stopped."

Jebe Qestir turned his attention to Adelise in time to see the hat sail off the side of the cliff. He blinked once...then twice...then he looked back to Killian and then to Adelise and then, finally, to the crystals once more and nodded.

Adelise De'bayle: "You are not from these lands, Jebe. Is this your first time seeing the Burning Wall?"

Jebe Qestir looked back to Adelise, shaking his head. He then pointed to the ground and then paused, before lifting his hand to point to the sky and then held up three.

Adelise De'bayle: "Three times. I see," she murmurs. "Have you been to the north yet? The Shroud?"

Lendroit Gatineaux: "This is your third time here, then?"

Hikari Inamoto: "...Kito, uhm." Hikari pauses to glance up at the pouring rain. "...I never thought I'd...hear you pray for an Imperial."

Jebe Qestir thought for a moment and soon shook his head and seemed ready to try to correct but just thought better against it and shook his head. Suffice to say, he had seen the structures in a few places. At the last part of the question, he would nod and then point to the North before stretching his arm further and even leaning forward before looking back to Adelise and shaking his head and finally making a shivering motion.

Adelise De'bayle: "Ah, you have not been to Coerthas. The cold too much?" She shakes her head, "we will need change that in the moons to come. Do you enjoy living out here, in your tent?"

Akito Saejima looks back to the stone. "...Not all Garleans are the same people that took our homeland. Some of them have done some manner of good. Such as..." He trailed off. "...Well, in either case, my family's ruination came from within, without any involvement from the Empire. Our own kinsmen can be crueler than any Imperial."

Killian Waltz turns until he leans against the stone, sliding down to sit and closing his cloudy blue-grey eyes.

Jebe Qestir would first nod in agreement to the cold being too much but, to second, he would shake his head. He'd point to her and then shrug but then, to himself, he would shake his head and make another 'brr' motion again. Next came the signal of the two sided triangle and then he'd nod his head rather happily and with a smile beneath the mask.

Adelise De'bayle: "Would you prefer staying in a house?"

Jebe Qestir would reach down and gently pat the rain-worn ground and then, once more, point to himself again with a thumbs up to end it all. The question of a house came and those brows furrowed. He'd think a moment before he finally shook his head and held up both hands. The fake hand was held horizontal while the real hand used two fingers to indicate walking and then he motioned out in front of him with open arms.

Hikari Inamoto: "...He really liked Eorzea. Seros did. He liked...he liked the people outside of Garlemald, too. Actually liked them. Not in...not in the same way my father liked Doma. Like it was, uh...a toy or a...big store. Or a play. Or something."

Adelise De'bayle: "You prefer open spaces?"

Jebe Qestir nods, reaching down into his pocket and pulled out the pearl she had given him, showing it off and then placing it back into his pocket and patting it before finally pointing to her.

Adelise De'bayle: "I see," she lowers her gaze, "thank you for coming here with us. In time, perhaps some sun we may come with you to see your home." Upon seeing the pearl, Adelise smiles faintly.

Jebe Qestir thought for a moment before looking to the others. He'd seem to hesitate for a bit as she spoke of seeing his home before he raised both arms and nodded before pointing at himself once more.

Adelise De'bayle: "I will have to take you up on that offer some day, my friend."

Hikari Inamoto looks down to Killian and lays a hand on top of his head.

Killian Waltz doesn't respond, perhaps too distracted to notice Hikari. At least he doesn't seem to mind the rain soaking through his hair and beating down on his face.

Jebe Qestir bowed his head once more before looking to KIllian a moment and then to the others before looking back to Adelise. He pointed to himself and then pointed down the path and then pointed to her once more with a quizzical look on those features.

Adelise De'bayle: "Ready to go?"

Hikari Inamoto: "Sorry that. Uh. There's all this mess right by your stone."

Jebe Qestir tilted his head and merely shrugged before pointing at her and then to himself.

Adelise De'bayle: "Do I want you to leave? No, of course not. Why would we want that?"

Jebe Qestir tilted his head before finally just shrugging his shoulders.  He'd look to the others next and dip his chin towards Killian and then back to Adelise.

Adelise De'bayle glances toward Killian as he sat there, moving closer toward Jebe. "He is sensitive to aether. This area is hard on him... which is a shame. This is his stone, as he is my Warden."

Hikari Inamoto: "..." Hikari blinks. "Killian? Are you alright?"

Killian Waltz: "Mmh?"

Lendroit Gatineaux turns around. "I think I've had enough of this rain. I'll be returning home, unless I am needed for anything?" He glances between the group, as if awaiting a response

Jebe Qestir looked back to Killian, a brow arching as he stared hard at the man and then back to Adelise. He'd bring his left hand up like he was holding a shield, then point to Killian and then to her.

Adelise De'bayle: "Do I protect him?"

Akito Saejima crossed his arms, shaking his hood free of rainwater, though it was for naught with the current weather. "...I have met people like your father. People who are interested in... a culture. But not the culture itself. Only how it looks. The surface of it. They do not care for why the traditions they idolize are the way they are."

Jebe Qestir moved his fingers in a circle and then reversed them.

Hikari Inamoto nods as Killian responds, looking quietly relieved and taking her hand from his head.

Jebe Qestir looked over to Lendroit and dipped his chin in a solemn nod before raising a hand to wave to him if he was still about to leave.

Hikari Inamoto: "He used to, uh. To criticize us. My mother and I. For anything that he decided was too foolish." She smiles sheepishly. "You know, uh. He...he didn't like us being friends."

Lendroit Gatineaux waves in turn to the Xaela man.

Adelise De'bayle turns from Jebe to walk back. "I think I will begin back as well. Thank you all for coming," she reaches down to help Killian up.

Akito Saejima: “Hmph. I never liked him. I used to daydream about…”

Killian Waltz is pulled up more by Adelise's strength than his own, making a soft, distracted sound.

Akito Saejima coughed. "...Nevermind."

Hikari Inamoto: "...I. Uhm." One of her hands nudges at his side. "...I don't really...I don't like him, either."

Adelise De'bayle: "Jebe," Adelise motions toward him. "If ever you wish to come and visit us. We live in the Lavender Beds of the Shroud. The first ward, fifth house."

Jebe Qestir would bend at the waist in a bow before turning and walking off down the path.

Adelise De'bayle: "Let us go, Killian."

Killian Waltz stumbles along with Adelise.

[quarantinedskull]

Time management is the key.

21 time management tips..1. Complete most important tasks first. This is the golden rule of time management. Each day, identify the two or three tasks that are the most crucial to complete, and do those first. Once you’re done, the day has already been a success. You can move on to other things, or you can let them wait until tomorrow. You’ve finished the essential. 2. Learn to say “no”. Making a lot of time commitments can teach us how to juggle various engagements and manage our time. This can be a great thing. However, you can easily take it too far. At some point, you need to learn to decline opportunities. Your objective should be to take on only those commitments that you know you have time for and that you truly care about. 3. Sleep at least 7-8 hours. Some people think sacrificing sleep is a good way to hack productivity and wring a couple extra hours out of the day. This is not the case. Most people need 7-8 hours of sleep for their bodies and minds to function optimally. You know if you’re getting enough. Listen to your body, and don’t underestimate the value of sleep. 4. Devote your entire focus to the task at hand. Close out all other browser windows. Put your phone away, out of sight and on silent. Find a quiet place to work, or listen to some music if that helps you (I enjoy listening to classical or ambient music while writing sometimes). Concentrate on this one task. Nothing else should exist. Immerse yourself in it. 5. Get an early start. Nearly all of us are plagued by the impulse to procrastinate. It seems so easy, and you always manage to get it done eventually, so why not? Take it from a recovering chronic procrastinator — it’s so much nicer and less stressful to get an earlier start on something. It isn’t that difficult either, if you just decide firmly to do it. 6. Don’t allow unimportant details to drag you down. We often allow projects to take much, much longer than they could by getting too hung up on small details. I’m guilty of this. I’ve always been a perfectionist. What I’ve found, though, is that it is possible to push past the desire to constantly examine what I’ve done so far. I’m much better off pressing onward, getting the bulk completed, and revising things afterward. 7. Turn key tasks into habits. Writing is a regular task for me. I have to write all the time — for school, work, my student organization, my blog, etc. I probably write 5,000 – 7,000 words per week. The amount of writing I do may seem like a lot to most people, but it’s very manageable for me, because it’s habitual. I’ve made it a point to write something every day for a long time. I rarely break this routine. Because of this, my mind is in the habit of doing the work of writing. It has become quite natural and enjoyable. Could you do something similar? (Read “The Simple, Powerful Guide to Forming Any New Habit“) 8. Be conscientious of amount of TV/Internet/gaming time. Time spent browsing Twitter or gaming or watching TV and movies can be one of the biggest drains on productivity. I suggest becoming more aware of how much time you spend on these activities. Simply by noticing how they’re sucking up your time you’ll begin to do them less. 9. Delineate a time limit in which to complete task. Instead of just sitting down to work on a project and thinking, “I’m going to be here until this is done,” try thinking, “I’m going to work on this for three hours”. The time constraint will push you to focus and be more efficient, even if you end up having to go back and add a bit more later. 10. Leave a buffer-time between tasks. When we rush from task to task, it’s difficult to appreciate what we’re doing and to stay focused and motivated. Allowing ourselves down-time between tasks can be a breath of fresh air for our brains. While taking a break, go for a short walk, meditate, or perform some other mind-clearing exercise. 11. Don’t think of the totality of your to-do list. One of the fastest ways to overwhelm yourself is to think about your massive to-do list. Realize that no amount of thought will make it any shorter. At this point in time, all you can do is focus on the one task before you. This one, single, solitary task. One step at a time. Breathe. 12. Exercise and eat healthily. Numerous studies have linked a healthy lifestyle with work productivity. Similar to getting enough sleep, exercising and eating healthily boost energy levels, clear your mind, and allow you to focus more easily. 13. Do less. This is a tactic recommended by one of my favorite bloggers, Leo Babauta. Basically, do less is another way of saying do the things that really matter. Slow down, notice what needs to be done, and concentrate on those things. Do less things that create more value, rather than more things that are mostly empty. 14. Utilize weekends, just a little bit. One of my favorite memes depicts a gentleman casting his work aside, declaring, “It’s Friday! F#%$88u this shit.” The following image reads “Monday”, and the man is stooping to pick up the papers he’d tossed to the ground. This is comical, but I’ve found that it’s amazing how doing just a little bit on weekends can really lessen the workload during the week. Aim for 2-4 hours per day. You’ll still leave yourself plenty of free time for activities. 15. Create organizing systems. Being organized saves tons of time, and you don’t have to be the most ultra-organized person in the world either. Systems aren’t complicated to implement. Create a filing system for documents. Make sure all items have a place to be stored in your dwelling. Unsubscribe from e-mail lists if you don’t want to receive their content. Streamline, streamline, streamline. 16. Do something during waiting time. We tend to have a lot of down-time where we don’t try to do much. Waiting rooms, lines at the store, time on the subway, on the elliptical at the gym, etc. Find things to do during this time. I tend to have a lot of reading for classes, so I bring some of it almost everywhere I go and read during waiting time. 17. Lock yourself in. No distractions, no excuses. Sometimes, the only way I’m going to get something done is if I’m under lock and key, alone in a room. If you’re like me, realize it, and act accordingly. 18. Commit to your plan to do something. I kind of mentioned this already, but it’s worth repeating. Don’t flake on your own plan to do something! Be resolute. Be committed. Be professional about it, and follow through. A firm will to accomplish what you decide to accomplish will take you anywhere. 19. Batch related tasks together. Let’s say that over a given weekend you need to do two programming assignments, write three essays, and make two videos. Rather than approaching this work in whatever order you feel, group the like tasks and do them consecutively. Different tasks demand different types of thinking, so it makes sense to allow your mind to continue to flow with its current zone rather than switching unnecessarily to something that’s going to require you to re-orient. 20. Find time for stillness. In our go, go, go world, too many people don’t find time to just be still. Yet, it’s extraordinary what a stillness practice can do. Action and inaction should both play key roles in our lives. Discovering time in your life for silence and non-motion reduces anxiety and shows you that there is no need to constantly rush. It also makes it easier to find your work pleasurable. 21. Eliminate the non-essential. I know this one has been mentioned in one capacity or another already, but it’s one of the most useful tips you can take away from this post. Our lives are full of excess. When we can identify that excess and remove it, we become more and more in touch with what is significant and what deserves our time. One Last Tip (The Best One) There’s one final tip I want to mention. If you remember one thing from this post, remember this: Enjoyment should always be the goal. Work can be play. We get so caught up in busyness that we forget to enjoy what we’re doing. Even when we focus on working smarter, we’re still often too focused on getting things done. This should never be the point. Always ask yourself: What can I do to spend more time enjoying what I’m doing? The goal should be to arrange your commitments in a way that you’re happy living out the details of your daily life, even while you’re working. This may sound like a pipe dream, but it’s more possible than ever in today’s world. Be curious. Be open to opportunity. Know yourself. Embrace your passions.