#ta-dah!!!! i have...their tag now :'D

[stillresolved]

The lapis lazuli is finely reworked, a show of loyalty, and a heart Eunjae pretends to no longer possess, dangling from their ear and occasionally brushing against their neck if they move just the right way. Like now.

Eunjae makes the beeline the moment they see Annie, with the same disinterested nonchalance they'd brushed past every other victor in the room. None of their concern. They've seen too many who could have stood here instead, die. Sent some out there themselves. Annie, isolated and exploited, stands out like the indestructible buoy people describe her as. Eunjae grabs the glass a Capitolite is trying to push into her hand and pours bad champagne down their throat.

"Darn," a contorted face, the hint of a teasing smile. "Worst thing I've ever had." The empty glass is shoved back into the Capitolite's hand, Eunjae hardly turns to look. The fingers to curl around Annie's are gentle, a direct contrast to the aggression of clearing a space for Annie to be in. "This place has a fountain we can cool down next to. Come."

((personalized asks, hmmm >:3))

@ptternminds / unprompted.

THE SKIRT IS SMOOTH AGAINST HER PALMS. Blue and green silk beneath her fingers, it brushes against her ankles. The last one spilled onto the floor around her, trapping her feet in the center; they said that wouldn’t happen again. Not because it was inconvenient for her to move around, but because such luxurious fabric didn’t deserve to be trampled on by the masses. Still, Annie loathes to admit it, but if there is one thing she can appreciate about the Capitol, it’s the fact her stylists never put her in restrictive clothing.

( She also knows they struggled to figure out how to…market her: how do you style a mad girl, they kept asking themselves. We can’t go with an asylum look; that would offend the younger generations, damn snowflakes, they said. It would have been easier if they called her the Drowning Girl, another one joked. They ended up going with something similar- something about a drowned mermaid? ) 

Of course, if Annie had it her way, she wouldn’t be here, let alone the Capitol. It’s funny, the way people assume that following her games, she would be scared of the water. That she would never take another step into the ocean. Why would she be scared? To float is as natural as breathing air to Annie and if there was a way she had to go, it would have been a kindness to be surrounded by the water. The water has no morality; it only flows, flows, and flows.

Actually, it might be a kindness now to drown than being here. With this Capitolite man who keeps going on and on, something about District Four and how he’s braved his way there many times before, but she’s trying to focus more on both the glass he keeps trying to push into her hands and the other hand the keeps brushing over her shoulder. It’s getting harder and harder for her to decide which hand she wants farther away from her. It’s easier to wish she could be anywhere but here, somewhere far away like home or even further than that-

Bells jingle. Something blue in the midst of black cuts in front of her. 

She blinks.

It’s them.

The one person she always looks for in the Capitol.

They are quick to dispose of her conversation partner and even faster to take hold of her hand. The breath Annie didn’t realize she was holding comes out. She nods, following Eunjae’s lead.

–––

Eunjae is not home. Eunjae is not the water; they probably have never even seen the ocean for themselves and in this lifetime, they probably never will. It saddens Annie to know that– to know that Eunjae will never see the expanse of sea-green water beneath a sky that stretches beyond the horizon, will never taste the salt in their mouth, will never feel the sand between their toes. 

And yet. And yet, when Annie is home, Eunjae is whom she thinks of most, whom she wants to talk to most. From wondering if they would like the taste of fresh fish to collecting seashells from the shore to show them to polishing more rocks to give them. Sometimes it accumulates to Annie even looking forward to going back to the Capitol.

( Does that make her a traitor to her district? She doesn’t dare to admit that to anyone. Not that anyone would listen to her and not write it off as madness. )

Outside the ballroom is dark and cool, an array of greenery lying in wait beyond the lightshow of the mansion. As it turns out, the mansion also includes a magnificent garden that is usually used to hold the host’s biweekly tea parties. Usually the garden would be open for the nighttime guests, as the host used fireflies to light the area instead of those ‘boring lamplights’, but one of the trees had been uprooted last week, ruining the host’s flowerbeds. Their avoxes were still working to get both of those things fixed, apparently.

It still doesn’t explain how Eunjae knew this place would be unoccupied today of all days. but it makes no difference to Annie. Even if the night air sends goosebumps over her arms ( her stylists said she didn’t need a cardigan for tonight), she brightens at the sound of running water first and letting go of Eunjae’s hand, drifts over to the fountain. Hands dip into the fountain’s basin before she kicks her sandals off into the grass. Carefully ( or maybe not so ), she lifts her skirt and steps into the fountain. Annie closes her eyes and sighs.

It’s not the ocean, but it is something. Something like home. Even the light of the moon shining down is familiar.

Footsteps follow her and giddy and a little embarrassed too, she realizes Eunjae has been watching her. Eunjae who walks towards her, not a thread from their black coat nor a smidge of their facepaint out of place. And their earring, lapis lazuli dangles close by like a bell. Annie looks at them, pensively.

How odd, that people insist on calling them the ‘Jeoseungsaja of Panem’. Death itself personified- an unfeeling entity that brings the end of life without question, without warning. That’s the kind of person Panem says Eunjae is. A person without any emotions, any feelings.

The thing is, they’re wrong. Because on this chilly summer night where there are only the fireflies to bear witness, Eunjae is not Death.

Here, Eunjae is the MOON. 

They stop at the edge of the fountain, watching Annie with their hands in their pockets. Annie turns to them, water soaking the bottom of her skirt. “Thank you,” she says finally. “For taking me here.”

She takes a hold of Eunjae’s hands and squeezes them. “Join me?”

( One day, she'll find a place where both the water and Eunjae will be. Together. )

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A Hole in the Heart

Between this and the drunken confession from Leona fic 😭 I must be in my Savanaclaw era… Maybe I’ll write a food-related Jack fic too, who knows www

Imagine this...

There’s a cute guy working behind the counter.

You can only afford to dawdle for so long. Your eyes are supposed to be focused on reading the menu mounted overhead or browsing the glossy breads and cakes on offer. Instead, your gaze drifts up to the employee—a hyena beastman—sheepishly awaiting your order.

He leans on the glass display case, face nestled in his arms, cheek to forearm. His dirty blonde hair sticks up like someone has aggressively ruffled his head. The boy blinks at you with big, blue-grey eyes, mouth permanently etched into a sloped smile that suggests he is capable of stirring up trouble off his shift.

An apron hangs loosely from his lanky frame, and a cap is clamped down between two large, twitching ears. His tail, short and stout, wags like a metronome, in time with the rhythm he taps out with a finger.

Yeah, he’s definitely super cute, you conclude.

“… Hey.”

You jolt at the hand passion waving in front of your face, at his voice. It’s casual and warm, like the sound of an old friend’s greeting after a long day.

The bakery employee lifts his head and quirks a brow. “You decided what you want yet? You’ve been starin’ for a while now.”

W-Was I really staring?!

A hand flies to your face, testing it for signs of self-consciousness. Your skin is flushed and tingles, like flames have been lit under it.

“S-Sorry, I must’ve dozed off,” you mumble, burrowing into your collar and praying that he doesn’t notice. Focus here, you remind yourself. “You have so many options, I’m having a hard time deciding. What do you recommend?”

“Me?” He fully draws himself up, trading his smile for a smirk. “I know just the thing. Hang on a sec!”

The employee peels away and snags a donut from the display case, wrapping it in a checkered napkin. The pastry is plump and full, fried to a golden perfection and covered in a shiny sugar glaze. 

“Oh… It doesn’t have a hole in the center,” you realize.

“The holes are usually there to help the dough cook evenly. We repurpose what’s punched out as donut holes,” he says, eyes glittering with gluttony, “but nothing beats having the whole thing, hole and all.”

“Pfft. When you put it like that, it feels sort of sad.”

“How do you figure?”

“A donut with a hole sounds like a person that’s missing their heart. Some important part of themselves just… poof. Gone.”

“A person missing their heart, huh? You got an imagination on ya.”

D-Did he just compliment me?

Your heart leaps up and lodges in your throat. It’s suddenly difficult to usher your words out.

He shakes his head and turns away, setting to his work. The boy becomes but a blur of activity, and you watch him, mesmerized.

He generously ladles chocolate sauce onto the donut, garnished by a handful of sliced nuts. Then he glops on a healthy helping of custard cream, a spritz of whipped cream, and a big spoonful of berry jam. The result is one decadently sticky pile of sugar with everything under the kitchen sink thrown onto it.

He presents the towering donut to you with a flourish. “Ta-dah! I give you… the Ruggie Special!” 

You gape at it, unsure of what to do or say. There’s no way I can finish this before class starts, you fret—but you accept the donut in a daze, not wanting to reject all his efforts. Your fingers and his graze, sparking a thrill within you.

“What’s ‘Ruggie’?” you ask shyly.

“That’s me.” He winks and points to himself. No, to the name tag pinned to his chest. “Ruggie. Ruggie Bucchi.”

H-He told me his name. You clutch your hands together in an attempt to calm them. Is he flirting with me?

“W-Wow, you have a menu item named after you? That’s cool,” you babble. Oh no—you’re so horrid at small talk, you scold yourself.

“Unofficially, yeah. The boss doesn’t mind if I use the extra ingredients lying around to experiment. Oh, speaking of—” He holds out a hand. “All that extra stuff’s gonna cost ya. That’ll be 700 madol, if you please!”

“700…?!” You startle, as if waking from a dream. The donut’s mountain of topples wobble, threatening to tumble. “That’s over 5 times the cost of a single plain donut!”

“Well, this is a single plain donut with all the fixings,” he corrects you with a snicker. Ruggie points to your Special. The chocolate sauce is rapidly dribbling down, cream leaking into the napkin. “Look, it’s already getting all over you. Better cough up the cash and get to eating it real quick~” 

“Nrgh…” You reluctantly fish out 700 madol and slap the bills onto the counter. “Here. Just take it already.”

“Nishishishi, thank you for your patronage!” Ruggie happily scoops up the money and deposits it into the register. The bills are swallowed up by the metal contraption, as if it is feasting on your misfortune.

Why do I feel like I just got duped by a pretty face?

Your stomach lurches, disappointed with yourself. Friends and classmates always teased you for this. Head in the clouds, too sentimental, unlucky with guys, so quick to fall in love and even quicker to have your heart broken—all phrases they used to describe you.

Someone absolutely hopeless in their flights of fancy. A donut wandering around with a hole where their heart should be, seeking what they lack.

You flush deeper. Maybe I’m proving them right. I’m seeing things that aren’t there.

“W-Well, thank you for your recommendation,” you say hurriedly.

“No prob,” he replies with the tip of his hat. “All in a day’s work.”

A day’s work, duh. Stupid, stupid. He was only buttering you up to swindle you into a sale.

The donut is oozing into your palm now. You frown and attempt to mop what is spilling with your tongue. Ruggie laughs a little—and you’re not sure if he’s laughing with you or laughing at you. Truthfully, you don’t know which you’d prefer.

“Need more napkins?” he offers, a wad of them at the ready. “These’re free.”

“Th-Thank you,” you mutter, grabbing them with your free (clean) hand. “I have to get going, or I’ll be late.”

“Uh-huh. Don’t they all?”

You gather yourself, hurrying to the door and flinging yourself through. It swings as you exit, the bell above jingling and ringing out your departure. The warm, comforting smell of sugar dissipates into the outdoor air.

“See ya around,” he calls after you, a teasing lilt in his voice. You don’t see what kind of an expression he’s making, but you don’t dare allow yourself to look back and find out.

You try to busy yourself with scrubbing clean. A bathroom—you should have stopped by the bakery’s bathroom to wet the napkins, to wash your hands with soap. But you have your pride, and you refuse to march back in, to have him mocking you a second time.

You wipe at your thumb, but the napkin catches and sticks at the corner. There’s a blot there, dark-colored and bleeding.

… Huh? What’s that?

You lift the napkin and squint at the smudged shapes scrawled onto it. Letters and numbers come into view.

Ruggie Bucchi, followed by a series of numbers strung together. A phone number.

Everything in you stills.

When did he…?

You rifle through the rest of your napkins, looking for other hidden messages. Nothing else, just the one. 

But if he passed me his phone number, that means… He’s interested in me too?!

Excitement kicks up in you again. Hope, dancing a little jig.

You melt, pressing the napkin to yourself. Your heart practically beats right out of your chest, as if it wants to see the proof with its own eyes.

Ruggie. Ruggie Bucchi… The quick-witted guy in the donut shop, the boy with an impish grin and fast fingers.

The hole in your chest fills, having found its missing part. Whole at last, tasting sweeter than any confection.

You’ll have to text him first chance you get.

[rainmustfallts4]

Rain Must Fall (Reaper’s Rewards Special) ◇ #010

⊶⊰Information & Index⊱⊷⊶⊰Ep. 1⊱⊷⊶⊰Chronological Tag⊱⊷

Reaper’s Rewards Special: ⊶⊰Latest⊱⊷ ⊶⊰From the Beginning⊱⊷ ⊶⊰All Reaper’s Rewards Posts⊱⊷

─────────────⊶⊰◇⊱⊷─────────────

She isn’t level 7 yet so she had to make a few dishes, which took ages because she had to get all fancy about it lol She ended up getting the knife stuck in the board which is 100% something I would do.

She did make a fancy pet dish for Oscar, though c:

He seemed quite pleased, except…

“Easy on the garlic next time, human!”

Ta-dah! Level 7. I’m just now realizing I should have put the quest text on this image instead of the other lol

YES A NEW TATTOO!!

The quality is trash but I still love it. I’ve been dying for new tattoos for ages and this one is a Grim Reaper? Hell yeah.

So, her gourmet cooking is level 1, I think, which means it would take too many dishes to get the skill up. Time to get reading!

I think Oscar likes our new collection c:

Girl, what the fuck is wrong with you??

WHO PUTS OUT A FIRE BY SLAPPING IT WITH A SPATULA?? She is truly my child T_T)

Bright side, we finished one of our event sets.

And earned a… portrait? Wait a minute... isn't Mimsy that ghost that hangs out in the Windenburg gardens?? :o I knew she was important!

WHY IS THIS THING SO DAMN BIG??

Section 2 is complete… I completely forgot about the quest image for getting the death flower T_T) I am so off my game lately.

Well, we worked hard, gardened ’til our hands were green, and we have done it – we grew a death flower –

God damn it, no one listen to her, I most certainly did not go to the magic realm and purchase one! This ghost is lying to you all D:

[joanquill]

Hi hi author!!!

I want to make u happy

So my request is you can make yourself into the writing x any of your favorite character of Moriarty the patriot . The scenario is: you two are enjoying something ( you can choose whatever you like to do: example: reading a book, dancing...etc) so pick up some of your hobbies..

Then ta-dah ~~

Author chan now is on your own writing with the characters 🥰🥰🥰🥰😊😇

Hope you enjoy my request and have fun doing it

See you

Xoxo

Take A Break

John H. Watson

A/N: Thank you so much for this 😭 This was really sweet of you 🥺💕💖💗 I had fun writing this :) Sorry, this became like a rant for me during quarantine ^^" Also-

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!! 🎉🎉🎉 I hope you're all resting and enjoying your well-deserved vacations and taking care of yourselves ^^

Tag/s: Platonic, Self-Indulgent

"And… I’m done…!” you breathed out in glee, your project working as it should with little to no kinks.

You sighed in relief, slumping back to your seat as you loosen your body, muscles aching from the continuous hours in front of your desk.

“Now for sleep… on the bed…” you slurred, moving your chair with your feet as you inched closer to your bedroom.

As your chair bumped onto your bed frame, you flopped your body onto the sheets, sighing in content as you felt fatigue take over your body as you fell asleep.

“(Y/N)…?”

“…(Y/N)!”

“Agh!” you jolted up, looking around frantically as you saw John looking at you with a confused expression.

“John…? What are you doing here so early?” you asked as you rubbed your eyes, feeling it sting from the light.

“…It’s already the afternoon… Don’t tell me you-” his voice started to rise, signaling a lecture would be in full swing.

“A-Ah! Before you scold me,” you stood up on your bed, hands in front of you as John crossed his arms.

“I was working on my project… And it took a little later than I thought,” you clarified, hopping off your bed.

“But I thought your partner was in charge of it?”

“So did I, but what happened was that they asked someone else to help them and remake it from that person’s work instead of continuing what I already made…”

You gestured with your hands, hoping it would help explain.

“…And I found out they lied to me and just took it off of something they found from the public library, SO!” you clapped your hands, “I notified my professor that I would be going solo, and I continued the project I already did,”

You finished with a nervous smile had a confused expression.

“D-Did you at least finish it…?”

“Yeah! I finished it last night- Well, up to around 3 AM, but it’s done!” you reassured, making John sigh in relief.

“That’s good, I guess… But I don’t think you should keep staying up late. It’s bad for your health,” he scolded like a father.

“I know, I know… It’s not like I wanted to,” you shrugged, stretching your arms.

“Anyway, what brings you to my house?” you asked, cleaning up some messes as you walked to the living room.

“Oh, right,” he grabbed his bag and took out a large pile of papers, “My draft for the manuscript is done, and I wanted your opinion on it,”

Your eyes lit up as you ran up to him, eyes locked onto the papers.

“Hold on!” he raised his arm, making it impossible for you to reach it.

“Have you eaten anything yet?” he asked, making you pout and cross your arms.

“You literally just woke me up,” you reminded, making him frown.

“Go freshen up. We’re eating out,” John sternly said, putting the manuscript back in his bag.

“Why!? Can’t we just eat here?”

“When was the last time you were outside?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but your mind was drawing on a blank.

“…A few days ago…” you mumbled, your eyes avoiding him.

“Hm, go on now,” he ushered, pushing you back to your room.

“Ugh…” you groaned in annoyance as you prepared your clothes, knowing there was no way in talking out of the army doctor.

“Where are we going, anyway?” you asked, looking around the street as you followed John with a skip on your step, trying to keep up with his pace.

“Just a small restaurant,” he answered, looking back at you, noticing you getting nudged around.

He quickly ran up to you and grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the forming crowd.

“Thanks…” you breathed out, making John chuckle.

“Sorry about that…” he wrapped his arm around yours, “Usually, I’m the one trying to keep up with Sherlock,”

“Speaking of, where is he?”

“He’s at Mycroft’s office, something about a case for the royal family?”

“Oh…” you dragged out, looking around the street as you kept close to him.

“And… we’re here!” he smiled, stopping in front of a humble and homey restaurant.

“Huh… I’ve never seen this before,”

“They just opened up,” you two walked inside and saw that it had a lot of people, but it wasn’t crowded.

You felt your stomach rumble as a delicious smell covered the air, making you gulp.

“Okay, I’ll admit… Thanks for dragging me out here…” you mumbled, making John smile proudly.

You sighed in content as you patted your stomach, feeling satisfied and full.

“Thanks for the meal,” you smiled over to John as you grabbed his arm.

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled back as you two walked out.

You furrowed your brows as you looked around, noticing that it wasn’t your way back home.

“Uh… John?”

“I just thought we would take a little stroll since you’ve been barely out of your house,”

“What about your draft?”

“You can read it later,” he reassured as you two walked along by a park.

“What about your deadline? Don’t you need to go back and work on it?”

“I’ll be fine,”

You furrowed your brows at him as something clicked in your head.

“Sherlock kicked you out of the flat, didn’t he?”

“He was playing the violin and smoking. It looked like the room was on fire…” he sighed, making you laugh.

“My condolences to you and Miss Hudson,” you chuckled, swinging your arms around as you walked along the park.

“I guess the two of us needed a break, huh?” you commented, making John smile.

“I guess so… Is there anywhere you want to go?”

You hummed as you tried to think of something to do, looking around.

You stopped dead in your tracks as SHERLOCK HOLMES  was written in giant letters in front of a theater.

“Let’s go there,” you smiled widely, pulling John lightly to the entrance.

“Oh, right! The play for A Study in Scarlet was showing today, ” he remembered, following along with you.

“Let’s watch it! And after, if Sherlock is still busy, let’s just go back home to my place, and I’ll read the draft,” you smiled, excitedly lining up for a ticket.

“Okay… You don’t have to read it so soon, you know? You need to take a break,”

“I slept, ate at an amazing restaurant, walked around a beautiful park, went to watch a play, and then read with a good friend. It seems like a perfect day to me,” you reassured, swinging back and forth on your feet.

John breathed out a chuckle as he patted the top of your head.

“If you say so,”

[the-insomniac-cat]

BIG SPOILERS BELOW THE ‘READ MORE’ CUT, FROM SYNOPSIS OF THE FILM

Just sat through a half-hour synopsis of the film.

I HAVE 16 HUGE SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT- ALL CONFIRMED

I HAVE PUT LOTS OF WARNINGS IN MY TAGS TOO - if you can think of any that I’ve missed out plse message me and I’ll add them.

doing the following list so you know if you want to read it again ;D 

*edited with update 24/4/19 22.20 London time; 2 spoliers added //  again at 22.36; another added, plus more details on some // 22.49 another added // 23.26 link to ‘spoilers’ video added

Time Travel involved?

A- Of course!

How long after IW does it start?

A-  it starts 22 days later. They try and fail to reverse it all. THEN it jumps to FIVE YEARS LATER

Where is Thanos?

He’s off on a farm somewhere (other planet? Not sure.) He’s in a bad state. Using the gauntlet has drained him.

What big characters die?

A- Black Widow (dies to save Hawkeye), Iron Man (and they have his funeral), and Thanos. As far as I can make out,Thor kills him during the first 22 days. He cuts his head off. The others ask him why and he says, “I went for the head.”

Is it true that Cap goes back and dances with Peggy?

A- yes and he stays in the past.

Does Jane appear?

A- yes. Thor goes back to Asgard with Rocket. Rocket removes the ether from Jane via a needle. Thor decides he can’t bear to meet her, so goes to visit Frigga instead.

Do they actually manage to reverse the snap?

A- Yes. Everyone that was killed by the snap comes back. They do it by going back in time and ‘borrowing’ the stones and Tony has his own gauntlet and snaps it and ta-dah!

HAWKEYE?

A- yes. In fact the movie opens with him and his daughter on his farm(?) just before the snap, when all his family die. In other words the snap didn’t get him.

Valkyrie??

A- Yes. She’s alive

Pepper Potts?

A- Yes. She has a 5 yr old daughter with Tony, who is just as brainy as he is.

The Asgardians?

A- Half are alive and as far as I could make out from the synopsis video, they are in something like a fishing village????????? No idea!!!

Hulk?

A- This is a really weird bit- the hulk and Banner have combined and now there is Professor Hulk. Yeah.

Bucky?

A- Yes he’s there, he’s fine. He has the opportunity to go back and stay in the past but decided not to.

LOKI???

A-  You see him in the past. It’s never confirmed if he’s dead, if he gets back to change things, nothing. He is in it VERY briefly and gets 2 lines.

Tony returns to Avengers Tower in 2012. They need to get the Tesseract. Loki is caught and bound- handcuffs, muzzle etc. The tesseract is in a suitcase which gets dropped and opens- the tesseract rolls to Loki’s feet. He uses it to escape right there. One review says he escapes ‘in a puff of smoke’ but I don’t know if that’s how they did it or if the reviewer was using those words in sarcasm ;)  He is not seen again. I can only assume they left it open so that the series can go ahead.

Is the opening scene from IW revisited?

A- No. And I think that sucks, because that scene never made sense to me. It had tons of holes, was very disjointed.

The sun will shine on us again?

A- no, this doesn’t mean Loki and Thor reunite in the future. BUT when the Avengers reverse the snap, the trees all go green again, and the SUN SHINES BRIGHTLY. So you have to think well, how did Loki know to say that? It’s going to lead to sooo many fanfics and fan theories. (I had a theory quite a while back that this phrase might not mean Thor and Loki, and instead meant the Asgardians, and hate to say it but sheesh it seems I at last got something right.)

Overall?

It’s getting a big 10/10 in the reviews and summaries I’ve seen, but also I’ve heard that, although satisfying in that it resolves a lot, it is a pretty depressing movie, albeit with lots of action, and a big fight at the end where everyone like Black Panther, Dr Strange heck EVERYONE from snappy time arrives. (But no Loki, who IMHO could have come through and fought alongside everyone. WOW imagine if he’d helped save Midgardians? Wouldn’t that be a great resolution to his invasion in 2012? Wouldn’t that close something off really nicely? Wahhh)

ALSO I’ve read that it’s confusing (like, you don’t say??)

So- although I like that they didn’t exactly spell out that Loki was dead, neither did they explain the huge holes in that first scene of IW. It also means that when Thanos hurled Loki’s body at Thor (or towards the audience), saying ‘no resurrections this time’ he really was breaking the fourth wall. That, plus that whole disjointed scene, is going to leave me angry for all time.

Leaving it this way lets his fans able to say he got away and the non-fans say nah, he dead. But it also means that the last time we see Loki in an MCU film, he’s seen as a villain.

Lastly, a link to one of the spoiler vid’s I’ve watched.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3CGaEImozM

#I’m glad I’ve stuck to my ‘not giving Marvel another penny of my money’ mantra! #I’m done with them. #Totally.

[slavicviking]

I read this one somewhere and copied it down but i forgot where it came from: My cat keeps breaking into your apartment next to mine so I tied a note to its collar to apologize and you write back so we keep exchanging cat notes and you’re pretty funny AU

Soooo sorry it took so long! But here you go - I hope you’ll like it! ^^

(Also, here’s the link to your previous requested drabble because I don’t think it tagged you correctly)

Thanks to @twiggy242 for helping me come up with the pun (though he claims all the credit for the pun apparently xd)  :D

“There youare!”

Hiccuprushed to his window, hugging the black cat to his chest.

“I swearyou’ll be the death of me,” he set the animal on his kitchen floor, letting outa long sigh. Closing his eyes briefly, his heart surged to his throat when thecat had disappeared again. “Toothless? Odin’s beard – Toothless!”

The cat wasalready back on the windowsill, ready to embark on his another great adventure.

“Oh no youdon’t.”

Toothlessmeowed in response but Hiccup just shot him an unamused look.

“I alreadyhad to apologize for you once and,” he paused, his eyes on the cat’s redcollar. “and I don’t think she noticed.”

Despite hiscat moving around he managed to get ahold of the note tied to the collar.Surely his apology was still there, his messy handwriting reading ‘Sorry, he keeps escaping through the window’.He was ready to throw the piece of paper away when he noticed letters on theother side.

‘Close the window then? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯’

Huh.

Well then,he couldn’t say he expected a response, not like that anyway. Without thinkingmuch about it, he scribbled a response underneath.

‘In that heat? No way’

“You liveonce, eh?” he asked his cat, suddenly realizing how sad it must have looked.And how ridiculous this idea was to begin with. Potentially jeopardizing hisnonexistent relationship with his (beautiful) neighbor, he tied the note backto Toothless’s collar.

One thingwas for sure – you did not need to tell the cat twice to get out venturingagain.

Hiccup endedup being half-annoyed (that the cat left) and half-nervous (that the note left with the cat). He leaned out of thewindow, curiosity winning over what was left of his decency. His eyes caught ahand from the apartment next to him, instructing Toothless out.

Suddenlythe cat’s collar was the most interesting thing in the world.

‘Your cat just gave me a cold shoulder – maybe trythat instead? :P’

He snorted.

Of coursehe had to reply. If she was going to sass him, it was only right to sass herback.

It did notend with one more note, or two more…or ten.

Overseveral weeks they had settled into this comfortable yet unusual friendship, orso he’d like to believe. Whenever they would pass each other on their way in orout of the apartment building they would smile at each other knowingly, thoughthey never really talked.

How couldit be that it was so easy to talk to her through his cat (of all things!) butwhenever he faced her, he suddenly forgot how to speak, and how his palms gotsweaty, his stomach feeling the tiniest of bits tighter.

But thenher mail ended up in his mail box.

Not thefirst time but this this  - this timehe was determined to do something aboutit. And so after some compulsory pacing around his flat (judged by his catof course) and three attempts, he found himself before her apartment, knockingon her door, mail in hand.

“Hi.”

She lookedconfused for a second until her lips broke into an easy smile and she leaned onthe doorframe, all smug like that.

“Hey,discount cat whisperer.”

He gave outa soft laugh at the nickname he had acquired throughout the last couple of weeks.

“I, um,” hegestured the mail in his hand like the stupid dolt he was. Astrid’s eyes,though, weren’t on him. He quickly turned around as well, only now noticing hehad left his apartment doors slightly ajar.

“Oh come on.”

His eyestrailed over the most smug cat in the entire universe that had the nerve to slid into Astrid’s apartment, brushingover their legs with his tail. He expected her to be annoyed but, instead, sheappeared to be amused by the whole situation, eyes bright and a smirk formingon her lips. He smiled shyly.

“But Iclosed the window this time.” 

Ta-dah!

The rest of my writing

If you’d like to request a drabble :D

[herbalisia]

Julian Week, Day 6: Healing

I was actually working on this fic before Julian week, but then I saw that “Healing” was a prompt, so I saved it for that! :D So this takes place on his birthday, even though it is technically a few days past it now.

**Depression is a theme in this fic, and there is a brief mention of suicidal thoughts, so those with sensitivity to these subjects, PLEASE take caution! I have tagged them, but just in case.**

Also, whooooops, I got really carried away. This monstrosity is nearly 2,800 words. Make yourself a warm drink and grab a snack before you dive in, sheesh.

@thearcanaweek

It wasn't often that his negative thoughts got the best of him anymore. At least, that was how it seemed to her. He would crack a self-deprecating joke and be too honest of his darker thoughts about himself at times, but that would be a hard habit to break. He had at least been more receptive, more reactive to her concerns as of late.

But today? Today, his thoughts were dark, like the gloom that choked the sunlight. And although she hated it every day, today she hated it most of all.

Because today was his birthday, and he was the one who was the least excited about it.

Olivier had went behind his back to set up a lovely dinner at Portia's cabin for that evening. The handmaiden had done everything in her power to set up a way for them to sneak in undetected, planning to feed them with flavors from her and Julian's home. Ollie had jumped at the idea, even working her own magic by baking sweets for the first time in forever. But the day had started out poorly. She had awoken beside him, and tried to rouse him, but he had curled further into himself, insisting to her that he had simply not slept well and would be out of bed soon. She had complied at the time, moving down the stairs of the shop to make herself a morning pot of tea. She went through all the motions--setting the pot on to boil, caging a blend of tea leaves and herbs in an infuser and placing it in her mug, and munching on the heel of a loaf of pumpkin bread from her favorite bakery while the water heated. She had even started into a tome of healing herbs absentmindedly with her finished tea while she waited for Julian to come down.

But she surmised that an hour had passed before she gave up on listening for him on the stairs. Feeling worried for his health, she had gone back up the stairs to check on him. He was exactly where she'd left him, curled into himself and facing the windowless wall. She crossed the room, coming to rest at his side of the bed and leaning over him to press a soft kiss to the furrowed brow above the unpatched red eye. He was staring blankly forward, gaze distant.

"Ilya, my love, what's the matter?" She spoke softly, squeezing into bed with him and curling her limbs around him, concerned gaze levelling with his. His eyes met hers, almost looking apologetic. He opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it and closed his mouth again, a slow sigh easing from his nose. She clicked her tongue softly, smoothing her thumb over his brow in an attempt to ease the intense crease in it. His arms, which had loosely snaked around her when she'd invited herself into them, squeezed her tightly to his chest.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. She felt her own brows furrow as she returned his embrace.

“What in the world for?" She asked, a light and incredulous chuckle shaking her shoulders.

"This. Me. Being this way. I very much dislike you seeing this part of me," he grumbled. "Usually, on days like this, I would have gone to the Raven and been in two or three drinks by now. But I just...couldn't today." She balled her fist in the fabric over his shoulder blade, pressing her cheek to his chest and humming.

"Well, even if I don't like the reason why you didn’t end up there, I'm glad you aren’t at the Raven at this time in the morning. If Bartholomew served you a drink before noon in this state, I would have some choice words for him," she grumped, making him laugh softly. She pulled back and smiled up at him, sweeping the hair from his face and placing a slow kiss on his lips, which he sluggishly returned and combed his fingers through her still bed-mussed hair. After breaking the kiss, she rested her head on his arm and simply stared at him for a few moments, making him tilt his head quizzically. "Ilya, I love you. Every part of you. When you're being suave and debonair, when you're afraid but still acting brave, when you use that silver tongue to get us into as much trouble as it gets us out of... Even when your demons get the best of you, I love you. You do not need to apologize for this," she said carefully to him, cupping his gaunt cheeks in her hands to hold his gaze. "I just want you to let me help you. You don't ever need to face the darkness in your mind alone again. Just let me be here for you."

He bit his bottom lip, trying to tear his face away from hers so she wouldn't see the tears shining in his eyes. He attempted to rub them away with his thumb and forefinger, shaking his head. Damn, he hated how easily affected he was when he was in these moods. "I don't deserve this," he muttered out, a sheepish cough of emotion-tainted laughter shaking the words from his mouth. "All of this love and acceptance, the strength you bolster me with. I can't possibly..." He shook his head again, the hand not falling away from his eyes. She went to bark a protest at him, but thought better of it. He wouldn't hear those words right now. Scolding him as he was now would only make matters worse. All he needed right now were words that assured.

“Loving you costs me nothing but time spent daydreaming, Ilya. But it costs me a lot to see you hurting. I can shoulder some of your pain to ease it, but I cannot be asked to stand by and do nothing. I must give you this. I must. Otherwise I'll lose myself. It is not a matter of deserving or not deserving, it is a matter of having nowhere else to put all of these feelings for you. If not in this, then where? If I keep them inside and do nothing with them, I'll probably explode. So I must care for you like this. I can't think of any other options," she shrugged casually. He bit his lip harder, pulling her against his chest to keep her from looking at his face.

"Thank you, Ollie," he croaked, his hold on her growing tighter still. She could hardly breathe under the weight of his embrace, but somehow it was a comforting form of discomfort. When the strength of his hug seemed to fade, the momentary rush of emotion dimming from a flare to a glow, she pulled back to see his face again. She swiped a single tear from his red eye and leaned up to kiss the sharp cheekbone.

"Oh, and, happy birthday, my dearest. I'm beyond amazed that you are mine. Would you… come downstairs so I could give you your first gift of the day?" She smirked at him. He blushed and gave her a confused look.

"First gift?" He squeaked. She laughed and backed out of the bed, weaving her fingers into his and pulling him up.

"Don't overthink it. It might be horrible anyway, but I tried my best," she admitted. Before she could pull him too far, he scrambled and reached for the eyepatch that lay discarded on his side of the bed. She caught his wrist before he could grab it. He glanced up at her with apprehension, but she pulled his hand up to her face and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “It’s just us here. You don’t have to.” She successfully pulled him to his feet, leading him down the stairs to the tiny kitchen.

"Anything you do could never be bad, my dear," he encouraged weakly in response to her lack of self-confidence from before, the shadows in his mind still tormenting him enough to steal the usual mirth from his voice. Concern flashed across her face before her smile returned. She pushed him down into the chair at the meager kitchen table, scooting over to the counter and pulling a plate covered by a cloth from the cabinet. She placed it in front of him and whisked the cloth away dramatically.

“Ta-dah!” she grinned. On the plate, a small pistachio cake sat, decorated with a small swirl of frosting and dusted with crushed pistachios. “I heard that pistachio is your favorite,” she said in a sing-song tone. He smiled down at the cake, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“You heard correctly. It is one of my favorites. One of many.” He picked up the cake in one hand, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. It tasted wonderful, of course. If there was one thing that was undeniably true, it was the fact that Ollie was a good cook and baker. That was something he would never complain about. She waited in heavy silence, fists bunched in the hem of her shirt.

“Well?” she asked after what felt like forever. He paused in the middle of taking another bite.

“Hm? …Oh, it’s good!” he said in a rush, not realizing that he hadn’t praised it aloud. “But honestly, how couldn’t it be? You have a way with food, Ollie.” He smiled again, a little more genuine this time, but still not fully in his eyes. She clenched her jaw in worry, but returned the smile with her own and settled into the seat catty-corner to him, in front of her tome of healing herbs that she’d abandoned before.

“Well, I’d never made that particular recipe before, so I couldn’t be sure. I’m glad you like it, though.”

Silence stretched between them again as he worked on the cake and she returned to her reading. This was normal for them. If they ran out of things to say, the silence was also comfortable. But today, there was something thick and heavy about the silence. Still, she pushed past it and continued through the tome, Julian’s eyes skating over the words too.

“Mm, I need to get some more lavender,” she mumbled under her breath as she reached the section of the page that mentioned it. “It mixes well with teas.”

He snorted a small laugh out of his nose. This was normal for her. Grasping at some possible topic of conversation to get a response from him. It was often how they lost track of time, taking about nothing important.

“You know, I used to put lavender in my…in my mask. I preferred the smell over a lot of other herbs. That and camphor, amongst a few others. It seemed I wasn’t the only one though, as it started to run on short supply after a while in that time,” he mumbled, remembering his days as “Doctor Jules” with little fondness.

“That makes sense. It is used for relaxation. Says here that some people use it for insomnia as well. Wonder if it would help you sleep,” she muttered back, still rather absorbed in the text. He felt tension rise in his shoulders, sucking in a slow breath and releasing it.

“No, I don’t think it would. I think it would bring back too much. Too many bad memories.” He looked ahead, seeing the patients he’d helped again in his mind’s eye as he took another bite of the cake. There was something hauntingly strong about the connection between smell and memory, and he didn’t want to ever go back to that place. She broke from her trance of reading at his words, seeming to suddenly remember herself and realize what she’d just suggested.

“No, you’re probably right. I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” she backpedaled. He chewed his last bite of the cake and shook his head, dusting the crumbs from his fingers.

“Don’t worry, my love, I know,” he soothed. He blinked away the visual memories playing through his mind, glancing down at the book and tracing the lines of the lavender illustration with his eyes. “You know, it’s funny. Most people say that memories grow fonder over time. That the hurt fades away and leaves behind something to look back on. But I don’t think that’s always true. Maybe it’s because I can’t…” he paused, letting his head rest in his hands and scrubbing over his face to shake away the mental exhaustion. “There are still things I can’t remember. If my memory was sound, maybe I’d know what to look back on with fondness. But for now, I just have what I know and what the people around me seem to know.”

She looked up at him and pursed her lips, worry creasing her brow. “We’ll find your memories, Ilya. They’ll come back to you.”

He huffed a short, curt laugh. “Yes, well…I don’t know what will happen to me when they do. There are so many things that I don’t understand about my own actions, and that’s so…so infuriating. What was I thinking that night? What did I actually do? What was keeping me there? Was it this?” he gestured to the eye with a red sclera as his gaze drilled into the table, as if the wood grain would somehow give him his answers. Ollie clenched her hands into fists, nails biting into her palms. His turbulent mood was taking an angry turn as his voice rose in steady increments, and she blamed herself. If she had just left it alone... “And if I had been captured for my crime, why did I try to escape? Why did I escape? Why did I run from the hangman’s noose if I wanted to die then like I do—” he stopped himself before he could finish that declaration, his eyes widening in fear at his own words. Did he really think that way? He came back to himself when he felt Olivier’s hand clenched in his sleeve. He glanced up to her face and felt a lump form quickly in his throat. She had her hand pressed to her nose and mouth, containing her frightened sniffles as tears streamed down her face.

“Ilya, I don’t want you to die,” she said, her voice sounding so shaken and small. It tore right through him.

“N-no. No, of course. I’m sorry, I…I was just…” he tried his best to explain himself, but he lacked the words. For a moment, he had looked too deeply into the pessimistic, dark enigma in the back of his mind and had taken too long to look away. It had beckoned him closer, begging him to give in, and for a moment, his mind had weakened. “Ollie, I didn’t mean it. Maybe at one time, that was true, but not anymore. I don’t want to die anymore. Why do you think I’m running so much?” he laughed weakly, trying to lighten the mood with little success. Gods, no, he didn’t really want to die. Not now, especially when they were this close to getting answers. Not when he had been reunited with his sister. Not when he had found a place in the heart of a certain magician’s apprentice. Not when she had found a place in his. He pulled her into his lap, soothing her by slowly stroking her hair as she choked out the last bit of her fear against his chest. The dark cloud that had surrounded him that morning finally broke when he was able to see what it was doing to her.

“I know you have a lot of hurt,” she started meekly, “but I don’t want you to give up. I know it is hard some days, but…I’m here for you. Portia is here for you. Ilya, you’ve made so much progress already. You’re healing, changing. Baby steps. It only needs to be baby steps.” She curled into his chest as his arms held her there, the silence losing its heaviness from before as they basked in one another’s comfort. After a few moments, she placed her hand on the left side of his chest, inhaling slowly as she felt his heart beat.

“Thank you for living. Thank you for being strong and staying alive. I don’t know what life would be like without you now,” she mumbled, letting her head rest against his shoulder. He tightened his arms around her in a firm embrace.

“Thank you for giving me reasons to keep fighting, darling. You have no idea how much strength you give me,” he whispered into her hair. “Now...what other gifts are there? You did say that cake was only my first.” He shot her a cheeky grin, finally succeeding in lifting her spirits. She swatted his chest and chuckled softly. They exchanged a look of reassurance as the mood around them finally shifted into the excitement that should have been there to begin with.

“Patience, my dear. You’ll get them in time.”