#I have mildly overdone it with the coffee.

[the-great-donatello]

Yo D-Dawg you should probably head to bed. It's late my dude -Slang

…Fine.

[bobateastay]

tired - kim hongjoong

Word Count: 1'260

tags - gender neutral!reader, boyfriend!hongjoong, fluff fluff fluff

a/n: for the lovely anon who requested more hongjoong fluff <3 yes the studio thing is overdone but i couldn't stop thinking about it so here's my short take on it

Hongjoong had been tired lately thanks to being busy with producing and writing new songs. Early on in your relationship you had worried that his work would be a problem - what if he was stressed or tired and you got on his nerves? Or what if he wouldn’t want to spend time with you because of it? The first time that your boyfriend got busy with work though, you realised that your worries were completely unjustified. Tired Hongjoong was mildly irritable, but for the most part he became more affectionate and loving - maybe because he was too tired to overthink any of his affection.

This time was no different. When he crawled into bed with you late into the night, his arms quickly snaked around your waist, fingertips drawing circles into your skin.

“How was your day?” you mumbled as you laid a hand over his, your words barely understandable from just having woken up. He hummed and pressed his forehead to the back of your neck.

“Busy,” he replied, his own voice also struggling to stay coherent. “The boys are tired and I couldn't really… Figure out this song today. And I missed you.”

You tried to mumble back a response but only managed a tired grunt, making Hongjoong laugh.

“Goodnight.”

The next morning you were woken by Hongjoong’s alarm. You weren’t sure what time he’d come home last night but it felt like he’d only been in bed with you for five minutes when you sat up, watching him scramble to turn off the alarm. A loud yawn broke past your lips and Hongjoong smiled as he turned to look at you. He didn’t say anything, just moved to sit in your lap, kissing you fondly. You ran your fingers through his hair, smiling against his lips when he leaned into your touch. He whined when you pulled away, nudging his nose against yours.

“Come on, let’s get ready,” you said, squeezing his cheeks.

The morning was slow like all your recent mornings had been. You brushed Hongjoong’s hair and applied moisturiser to his face, giggling at the way his eyes fell shut every few minutes, lips pulling into a pout when you laughed.

“Thank you,” he said when you were done, rewarding you with dozens of small kisses to your cheeks. Breakfast was just and quiet and slow, tea and rice and Hongjoong telling you more about his day yesterday. You listened carefully, watching him as he ate. He was visibly tired, soft sighs escaping his lips every now and then as he took a break from speaking. After a few moments he noticed you staring and looked up with a bashful smile. “What?”

“You’re really beautiful, Joongie,” you told him, grinning when he began to blush. He rubbed the back of his neck and you insisted again. “Really! I have the most beautiful boyfriend on the planet.”

“Then that makes us the most beautiful couple on the planet,” he said, winking at you as he got up.

Once he was gone you fell asleep again. The day trudged by without him there seeing as you had the day off work. Netflix kept you company for a few hours but by the time you were done with lunch you found yourself feeling bored. You painted your nails with one of Hongjoong’s nail polishes, painting one nail a different colour from the rest of them, knowing that Hongjoong would compliment you on them later.

It was around the time you’d go to sleep when you decided you should take Hongjoong some food. You packed up some leftovers to take before setting off to meet him, stopping on the way to pick up coffee for him and a slice of the cake he’d mentioned wanting to try a couple of weeks ago. It was cold outside and you hadn’t dressed warmly enough, having been eager to get to see him. By the time you were knocking on his studio door your hands were shaking and numb from the cold, your teeth chattering as you waited for him to open the door.

“What- baby?” Hongjoong said, smiling once he saw you. “It’s late, honey, why are you here?”

“I brought food,” you told him. “Coffee and that cake you wanted to try.”

Hongjoong’s face lit up, taking the bags you were holding out and kissing your forehead.

“What would I do without you?” he hummed, heading inside to set the bags down. When you stood still in the doorway, he raised an eyebrow, turning to look at you. “Aren’t you coming in?”

“No, I just wanted to stop by and say-”

“It’s already late, why don’t you just stay here? You can sit on the sofa while I work,” he offered, pouting when he saw you considering. When you finally stepped inside, shutting the door behind you, he clapped his hands together, pulling you into a hug and a soft kiss. “Just sit and rest, okay? I’ll be done soon.”

You nodded and kissed him once more before settling down on the sofa. It was always fun to see your boyfriend work. Like anybody else with common sense, you were firm in the belief that your boyfriend looked beyond gorgeous on stage, but watching him listen over tracks with a furrowed brow, thumb pressed to his parted lips as he carefully considered changes to make, you were sure that this was Hongjoong’s most attractive state. You alternated between scrolling through your phone and watching him eat and work, eventually stretching out to lay on the sofa.

The music he listened over every now and then was loud, but mixed with the sound of him tapping on his keyboard and his soft hums it became soothing and you found your eyelids were suddenly heavy, drooping as you tried to stay awake. You watched him nod as he found something he liked, a smile playing on your lips as you felt yourself fall asleep. For a moment you felt guilty for falling asleep in his studio but you quickly realised that anywhere with Hongjoong felt safe enough to fall asleep.

Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair as he finished the coffee you’d brought him, squinting as he examined his screen.

“Honey, can you listen to this for me?” he asked, leaning back in his chair a little. When you didn’t reply, he turned around, mouth falling open slightly before pulling into a fond smile at the sight of you. He got up and gently shook you awake, laughing when you sat up too quickly, clutching your head as you tried to catch your bearings. “You’ll end up with back problems if you sleep there.”

“I can wait, I wanna go home together,” you told him, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your palms.

“I know,” he said, seating himself back down. He patted his lap and waited for you to react. “Come sleep here. Better than over there.”

You wanted to ask if he was sure but broke off into a loud yawn, embarrassed when you saw Hongjoong’s familiar ‘I told you so’ expression. You got up and made your way over to him, sitting in his lap with your face pressed to his shoulder. Hongjoong let out a long, contented sigh and rubbed your back, smiling as you rested against him. He stayed that way for a while, humming songs to you before starting with his work again, kissing at your shoulder gently.

“Just don’t drool on me, okay?” he teased, giggling to himself when he realised you’d already fallen back asleep.

[indigo-wendigo]

#3: Accismus

           When Wren asked to see Camuel again, she intended to spend time in a way that was cheaper for him than the last and made this known. She didn’t expect him to invite her over, so when he extended the welcome over the phone, she hesitated. He stuttered and quickly suggested, “Or somewhere public is fine!” She grinned. He thought it might be suspicious to be alone with him. However, upon consideration, she was interested to see his place so she said his apartment would be great.

           She arrived well after dark had settled in and pressed the button next to his name on the list. Camuel Redgrave. Wren was still thinking about his surname after she made it to his door inside the complex. The place was quite rundown, as most city residencies were in this area, but it was borderline decrepit. She found him swinging his door open before she had made it all the way to it. “Wren!” He beamed excitedly, showing his fangs in his glee.

           “Hi, Mister Redgrave.”

           He chuckled and stepped aside to allow her entrance. “You like it?”

           “It’s a little on the nose, yeah?” Wren set her bag near the door as she had a look around. She received her surroundings with the same reaction she had when he picked her up to take her on their first date: a furrowed brow and an amused smirk. It was notably untidy, even dirty in places. She spotted popcorn kernels on the coffee table, cobwebs in the corners of the living room, and it seemed every surface had an article of clothing on it.

           “I hope you like chicken parm!” he said as he giddily trotted away to the kitchen.

           She followed him at a slower pace. “You cooked for me?”

           “I did!” he chirped proudly and reached into the oven.

           The wonderful aroma rushed through the space once the food was sitting on the counter. “It smells amazing.”

           “I hope it’s good.” He stirred two pots of marinara. Wren assumed one pot had blood in it for him when he served his plate from one pot and her plate from the other. He placed her serving in front of a barstool and he sat on the end of the counter at another stool, but only briefly before he made an “ack” noise and got up to go to the fridge. “Is water okay?”

           “Yes, thank you.” Wren put her napkin in her lap and cut a piece of chicken to taste.

           He sat down and leaned toward her. “How is it?”

           She nodded. “It’s good.”

           “Great, now how is it really?”

           Wren giggled. “The chicken’s just a smidge overdone, but it’s very tasty. You did a good job.”

           “Hell yeah, I’ll take that!” Camuel flapped his napkin before placing it on his leg and cut a huge bite to devour. “I haven’t cooked in ages. Well, not a whole meal anyway.”

           She grinned. “Well, I’m appreciative that you cooked for me. Thank you.” After a sip of her water, she said, “So, Redgrave is not your original name?”

           “M-m. I changed it.”

           “May I ask why?”

           He processed a bite of chicken before he answered. “I didn’t want there to be a chance—if I ever got mixed up with the wrong people while… doing what I do—that they would try to, like, hurt my family or old friends or something.”

           “Hm.” That was noble. Since he had not offered up what his name used to be, she didn’t ask.

           After dinner was finished, Wren helped him clean up the kitchen and just before she sat down on his futon, she stopped and rose back to her full height, peering into his bedroom.

           “What?” he said, mildly concerned.

           Wren went to his bedroom and pushed the door open a little further to confirm what she thought she had glimpsed. And her eyes were not playing tricks on her.

           An obscene number of plush toys covered the top of his bed and littered the floor around it. Her mouth went agape.

           Camuel appeared next to her and shrugged. “I… I like stuffed animals.”

           She turned to him. “If there is a child in your closet, I’m calling the police.”

           He chuckled, a little embarrassed. “No! No, I just… really. I have a thing for stuffed animals, and…” He shrugged again. “I don’t know! I just like them!”

           Wren dipped her chin at him. “Like… a kink?”

           “No! I—” He stepped inside his bedroom and started kicking a few of them under his bed. “I have this… hobby I guess where I go to all kinds of thrift stores or donation places, I look for the stuffed animals that look like they’ve been played with a lot, and I buy them.” Another shrug. “It’s stupid, I know, but… It’s what I do.”

           She observed the toys again. They did all appear to have a theme of a couple bald spots, scuffed buttons for eyes, and maybe some stitching. “Why specifically ones that look like they’ve been played with a lot?”

           Camuel was all shoulders. “I dunno.” He looked down and stepped past her out of the bedroom. It was clear a nerve had been struck. He sat down on his futon and patted the space next to him, beckoning her.

           Wren sighed silently and joined him in the living room, sitting next to him with her legs folded under her. “It’s good to know that Reggie has plenty of friends.”

           He gave a closed-lipped grin and a soft blink. “Would it be too forward to say that I really like you? I mean, I know I don’t know you that well, but so far everything about you just… makes me shiver in a good way.”

           She adjusted her tawny hair over one shoulder, smiling. “Not too forward, no. And thank you. That’s very flattering.”

           “Do you… like me?” His golden eyes were practically beseeching.

           Wren lifted her chin a little in an effort to display immunity—and maybe force it. “Well, I don’t know. You’re a criminal technically. You have… a weird hobby.”

           He maintained a wince.

           “But you’re sincere. Thoughtful. And charming. I’d say all in all, the jury is still out.”

           Camuel smirked. “Fair enough. Well, if there’s anything else I can do to help you… make a call, just let me know.”

           “I do have one burning question,” she admitted casually.

           “Shoot.”

           She looked in his eyes. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

           He shook his head. “No. I don’t… I don’t think I could.” He gave a half-hearted chuckle and swiped a hand through his long, dark hair.

           Wren narrowed her eyes. “Have you ever bitten anyone?”

           “Not unless they asked me to.” He gave a sexy grin. When she only cocked an eyebrow, he laughed. “No, no, I’ve never bitten anyone.”

           “Really?”

           “Really.”

           She chose a lock of her hair to twirl between her fingers on both hands. “I read that… it’s better for you straight from the vein. And it tastes better. Kind of has a neurological effect on vampires.”

           He nodded. “That’s true.”

           “But you’ve never experienced it?”

           Camuel shook his head again. “Nope.”

           Wren dipped her chin at him. “Don’t you want to?”

           “Of course! But it has long-term consequences. I also think it would be fun to rail a bunch of coke and do some cityscape parkour, but then I think, ‘Mm, better not.’”

           She huffed in amusement. “So, does that mean you have to consume more blood than you would if you had it fresh in order to… get the nutrition you need from it?”

           “That’s about the size of it, yeah.”

           Wren tilted her head. “Do you want a cure?”

           He blinked. “… Sorry, what do you mean?”

           “I mean, you referred to vampirism as a consequence.” She waved her hand. “The media and every speck of right-wing politics call it an addiction and talk about you all like you’re junkies with really bad withdrawals—withdrawals that essentially turn you into monsters, which the police have killed a ton of due to them snacking on citizens. Not to mention you burn in the sunlight. And the only perks appear to be slow aging, how slow we don’t know yet, and near immortality.” She spoke quietly, but surely. “It’s an illness. Do you consider yourself sick? And if you do, would you want to get better?”

           He pondered for a moment; she could tell by the way his mouth went crooked. “I think I would. But not before I got a chance to do something else.”

           “What’s that.”

           He adjusted in his seat. “Since I can tell you’ve done more research since our last date, I’m sure you’ve come across all the diseases vampirism has cured. Stories like people with stage-four cancer are in perfect health within a month after turning? I want to find cures for those things first without forcing those sick people to turn. I want to help with that. Then I might take a cure. Unless it wouldn’t matter if I did before anyway; I don’t know. I barely passed every science class I ever had.”

           Wren was thinking that word again as she nodded slowly with her eyes narrowed. Noble. Then her thoughts crossed over Charlotte.

           “Did that help the jury make a decision?”

           She blinked softly at him with a pleasant grin. “It will.”

[tangledinmdzs]

colored canvas - junior quartet hcs

a requested continuation to this reaction where you find out that the juniors have sneaked a peak at your drawings~

Lan Sizhui ∞༺♥༻✧

“you weren’t supposed to seee that” you whine out 

Sizhui barely has time to put the picture back to where it belongs when he hears you bounding up behind him,

you lean over his shoulder and sigh close to his ear before taking the small paper into your hands over his shoulder

Sizhui turns around with you

there’s a bit of guilt on his face

but well, 

when you’re pouting up at him like that, he can’t really help but feel anything other than love

“i’m sorry, it just...happened to be there”

“you liar, i kept it in my folder, how’d you know where to look,” you tell him and Sizhui laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck

“okay, i was looking for it, but only because you hide your talent from me all the time,”

you shake your head at him and stick out your tongue though there’s a light blush on your cheeks at his words

Lan Jingyi ∞༺♥༻✧

Jingyi now, has been unnaturally curious about your work

before, when he would have catch you doodling or sketching quietly, he wouldn’t really notice what you were doing

yet now,

whenever you pull out your pencil and open your book

Jingyi just goes super still

and very obviously tries to look at what you’re doing

it’s cute

but it’s also slightly infuriating

because you love drawing people for the candid aspect of it

not because they knew they were being drawn

so now you draw around him a lot less

actually just draw him, personally, a lot less

because he always acts so weird around you now

like just now, when he was sipping his coffee next to you on the shop by the window

and the sunlight was hitting the edge of his hair and face just right

and you pulled out your sketchbook to draw him

you’ve barely done a rough sketch before you look up the second time and meet his eyes

and you sigh

“do you get bothered whenever i try to draw you?” you ask

Jingyi nearly spits out his drink at your response, though you think the reaction is a bit overdone

“no, not- not at all” Jingyi says, bluffs

“then why do you always look at me whenever i draw you? you didn’t used to do that...” you reply

and Jingyi purses his lips about to say something when he hears you mumble,

“this is why i don’t let you see my sketches,” 

“you knew that i saw?” Jingyi asks quickly and you roll your eyes at him

“of course, you’re the worst liar ever,” you comment and go back to sketching out something else on your book

and Jingyi splutters, but well he can’t deny the truth

Jin Ling ∞༺♥༻✧

Jin Ling has gotten better at sneaking peaks, after the first time

since it’s been a good three months since he’d realized that he’s your muse

and also a good two months since he started, sneaking glances around in your very private sketch book

you haven’t realized that he did

and he honestly thought that he would be able to get away with it forever

that is, when you’re studying together

and he had thought that you went to the bathroom

and had picked up the book to look

and now is caught red handed

your reaction mildly scares him

because

you take it as a serious violation of your privacy (which it is)

even though Jin Ling’s seen you draw plenty of times

“i’ve seen you draw plenty of time, what’s wrong with now?” he’d try to rebuff but you glare at him

you tuck your beloved sketchbook into your arms and make leave

Jin Ling’s frightened;

did he anger you

“y/n-” Jin Ling tries

“this is different,” you tell him, though you hide most of your face away from his sight

so he can’t see the bright bright red of embarrassment that’s high on your cheekbones

which he’ll probably mistake as like anger or something because Jin Ling can’t read emotions really well

ahh, you’d probably still be able to hide the crush that you had on him at this rate.

Jin Ling tries to talk to you again, but you’ve already run away

Ouyang Zizhen ∞༺♥༻✧

you tend to like to draw in solitude

just you and the canvas

since you had your own studio

that was usually the case most of the time

almost all of the time, because if you knew that someone was watching you draw it would always be harder for you to draw

and you don’t really expect anyone to be there when you’re working on your craft

because whenever your hands find the brush and your eyes begin to match colors

it’s like the rest of the world fades away into the white canvas that you’re painting on top of

so if Zizhen hadn’t uttered the deepest of ‘woah’s, 

you probably wouldn’t have even realized that he’d come into the studio

“Zizhen,” you say, once you’ve turned around at the random sound of his voice

he’d walk towards you slowly, eyes really taking in the scenic picture that you’re painting of a garden

he looks... intrigued,

“i didn’t hear you come in,” you tell him, fixing up some of your brushes

“i’ve been here,” he tells you, honestly and you whip your head over to him

“been here? the whole time?” you ask, surprised

Zizhen hums, leans close to the painting (and you) to get a closer look

“you’re truly, an artist” he compliments you

and you’ve never ever had anyone call you that

even though you were quite established in the arts field

but it never really meant much what anyone else said

it meant the world from Zizhen

[lailyn]

The Way We Were

The knock on the door came late evening, so faint and hesitant Loki almost brushed it off as a product of his overactive imagination. On days like this, when the sun was low and the birds had settled to roost, Loki’s melancholy often paid him a visit. Hearing things was not unheard of. 

There was the knock again. It sounded more resolute this time. 

The banging and clanging from the kitchen ceased momentarily and Tony’s head bobbed up from behind the island counter. “Do you mind getting the door, babe? I kinda have my hands full at the moment.”

Loki rolled his eyes. He waved away their daughter’s toys and righted the cushions on the couch before trudging grudgingly to greet whoever was at the door. For some reason, the journey from the living room to the front door felt long and never-ending, his feet heavy and his heart heavier. 

His wards were holding, but he felt far from safe. He held onto the small frame tighter and closer to him. 

“Stephen.” 

“Loki.” 

“I...wasn’t expecting you.” Loki's grip around his daughter tightened. 

"Mama, is he a bad man?" He heard her whisper in his ear, and just like that, the tension drained out of Loki like water.

"No." Loki loosened his grip around her. "No, baby, he's not."

“Stephen, my man! You made it!” Out of nowhere, Tony appeared, and the trance broke instantly; Loki took an abrupt step back as his husband reached over to give their guest a hug. 

“Tony.” Stephen’s smile was warm and genuine, as was the affectionate squeeze he gave Tony’s shoulder. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes, we’ve really moved out of your jurisdiction,” Tony said with a roll of his eyes. “Wellness checks probably aren't warranted as much.”

“Not when you’ve moved upstate, no, not so much,” Stephen said serenely. 

Upon realising that none of them had moved in the last thirty seconds since Loki answered the door, Tony balked, “Are we just going to stand here like a bunch of idiots? Get your ass inside!” 

“Husband,” Loki admonished him, doing his best to cover both their daughter’s ears with one hand.

“Oops.” Tony shooed them all in. He could no more bear the awkwardness than Loki could pretend that they were nothing but old friends. 

He closed the heavy mahogany doors behind them. “I’d offer to take your coat, but…” 

Much to everyone's amusement, the Cloak of Levitation had flown across the threshold to make itself at home, pretending to socialise with the other outer garments on the rack behind the door. 

The toddler in Loki's arms squealed in delight.

Stephen admired the cabin, casting an appreciative eye at the high, lofty ceiling with its great timber beams, and the great roaring fireplace. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

“I didn’t think the neoclassic, minimalist luxe look was going to work but you know our dearest Loki. He always knows what he wants.” The look of pure adoration on Tony's face was something to behold. 

A soft blush coloured Loki’s cheeks, his “Stop it,” half-hearted and weak. 

Stephen's fingers hovered over the lone Japanese ceramic tea bowl on a display table. "Edo period?"

Loki’s eyes were unreadable. "I imagine so."

Stephen would recognise the rough, rustic finish anywhere; the crack that went down all the way from its rim to its bottom was unmistakable. He remembered the hours Loki had spent studying the gold lacquer with which the crack was filled, and he remembered keeping him company. 

"Wabi-sabi." Stephen nodded in approval. "The art of seeking beauty in imperfection."

Loki's stoic face gave an imperceptible spasm.

“Espérance, darling, be a dear and go upstairs for a short nap, okay?” Loki pressed a kiss to the little girl's cheek. "Daddy and I are going to talk to Uncle Stephen for a while. We'll call you once dinner's ready."

"I'll take her," Tony offered. "Why don't you take Stephen outside, babe? I've put out some hors d'oeuvre on the patio."

"She's grown so big." Stephen marvelled at the sight of his friends' eldest daughter as she climbed up the stairs one step at a time, clutching the rail in one hand, her father's hand in the other.

"That's one way of telling time." Loki said coolly. "Watching children grow."

Without another word, Loki turned and led Stephen onto the patio, where several chairs had been laid out on the deck overlooking the picturesque lake below. 

Loki had no sooner sat on the chair that offered the best view of the mountains on the other side of the house than the first hum of a familiar tune began to play from the various speakers hidden in the trees around the property. 

Tony must have tinkered with the controls inside the house, and Loki heaved a sigh, forlorn and pensive. 

He did not blame his husband for the poor choice. It had nothing to do with Barbra Streisand’s metier as a singer, as legendary as it was. 

"I could listen to this song over and over if not for the memories."

Stephen took a seat on the other side of the coffee table. It was a comfortable, yet companionable distance. "It's always been your favourite."

"The song or the film?"

Now that Stephen really thought about it, he had no idea. "You never told me."

Loki allowed himself a wistful smile. "You hated it. The ending."

"I don't understand why they couldn't be together."

"They were too different."

"They were their own person, sure. But they loved each other. They should have been able to make it work."

"Are we still talking about Barbra Streisand and Robert Redford?" Loki eyed the man sitting next to him. "Or are you talking about us?"

Stephen felt like kicking himself. This was not why he came. He was not going to ruin what was left of this fragile friendship lamenting lost loves and what-ifs. He did not have many friends left, in this world or off it. 

"We were too similar," he managed. 

Loki snorted. "Polarity has nothing to do with compatibility. What repels does not always repel. What attracts does not always last."

"That is true," Stephen agreed reluctantly.

"You Midgardians look to the stars for guidance, do you not? The alignment and such, to see if one is right for another?”

“Certain cultures do, yeah.”

“I was not born under these stars, Doctor." Loki raised his head to the heavens. "So your theory is flawed."

Stephen knew better than to challenge an idea when there was no point in winning. He had lost so much already. A wiser man would argue that losing was not the same as sacrificing; if done for the greater good, it was noble and worthwhile and who cared if he was alone? If his bed was cold every night?

As long as Loki was safe, warm and loved, Stephen cared not one damn bit. 

"It's pretty cold tonight, huh. How about a drink?"

Two steaming cups suddenly appeared on the coffee table.

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Pumpkin spice latte? You hate this stuff."

Stephen flashed him a smile, boyish and familiar. He offered no explanation for why it looked so sad. Perhaps he did not realise he was wearing it. "Not anymore."

A sudden splashing sound and a whiff of bourbon had Loki shooting out a hand to cover the rim of his cup before Stephen could offer to do the same to his drink. "I'm alright, thank you."

In his shock, Stephen nearly dropped the bottle with a fumbling gasp, and his host turned to give him a sharp look.

In profile, Loki’s looks had appeared untouched by age. But now, Stephen could see the passage of time in the seaglass eyes, how their piercing brilliance cast a sallow hue over a complexion so pale he could see the veins in Loki’s temples. 

"Does Tony know?"

Loki's forehead furrowed as though the question puzzled him, but it smoothened as he looked down at the hand he did not realise he was holding to his stomach. 

"I was planning to tell him the good news tonight."

Stephen closed his eyes. Finally he knew why he had come, and why he must now leave.

He recapped the bottle of liquor slowly. He banished it to his secret pocket dimension in exchange for another object, one he had coveted for his own but now only knew was only given to him for safekeeping. 

Slowly he stood. As if answering his silent call, the Cloak of Levitation flew through one of the open windows upstairs to settle around his shoulders. 

Loki tore his eyes away. He could not look at Stephen's majestic silhouette for too long.

"Must you leave so soon?" He asked lightly. "You'll break Tony's heart."

The foliage of red and gold here was as beautiful as the one Stephen and Loki once shared a long, long time ago. 

He pressed in Loki's hand a memento of that time, a souvenir from one of the many Shinto shrines Loki had dragged him to up and down the ancient town of Kyoto. 

"Fall has seen its share of broken hearts." 

With the return of the sad smile and a small shrug, Stephen then asked the cruelest yet kindest question of all. "What is one more?"

_____________

Loki watched the last of the autumn leaves fall one by one onto the cold, hard ground. He had never told anyone but his eyesight had become better with age, especially in the dark. Be it his Jotunn blood or his ever-growing proficiency in the practice of magic, he found it both a blessing and a curse.

Winter was coming. 

And something was burning. 

The smoke detector blared but the alarm sounded distant, unimportant. A white noise of modern living. 

There was a time when Loki would have let the world around him burn, just for one moment of peace...until he learned that solace was not a place. Tony taught him that.

The patio door slid open behind him and before his husband could speak,

"Do you need a hand, darling?" Loki said without turning his head.

"I think I burnt the turkey!" Tony said, sounding awfully stressed over an overdone poultry no one was going to eat anyway. "I need some time-turning magic! Stephen, you need to timey-wimey the turkey back to edib - "

He frowned. "Where did Strange go?"

"He had to leave."

"What? Why?"

"He didn't say."

"It's not Thanksgiving without turkey."

"I'm sure we'll manage," Loki said mildly. 

He waved a hand and the smell of smoke disappeared, the smoke detector alarm dwindling into the first chimes of the cicadas' night song.

"Think it was some kind of Sorcerer Supreme business? He left without saying goodbye."

"Must be."

Tony sank slowly into the chair Stephen had so hastily vacated. "Well, I guess protecting our reality comes first.” 

“Yeah,” Loki said softly. “I guess.”

"Are you alright?" Tony asked carefully.

“You didn’t tell me he was coming.”

“I didn’t know he was. He has never RVSP-ed before, no matter how many times we invited him over.”

“Why now? Why this year?”

“Maybe he just misses you.”

“Anthony…”

"How long has it been? Seven, eight years since you last saw each other?"

Loki had meant to leave Tony's rhetorical question unanswered but nostalgia had other ideas. "Ten."

Tony whistled. A decade, huh. "That must be why."

“Tony, don’t.”

“Look, Lokes,” Tony said haltingly as he ran a rakish hand through his hair. "Everybody has a history. You know mine. I'm lucky if I could learn half of yours before I die but what I do know of it, I'm cool with it. You're with me now and that's all that matters."

Loki said nothing.

"Am I wrong?" Tony pleaded when the silence went on for far too long. 

Loki rolled his eyes. "There's a little girl upstairs who has your face and your name, what do you think?"

"Seeing as she is our daughter, she's mine, sure." Tony's eyes were asking a different question altogether, Are you? 

Loki sighed, feeling sick to his stomach. The one sip of the sickly sweet drink he took sat heavy and sour, heralding the onset of nausea that would take hours to calm.

His hand slipped inside his pocket and grasped the palm-sized object, not knowing what to expect - 

The tiniest gust of wind blew against his cheek, and Loki let out a startled cry. He had not felt Stephen's magic in a long, long time.

"Loki?" he heard Tony call out, the abject concern in his husband's voice.

He picked up the pouch that had fallen out of his pocket and fisted it tightly, noticing how his nausea had completely vanished.  

"It's an Omamori charm," he said faintly. "The Japanese would gift these to expectant mothers as a good luck charm for safety in pregnancy and childbirth."

"Why would he - " Tony's eyes bulged as he gaped, "You're pregnant?"

"Yes," Loki said, painfully aware of how feathery and weak his voice sounded.

"And you told him?" Tony asked, his voice rising in pitch. "Before me?"

Loki ignored the jealousy in Tony's voice and the hurt in his husband's eyes. Not only was it unfounded, Loki was barely holding it together himself. 

He shook his head more forcefully than he intended and a few tears landed on the weather-beaten deck, darkening it in places. 

"Stephen just knew." Loki wiped his face surreptitiously. "He knows these things."

"I bet he does," Tony muttered darkly. 

Loki turned to look at his husband furiously. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Baby, I didn't mean it like that." Tony hurriedly tried to gather Loki in his arms but his unyielding husband refused to budge so Tony slid onto the floor and surrendered himself to the mercy of Loki's lap. "I say the stupidest shit sometimes, stuff I don't even mean." 

But Loki was nothing if not persistent. "Then what did you mean?"

Tony was quiet for a time. "Bambi, I'm the coolest guy I know. I look good for my age. Did I tell you my skin age dropped from fifty to thirty after I went on that cleansing diet Bruce recommended on his podcast?"

If Loki waited long enough, Tony almost always got to the point. Eventually. 

"Hey, Fury told me that the last Sorcerer Supreme lived for hundreds of years. How crazy is that?"

“Where are you going with this?”

“Nowhere,” Tony said all too quickly. 

"You are talking to the God of Lies, Tony, or did you forget?" Loki's eyes glinted dangerously. "Try again."

“Someday...one day when I’m no longer around and if you decide that - ” Tony hesitated. His gaze shifted to the floor. “I just want you to know that I’m okay with it. I’m okay with the idea of...you. And him.”

“You would say that to me when I have given up everything to be with you. To take you as my husband." Loki's eyes welled. "To bear our children.”

His breath hitched, his chest felt tight. "After all these years, you still - "

"No, Loki. Please, don't." 

Tony could never stand to see him cry, but Loki could not help the tears streaming down his face of their own volition.

"Please don't cry…" 

Rough, calloused hands pawed at the hollow of his cheeks. 

"I just wish I could make you happy."

But Loki was not having it. "The man can see into the future, Stark. Do you honestly believe he would have let you have me if you couldn't?" 

Tony was stunned into silence.

"What ever gave you the impression that I was not happy with you?" Loki asked bitterly, his entire frame trembling under the weight of anger and some other emotion he dared not name. "You are not some charity case I picked up because you had the shorter life to live."

The silence stretched into long minutes of heartache and morose reflection.

“Are you mad at me?” Tony asked quietly.

"No." Loki shook his head. “I am thankful for you. You gave me a chance. No one else did.”

“Hey, hey. It wasn’t all me. It was mostly you. It was all you.” 

Tony grabbed Loki's hand and pressed an exceptionally fierce kiss on the bone-cold knuckles. “You gave us a chance. I just wanted someone I couldn’t have.”

“Someone you thought you couldn’t have," Loki corrected. 

Tony gazed into the icy depth of Loki's eyes, looking for an affirmation only Loki could give.

“Stephen may have come first but you are not second, Tony." 

Loki touched his fingertips to the sides of his husband's dear, sweet face. "You were never second.”

"I love you, Games."

"And I, you," Loki reassured him, stilling the quiver of Tony's lips with a brush of a thumb. "Even if you don't always believe me."

"I do." In a throwback to his overexcitement on their wedding day, Tony showered Loki's face all over with kisses, each more desperate than the one before. "I do, I do, I do!" 

"I never doubted you, Loki. I was just being an idiot. An insecure, self-centered idiot." Tony reached out a hand to touch Loki's stomach. "Are you okay?" 

"I am more than okay." Loki laced his fingers through Tony's. "Are you?"

"Are you kidding? Do you see this?" Tony gestured at the giant grin he was wearing. It was so huge he felt as if his cheeks would snap. "This is my happy face. I am super happy." Then his face contorted. "When did we -?"

"Make her?" Loki bit down on his lip. "By my calculation, probably last month on our trip to Italy."

Tony's already big eyes widened. Her? He mouthed. 

Loki thought of the pouch charm with its exquisite pink brocade and gold silk lining. 

The Sorcerer Supreme was never wrong.

"Yes, we are having another girl," Loki  said giddily. Tears of happiness did not sting as much so this time he did not bother blinking them away.

Tony's eyes danced. "Can I tweet this yet?"

"No."

"But my followers come up with the most amazing baby names!"

"No!"

Tony pouted. "Fine. But we're giving her an Italian name."

"Tony, we don't really have to name every kid we have after the place where they were conceived, you know."

"Espérance grew into hers," Tony argued. After a few seconds of heavy thinking, "I quite like Isabella."

Loki wrinkled his nose beatifically. "Too common."

"Ludovica? You thought the sculpture was beautiful."

"I am not naming our daughter after a tomb effigy!" Loki said indignantly. "Although I did meet Bernini once. Give him a slab of marble and he could breathe it to life." 

The reminiscent smile on Loki's face took on a life of its own. "You would have liked him. He was quite flashy, like you."

"God you're sexy when you name-drop famous dead people," Tony sighed.

Loki began to laugh; it started off slow, before escalating into a full, heartfelt laughter that had him grabbing Tony's face in both hands. 

Stephen chose to serve the world. Maybe in another life, he would choose Loki. 

But for now, and forever…

There was no other man for him. 

He bent down to kiss Tony on the lips, gently, deeply and fully. 

"Anthony Stark, you have my heart." For Loki too remembered his wedding vows. "Whole, healed and eternal."

And eternal indeed was their love, the former Iron Man and his Ice Prince, and healed were their hearts, conjoined as one, for as long as they both shall live.

[stronglyobsessed]

Merwin post THC: daisy wants to decorate merlins prosthetics

Okay. This is the sweetest shit ever! Hits all my spots. Thank you for the ask!

~~~

“You sure you don’t mind?” Eggsy hovered just inside the sitting room. Where both Merlin and Daisy occupied their large, plush, overstuffed blue and green checked sofa.

Daisy kept an intense eye on the Telly, where Elsa fled across the screen, singing ‘Let It Go’.

Merlin was happy to ignore the Disney movie, having seen it one too many times in the last six months. How children hyper focused on ONE musical at a time, Merlin would never understand.

“I’m sure.” He smiled at his younger partner.

They wanted pizza for dinner, from a shop that didn’t offer delivery, and since Merlin had overdone it in PT that morning, he was happy to take a rest while Eggsy fetched the meal. But it was also their weekend with Daisy. Ever since V-Day, Eggsy took his sister every other weekend, at least when he was in the Country.

Eggsy inched further into the room. “But your legs...” his brow furrowed. Worry thick in the expression, which was often worn when Merlin’s recovery was concerned.

Despite the irritation that threatened to bubble up, Merlin tenderly smiled.

“My legs are tired, but okay. We have a good hour until this is over, and I’m sure I can coax Frozen II—“ Daisy’s ears perked a bit, but her attention remained on the singing frozen Queen. “—for the next viewing.” He finished with a small smile, running a hand down her braid.

“Okay.” Eggsy seemed only mildly convinced.

At least he took Merlin’s words seriously, giving them both a kiss goodbye and the promise to be gone less than forty minutes.

Twenty minutes later, Daisy migrated from her nest of blankets, stuffies and pillows to twirl around the room. Her baby pink, pastel purple and blue sheer skirt billowed up with each turn, causing the colors to blend into one, and sang along.

He hadn’t noticed it get quiet, easily able to tune out Disney Princess songs, because he was dreadful at them and often wasn’t asked to sing along, not until a little hand touched his thigh. Merlin gazed up, earning himself a wide grin from the five year old. Delight and curiousity bright in her pretty blue eyes.

“How may I help you?” He wondered, curiously.

“Does it hurt?” She delicately touched his scarred stump. “Eggsy said I have to be careful.” Merlin nodded. “Do these hurt when you wear them?” She gestured toward the silver, titanium prosthetic.

“Sometimes,” Merlin answered honestly.

“Is that why you don’t have them on now?” Merlin nodded again. “The silver is boring.” She offered, wrinkling her tiny nose. He laughed.

“It is,” Merlin agreed. He watched Daisy purse her lips, nodding to some unknown decision, and fled the room.

He went back to reading, until she tapped his thigh again.

“Aye?”

Daisy held up a basket of her glitters, glue and markers. Some washable and some permanent.

“Can I decorate it?” She looked about as hopeful as she sounded.

- - -

“Alright! Pizza!” Eggsy announced on his return. “Sorry for the wait. Was a bit busy.” He left the box in the hall, making a detour to grab some plates, and brought everything into the sitting room.

“Dinner and a movie!” He placed everything on the coffee table. “What’s this?”

“We are making Hammy’s legs pretty.” Daisy replied very seriously from her spot on Merlin’s lap.

But that wasn’t what had him snapping a few photos with his glasses. It was the below the knee prosthetic in HER lap. What was once plain, silver titanium was now bright purple glittered flowers, intricate swirls of yellow and blues, and a Scottish flag on the other side. All glittered, of course, Eggsy was sure per Daisy’s request.

“Oh?” Eggsy grinned. Merlin looked up with a small, crooked smile that was fond and gentle. One he often wore where Eggsy was concerned, and now Daisy; it warmed his heart. “It looks beautiful.” He told them, holding his gaze with bright, hazel eyes that twinkled with adoration.

Merlin waved him over, and Eggsy added his own little touch on one of the prosthetics. A little Wizard’s hat, with a heart surrounding it.

[seamistan]

modern au seamista trope that u want to see?

Oooo! love this

I think we as a fandom have severely underutilized the disgruntled coworkers au, with Mermista being an annoyed superior and sea hawk being a new hire in love with her or something along those lines? A while ago I actually had a pretty detailed description for a retail!au for all of she-ra actually. Honestly I wish I still remembered all the details of it :(

Former classmates au could also be,,, fantastic. Think about it- Mermista being the former too cool loner kid who hung around jocks for fun and sea hawk being an ex artsy kid who now does mildly illegal stuff but is still super fun to hang around. They meet up somehow and just hit it off and reminisce. I would say a high school au but I feel like they're overdone, but maybe a seamista specific one would be interesting.

Also the tried and true coffee shop au.... perfect, ideal, show stopping, fantastic etc etc.

There's also some really long fantastic lists of modern aus in general which are. Chef's kiss. Detailed and truly lovely.

Some highlights from those, specifically the "meet-ugly" one-

- "I work at a department store and if you take out and unfold a shirt and then leave it one more time I’m going to stuff it down your throat"

- "This is a five-hour-long plane ride, we’re sitting together and you’re deathly afraid of flying"

- "You punched me in the face while gesticulating wildly to a friend" (this one, but make it fire)

- "You broke into my apartment drunk thinking it was your friend’s house and I should call the cops but my cat kinda likes you so we’re good" (bonus points: give the cat some silly ocean name)

[dr-gloom]

Something’s Up With Virgil

Day 29 of @sanderssidesspook‘s Spook Month

Prompt: Dragon Witch

Fandom: Sander’s Sides

Pairing: hints of Prinxiety (especially at the end)

Words: 1,509

Summary: Remy throws amazing Halloween parties, with a crazy money prize for his costume contest. Virgil wants that money. 

Tags/Warnings: Dragon Witch costume, Virgil’s unfairly hot, based on @em-be-lievable‘s Dragon Witch AU, Human AU, College AU

Enjoy! 

AO3

fic masterlist

like what I do? buy me a coffee or GoFundMe

Reblogs > Likes

Taglist: 

@hungry-red-panda

@neonb-fly

@the-demon-sharkkittem

@virgil-is-thriving

@trueunreal

@punsterterry

Every year, Remy threw the biggest, baddest Halloween party of the year. What had started as a simple friends-only party in high school had, by freshman year of college, turned into a everyone-who’s-anyone party. His house would always be packed full of friends and strangers alike, music playing loudly from the surround sound his dad had installed during sophomore year. There would always be Halloween-themed food and drinks, and Remy never let someone leave drunk unless he knew they had a ride. Virgil never knew how he kept track of the large number of people, but he’d never heard of anyone being harassed or driving home drunk in all the years he’s known the Starbucks-loving theater major.

One of the things that drew so many people to Remy’s parties was the costume contest. Sure, a lot of parties had them, but Remy, as a theater major with experience in special effects makeup, only let really exceptional people enter. And the prize was $500. That was a lot for a college student living off ramen around midterms. So every year, even if they weren’t entering the contest, crowds came in droves to see the kind of people said contest attracted.

And that was what was currently plaguing Virgil at the moment. His costume, that is. He was determined to win the contest, but he had no idea what he was going to go as. It was only late August though, he had a little time, right? Right.

He spent every free moment trying to brainstorm, He didn’t want to do something that’s been overdone, but he also couldn’t stress himself out trying to do something that was rarely seen because of how complex the costume is. Patton tried to reassure him that he didn’t have to do something amazing to be able to enjoy himself, but it wasn’t about that. He really wanted that prize money, okay? Logan knew next to nothing about costuming, so he was absolutely no help, and Roman wouldn’t help him because he was entering too. It was every man for himself this year.

The idea came to him mid-October while he was studying for his midterms. By that point, he’d been so stressed that he’d all but given up on dressing up in any capacity, and if anyone asked he’d say he was too busy with school to plan a costume. As it were, he was in the middle of studying for chemistry when he remembered something Roman had muttered in a half-asleep daze just the other week.

“I have to dispose of the Dragon Witch body.”

He had no idea why he thought of it then, or why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. But the longer he thought on it the better it seemed. He glanced down at his notes. He was fine, right? He wouldn’t fail, and that’s all that really mattered with Gen Ed classes.  He rushed off to his room to see what he already had and what he needed to buy.

For the next week, Virgil only ever comes out of his room to use the bathroom, grab granola bar refills for his stash, and go to the craft store (and class, of course - as much as he hates it, he can’t miss class this close to midterms). Patton grew increasingly more concerned with each day that passed, but Roman assured Patton that Virgil didn’t look like he was in any danger. Sleep deprived, maybe, but not starving or anything. It wasn’t much of a comfort for their fatherly friend, though. He would spend hours sitting outside Virgil’s door trying to talk him into taking a break and coming out for a movie or dinner or something, anything, but Virgil always shut him down.

Virgil had refused to tell anyone what he was working on, and their only hints were glimpses of the supplies he ran out and bought on occasion. Everyone knew when he’d finally finished. Two nights before the party, Virgil suddenly let out a loud, joyous cry. Roman and Patton, who’d been on the couch watching a movie, jumped at the sound and got up to check on Virgil. He beat them to it though, opening his door and stumbling exhausted into the living room, collapsing on the couch with a weak laugh. He was asleep in minutes.

Virgil slept through the rest of the next day, but thankfully he didn’t have classes. He hadn’t woken up until the sun had started to set and found all three of his friends eating McDonald’s and playing Scrabble. His small amused laugh drew their attention to him, and Patton was on him in seconds, asking if he felt alright, if he was hungry, asking if he wanted to shower. And yeah, he guessed he did smell pretty bad.

Everyone had been ready to go for at least twenty minutes now, and Virgil had yet to come out of the bathroom. Logan was tapping his foot impatiently, his pirate boot (Roman had convinced him somehow to dress as pirates, this year) thumping intrusively on the floor. Patton worried his hands, glancing between Logan and the bathroom door. Twenty five minutes, now.

“Kiddo? Do you need help? Are you almost ready?”

Virgil’s hesitant voice came through the wood; “Uh… You guys can go, I’ll meet you there, okay?”

“Are you sure, Virge? We don’t mind waiting.” Patton ignores the glare from Logan.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I wanna surprise you guys anyways.”

Patton glances at the other two before he responds. “Well… Alright kiddo, but don’t take too long, okay? You’ll miss all the fun!”

Virgil let out a sigh as he heard the front door close.

He glanced at himself in the mirror. He wasn’t too confident in his abilities with special effects makeup, but he’d kept to simple changes and it hadn’t turned out too bad. He’d made himself some horns, a soft grey, ridged, and just slightly curved, which were attached to his head, pointing straight up. He also got some elf ears, because why the hell not, and he had to say it fit pretty nicely. He’d taken an old black vest he never wore and added a large, fluffy collar to it, as well as two relatively small black-and-purple dragon’s wings. He wore black skinny jeans tucked into his purple boots, and had glued a small fake ram’s skull onto his belt. He accented the whole thing with purple fingerless gloves (which were a bitch to find) and sharp pointed purple nails. He also had a black dragon’s tail attached to his lower back and jeans, which felt… really weird, but whatever, it’d be fine. It stayed curved upright by a small bit of fishing line attached to the small buckle on the back of his vest. He’d used liquid latex to make his joints stand out a little more sharply and to add a more dragon-esque contour to his face. It was all tied together with purple contacts.

He looked kinda hot, actually.

He smirks at himself - fangs, fuck yeah - and heads out of the apartment.

The party was in full swing by the time he got there. Music could be heard every time someone opened the front door and the house was crowded and people spilled out into the front and back lawns, some of them already drunk. As Virgil got closer, people started to notice. And Virgil noticed them notice. He could see them turning to look at him out of the corner of his eye, and he could feel their stares following him as he headed towards the house.

He’s almost to the front door when he starts considering going home and changing. This was a bad idea, he looked so stupid, everyone was going to hate it and he’d never live it down- he was already at the front door though, and someone was opening it.

Patton stood on the other end, talking to someone over his shoulder. When he turned to face forward, Virgil’s heart slowly sank along with Patton’s smile. He knew this was a bad idea. Patton’s eyes get wide and his lips part, but he’s just staring. Virgil’s hand comes up to scratch at the back of his head awkwardly. “Uh… Hey, Pat…” Patton blinks, and the smile is back in full force. “Hey, kiddo! You look so cool!” Virgil smiles sheepishly. “Thanks.”

Patton squeals, making Virgil jump. “And you have fangs???” Patton takes Virgil’s hand and drags him inside, closing the door and dragging him over to Roman, Logan, and Remy. “Guys, guys! Look at Virgil! He’s so cool!” They look over at Virgil and Patton as they get closer. Logan looks mildly surprised. Remy lowers his shades and whistles. Roman openly oggles Virgil, his face just screaming oh no, he’s hot. Virgil flushes.

“Like what you see, Princey?” Roman looks up at Virgil at that. His hand reaches for the fake sword on his belt and he smirks with a slight blush. “You wish, Dragon Witch.”

Yeah, he was glad he’d dressed up this year.

[iffahwrites]

Coffee Mugger

From : @writing-prompt-s : On your first day as a supervillain, you secretly swap all the regular coffee on Earth with decaf. You envision this as a fun, little starter prank. To say you miscalculated the potential impact of your “prank” is putting it mildly…

Zombie Apocalypse… was putting it lightly.

In all honesty he didn’t actually expect this amount of chaos just because of a little prank. He just wanted to show people that he was a cool dude. A super-villain sure, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun with it. It was simple : He was evil, not a monotonous drag. It was unfortunate those two qualities were often inter-related.

His evil lair was decked in vibrant colors and he’d hired a good interior decorator to make it aesthetically pleasing as well. What ? The normal dull, drab and monotonous theme other super-villains opted for was so stereotypical and boring. Not to mention emotionally draining. The loud colors of his lair only increased his excitement and enthusiasm while cooking up evil plots. How the dullest array of grays, dusky purples and blacks helped encourage other villains he simply didn’t know.

He had decided that he would start his super-villain career with a bang. Most villains started out with a grand revelation that almost always ended with a hero-villain battle until one lost. The fight would be resumed at a later date. Except, all the ways to stage such a display were so cliche and overdone.

Kidnapping ? Nah.

Mass panic ? Almost anything would cause that. (You’d think the populous would be used to super-villains by now but nope… either that or they acted to prevent hurting both villain and hero’s feelings).

Destruction of the city’s residential and official areas ? It was his city too; why would he destroy his own city ? It was common sense.

So after spending a lot of time plotting and discarding multiple trash bins filled to the brim with scrunched up paper, he had it.

It was PERFECT.

Coffee. It was a staple of living for most people. Almost everyone who had school or work on a Monday morning required the caffeinated drink to at least display some form of consciousness. So the plan was so simple ! Replace regular coffee with decaf, and he’d have his grand entrance.

Around midday he’d breach popular live stream networks (once again, you’d think there would be stronger firewalls to protect television and streaming networks) and introduce himself as the latest, most riveting super-villain yet.

He certainly hadn’t expected this… outcome.

His live feeds to multiple of the cities offices and public spaces had shown rather mixed results.

There was your usual tea drinkers. Completely unaffected and went about their days as usual.

There were the perky morning people. They too, were unaffected as though they woke up already caffeinated... or they didn’t have a tumblr blog and actually got a minimum of eight hours of sleep daily. (He didn’t really understand those people but he wished them well for having the good sense to sleep early).

There were those coffee drinkers who either didn’t need it to function or could tolerate tea and had managed to wake themselves up after their regular doses of coffee hadn’t done the trick. The same occurred for those who preferred energy drinks.

Then there were the actual coffee drinkers…

It was astounding they were still standing although how they were standing was a matter he’d rather not look into. (The thought was quite terrifying).

Multiple items ended up broken, spilled or ruined and it wasn’t even noon yet ! Wrong papers were signed and ink was spilled. Those who worked at computers just stared at their screens in scrutiny, random letters and functions mixing with the regular letters and commands.

Some employees were yelled at. Some students slept during class and were given a rude awakening. Some bosses were too out of it to actually yell and in many classes, the professors were asleep as well. (Their employees/students were the lucky ones).

By midday, the coffeephiles were in considerable states of alertness but when the time came for his introduction to the general public… little people paid attention. It was apparent then, that his own enemy, the goody-two-shoes hero who had been assigned to fight him, was also a coffeephile and in her vengeance, she’d come to fight him.

Her blazing anger was terrifying but he felt bad about her state of unrest. She was clearly very tired. No doubt completing paperwork at the villain-hero agency. (He didn’t know why she bothered, he’d made paper planes out of them and sent them flying out the window. It was funny seeing how the agency had scrambled to collect them so any civilians couldn’t see any top secret information regarding the hero-villain contracts).

He’d offered, very nicely mind you, to postpone his villainous monologue for the day. She had looked extremely offended but then her face had fallen back to a neutral expression.

“Dude, I’m exhausted okay ? Call it a day and you’ll be my new best friend…”

That was surprising.

“Pardon ?”

“Look, I’m offended but I’m also tired. Feeling stuff is even more exhausting right now. I’ll take you up on your offer. Replace the coffee and we’ll fight tomorrow. Kay ?”

Without waiting for him to respond she flew away.

The lack of a fight was disappointing but not as much as the total ignorance his ‘victims’ were showing. This was unacceptable. He’d have to kick it up a notch.

The next day, there was no tea and no energy drinks either. He’d been certain this would work. At least he’d be able to get a rise out of the angry citizens.

Apparently not.

Offices and schools were called off when it was clear nobody was paying attention. Half of the people fell asleep. Half just messed around.  

The hero hadn’t even shown up after day one. That was another blow to his amazing plan and self esteem. However he wasn’t giving up. The public didn’t rise to the occasion for justice as he had expected. They simply went about their lives, enjoying the vacations. The lack of morning stimuli lead to later mornings where they all woke up well rested. (He was pretty sure he had become a hero of sorts to overworked employees and students). Soon the news broke out that the government was considering moving office hours to a later time in the day.

Defeat was imminent.

It was clear an insurgence wouldn’t be happening soon. He grumbled angrily for a while in his evil lair before admitting his defeat to himself. He’d return the coffee… and maybe think through his next pranks a little more.

After all, what’s the fun in being a super villain if he can’t get some entertainment out of it ?

So I wrote this ages ago and posted it as a reblog but I decided to post it again so I have it saved in my archives as an original post as well.

It’s been so long since I wrote something but I have another two weeks of exams before I can write something new. That... and I’ve finally given in to the inevitable and have become obsessed with Bangtan. (I told myself I would stay clear of kpop. Look how that turned out for me).

Anyway, leave reviews via replies or message me. If you have an interesting prompt send it in and depending on my inspiration, I’ll write something based on it. (No promises though).

:D

[thepoochgranny]

Dealing with a Chronic Illness!

Dealing with a Chronic Illness!

It has always frustrated me how just one outing in a day can throw me out of whack for weeks. After I’ve “overdone it” (it could mean any kind of activity) I can always tell because, my body screams at me in excruciating pain; more than my usual pain level, and then my energy becomes almost nonexistent. Some days I have to force myself to get up out of bed to just go to the bathroom. If I do not rest enough, reboot so to speak, after a while my patience starts to wear thin. I’m sure I'm not easy to live with. I feel so sorry for my husband when this happens. I don’t mean for him to have to suffer the brunt end of living with me while I go through this. I become so withdrawn that I don't want to talk to anyone much less even want to leave our house.

The little things that I could normally do, I can not do easily any longer. I worry more than usual over what the future holds. Even though I know I shouldn't. God has always been there for me. The hardest part of overdoing it is it’s as if you don’t know you’ve done it until it’s way too late. And then your mind and body end up paying the price. The exhaustion comes in waves and can stay with you for a while of which you then sometimes have no sense of time. It’s a level of fatigue you can’t explain to your loved ones unless they’ve been there themselves. It feels debilitating to be that tired. My body will feel sick and miserable. You know when people are sick, and they say they feel like they’ve been hit by a truck? That’s exactly how it feels to have overdone it. Night after night of struggling to fall asleep because your mind refuses to shut off, and then you wake up feeling drugged when you take something to help you finally sleep. Some mornings I can barely open my eyes because they feel so heavy so I just go back to sleep. Then when I do wake up more than half the day is gone. Days when I wake up like that, I wake up feeling discouraged and weak because I know that’s only a tell-tale sign of what the day ahead of me holds. I drink 2-3 cups of coffee, and I have never been a coffee drinker in the past, and I am still tired and could just drop off to sleep for no reason. Besides the fatigue the physical symptoms return. For me, that means aches and pain. I sit, and then I can barely get out of my chair. I also get brain fog and can't remember things. It’s hard, and to put it mildly, the days after I overdo… well, it sucks! Sometimes, the only way in managing a chronic illness; like FMS, chronic pain or CFS after you overdo it is to …

….just survive it. Learning to cope with the bad days? I don't want to learn to cope with it! I just want my active life back! I want to enjoy more of my life with my husband, children and grandchildren! I’ve had to learn to cope with the bad days, and how to do it well. Well? I don't really know what that means anymore! Here are a few suggestions I have for others I have learned from others with chronic illnesses; and by doing… to learn how to cope after overdoing it.

Learn to take the time to recover. I wish I could just say-don’t overdo it in the first place, but that’s a lot easier said than done. Or just try your best to do the following:

If it doesn’t have to be done right away, then let it go. There will always be those dishes to wash and laundry to be done. However, there is only ONE YOU. Let the laundry and the dishes go for the next hour or two and give your body the rest it so desperately needs. Spread out family and friend obligations, also, if need be when possible. I know it's hard because a lot of us have some people in our lives that still don't understand what we are going through or maybe even believe you! Those who love you and do understand will understand and will take a rain check. Lean on your loved ones. These are some of the things I struggle with the most. I use to be a go getter and someone who cannot truly relax until I know I have everything I need to do completely finished. But, it’s so important for our bodies that when we hit these types of walls, we rest. It’s huge that we take time off, reschedule plans and give our bodies time to recover. Otherwise, things will only get worse. I have to plan ahead if there's something special I want to do. I have to rest up for it. Don’t Stress. This is another one of those easier said than done things for me. When I’m feeling my worst is when I tend to stress the most. It’s difficult too, because stress is also a trigger for those with a Chronic Illness. You may not be able to learn not to stress, but learning how to react in stressful situations can help. Things like prayer, yoga and meditation are wonderful in helping learn to control the stressors in our lives. Remember what you’re thankful for. It always helps me when I feel dragged down by my chronic illnesses to count my blessings. Making an effort to try to stay positive helps me more than anything. Try to keep a sense of humor! Laugh when at all possible! Focus on all of the things you have and all that you can do instead of all that you can’t. Take care of yourself. When we don’t take care of ourselves, we are affected more than the average person. It’s also times when we forget to take care of ourselves that we tend to overdo it once again. Do your best to eat healthy, drink more water, exercise, and sleep well. I know a lot of days these things are the last thing on our minds. It is for me, at least. But, if we make the extra effort to do these things in the beginning than we function better overall in the end.

See my youtube video chat on this subject. www.poochgranny.com                       please like and subscribe to my page. thanks