#waking up in a cold sweat to shake my bf awake

[hyacinthorchids]

Getting quilts from your mom while living in the hot acrid desert is funny and all but actually they’re not for my builder they’re for my husband who is always cold because genetics and trauma

[anton-luvr]

hiii can you do Riize's reaction to dreaming of u cheating? Lmao like do u think they would get upset ,worried...? 🧍🏽‍♀️

# WHEN THEY DREAM OF YOU CHEATING ; 7riize.

⚝ bf!riize x gn!reader | angst ⚝ note ; thank you for req anon!! this was honestly kinda sad to write like damn who would cheat on them 💔 + reqs are CLOSED

# SHOTARO. - it'll definitely upset him a bit, but it won't last long. he knows the both of you love each other too much to cheat, so he'll go back to being the happy unbothered king he is after telling you about it and being smothered with kisses and reassurances from you.

# EUNSEOK. - all sassiness and pettiness will be unleashed. he'll wake up in a cold sweat, reach over to make sure your sleeping figure is still beside him, and proceed to whack you awake with his pillow. shouts a "how could you cheat on me in my dream!?" while you're startled awake, confused. he'll proceed to wrap himself around you and make you promise you would never cheat on him (you really would never) before falling asleep again with his head resting on your chest.

# SUNGCHAN. - he will be very upset. he know it's just a dream, but it kinda messes him over and he's just :( for the rest of the day. it just felt so real and it makes him so uncomfortable and sad. needs extra kisses and hugs and reassurance that you'll never cheat on him.

# WONBIN. - like the drama queen he is, he would be soooooo extra about it. shakes you awake at 2am and will ask 'did you ever cheat on me? be honest.' and you'd be so confused bc why??? would you cheat????? when you have park wonbin??????? you tell him just that, but he's not convinced. writes up a contract that you'll never cheat on him and makes you sign it the next day. both of you know that you would never, but wonbin feels more relieved to have it on paper bc he's silly like that.

# SEUNGHAN. - bro is Not Impressed™. he'll tell you about the dream very seriously, because it genuinely makes him feel sick to the stomach. not that he doesn't trust you, it's just that the dream left him scarred. but once you squeeze him in a hug and get him flowers with a sweet kiss to the cheek, all memories of the nasty dream fades away.

# SOHEE. - he'll be so whiny and upset about it. would be mumbling "how could you cheat on me in my dream? :(" and "why would you do that to me? :(" for the whole day because it was so upsetting. it gets to the point where you have to grab him by the face and tell him for the nth time that you would never do that to him, and you'd find a way to get into his dream to slap your dream self for it. it's so stupid and childish that it makes the both of you laugh, the kiss you press on sohee's lips making him feel better.

# ANTON. - listen... he'll start crying. he has some insecurities, so this just might break him. cries so hard that you wake up and he wouldn't want you to touch him for a while. but once he's calmed down and lets you hug him, he'll cry even more :( he'll also talk about it with you and the both of you will work on his insecurities while he becomes clinger than ever bc you're his favorite person in the world, and he doesn't want to lose you to someone else :(

© anton-luvr, 2023.

taglist: @wonbons (drop an ask to be added to my taglist!)

[anonymityisfunwriter]

hi! i love your work, and was wondering if you could make a readerxbucky fic for me? specifically for a reader who is really scared of the dark. something along the lines of one night reader is pissing in the middle of the night and on their way back to their room their fear gets so bad that they end up having a small panic attack and require (bf) buckys help to calm down. plus cuddles at the end ofc!

Hello! Thank you so much and thank you for the request!

This sounds really interesting and some of my favorite one-shots and scenes have been one's in the dead of the night.

I shall dub this:

In the Noon of Night

One thing that was rarely talked about was how fickle triggers truly were. There was no real way to tell what could be triggering.

All you knew it one moment, you were fine.

The next, you were crumbling in on yourself. Coping skills forgotten. Unresponsive. Unreachable.

Sometimes, it was a smell wafting through the air.

Touching metal that felt too close to the steel door that once held you captive.

Darkness.

Darkness was universal.

It was the same everywhere.

So you really thought nothing of crawling out of your warm bed to grab a drink of water. It wasn't unusual to stir awake, a little too warm from the super soldier sized radiator that slept beside you.

Without much conscious thought or effort, your feet instinctually guided you through your apartment to your kitchen.

Grabbing a glass. Pouring water. Taking a large gulp.

There was nothing unordinary or unsettling about any of it. You closed the refrigerator door behind you.

With the room no longer illuminated by the refrigerator light, it was now pitch black, your eyes strained trying to adjust to the dark room.

Purely by happenstance, the streetlights were out, not even remotely visible from your front window.

Still bleary eyed, you blinked once. Twice. Over and over, trying to make out any shape or shadow.

Perhaps it was your mind muddled by sleep. Perhaps it was just bad luck.

All you saw was darkness. A vast, unending void.

There was nothing.

Suddenly, the tile beneath your feet felt less like sleek ceramic tile and more like your old concrete prison.

The silence became a loneliness you'd thought you'd left behind long ago.

The cold floor sent a chill radiating up your spine that echoed and reverberated through your bones.

It was as though all your years of happiness and freedom were some delusions of grandeur developed as a coping mechanism. In the moment of intense vulnerable remembrance, it makes complete sense to you.

Found families were not so easily found, certainly not ones that incredible. There was not and never would be a person that knew you like you knew yourself. And certainly not one that loved you so wholly and fiercely.

It was more than being back in captivity. It was losing everything all at once.

The sounds of sobs being ripped from your throat tear Bucky from his sleep. He's on his feet before he even realizes it.

He's immediately on guard and alert as he bolts through the apartment toward the sounds of distress.

He smacks the light switch, suddenly illuminating the room. His frantic eyes wildly rake over the room. What he sees, tears his heart into a million little pieces.

The thing was, Bucky understood better than most. He knew what it was to wake in a cold sweat, chest rising and falling with panicked heaves.

He knew what it felt like, for even the shortest of moments, to think that all the light, love, and freedom was a figment of your imagination. It wasn't enough that the memories would live with you for the rest of your life, sometimes, you relived them. He did too. It was its very own trauma in and of itself.

He scrambles over to you. Your figure crumpled on the floor, huddled in on yourself as your tightly embrace yourself.

"Hey," Bucky drops to the floor with a second thought. You're huddled so tightly, he can't pull you out of the flashback. He shakes you, "Hey, hey, you're okay."

"I don't want to go back," you plead with Bucky, tears staining your flushed cheeks. "Please, I don't want to go back."

"Shhh..." he tries to console you, his hands cup each side of your face, finally pulling your eyes away from the floor and onto him. Your eyes are squeezed shut, shaking your head in desperation. "You're not going back. You're home."

"You're home. You're safe," he repeats in a whispered tone over and over again.

Your head sinks down onto his shoulder. After several long moments of kneeling on the floor with you, you relax enough for Bucky to slip you into his arms, locking you in his embrace.

"I don't want to lose you," you whimper into his shoulder.

"Never," he promises.

"You're okay," Bucky softly murmurs, stroking your hair while never breaking his secure embrace. The warmth of the words and the care slowly envelope you, seeping into your frozen, fear stricken heart. You can almost feel it start to beat again. "You're safe. I promise. You'll always be safe with me."

A.N: I never want to hear another comment about how I don't want these characters to be happy or let them know peace. At this point, it's not me. You guys want this. Readers only want love if it's torture. (And I'm more than happy to provide.) Thank you so much for the request! 💛

Grumpy Sunshine Series Grumpy Sunshine Drabbles

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93

[anjaelle]

White Light IV

Characters: Ghost!ATJ x Black Female!Reader Rating: T (slight flirting, mention of horny thoughts, ghost!bf being a little obsessed with his crush, and the hint of impending tragedy to come) Word Count: 3.0K Summary: In which the reader makes a brief list of pros and cons for reviving the dead... a/n: Not 100% where I want it to be, but I already know where I want the story to go and where it will end. And that's a new thing for me, because I literally never finish anything . HA! Please like, comment, and reblog! Also, let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next updates.

[Part I] | [Part II] | [Part III] | [Part V] | [☁ Masterpost ☁] | [♫ The Crimson Zombies Mixtape ♫]

--

You awoke to the sound of running water from your bathroom, and squinted to protect your eyes from the blinding sunlight. Your head was pounding like you'd been knocked out with a baseball bat. You moved to sit up, and your vision immediately began to double, causing you to slowly lie back down and roll over. Then you noticed the small bathroom wastebasket sitting beside your bed, just as bile rose in your chest and you vomited into it.

"Shit," you heard Aaron mutter behind you. The water cut off, and the quick thud of a cabinet closing seemed to rattle in your head.

"What happened?" You asked, hoarsely. As you rested your head on your hands, you could hear more busy rustling in the bathroom. "How? I can't--what's going on?"

It was like waking up in the middle of a dense fog, and you were unable to decipher which way was up. You didn't know what day it was, what time it was, how you ended up in this predicament. All you wanted to do was go back to sleep. Your eyes began to drift close again, when rapid footsteps crossed the room towards you.

"Hey, hey, hey, no. You gotta stay awake, c'mon." He crouched down beside you as the upper half of your body lie draped over the side of the bed. You couldn't remember how exactly you ended up in that position, but you couldn't be fucked to move.

"Too sleepy," you mumbled, sighing, "Give me 10 minutes."

"I can't."

He hesitated, and then you felt his arm wrap gently around your waist to prop you up in bed. You could feel how ice cold he was through the sweater he had on--your ex's sweater. You didn't remember bringing it. You should've probably given it back when you left. Or maybe you'd steal it for revenge and give it to Aaron.

Aaron.

"You can touch me? You can touch things?" you murmured, peeking at him through heavily lidded eyes, "How?"

You noticed that he was fidgeting with a damp cloth in a bowl with steaming hot water, and he shrugged.

"I really, really don't know what happened. One minute you were sweating in your sleep, the next you were up and staring at me...I don't know." A pause, then, "You seem a lot less surprised than I expected you to be."

On the inside you were screaming. You were beyond fucking confused. You wanted to call your grandmother and get some goddamn answers. But you were too weak to do anything but sigh.

"Why aren't you surprised?" You finally asked.

His hands stilled in the water and he sighed before continuing to wring out the cloth, "I was. I had my reaction while you were passed out. Um--it's--I guess I've just gotten used to it now."

You quirked an eyebrow at him as he pressed the hot cloth to your forehead. It was then that you realized how cold you were. The water was steaming hot, but still didn't feel hot enough. You shuddered under the warmth and shut your eyes.

"How long was I out?"

He said nothing and returned the rag back to the water.

"Aaron--"

"Three days."

You sat up straight in bed and stared at him with widened eyes. He no longer looked hazy and out of focus. He was here. Alive. Or, at least, the illusion of mortality. He looked at you with equally wide eyes and you could see the healing scars on his face and hands. He looked...older?

"Th-three?" You felt your hands shaking, and you shoved them into the blankets that you squeezed in your fists, "I could've been dead! Oh my god!"

"You weren't!" He responded, holding his hands up, "You woke up on and off, muttered some shit, and then went back to sleep."

"Why didn't you call someone?"

He shot her a look of confusion and motioned around her apartment, "You don't have a house phone. And I don't know how to use your mobile phone. What was I supposed to do? Scream out the window?"

"YES!" You responded, holding your head in disbelief, "What if I died, Aaron? Fucks sa--"

You leaned over and vomited into the trashcan again, though you couldn't begin to imagine what you were purging from your body. You couldn't have eaten anything. He cautiously pat your back as you retched uselessly into the trash and coughed your lungs out.

"That's also how I knew you weren't dead," he mumbled, passing you a bottle of water, toothpaste, and a toothbrush. You thanked him as you cleaned your mouth out. What did it all mean? What changed?

This started after he disappeared. What happened to him during that time? You briefly glanced at him as you spit water into the wastebasket, and you found him watching you intensely with a furrowed brow.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You asked before rinsing your mouth out again.

He worried his lower lip and looked you over.

"This is fucked."

You chuckled, "Yeah, no kidding."

When you were sure that your mouth was sufficiently clean, you sipped the last of the water. You already felt a little bit better, but you knew that this was just a sign of something more nefarious. He helped you sit back up, careful not to touch your skin, though you were hyperaware of how strong his hands felt on your waist. His fingers flexed against you as if he read your mind, and he offered you a small apologetic smile that you didn't expect.

"I've been careful not to get too close, since the last time seemed to have knocked you out good."

Oh...

You blinked at him as you tried to unscramble your thoughts.

"How do you feel?" You asked him with genuine curiosity. It couldn't have been exactly easy to go from dead to...whatever the hell this was. He seemed surprised by the question. You watched him work through his own thoughts.

"Cold." He simply stated with a small shrug. As he smoothed the thick comforter over your bare legs, absentmindedly, you felt your face heat up.

You hummed in thought, distracting yourself, "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Neither. It's just a thing. Y'know? I went from feeling nothing, to feeling...cold. All over. Except when I sit next to you, mostly. You're kinda like a really hot furnace."

At this, you give him your best shit-eating grin and wiggled your brows, "A hot furnace huh?"

"Stop it." He crossed his arms over his chest, and you were mildly impressed by how good he looked in more modern clothes. He began to blush.

He definitely couldn't do that before.

"I-I just found this in your stuff," he explained nervously, "I'd never seen you wear it, so I figured you wouldn't care if I snagged it." He shoved his hands in the pockets of the gray sweatpants that also belonged to your ex and you schooled your features into complete nonchalance.

"You're fine," you said, "They were Marc--my ex's things. I don't think he'll miss them much."

You weren't 100% sure of that, but whatever. They weren't his anymore, anyway. You thought back on the running water from the bathroom, and noticed his wet hair and fresh face.

"Did...you shower?" You asked him, wide-eyed. Excited, he jumped up from the bed and motioned erratically.

"I didn't realize how much I fuckin' missed showering," he ran his fingers through his damp curls and let out a cheerful laugh in disbelief, "The water didn't feel like much of anything until I turned it to the highest setting. But god, did I miss it. I've been showering twice a day for the last 3 days!"

"Why are you not freaked out about this?" You asked. He stopped in his tracks and shoved his hands back into his pockets.

"As my dad once said, 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth'."

You rolled your eyes.

"You're dead, Aaron. You've been dead for 20 years. Now, out of the blue, you can touch things, and wear new clothes, and shower. And none of this is worrisome to you?"

It was then that he rushed to the bed and kneeled by your side, and you felt the goosebumps on your arms raise.

"I'm just as concerned as you--"

Doubtful.

"--but you don't understand how long it's been since I've been able to just do things for myself."

He grabbed your shoulders and you felt your body react through the thick fabric of your hoodie. Like you'd been splashed with cool water. You gasped and he removed his hands.

"Sorry. Got a bit carried away--"

"No, wait." You took a moment to sift through your thoughts again, and came to a certain conclusion. Maybe. You hesitated, and then reached out to touch his face, pressing a gentle hand to his left cheek. He shuddered, and you instantly began to feel tired. But you watched some of the color return to his face. His cheeks flushed red, and the blue in his eyes brightened as his pupils dilated.

"Oh." He whispered, leaning into your touch a bit more and shutting his eyes, "Fuck. That feels nice. So warm."

The gravely affect his voice took on was different from anything you'd ever heard from him before, and you squeezed your thighs together. His eyes landed on you again, and something flickered in his gaze. You felt your pulse quicken, and you could almost swear that you felt his heartbeat as well. His hand gently pressed over yours on his cheek, and then trailed down your wrist.

"This is different." He said, grinning at you with a newfound admiration you'd never seen.

You pulled your hand away from his face and you both shuddered with a small gasp. Energy returned to you in a slow trickle, though he still maintained some of the flush in his cheeks.

"I think," your voice cracked and your cleared your throat, "you might be like this because of me."

Aaron wanted to touch you again. Badly. The minute you found the strength to leave your bed, he trailed behind you like a faithful puppy. Admittedly, it was partially because you were still wobbly on your feet and he wanted to catch you if you passed out again. A bigger part of him wanted to grab you by your hips and pull you towards him. His eyes trailed down the curve of your lower back and ass as you searched though your closet for an old notebook that belonged to your grandmother. You muttered something about "witchy bullshit" and he couldn't help but laugh at the exasperation in your tone.

Though he probably should've cared more about the how and why of their current predicament, he couldn't give any less of a shit. He knew what it felt like to grab your waist and touch your skin, and he couldn't get it out of his mind. The way you not-so-casually brushed against him as you passed didn't make matters easier.

Aaron hadn't realized that he'd been watching you with the dopiest smile on his face until you turned with the notebook in hand and smiled back, confused.

"What?" You asked, scrunching up your nose at him.

Fuck, you were cute. And he had an undeniable crush. He wanted to hit himself in the face.

"Nothing," he lied. He nodded towards the book in your hand, "That it?"

You eyed him curiously. Whatever thought you had in that gorgeous head of yours was apparently not important enough to vocalize, as you shook your head to clear it.

"It is. My grandmother gave it to me when I last saw her, and I never even bothered to crack it open. Which was probably stupid of me." She called it a grimoire and mentioned that it was well over 100 years old. The leatherbound, thick book carried loose, yellowed pages and photos. Dried leaves and herbs seemed to poke out from every which way, and Aaron wondered how your family managed to keep it intact.

"Soooo you think you'll find out what's making me all zombie-like through that?" It's not that he didn't believe it, it's just that he wasn't sure if he wanted the answer. Going back to feeling the way he did before felt like a non-option now.

"Zombie-like?" You giggled and it sounded like a bell.

"Y'know," he stood over your shoulder, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around you, "not-quite-alive, not-quite-dead."

As you slowly flipped through the thin pages of the book, scanning the looping cursive for familiar words, you snorted. "If that's how you want to classify yourself, go for it."

At this, he leaned closer and whispered in your ear, "How would you classify me?"

He heard your breath hitch and your hand faltered over the next page.

"I don't know," you said, softly, turning your head to him. It was so close that your lips just barely brushed his cheek. "You feel very much alive, to me." You lingered there for a beat longer, before returning your attention to the next page. Warmth fluttered in his stomach and he felt like he was going to throw up. If his mates could see him now, he'd never hear the end of it.

He should've taken a step back to regain his composure, and he was just about to when you suddenly pointed to a string of words halfway down the page.

"Here," you said, tilting the book up so he could read it, "'Transformation of the Incorporeal and Corporeal Forms: Parasitism and Symbiosis'."

He hadn't a clue what the hell any of that meant. One look at his face told you all you needed to know, apparently, as you broke down the rules like he was ten. Which he appreciated.

"I don't know what happened to you while you were gone, but something changed. Something made you more..." she motioned with her hand, "adaptable? The first time you touched me was when you nearly gave me a heart attack that first time. And that was the first time I saw you. So the more you interact with me, the more tangible you become." You flipped through the pages eagerly, reading as fast as you could as he hung onto your every word.

"But the first time you touched me wasn't as intense as this time. And you weren't able to continue doing it for so long after the first time. So something is different now. But what?"

He felt the familiar tingle in his left hand from the very first time he touched you, and he flexed his fingers.

"It was purgatory."

At this, you paused your reading and immediately turned to look at him with a look of pure horror on your face. Suddenly he wished he'd just shut his mouth.

"Purgatory? I--how?" As you turned to face him, you hugged the book protectively to your chest, but inched closer to him in concern, "That's not fucking good. Not good at all. You can't just come back from there. That's impossible."

He motioned to himself and shrugged, "I did."

You mumbled something to yourself and rapidly began flipping through the pages again, looking for something specific. He wanted you to stop and look at him. Just to explain what he was missing, as you seemed to know far more than you let on. Your eyes scanned the pages in your hands, and your jaw dropped.

"The darkness..." you whispered, "The thing with many teeth. Did you see this?"

You flipped the book to face him, and pointed at the crude illustration of the grinning thing that haunted him for several nights. Even with smeared ink and scribbles around the image, he shied away from its gaze, avoiding eye contact.

"Ugh. Yeah. That thing. It wouldn't leave me alone. I still feel it watching me sometimes."

You immediately slammed the book closed and rushed out of the room, headed for the front door as he trailed behind you. "Wait, wait, hold on!"

"I've gotta speak to the elders! This is way out of my hands."

As you crossed the threshold into the main hallway, he instinctively grabbed your hand and you both gasped. He felt like he was on fire, and you felt like you'd been thrown into a freezer. Still he couldn't let go of you. The iciness and the blazing heat turned into a low buzzing sensation. Even when he eventually released his grip on your hand, he still felt the vibrations crawling up his arm from where he touched you.

It was then that you both noticed that he was standing beside you in the middle of the apartment building's hallway, with the front door of your apartment wide open.

"Did you pull me outside?" He asked, partially impressed and also terrified. You swallowed hard and shook your head.

"It wasn't me, it was this." You motioned between them, speaking in hushed tones to avoid detection from the neighbors. Then you swiftly turned on your heels and rushed down the hall to call for the elevator. He felt a strange pull emanating from you. And though he wanted to go back into the apartment, he blinked and found himself standing right beside you again.

"This? What's this? What are you talking about?" He was beginning to panic from the lack of information you were sharing with him. You fidgeted with your fingers, and he pleaded with you, "Please tell me."

You shot him a look of pure sadness just as the elevator doors opened to you, "The reason you're like this--the reason why you have a steady form and why you can touch me? I was hoping this was symbiosis but it's not. You're haunting me, and it's parasitic."

He followed you into the elevator as the doors closed, and you crossed your arms over your chest.

"What does that mean for you?" He murmured. You avoided his eyes and he knew right away what it meant.

"It means that you're slowly killing me."

[adana-knows]

My Daily Routine (Imbolc 2020)

I change up my daily routine frequently - I like to shake things up each time a new Sabbat rolls by, sometimes more often if things aren’t working.  I should also note that I have a lot of free time at the moment, and the luxury of making my own hours.  I have no children or time restraints, other than making sure my boyfriend doesn’t sleep through his work alarm.  

My Morning Routine

Wake up.  I stretch, grab my glasses, climb out the bed, and head to the bathroom.  

Kitty Care.  It’s time to feed the cats and re-fill their water fountain.  I also take this time to do a quick scoop of their litter boxes.  

Unload the Dishwasher.  After I wash my hands, I then take a moment to unload the dishwasher, and to load any dishes or glasses left out since the last time I ran it.  

Hydration.  My goal is to drink more water, but let’s face it: I like sugar.  I like tea, and I like soda.  If I have either ready-made or on hand, I’ll usually choose that over water in the morning, but I do make an effort to drink at least a couple glasses of water every day.  This is also when I take my meds and vitamins (B12 and D3).  

Bullet Journal.  My bullet journal helps me keep track of all kinds of things - cleaning, birthdays, appointments, holidays, sabbats, moon phases.  I try to make time for sitting down and figuring out what needs to be done each morning.  My goal is to list at least three of the most important tasks that need to be done, and actually do them before the end of the day.  It’s also at this time that my cat, Xena, likes to flop down on top of my paper and demand attention, so I’ll pet and groom her at this time.  

Read.  I spend an hour or so reading and/or researching.  Usually this means reading a book that can help build a skill, improve my life, or informs me on a subject, such as paganism, spirituality, minimalism, or witchcraft.  If I’m researching a specific topic that I have no books for, then I’ll spend this time Googling, but it’s easy to slip down the deep dark internet hole and not get anything really done on this front.  

Movement.  It’s winter where I live, and if it’s under 40 F outside, I’m not walking to the gym (which is about a 15-20 minute walk from my home).  This means moving at home, usually with some yoga.  I like to do Sun Salutations, but if I’m in the mood for something a little extra, I might pop in an Ashley Turner yoga video or follow a video by Yoga with Adrienne on YouTube.  

Meditation.  My best meditation sessions are always after expending a lot of energy and working up a sweat.  I’ll devote about 20 minutes to meditation.  I generally don’t do guided meditations unless I’m performing ritual; this is usually just me with my eyes closed.  

Self Care.  I’ll shower, get dressed, brush my teeth, run a brush through my hair, and spend some time on me.  Sometimes this is as simple as shaving my legs, exfoliating, painting my nails, or taking a file to my heels.  Other times I’ll try out a new hairstyle, put on a full face of makeup, or give myself a mani-pedi.  My goal is to go out of my way and do at least one thing every day to pamper myself that’s not part of my daily routine.  

Prayer.  This is the cornerstone of my morning ritual, and the reason I do it!  What I do depends on the moon phase, but I honor Hestia everyday by lighting a candle and offering a prayer (usually with my prayer beads), giving an offering of water to the ancestors, and burning incense for the Lare.  If I’m currently working on a skill, I’ll end my session with a related exercise, and maybe journal about my experience.  

Creativity.  After a long hot shower, I then do something creative.  Sometimes this is doing extra research or reading.  Other times I create a new bullet journal spread, color in a coloring book, work on a page in my Book of Shadows, brainstorm ideas for something, or write.  While I’m doing this, I like to watch TV or YouTube on a related topic.  For example, if I’m working on my bullet journal, I’ll watch YouTube videos of bullet journal layouts and spreads.  If I’m working in my Book of Shadows, I’ll watch videos on the topic of paganism.  If I’m working on writing, then I’ll put some themed ambient noise on so that I can fully concentrate on what I’m doing.  If I’m coloring, doodling, sketching, etc, I might just put on Hulu and catch up with a recent TV show.  I’ll do creative work for about an hour.  

Brunch.  If I have to cook my meal on the stove, I’ll light my Hestia candle, give a prayer, and then cook; when done, I’ll say thanks and extinguish the candle.  When I’m ready to eat, I’ll say another prayer to Hestia (because I do a LOT of meal prepping, I can go days without actually needing to cook), give Her an offering of my first and last bite (because She was born first and last) or an offering of cornmeal or grain.  

Free Time.  From this time to my afternoon routine, I’ll do whatever I feel like.  I might play a game, get lost on Pinterest, watch YouTube videos, watch movies, chat on the phone, or work on some project or another.  

Afternoon Routine

Honoring Hestia.  All acts of cleaning in my home is dedicated to Hestia.  I’ll light a candle, say a quick prayer, and leave the candle to burn on my altar while I clean.  Sometimes I’ll burn incense as well, depending on my mood and as inspiration strikes.  

Open up the apartment.  For me, this means cracking open my sliding glass door and let in some fresh air.  It’s pretty cold out, so it’s only cracked about an inch or two while I clean.  

Dishes.  I’ll collect any dishes I’ve dirtied throughout the day, and sweep my boyfriend’s computer area for dishes, glasses and silverware as well.  If I skipped unloading the dishwasher in the morning (sometimes I get lazy or distracted), I’ll do it now.  No matter how full or not, I’ll run the dishwasher now.  

5 Minute Tidy.  This is when I spend 5 minutes in every room of my apartment and tidy up.  It’s great when I get overwhelmed with how much to do and helps identify the most important mini tasks that need to be done per room; just set a timer and work as quickly as I can until it goes off.  

Weekly Cleaning.  There are some things that need to be done each and every week, like changing the litter box, scrubbing the toilet, dusting, emptying the refrigerator of leftovers, etc.  I keep a detailed list in my bullet journal and track when I do these things.  I generally group these tasks by day: Mondays are the bedroom, Tuesdays the bathroom, Wednesdays the kitchen, Thursdays the living room, and Fridays are the hallway and getting done whatever didn’t completed earlier in the week.  

Deep Cleaning.   There’s also things that need to be done seasonally, like sweeping the ceiling for cobwebs, cleaning underneath and behind the fridge, and tackling the mess that is my cabinets and drawers (they get messy over time).  These tend to be tasks that need to be done all over the apartment or are a rather big task, so I’ll do one a day.  

Garbage.  If there’s garbage that needs to be taken out, I do it.  I’ll grab the mail coming back in, and go through that.  

Miscellaneous Tasks.  If there’s anything I wanted - or need - to get done that doesn’t fit into the above, but was important enough to make it on my daily list in my bullet journal, it gets done now.  

Close the Apartment.  Close the sliding glass doors to prevent the cats from getting bold enough to try and pop the screen and run outside.  Not that they stay out there long when it’s cold.  It’s just a pain in the butt having to go out there and retrieve them, especially if they manage to get out of courtyard.  

Fragrance.  If I didn’t burn incense, then I’ll spray some febreeze around.  We have 3 cats and let me tell you - the apartment smells like it in the winter.  Opening up the house helps, but it doesn’t get rid of the scent completely.  I’ll febreeze my couch and bed with the febreeze for cloth and sheets, and spray scented stuff (usually Glade) around the apartment.  

Thank Hestia.  I go back to my altar, give a prayer of thanks, and extinguish my Hestia candle.  If incense is still going, I’ll let it burn itself out and then clean up the ashes.  

The BF Comes Home.  Right about now, my boyfriend comes home from work.  I’ll take a moment to say hi.  

More Free Time! 

Evening Routine

Kitty Care.  Refill cat bowls for the night.  If a bowl is looking kind of gross or needs to be cleaned, this is when I’ll do it (before refilling it).  

Dishes.  I’ll bring any dishes or glasses left in the living room or around the apartment to the kitchen sink.  

Quick Tidy.  I tend to make a pretty big mess when I’m in the middle of a project, or when I’m just having a lazy evening, so I’ll take a few minutes to put away books, shelve binders, organize papers, throw pens and pencils into my pencil case, and fluff the pillows on the couch.  

Evening Prayer.  I don’t do this every evening, usually because I tend to stay up until I start to doze off, and at that point, all I can think of is the bed.  But if I can, I’ll go to my altar, say a gratitude prayer to any deities that I’m working with, and clean up any offerings left on the altar.  Offering clean up might be postponed to the next morning.  

Self Care.  I’ll brush my teeth, wash my face, change into pajamas.  

Read.  If I’m still a little too awake for bed, I might read for 20 minutes to an hour, depending.  

Sleep.