#granny's wise lessons

[umihoshi]

Anxiety tips that aren't 'go exercise' or 'reduce your screentime'

because I roll my eyes at the basic bitch solution neurotypical people think are so smart. it doesn't work that way. So here's some things I found through the years that do work for me and maybe, hopefully for you:

meds

did you know ADHD and autistic people have a brain that processes vitamins badly?

try check if your mood improves when taking simple over-the-counter vitamins. most commonly vit B or D. big fan of spirulina too, and it's a cool color!

also, there is no reward for endurance, take the painkiller if you need it.

escape routes

ever been at a party or gathering or something and you feel anxious from the overwhelming stuff? check your exits, make a plan. can I go walk around the block for a sec? can I go sit in the car of someone I know? can I escape to the toilet?

I find that if I KNOW I can leave, it already cancels out so much of my want/need to do so. it's just great that I can leave if so desired.

'I need alone time'

nothing is as frustrating as wellmeaning people who only increase the stress. patting your back when you don't want to be touched, wanting to come with you, etc.

practice the line 'no, I need some alone time'. it's inoffensive, emphasizes that it is a clear need and can be repeated if you have to. saying a clear 'no' helps empower your statement.

replying to texts

the anxiety over leaving someone on read. you kinda know what you want to answer, but it feels scary to do so.

open a notepad or any typing program and type out what you'd want to say. no one will be the wiser if you send it or not, there's no pressure, you can just read it back for a sec if it’s good or not. once you're happy with it, you can copy/paste it. or don't, no one saw you typing it, so you're all good.

you can also try make an unfiltered draft, then write it again with filter on after.

breaktime

as a ✨working adult tm✨, I often had anxiety over getting social during breaks. and so I often just didn't take them.

but my boss gave me this lifehack that I'm so grateful for: spend your break going for a walk. wow, so sophisticated, using your break to exercise~ no, you idiots! I do that to avoid talking to you, hah! I'm here with my headphones on, walking my usual route, eating a snack.

the crux is if some colleague or classmate is like 'oh, I'll come along :D'. this is when you use 'no, I need some alone time'. it's a break! to the anxious heart socializing is WORK, so you shouldn't have to do it!

Out of your head

am I gonna pull the 'go exercise' afterall? yeah kinda, but not in the 'wooow sports' way.

the best way to get out of your head is when you shift focus to your body. and being in motion triggers your brain into easier decision making. it safed me a bunch of headaches and heartaches to go outside for a walk. just local supermarket and back. touch a tree when you can, lure a cat over. none of that sport activities shit. just a normal easy walk.

is that too high a bar? walk back and forth in your room, walk back and forth to the bathroom. the important part is being in motion.

it's not a plasebo if it works

try find your thing that works for you specifically. listening to white noise, ASMR, frequencies, collecting crystals, writing lists, patting animals, aroma therapy, gardening, art stuff, classical music, stimming. if it works, it works! people may tell you it doesn't, but it does for you! and you are responsible for your own peace of mind, so if your coping works in a healthy way, how is that not a win?

[hdtaejin]

⌇⌇ 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 (𝐰𝐨𝐰) ↝ self para: evaluation day ↝ mentioned: npc(s) / wc: 1k

now that they're officially making debut preparations, it's like the very air has shifted in kiss studios. every room he walks in seems to be in some state of holding its breath, anticipation so palpable it sends a shiver through his skin sometimes. it's the way people's eyes have changed. he'll catch a glimpse of their face on the practice room mirror only to see intensity carved deep in their expressions, several shades darker than the usual focus they bring to lessons. there are other signs too. less goofing around during breaks, slower reactions to jokes, longer stretches of quiet where the music cuts and it's just the sound of their ragged breathing, each person in their own head, working on getting their wind back or mentally running through formations before someone gets up and turns the track back on.

everyone knows what this next evaluation means, the opportunity it holds. everyone is taking it seriously.

taejin too. from the day he walked into studio 4 with five other trainees, he's been clocking in late-night rehearsals daily just to keep up with the speed of their group practices. he's not blind. he knows where he falls skills-wise, and it's nowhere near the others, the trainees who have either been here longer or are just naturally more gifted. it hasn't even been a full year since taejin was making latte art in jeju-do, his biggest concern being whether granny miram down the street would approve of the recent changes to their cafe's menu (she didn't). realistically, he's only been in seoul for nine months. it's not like he's tone deaf or entirely without rhythm, but nine months of training can only do so much for a non-existent foundation. if he's going to pass this evaluation, he knows he can't rely on that.

⊹⊹⊹

it's d-day and taejin knows he should feel nervous, but he's not. he gently thumps a teammate's back as they heave over the toilet, jokingly saying that he hopes the room is arranged so that the judges are sitting far enough back—he may not be vomiting now, but he can't guarantee what will happen to the splash zone once they actually perform. he mimes throwing up, hands splayed from his mouth as he retches. the trainee chokes on a laugh and bats his arm away, calls him a crazy bastard. taejin just grins, utterly at ease.

when the six of them enter the evaluation room, the first thing he notices are the cameras. they're filming the whole process—they were recording during rehearsals too—and from start to finish, the whole process has been a trial run on testing how comfortable taejin can get with cameras. the answer being: a lot. like magnets, he finds his eyes constantly drawn to them, glancing at the circular lens when he should be looking at his form in the mirror instead—tossing it a wink, like it's someone standing on the side of the basketball court. feeling their stare and showing off just a little bit more because of it.

he does the same thing during the performance. switches between smiling at the camera to making eye-contact with the judges, fully immersed in the song's concept of a confident protagonist, loved by all. it's not hard, maybe because of how close it feels to the truth. he lets his body move on muscle memory and for once doesn't rush the entrance to his lines—a half song, half rap in the second verse. the thick synths and funky bass pour from the speakers and fill him up with sound all the way to his soles. has the song always been this good? taejin can't remember hearing the music as well as he does now. he shouts the chant section with the rest of his members, buzzing with energy and adrenaline:

what you gonna do, what what you wanna!

⊹⊹⊹

the feedback comes swiftly, while they're catching their breath and the music is still ringing in his ears. first the overall group impressions, then the individual critiques. when it comes his turn, taejin straightens his back and clasps his hands together at his front.

"i'll be blunt. skill-wise, you're the weakest out of everyone here."

jang hei-ran places her clipboard on her lap, the neat sweep of her hair brushing her shoulders with the movement. taejin's heard of her before, knows a little about how she evaluates as a talent consultant, and as expected, jang hei-ran's strict but fair. he didn't think he made a lot of mistakes during the performance, but as she goes through some of the details and points he'd missed, taejin finds himself nodding along, vaguely remembering his less-than-stable moments. he'll have to watch the recording later, all this in mind.

"what do you imagine the concept of this song to be?" choi yo-han asks, going straight into his segment once jang hei-ran had finished with her comments.

"i think it's a song about being empowered by a persona," taejin replies. he thinks back to the notes on his lyrics sheet, frayed from rough handling and scrawled all over with his terrible handwriting. "the lyrics talk about finding who you are and true desire within a gimmick. i imagined a character who lives a different life online than he does offline, someone who feels the most confident and free when he's creating his own world. like a popular streamer who's a bit of a loser in real life, maybe. the song's not just energetic, it's triumphant. it's youthful. it's earnest and attention-seeking." taejin pauses to grin. "not that different from a rookie idol, i bet."

choi yo-han leans back in his chair, clearly amused. he nods once, as if confirming something, then opens his mouth again. "the ability to express a concept to its fullest potential. the ability to draw the audience's eyes to you, no matter where you stand on stage... skills can be taught, but musicality, star power—those things are much more elusive." choi yo-han smiles wryly. "you're an interesting character, yang taejin. i look forward to seeing where all that potential goes."

[ancientforgcd]

granny citlali, do you have any stories to share?

"Stories, huh? Well, I've lived long enough to have plenty of those, though they're not all pleasant." She spoke and began to tell tha tale. "Let's see, there was this one time when a stubborn apprentice of mine decided to test the patiance of a Wayob. You know, those mischieouvs spirits that flit about the forest? this one thought they were clever - decided to follow the flickering lights of one, claiming they'd catch it and make it grant them a wish." A shake of her head. "Foolish, no? The Wayob, being the trickster it is, led them deeper and deeper into the woods, until they couldn't tell left from right. It wasn't until they collapsed from exhaustion that the spirit appeared, laughing so hard it could hardly stray upright."

"Blessings aren't meant to be chased. It told them. The more you run after them, the further they'll go. Wise words, don't you think?"

Citlali paused, her expression softening. "When I finally foudn them the next day, they were a sight to behold - covered in mud, leaves tangled in their hair, holding a single feather as if it were a treasure. They'd learned their lesson the hard way; Sometimes, patience is the only way forward. I never let them forget that story though. It's a good one to tell anyone who gets too caught up in chasing what they think they deserve. Sometimes, the more you run after something, the more it slips through your fingers. And sometimes, if you're still and let things come to you, they'll arrive in ways you never expected."

[womanofwords]

STEM Kids Shenanigans (Chapter 19)

Chapter 19: Bird's Nest

Like many nerds, Layla hated sports. Exertion, sweat, and changing rooms full of stale air that was tinged with spray-on deodorant and perfume. At least Miss Quinn, their PE teacher, was nice as they did relays.

The male PE teacher, Mr Tripp, was not.

"You guys are pathetic! My granny could have run faster than you when she was alive!" he yelled, as the boys ran laps in the adjacent Astroturf field. "Dante, you're falling behind again. You're the only student that's gotten worse as the year's continued."

Prick, Layla thought, as it was her turn to run from one cone to another.

(PAUSE)

"What is that guy's problem?" Layla asked Yujin in the changing room. "Why is he so cruel, and why does he hate Dante so much?"

"Bad childhood," Yujin said wisely. "It's always the childhood."

"That doesn't excuse him." Layla finished changing and got her stuff. "Now let's go and find Dante."

(PAUSE)

The girls found Angelo and Dante sitting on a bench together. "Hi, Angelo. Hi, Dante," Yujin said, the girls approaching them cautiously.

"Hi, Layla and Yujin," Dante said wetly, as Angelo rubbed his back. His eyes were tinged red and he was holding a damp tissue.

"What the hell was he thinking?" Layla snapped. "OK, we have to start the revenge plan right now. Let's go and inflate all of the dodgeballs with helium so they float off."

"What?!" Yujin spluttered.

"Layla, let's not be so hasty," Angelo said. "We should think before we act."

Layla looked at Angelo with disgust. "Angelo, you've just spent who knows how long comforting Dante and you're advocating against revenge?"

"I never said that. I just think it would be a good idea to wait around and find a weak point to exploit," Angelo explained. The three other nerds turned to him with a grin.

"I never should have doubted you," Layla grinned.

(PAUSE)

The four walked slowly and quietly towards Mr Tripp's office, waiting outside it in an attempt to hear something useful. But all they heard was bragging.

"Those kids I teach are utterly hopeless," he laughed to whoever he was talking to. "Tubby, wimpy, and generally out of shape. One especially spineless kid keeps covering his ears whenever I blow the whistle! I had to be straight up with him about it. 'It's just a whistle, you big baby!' Honestly, what a joke. I hope he's doing well in the rest of his classes or he's going to go nowhere in life."

"How did he get hired?" Yujin whispered.

"And it was so windy!" Mr Tripp continued to complain to whoever he was talking to. Hesitantly, Angelo straightened up to see who he was with.

"It's a phone call," he confirmed, straightening up again. "He's alone in there."

"I hate when I have to do lessons outside in bad weather. I don't want £125 worth of hair to fly off," Mr Tripp complained.

"What is he talking about?" Layla asked.

"If the little turds I teach find out that I wear a hairpiece to cover up my baldness, they'll never let me forget it," Mr Tripp said.

Angelo shoved a hand to his mouth with shock. Dante and Yujin's jaws dropped. Layla grinned.

"OK, so we have a weakness," Layla grinned. "Now we just need to find a way to exploit it."

(PAUSE)

At the next STEM meeting, the four formulated a plan. "When do you get to have the next outside PE lesson?" Yujin asked the boys.

"Next week," Angelo said.

"So we don't have long," Layla said. "OK, possible ways to snatch the wig off his head. Go."

"Drone," Angelo said immediately.

"Too obvious," Yujin dismissed. "Set it on fire."

"Do you want assault charges? If you do that, you'll actually get expelled," Layla said. "We need something that will snatch the wig off his head without getting caught or in trouble. Or at least, not in trouble."

Dante giggled. "I can think of something. But we're going to need birdseed."

"Why birdseed?" Layla asked.

"Just trust me," Dante said.

(PAUSE)

Against every instinct he had, Dante approached Mr Tripp. His goal: keep him talking for as long as possible. "Hi, Mr Tripp!" he greeted, trying to sound as chirpy as possible.

"Hello, Dante," Mr Tripp sighed. "What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing, I just want to know what we'll be doing in our lesson today."

"You'll find out after you go and run laps with everyone else. And if you don't go immediately, I'll make everyone do an extra warm-up lap on your behalf."

"Dante, come on," Angelo said, taking Dante by the wrist.

"Yes, Dante, leave," Mr Tripp mocked, a smug smile on his face.

"You were quick," Dante said, as they half-heartedly jogged around a lap of Astroturf.

"I didn't need long," Angelo reassured. "Also, I think I used too much."

"How much even is too much?"

"I don't even know."

And they laughed.

"OK, boys, today, we'll be playing rugby," Mr Tripp said, looking at the huddle of sweaty students in front of him. Reckon this is the only exercise these kids are getting, he thought to himself, as he put his hat onto his head to stop the sun from getting into his eyes. "Line up so I can split you into teams and give you coloured sashes to wear."

He took his hat off to point, and Angelo and Dante bit their tongues to keep themselves from laughing. "When's it going to happen?" Dante asked.

"Be patient," Angelo chided.

Just before the cap of doom could get to the STEM boys, a bird landed on him. "What the hell?" Mr Tripp spluttered, as the boys laughed at his expense. One by one, more birds landed on his head, making the class laugh even more.

"Maybe you did use too much," Dante giggled.

One particularly determined bird started pecking Mr Tripp's head in order to get to the pellet that had been buried inside a tuft of hair. "What the hell are you playing at, stupid bird?" Mr Tripp snapped, attempting to shoo it away from him. Instead, it started to pull. More birds started to also compete and pull at the hairpiece, and very soon, the wig was pulled apart and landed in pieces on the floor.

"This is better than anyone could ever have imagined," Dante laughed. The birds had hopped off of Mr Tripp's bald head and were fighting over which of the lucky birds would get to have pieces of false hair to pad their nests with, fighting each other on the floor to have it.

"I don't think anything could make this better," Angelo laughed.

"I could," Dante said, taking a sneaky pic of Mr Tripp's bald head to use as his phone background.

Layla watched from her inside PE lesson, grinning as her own class dissolved into laughter. Mission complete.

(PAUSE)

Mr Tripp was mysteriously absent for a week afterwards. Probably getting himself a new hair piece, people joked. Layla's new favourite place to hang around while alone was the set of trees that birds liked to put their nests. If you looked closely, you could see that a few of the nests had glowing pieces of Mr Tripp's blond wig inside, like rescued pieces of gold.

To read the other parts of this fic, see Masterlist.

[notlilred]

LILLA PUCKETT ---> 21 --> DELIVERY GIRL --> ECHO CREEK

Species: Shifter Sexuality: Unsure Pronouns: She/Her Favorite Song: buzzkill by MOTHICA Big Three: Aries sun, Cancer moon, Aries rising

there was a time when being a puckett meant something to lilla. she wore the family red hooded-cape with pride and never questioned the life lessons both her mother and granny gave her. her father had never been in the picture so she was surrounded by strong women and she never felt anything but proud of it. she was incredibly close to her granny and delivering her baked goods all around animania was an honor, even though a little redundant at times.

lilla always knew that they were well-off because of granny and her secret recipes for her baked goods, but there was a lot she didn’t know about her granny. like the drug trade she ran in secret. the extreme sports she did in her free time in amity park. the fact that she was as ruthless as she was kind. finding that all out while her life was on the line was a lot. she had always seen her granny as a wise and old soul, but she was just a liar. and lilla did not like liars. her relationship with her granny has been strained since the attack. and when her mother passed too...it only got worse.

lilla doesn’t understand the full potential of her newfound life as a shifter. she was turned, so she knows that she is only really strong during the full moon. she knows she can still shift out if she’s in a high emotional state. she knows that she hates it. she knows that she is going to use it get revenge. she knows she never meant to hurt her mom. and she knows that she will never be able to tell her how sorry she is.

she hardly has control over her shifting when a full moon is involved. so like any caring family member, her granny chains her up in their attic on the full moon with silver. no matter how much lillla begs and pleads to be let out, she isn’t. she is forbidden to leave the home at all on full moons.

she hardly remembers the person she was before she met zeke wolf. she used to be a little more relaxed, carefree, naïve, and a lot friendlier. now she is cautious, a bit harsh at times, reckless, and confused. she just wants to be the person she once was, but she is convinced that person died along with her mother.

she still does the deliveries she is assigned because....her granny is her only living relative left. now that she knows it all her deliveries range from baked goods to risky business, but because of her shifting she can handle herself. for the most part.

despite all the secrets and betrayal, she stills wears that stupid red cape. she is still often called little red. it’s the only thing she has that reminds her of her humanity at times, so she finds it important to keep on her. she knows that weird baker wants it, but the only way that is leaving her body is if she is replacing it with zeke’s skin or something with better meaning. 

the girl has a very powerful sweet tooth. how could she not? she loves baked goods more than anyone, but no one makes them better than her granny. 

she has become a thrill seeker, adrenaline junkie, etc. in the recent years. it makes her feel alive. from petty thievery to cliff diving it just...gives her a rush like no other. the only one who ever really goes along with her is jack, and most of the crazy stuff she ends up doing is on a dare. she never refuses a good dare.

she does say no to drugs. she will never ever do drugs. at least her granny got her repulsed by some vices. vaping and drinking, however? on the rise since she turned twenty one.

she is a big fan of graffiti and carving things on trees with her pocket knife. little hoodlum things. 

she lives with her granny now in the enchanted forest. not a great place to bring dates home to, so she doesn’t. she doesn’t really date much either. she doesn’t think there is a person alive who could tolerate her enough to love her like that, so she settles with the occasional hook-up.

honestly she is just a little shit who is doing her best. 

[anika-ann]

His Lucky Charm: Apple Pie Life

Type: one-shot to (mini)series or a standalone

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 5000

Summary: The first time you talked to Steve Rogers, he earned himself an apple pie. Now, several dates in, he earned himself a lesson in making one. 

And maybe some cuddles and kisses in between.

Warnings: mention of a death of a parent, brief allusions to smut, terrible puns, language and sugar-overdose with pie (and fluff)

A/N: Can be read as a fluffy standalone, I suppose. Timeline-wise it’s set after chapter one, BUT it contains HUGE spoilers for other chapters since it’s from reader’s POV. Seriously. If you read this before chapter two/three, it will spoil the hell outta this series and I think you’ll lose part of the experience.

A/N: Following a His Lucky Charm challenge, three of you earned themselves the right for a drabble request. Right. A drabble. This one is for @annathesillyfriend and her request simply reading apple pies.

Story masterlist

The giddy feeling a single ring of a doorbell awoke in you might seem ridiculous to some, but here you were, catching yourself smiling wide when you heard it.

If that feeling wasn’t followed by a brief worry, it would be perfect; but you weren’t complaining. In fact, you welcomed it, because it made this date – your seventh now – much more palpable. As you let Steve up, waiting by the door for him, you checked your outfit of a little too simple long-sleeve and leggings and tried to mentally prepare yourself for the sight to come.

This was the shortest Steve ever had between a mission and a date with you, only having arrived from an impromptu two-day mission in an undisclosed location three hours ago. When you had found out about the mission almost colliding with your date plans, you offered to cancel without hesitation, despite being as excited about the date night. You didn’t want Steve to push himself through exhaustion and perhaps some pretty strange mind-space, but he insisted he’d actually welcome it.

You made him swear that if his opinion changed, he would call it off even if it was five minutes prior, no matter that you had changed your schedule at the café already. You promised you wouldn’t be mad at him (but didn’t admit you’d be sad.)

Steve called off nothing.

So here you were on a Friday night, face to face with a gorgeous man with a band-aid on his left cheek and a dim shadow of a bruise under his eye, smiling at you sheepishly, but holding out a plastic bag with almost twenty Granny Smiths with undeniable enthusiasm.

He seemed a little smaller than usual, as if the mission weighted on his shoulders still – no matter how much of those shoulders there was, almost entirely filling your doorway – hair ruffled as ever, but it was obvious he put care into looking as normal as possible. And even though your heart ached at his still visible injuries, you felt it skip a happy beat at seeing him. More so in a wonderfully tight dark jeans and light-blue button-up peeking from under his leather jacket.

“Hey beautiful.”

“Hey handsome,” you greeted him back, dropping a kiss to his unharmed cheek, only now noticing that his other hand purposefully reminded behind his back. Your eyes narrowed as you ushered him in, peeking behind him when taking the apples – only to spy a tub of vanilla ice-cream. Of course. “Fair enough. I’ll allow it.”

Steve chuckled at your antics, saluting you since you were the master baker here, toeing off his shoes and losing his jacket as you made your way to the kitchen. You weren’t sure how you were both going to fit in the very limited space, but if you had to be rubbing on the large shoulders of his the whole evening? You were not about to complain.

He patted behind you wordlessly, sneaking towards the freezer to put away his little surprise as you laid the apples on the counter. Just as you turned to face him, he took a large stride towards you, resulting in you barely catching yourself against his chest before you could walk straight into him. His hands steadied you confidently, landing on your hips.

“I didn’t get to say hi properly,” he muttered, already bowing his head, weary smile playing in the corners of his lips.

The infamous butterflies erupted in your stomach, your momentary hesitation to reply leading to you not getting an opportunity to speak up at all. Steve’s lips pressed to yours, hand cradling the back of your head gingerly, your left hand sliding to his nape to toy with his short hair. With a content hum and a parting of his lips, his other arm locked firmly around your waist; you found yourself leaning into it gratefully, slightly lightheaded as Steve lovingly stole all air from your lungs bit by bit.

He retreated with a few more pecks, his breathing barely affected unlike yours; but you were now both smiling widely, happy in your bubble.

“…hi,” you whispered, blinking up at him – dazed, much to his apparent satisfaction.

“Hi.”

“That’s one hell of a greeting,” you noted, licking your lips to savour the tickly sensation his kiss gave you. There was the lightest feel of a two-day stubble still echoing on your skin and you were certainly not complaining.

“Well, I missed you helluva lot,” he mimicked, brushing the pad of his thumb over your cheek, reminding you of the damage to his own. It must have shown in your expression, because he shook his head and pecked your lips again. “It’s healing as we speak. I’m fine. Ready to bake the best damn pie in New York City.”

At that, your eyebrow jumped, teasing.

“Oh? Those are big words, Steve. You sure about that?”

“I’ll have a lot of help from the greatest baker I know, I hope,” he hummed, not so subtly complimenting you, making you feel shy and proud at once. If there was something you did feel rather confident and at home in, it was your baking skills.

With a content sigh, you wrapped your arms around Steve’s torso, curling in his embrace as you rested your cheek against his chest, simply enjoying the feeling of his body against yours – and the exquisite feeling of safety his arms offered so willingly.

You weren’t the only one revelling in it, however – Steve’s arms squeezed you a little tighter, nose tucked into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo; it didn’t escape your attention how some of the tension you failed to notice before melted away from his body. Your thumbs started drawing calming circles on his back on instinct and Steve didn’t protest, relaxing further, making you smile into his shirt.

“I guess that can be arranged.”

It wasn’t until you let go and started preparing the ingredients when it occurred to you that for all Steve’s effort and your seemingly lacking effort in choosing an outfit, it wasn’t that you were underdressed.

It was the other way around: Steve was overdressed.

Not because this was a date, but because you were supposed to be baking. And yes, flour sprinkles would be less visible on a light shirt than on a dark one, but still – it was a shirt. And while you didn’t think Steve was splashing out money where he could, it was an undeniably quality shirt, even if his large frame could use one a size bigger; not that you were going to tell him that and miss the view of how the seams fought for their lives on Steve’s biceps.

“Not to complain, but… aren’t you dressed a little fancy for a baking session?” you asked carefully, using the opportunity to give Steve a meaningful and thorough onceover. He looked so good.

Steve just shrugged, side-eyeing you, clearly unbothered. He reached for his sleeves and unbuttoned each, rolling them almost up to his elbows, as much as the fabric allowed.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit to yourself that for the several seconds that the task took him, your brain switched off. And judging by the wannabe innocent smile to Steve’s lips – the picture of innocence completely ruined by the self-satisfied look in his eye – Steve knew exactly what he was doing.

“Figured I’d just do this.”

Who knew Steve Rogers was such a menace?

You. You did. You knew it since he kissed you the first time without holding back; you kept finding out with whenever he threw in a dirty joke here and there and finally when he took you to bed… but he was still surprising you.

You kinda liked it. You liked it a lot, in fact.

Because for all the teasing, Steve’s eyes spoke of kindness. His menacing ways were still safe enough for you to get tangled in. You hoped.

“… that’s dirty pool, Steven.”

“I use what I’ve got. It works, no?” he offered, his smile turning boyish.

For me? Yes. For the task at hand? Not so much.

“For the baking? No. You could still get flour on your shirt and pants. That just won’t do… so either you can bake in your boxers only-“

Steve’s eyebrow rose incredulously and he just stared at you quietly for a moment as he always did when he managed to bring to life the playful part of you, normally hidden behind a shy exterior. It was something he managed to do ridiculously easily and you loved it – and then usually, as he did now, he proceeded to burst out laughing.

You chuckled with a shrug, feeling the pride of making him laugh like that filing you to the brim as you reached for the white apron hanging next to the fridge on its black ties, its front hidden from sight.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying. Here, you can have this.”

You handed it to him with a secretive smile, letting him inspect it on its own. It took him a second – and you could already see him biting his cheek so he wouldn’t laugh again. But there was a fond look in his eyes as he peered at you from over the top of it.

“What are you gonna wear if I rob you of this magnificent apron? Will you be baking in my boxers only?”

You grinned at his suggestion – and at his understanding that even if the apron might be a little ridiculous, it was very dear to you and you did find it magnificent. What else would you call a group of friends consisting of a carton of milk, a bag of flour and an egg, with a caption Let’s dough it! right under it?

“Nope, I can’t have you distracted, handsome. I’m dressed up for the occasion and have a full closet of things I can change into,” you explained easily, not missing the glint in his eye telling you that he would be distracted indeed. About as much as you were seeing him with his sleeves rolled up, showing off his strong forearms, the prominent vein like a magnet to your gaze.

“Fair. I can wear this. Thank you.” He pulled the apron over his head, not even a sound of complaint even if it barely covered what was necessary, nimble fingers tying a bowknot on his back. “Let’s do it.”

He faced you then, showing off his adorable attire – somehow looking absurdly hot and sweet at once, an irresistible combination – and you couldn’t help yourself. Hands setting on his shoulders, you pulled him down for a brief kiss.

“You mean let’s dough it, right?”

Steve chuckled and kissed your nose before shaking his head. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

“Now so are you.”

You knew that most people probably wouldn’t call Steve Rogers cute – with his absurdly broad shoulders, bare forearms and with jeans that fit him so perfectly that his ass literally called out for you to try and bounce a penny on it – but no one else saw him in a puny punny apron either.

Maybe it made you a little too possessive, but the fact you were the only one who got to see this? It filled you with pride and satisfaction; and with undiluted happiness.

If you got the privilege to make memories with him, what was a little secret sharing about baking pies in return? You had be much, much bigger secrets to share and the outcome could be considerably less pleasant.

You quickly chased away the dark thought, fixing a smile for him that soon grew genuine.

“Let’s get to work.”

You had enough ingredients to make two pies and due to the limited space, you opted for showing Steve how to make the dough first and only then letting him make his own. You even went as far as discarding the food processor for once, because simply throwing things into a bowl and let the modern technology do the work would be rather boring.

“Alright. Now we add the butter. I advise you to stick your always hot hands under the cold water for a bit, otherwise the butter will turn too sticky. It’s a little unusual for making a dough, but we don’t want-“

“-to knead the dough,” he finished, a hint of a smile playing in the corner of his lips, his eyes, having been laser-focused on what you were, doing turning a little distant.

Your hands froze in their movements, eyebrows drawing together. How did he know that?

“How did you know?” you queried, genuinely curious as you leaned your palms on the counter.

Pink dusted his cheeks as you watched him, a nervous chuckle spilling from his lips – almost as if he hadn’t meant to speak up. You narrowed your eyes playfully, scrutinizing him now, causing the tips of his ears to redden too.

“Steve… Am I being hustled now? Are you secretly an apple pie expert?”

He chuckled, some of the sheepishness leaving his face, replaced by a wistful smile.

“No. My ma used to make them in autumn when the apples were the cheapest, two or three on a good year. I couldn’t be out at that time of year anymore. So I helped whenever I wasn’t practically tied to a bed because of a cough.”

He shared the memory with unspeakable fondness; but you could tell he also carefully observed your reaction to him mentioning his poor health, looking for signs that you were bothered – either because of worry or (Merlin forbid) disgust. As if.

Obviously, you didn’t like the idea of Steve being sick; you’d lose your mind worried about him, but you saw this as more of an opportunity to admire him, because even when he saw still tiny, with weak body, his heart and soul were strong. You admired his and his mother’s resilience, for she pushed through and went out of her way to make their life a nice one despite their circumstance.

“Every time you mention you mum, she sounds more and more extraordinary,” you said, causing a full smile to break out on Steve’s face.

“She was. And until I met you, she was also the one who made the best damn pie in New York. I mean--- in a way it still is, there’s something about it I remember being just… I don’t know, I guess it’s just nostalgia.”

He shook his head dismissively, beckoning for you to continue.

You couldn’t move an inch however, feeling as if something unfinished hovered in the air. As your gaze bored into Steve’s, your mind raced a hundred miles a minute; still wasn’t enough to comprehend how strong a memory like that had to be for him – a memory of his late mother, a memory that to him was only few years old and belonged over seven decades back. Your throat went tight, but you hoped it didn’t bleed into your voice much.

“Well, I can see how something your mum put so much effort and love into made it pretty special.”

Of all smiles Steve graced you so far, the one you received in response must have been one of the softest ones; his eyes turned a little teary which you didn’t dare to comment on. For one, the sight stole your voice for a moment and for two… he had every right. And yet, you didn’t think it was sadness; only nostalgia, like he said.

“I guess so. It was different from yours, but at the same time… well. I’m just curious how you do it.”

This time, it felt like closing a chapter, gently bookmarking the page to open the book at any given time again. You allowed yourself to breathe in deeply, tasting the change in the air.

“It’s probably the sauce,” you noted casually, biting your cheek as not to laugh at Steve’s bewilderment.

“The sauce? We never made sauce.”

You bet they didn’t; many people didn’t, for many different reasons. But if you were going to teach Steve how to make your pie, you were going to do it properly.

“Uh-huh. It’s mostly just butter and sugar. It’s more expensive and definitely richer in calories, but it’s absolutely worth it. It’s also highly classified intel, so I trust you to keep my secret safe, mister,” you said, feigning gravity, motioning with your index finger.

“I am honoured to be worthy of it,” Steve exclaimed theatrically, hand over his heart. And yet, his eyes spoke of sincerity.

Good. It was a well-kept secret. Your colleague Lily would know.

“You should be. I only shower it to Lily after a few months of working at the bakery together. Until then, I only made it in secret. Do not mess around with my apple pie sauce.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

You didn’t comment at the endearment slipping off his tongue so effortlessly; and not for the first time. You weren’t sure he was even aware of doing it and if he wasn’t, you sure wouldn’t be the one to tell him.

Instead, you smiled to yourself and let the warm feeling wrap around your heart like the fluffiest blanket.

For a man who used to merely help out his mother with baking and only occasionally, Steve sure knew how to work the dough. He had it ready in no time, ending up with both of you rightfully proud of his creation. You placed his dough to the fridge right next to yours, setting a timer for a little less than an hour – so you wouldn’t pull it out too soon.

“Time for the apples and the sauce – a very very important part,” you emphasized. Steve nodded in acknowledgement, taking your instructions with almost comical gravity. “We have a little less than an hour, so we should be just fine-“

“An hour?” he wondered, eyes widening.

You made a small sound of affirmation; he pursed his lips, brows furrowing minutely.

“Sounds like a lot of time. I’m already craving something sweet,” he muttered, drawing a chuckle from you.

Steve and his sweet tooth… time and time again. Your very first impression of him – after you had worried about the broom possibly brushing over his shoes – was proven correct more than once and it always made you giddy, because… well. That worked just fine for you, didn’t it?

“Well, your sweet tooth is almost as bad as mine, so luckily for you, I think I’ll be able to find something to satisfy you until we’re done,” you hummed, amused, turning to the pantry only to have Steve’s hand land on your hip, using the hem of your top to spin you back to him. You startled a bit as you found yourself flush to his body, his face mere inches from yours, but – and you were proud of it – you didn’t let out a single noise of fright. “What?”

Steve observed you, eyes roaming your face as his right eyebrow lifted, his own expression as amused as yours was a moment ago. It appeared as if he was waiting for something and on instinct, you felt your lips parting, your body inching closer to his as his lips descended until they almost touched yours, moving in slowly, slowly…

“Oh,” you exclaimed as it suddenly dawned to you. Something sweet. He meant you. “Wow, that’s—that’s very cheesy.”

The silent ‘you love it’ was already spoken to your mouth, Steve’s lips meeting yours sweetly indeed, large frame backing you against the counter, one hand on your nape to dominate you gently, the other leaning onto the counter by your side to keep you in spot.

“Yes, yes I do,” you whispered when he gave you a chance to breathe in before kissing you again, not giving you the chance to say the words that crept into the back of your mind almost as often as Steve’s sweet tooth crept up on him.

I love you.

But he kissed you again and again, until you found a little flame of passion flare up in your belly and you had to stop before you blurted out things that needed to mature a little more inside you and--- and you were here for a reason.

Not that kissing Steve was an unpleasant distraction. More like the opposite.

“We need to make the filling.”

The corner of his lips twitched wildly against yours as his hips grinded into you, causing you to barely bite down a moan as you felt something else twitch minutely. He grinned against your mouth now, question marks gradually replacing the feel of Steve’s lips that had occupied your mind solely.

“What?” you muttered to his mouth, because damn it was difficult to string more words together when he pulled at your lower lip like that, filling your head with images of-- and it finally clicked.

Filling.

You gasped, tearing away your mouth despite his grumble of protest.

“Steve! I am scandalized!”

The filthy, filthy man that still had his hands on you snorted ungracefully, twinkle in his darkened eyes as he shrugged, entirely unapologetic.

“Look, you gave me the apron, you started with the puns-“

“But it was innocent ones!” you protested, an astonished laugh spilling from your lips. Wow. So filthy. Who knew…? You did. You knew ever since he had gone down on you as if you were his last meal few nights ago. Uhm. “Just… wow. So dirty.”

“Didn’t hear you complain before…”  he quipped, causing your jaw to simply drop, no words coming out. He chuckled again, kissing your cheek in a conciliatory manner, skimming his lips lower to your jaw and neck, stubble prickly and tickly against the sensitive skin, making you squirm and squeal.

“Oh for Merlin’s beard—please, please! Stop, it tickles so much, Steeeve-“

He laughed against your neck, but relented, one last peck landing on your nose before he took a step back, hands up as if he was giving himself up.

“Fine. I do want to know your secret trick.”

“Uh-huh, right. Because you’re such an exemplary student” you hummed, earning a boyish smile that had a little more apology to it than before. Joke was on him – you’d let him get away with murder, let alone dirty puns and kisses. Happily. “Apple filling now. We can do other stuff later… I know I’d love to.”

“I’m onto peeling the apples right away now, ma’am.”

Despite your teasing, Steve was an exemplary student and you were proud to say that the pies turned out pretty great. Delicious even.

In fact, they were so good and Steve was so eager for them that you ended up having pie with ice-cream for dinner, which might have been an awful life choice, but you didn’t have a dinner so tasty in quite a while. Plus, Steve seemed to really appreciate the homey feel of it after the mission.

And for all the talk about other fillings, you both ended up yawning on the couch, you practically lying on top of Steve, limbs intertwined, the laziest of kisses exchanged every now and then, neither of your pushing – let alone rushing – to take things further.

It was a really cosy feelings; you didn’t care if someone would call you an old, thirty years married couple. These were your moments and the fact you were growing more and more comfortable with each other, enough to spend your time together like this? You wouldn’t change a thing.

“Will you stay the night?” you asked, sensing that sleep creeping up on you. You wish for nothing but moving this to bed and let the dreamland take you.

You didn’t dare to assume; yet, it surprised you how tense Steve’s body turned under yours, his Adam’s apple bobbing, sending your heart racing with unease. You weren’t sure why it bothered you so much that he clearly hesitated, he had every right.

“Oh, uhm… I’d love to,” he said, voice wavering. You could already hear the ���but’ coming – and it did. “But I- uhm, I don’t usually sleep well the night after a mission and I don’t want to disturb you.”

Oh. That certainly softened the blow. The mission. It made sense, you supposed. But honestly, all you’d want had your mind been unsettled, would be a warm embrace. You knew it worked differently for everyone, but… you’d still love Steve to stay.

You propped up on your elbows, careful not to dig your elbows too hard into Steve’s chest as you looked into his eyes.

“You wouldn’t… I think. And you don’t have to tell me what exactly not sleeping well means, but I just- I’d like to help, you know? Maybe I could so something...?“

Steve gulped, averting your gaze, taking a shaky breath and you could smack yourself for being pushy. Even if you genuinely wanted to help and you honestly believe you could; more than your average girlfriend, you liked to think.

“I’m sorry, you don’t ha-“

“I get nightmares sometimes,” he blurted out, his face an image of embarrassment that had your ribcage tighten with pity and anger at once; anger, because had anyone ever guilt-tripped him over that? For Merlin’s beard, you hoped not, because if they had, they were idiots.

His next words were quiet, slow, as if they were heavy on his tongue – but he looked into your eyes again at least.

“I’d hate to keep you awake or… or worse.”

You had to bite your tongue not to react, trying hard to school your expression when a smile threatened to break out.

It was terrible of you, but you were hoping he meant nightmares; because bad dreams you could beat. It was one of the little spells you actually knew, one your mother taught you even during her period of mostly refusing her own magic.

You could do this. You could help; you felt almost a physical need to do so all of sudden.

Seeing the deep shame etched onto his face hurt and you’d do anything to wipe it out. But you had to fully understand first, because there was a nagging feeling that his shame did not only stem from suffering nightmares – which in your opinion was certainly not something he needed to be embarrassed about – but there was more to it.

Or worse, he had said.

The way he way staring over your shoulder now, having grown absent and anxious for your reaction, his fists clenching and unclenching on your back… understood that the supposed weakness he was admitting to wasn’t the whole story. It was dismay at his own strength, the power his body held.

Funny how you could relate to that, wasn’t it?

At least he was indirectly admitting it, being brave. Unlike you.

“Steve,” you whispered, causing him to hesitantly focus his attention on you again. When he did, you took your time to laid your palm on his cheek slowly, giving him an opportunity to pull away; an opportunity he didn’t take. “I’m not scared you’d hurt me.”

His lips parted in wordless surprise, regretful eyes growing wide at your deduction. Clearly, you were spot on.

“And I’m not pushing you into anything, I swear you can say no, but… I’d be happy to have you. Maybe I can chase away the bad dreams. But if you’re not comfortable with that… that’s fine.”

Steve opened his mouth and closed it again without a single sound coming out, pools of warm blue taking in your face, soft but reluctant. The corners of your lips lifted unwittingly in a small smile, eyes gaze drifting over Steve’s features; a face of a tired angel. The arches of his brows, the bridge and slope of his nose, cheekbones now free of band aids and bruises, strong jaw, plush lips. Of their own violation, the pads of your index and middle fingers traced the path, sending Steve’s eyes fluttering close, a soft exhale tickling your palm.

“Okay.”

Your hand stopped mid-motion, hovering and inch from his lips. Their corners turned upwards before he shifted, kissing your fingers.

“Okay,” you echoed, touched by his affection, astonished by his courage again. His courage to open up his heart to you. It was a bittersweet feeling, but you’d give in to the sweet part, swallowing the bitter down.

“Have a told you I feel lucky to have you?”

Funny he should say that.

“Once or twice. I feel the same,” you whispered, earning another kiss to your knuckles this time before he pulled you close, forcing your elbows to give out, sending you flush to his body again.

He carefully carded through your hair before his hand found yours, toying with your fingers.

You let the rebuilt quiet intimacy wash over you again, ignoring the few more insistent butterflies reminding you that the size of the fingers playing with yours was extremely telling. They finally subdued when you closed your eyes, sighing contentedly as you melted into Steve’s frame, inhaling his cologne mixing with the cinnamon and sweet aroma of apples.

As if he read your mind, it only took a few beats of silence before he spoke up.

“A small piece of pie before bed?”

You burst out laughing, muffling your laughter in his shirt, but nodded in an instant – even if you didn’t think that you could as much as look at the treat with how full you still were.

“Sure. Why not?”

Maybe it would bring him sweeter dreams.

Despite your wishful thinking, you didn’t rely on that. So when you finally settled in bed, you fought to stay awake a little longer than Steve and for once, it wasn’t too hard, the exhaustion from the mission and the amount of food he ate finally taking its toll. He was out like a light in no time.

Brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead, your fingertips lingered on his temple; with eyes closed for better focus, you whispered the ancient words, hoping you were powerful enough to keep his nightmares away for the night and give him the peaceful sleep he deserved.

His Lucky Charm masterlist

S.R. mastelist

I made the mistake of looking up aprons 😭 Beside the let’s dough it one, I found a one that would be the perfect gift for this Steve 🤭 Now I want them all 😂

Oh and I never made an American-like apple pie in my life, so I just stole inspo from here 😇

Anyway. Thank you for reading and feedback💗

[stardewremixed]

My SDV Gameplay

Welcome to Hell

For a good time, call Jenny 

What are you still doing here?

2021 in a nutshell

A little creeped out

Give the dog some love

Call me Granny

Mama says not to talk to strangers

I’d Marry You for the Books

Cute Sophia

Marnie the Flower Child 

Rewarding Work 

Crab cakes from Elliott

I just met you and this is crazy... but I love you!

Way to excited about Joja, Martin 

Basking in the blue light (Seb)

Buying Rounds at the Saloon

Wizard: The Resident Dealer

User error

Since you have no money...

Thanks for the beans... take a breather

What’s your policy on re-gifting?

If you sealed the envelope already...

Get some sleep, Claire

Black cat lurking

The romance of rain (Abigail)

I wouldn’t want to work either, Claire

What a lovely thing to do when it rains

Accidental gift

Victor sends emails

Go get some dirt on ya!

Morris! Don’t be a jerk

Jas loves berries

Rude

OMG NEVER!

Offered and declined 

Arbor Day 

Stop and Watch the Butterflies

Making the Snac-kri-fice

More Personality for Kids

Brothers 

Chasing Sam

Wasteful

Unsung Hero 1 & 2

Lewis walks Marnie home

Not stalking Shane to rack up heart points (I will not be without a partner at Flower Dance)

Crow Warnings

How dare you not talk to Linus!

Did not just stop to stare at a waterfall

Isabelle

Artichoke Dip

Low Energy

Does the Mayor Care?

Joining the Adventurer’s Guild

Happy Shane

So Forward, Maru!

Spiked Punch

Grumpy George

Wise words 

Sam’s allergies

Take the Deviled Eggs 

Looking sharp, Victor

Competition from Maru

Abi’s enthusiasm

I’d eat with Linus

And the Winner is?!??

DAWWW! Dusty

Feel free to come behind the counter 

Andy’s worship habits

Why don’t you join me, Elliott

Mud wrestling

Vincent’s declaration

Treasure hunting with Elliott

A nice suggestion from the mayor

Haley! Ever heard of thrift stores? 

Y u standing in sludge??

Cat in a Hat

Another Episode of Morris Don’t Be a Jerk! 

Who is Going through My Pockets?  

Overexerted by Watering Shane 

Dance Therapy (Harvey)

Best. Townie. Ever.

No Open Door Policy (Sam) 

Robin - Working All Hours of the Night

Andy - You’re Blocking My Way 

Leah Saves the Day 

Elliot and Fishing Lessons

[hugthepanda12]

I <3 Arlo - my thoughts on the show

episode 1: Furlecia is an icon. She undestands that sometimes cutting your fringe is the best coping mechanism and is ready to help. Precious ballfur lady <3 Also Ansel trying to do the dad thing. He's trying and we love him for that.

episode 2: Alia's arc??? Character development? Super way to dealing with your limitations??? Also Arlo being extra helpful and supportive!!?? This is a very valuable ep especially for those kids who suffer from conditions that won't let them focus.

Alia is my hero.

episode 3: Body positivity + ghost story? that's an incredible combo! that bird has no chill and apparently Marcellus can be a wise friend <3 He will share pizza crusts with you too on condition you start crying! Disgusting is new beautiful, remember that <3

episode 4: Arlo literally said 'i don't understand the need to be alone but Bertie for you I'll provide you the nice environment for your alone time bc i love you' and that is so sweet and thoughtfull I can't.

episode 5 Furlecia honey, you're an icon but you gotta relax! Good lesson on what stress can do to us if we overwork :( Furlecia skating so fab ily 

miss president: ok establishing boundaries. I love that for you <3

episode 6: continuation from the film: Ansel feels insecure about the dad thing but wants to impress his son. Fortunately Arlo explains that he doesn't care about the expensive trip experiences. He values simple things and Ansel starts to understand Arlo's pov.

episode 7: FROG DOES THE FLOP flop fLOp coz it's homesick :( but at the end of the episode Jeromio is happy and that's all that matters :3

episode 8: Marcellus you jerk. .......... Wait Mercellus sweety I'm sorry I doubted you!!! <3

episode 9

Jeromio, Jeromio You came into my home-io And you won't leave me alone-io

also head empty only Ansel and beast dancing hula

episode 10: you mean my fav episode? Arlo having hallucinations was so funny I can't... And damn it had a sadder undertone too... Ansel really was desperate to hep him !!! I'm so glad that in the end he succeded! <3

episode 11: wow a great representation how our bad mood can change people all around us. haha Bertie's gasp when Arlo said he wants to be alone. Right then she knew: 'That alligator boy now turned into me and it’s my fault!'

episode 12: CRAB LADY I BELIEVED IN YOU but hey they made ‘what are those vine’ come to life! Wait I take that back dear evil crab lady I love you

episode 13: hot weather not good octopus is in love with Ansel's statue? Bertie being irresponsible for once? I mean yeah go girl, but Arlo's in trouble now! episode 14 Tony's parents be like: we don't love u bc u don't steal. Ok nevermind at least you can lie. ... and then they steal Ansel's helicopter. I love the easter egg - ansel's song from the movie is played in one scene

episode 15 aka follow me home reprise but in New York

episode 16 jeromio facepalming my beloved Weird carousel administrator my beloved I want to steal your means of transportation daaw~ Arlo trying to impress his papa by repairing his fav carousel. What can go wrong?

episode 17 head empty only Pumpkin Boy name reveal. His name is GORDON! Also that scene when Arlo was interrogating himself was funny

episode 18 ok I would never have expected a new villain there. Furlecia proving her disguise is the best. I want to see more her skills in action in s2. Marcellus sometimes has great ideas pass it on Edmee proving she's the most rad granny in the world. And yey! Edmee and Ansel introducing to each other! Edme living on the Seaside with her alligator son! Miss President and Ansel my new otp!

Summary:

Overall, I <3 Arlo is a lovely animation! I love the references from the movie and kinda musical-like nature of the show. ‘Slow walk’ is undeniably my favourite track from the soundtrack! The only thing that bugged me but oonly a little bit is that Bertie has more screentime than the rest of Arlo’s friends. However these characters do have their own episodes so this way it is balanced. The series is both comedy gold and educational because they tackle serious issues in a funny way, such as the odds of parenting (especially when you enter the child’s life in a later stage), the need for privacy, wanting the acceptance of your parents/ people, the struggles of an introverted person to fit in. 

So, do I recommed? hell yeah, go and watch it!

[justyvettethings]

My thoughts on the afterlife

Signs you might be an old soul

Important: This is my opinion and I don't engage anyone with it. I know this topic may be sensitive to some of you, so I need to clarify that

< Drawing - credit to the owner>

How I imagine the afterlife

After reading tons of esoteric materials and listening to my inner voice I formed my opinion on reincarnation and the existence of the afterlife and I will share just a short amount of it, because the topic is huge

-> Yes, there's life after death; yes, there's a process of reincarnation of the souls; no, there's no judgment day, at least in the way the majority of religious people understand it; I believe the Earth is hell and the outer space - paradise; We reincarnate in the Earth to improve ourselves spiritually and to learn the lesson we need to learn in order to achieve this mission; When in the afterlife we continue to learn (alone or collectively); I imagine this space as enormous and dark but not all souls are dark - this depends on their spiritual level and how they lived on Earth. The exalted souls are like bright spheres (white, gold, silver, light blue, light green and so on), but the degraded ones are in dark colors. Another interesting fact you may not know is that babies are born with little holes in their skull called fontanelles. It's a popular belief in my country that when a baby is born and the fontanelles are still open, it remembers the memories and experiences from the outer space. When the holes close, this connection stops. My point is that babies till their 3rd birthday can share some of their memories from the afterlife, but parents often might get confused.

So in that line of thinking some souls are on higher spiritual level than others. This doesn't have anything to do with how many times the soul has reincarnated - everything is individual and every individual takes responsibility for their own actions. Still, most wise souls, who shine bright, logically may have more experience than others. These I call old souls.

What I think is an old soul

We talk about an old soul when the spiritual part of our existence (our precious soul) has reached high level of moral consciousness or it might have been reincarnatated a lot of times, as a result of which is wiser than others.

How to know you might be an old soul

Old souls are not rare. Maybe half of the population possess an old soul (whether they realize it or not is a topic for some other time). So if you think you might be an old soul you should know that it doesn't make you special, because there are tons other people like you.

1. Let's start from childhood.

A child may feel older than its physical age and think/behave more like an adult. The physical growth can start earlier (for example a child starts to speak and form real sentences way earlier than "normal"). It can have problems communicating with peers, because it behaves more like an older person (this happened to me in kindergarten). The child with an old soul will feel better when in the company of adults and will be really respectful to teachers. My parents told me they didn't see the need to discipline or educate me that much, because I was already behaving in this way. If you remember feeling like you didn't belong with the kids your age and felt kinda like an alien, there's a huge chance you might be an old soul. A child with an old soul may behave older than the parents, bacause the spiritual level doesn't have anything to do with physical age or the hierarchy on Earth. If that's the case, the parents may need to learn a lesson from their child.

< Author's note: When I was a child till this day I feel like there's a 100 years old man within me, and I'm currently 20 and a woman. Is this a coincidence? I don't think so>

2. Teenage and young adult period

You might skip your "crazy teenager" stage, because you felt like an old ass retiree who loves animals more than humans. A young person with an old soul may feel like going to a party and get wasted is not exactly their jam. And here I should mention something important -> There's a link between introversion and old souls, because I never met anyone, who I think might possess an old soul and who doesn't have introvert tendencies. Another important thing worth mentioning - no one is 100% introvert or extrovert, but people lean more on a particular side. Same with astrology and zodiac sign - we have all the signs in us and we represent their energy in different situations; no one is 100% a certain zodiac sign. So when you're young you'll be really responsible, accountable and collected person, all thanks to your souls wisdom. Depending on your character there's a chance that you'll kinda hate/avoid people and will have rich inner world. An old soul may carry talents, affinities to certain things and hobbies from the previous reincarnations (Mozart is the perfect example).

3. Adulthood and retirement

If a soul is born old, it'll grow young with time. I call this phenomenon reverse aging and link it to the zodiac sign of Capricorn. I think this archetype is the perfect example of an old soul. As an adult, the person will feel like the restains, which they alone put around themselves, will come loose the older in age they become. An old soul in it's adulthood may feel the sudden need to do something crazy, full of adrenaline, because their soul will reach its young age and that will give reflection on the said person's behavior. Imagine a granny bungee jumping - she'll either be a Capricorn or have an old soul in its young stage. Cute and adorable indeed.

[rouiettes]

raya and the ugliest fucking dragon i've ever seen holy fuck who the hell thought to give a dragon fuckiNG EYEBROWS WHY WHY—

aka the musings of a filo non-binary bisexual who feels victimized by the dragon designs of this fucking movie supposedly centred around THE LAST DRAGON???? MAYBE THEY SHOULD HAVE STAYED STONE GDI WHAT THE FUCK SERIOUSLY WHY DO THE DRAGONS LOOK LIKE THAT

let's get one thing straight.

none of the characters in this movie. rest assured. not a single straight person was in this movie. trust me.

raya and the last dragon had all the foundations of a good movie

IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO GREAT

BUT IT WASNT

AND HERE'S WHY

(in my humble opinion okay pls dont come for me)

a disney movie with sea culture at its heart and soul, i was so hyped to finally watch this movie

(not as hyped as i could have been tho bc let's be honest DISNEY DID SHIT WITH RAYA'S MARKETING)

(AND PERHAPS FOR GOOD REASON LOL I SWEAR I DONT HATE THIS MOVIE OKAY)

you had the amazing score, the amazing concepts for plot and characters, the solid solid worldbuilding???

if you just told me about how raya's setting and premise, i'd probably be "wow this movie sound like the whole package"

and then i'll actually watch the movie and have just as much trust issue as raya did :/

but i digress

A DISNEY MOVIE WITH SEA CULTURE AT ITS HEART AND SOUL

do you know how diverse sea culture is??? VERY

and one thing i was very happy to see was how raya handled it

it was by no means perfect but

the subtle shows of culture in the way the characters acted, and the environment of the movie was just CHEF'S KISS

not only that but the ideas the movie had in terms of its world and the people in it felt genuine, it felt alive

a dragon that isn't the typical fire-breathing lizard

characters who look like they could easily be my neighbours or children i've played with

instead of pandering to this movie felt like an actual homage to sea cultures

and for good reason bc seeing all those familiar names rolling in the credits had me feeling some type of way :")

also that fucking soundtrack gave me chills throughout my watch of the movie

okay now that we've got the things i actually like about the movie, let's talk about what i don't like

if there's one word i could use to describe disney's raya it would be: rushed

like i said in the beginning, all the groundwork for an astounding disney movie were already there

but all of it just goes to waste bc the plot and it's characters feel so Unfinished

the movie felt like a bullet-point presentation of the story

WHICH IS SO FUCKING DISAPPOINTING BC THE CHARACTERS SEEMED SO INTERESTING but all we got were shadows of what they could have been

cardboard cutouts of the archetypes they filled

i'm not asking for a bottomless well of depth, but i at least wanted more for the cast than just: angry misunderstood princess, angry misunderstood princess with an undercut, that one dancing kid from moana but with more spice, boss baby, and the mountain

and i get that they had to sacrifice some of their depth to keep the run time of the movie short but you have got to be better than this disney

i hate to compare but it felt like this movie tried to go beyond what moana gave us, and shot so far that it ended up back to where it started, and then stumbled back a few steps

AND IM NOT EVEN SAYING A DRAGON MOVIE WITH A BIG CAST IS IMPOSSIBLE

BC IT'S ALREADY BEEN DONE

HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON DID IT THREE TIMES

and you'd think the plot for one of the few disney movies with a non-western setting would have more than just a macguffin considering how batshit sea folk tales can be

but you'd think wrong folks.

GENUINELY IT FELT LIKE THEY WERE ATTEMPTING SOMETHING BUT WERE SHORT OF BRINGING IT TO FRUITION

sure moana had a macguffin too with the heart of te fiti, but the heart itself wasn't the heart of the movie

it was the journey of moana and maui

it was that BEAUTIFUL TWIST WITH TE KA AND TE FITI

ALL DELIVERED WITH A NATURAL FINESSE THAT HAD YOU ON THE EDGE OF YOUR SEAT

YOU WERE ALONG FOR THE RIDE OF THE STORY INSTEAD OF QUESTIONING EVERYTHING THAT WAS GOING ON LIKE I WAS

maybe this was just me but like, i felt so bad for the friend who watched this movie with me bc all i could go on and on was how the plot felt like it was getting in the way of itself

why didn't the different kingdoms (??) kept the gem in rotation or smth, when did they decide that heart would keep it and then get mad at heart for keeping it????

why didn't awkwafina dragon just show herself to the kingdoms bc everyone seems to be in agreement that dragons good right? that they would be the key to getting rid of the druun right??? SO THEY'D ALL AT LEAST HEAR HER OUT OR SMTH RIGHT????????

and yes raya has trust issues but it seems to only spring up at the most convenient times plot-wise, we didn't really see her learn to trust other people again OTHER THAN THE TIMES WHERE SISU WOULD HAMFISTEDLY SHOVE IT DOWN OUR THROATS THAT SOME PEOPLE ARE GOOD SOMETIMES RAYA

we see it with boun, but then she just trusts noi, her monkeys, and tong THE GUY WHO STRUNG THEM UP AND WAS THREATENING TO TORTURE THEM????????

i'm gonna be honest and say that if it weren't for namaari i'd have absconded the moment sisu came on screen

as far as i'm considered the actual plot of the movie is just the entire sword fight scene between her and raya

and finally

we get to the part i will be erasing from my brain for my own mental well-being

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT DRAGON DESIGN

WHY OH WHY TH  E FUCK DOES SISU SOUND AND LOOK LIKE THAT

my friend said they looked like the ponies from mlp in 3d AND NOW I CAN NEVER UNSEE IT

THEY HAVE EYEBROWS THEY HAVE HUMAN FACES

HUMAN FACES ON MAJESTIC DRAGON BODIES

THE INTERNET HAS COLLECTIVELY DECIDED THAT SISU IS BASICALLY FURRY ELSA

every time we got a sisu close up i lost 5 years to my life

disney i am suing for damages

if you want me to drop the charges i demand raya 2: electric boogaloo but it’s just raya and namaari enemies to friends to lovers ark

and also for them to never say dragon nerds ever again

AGAIN. HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON GAVE US BEAUTIFUL DRAGON DESIGNS. HELL IF YOU WANTED MORE EASTERN LOOKING DRAGONS FUCKING SPIRITED AWAY??? HAKU??????????

AND YKNOW WHAT. SISU WOULDN'T EVEN LOOK THAT HORRIFIC IF THE MOVIE WAS IN 2D

im not the first person to be side-eying disney's decision to keep pumping out these 3d movies but like.

no amount of added dimensions could ever make that dragon design okay

and there so many more points i could go off on to show how this movie was rushed

how the other dragons, and even sisu's siblings whom she had been missing for the entire movie DIDNT MAKE A SINGLE SOUND???? NOT EVEN A FUCKING GROWL DISNEY???? DID YOU EVEN TRY WITH THE DRAGONS AT ALL??? THE SUPPOSED CENTRE OF THIS MOVIE'S PLOT?????????

HOW THE CHIEFS OF THE OTHER KINGDOMS WERE BASICALLY PLOT DEVICES????

THAT ONE CHIEF'S SKELETON WAS MORE INTERESTING THAN ANY OF THEM COMBINED ALIVE

kudos to that one granny chief though

u can never have enough bad ass old ladies

AND GOD THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS JUST FELT SO FORCED

ALONG WITH WHATEVER LESSON SISU WANTED TO IMPART ABOUT TRUST

LOVE THESE CHARACTERS THEY ARE FUNNY THEY ARE FRIENDS FOUND FAMILY

TRUST PEOPLE IF U WANT THEM TO TRUST U

TRUST PEOPLE OR ILL LITERALLY FUCKING KILL U

children aren't stupid disney. if you tell your story well enough, they'll pick up on the messages you want to give them. YOU DONT HAVE TO THRUST EVERYTHING IN OUR FACES

i was exhausted by the time i finished this movie

bc i really wanted to love it. i wanted to feel more for it than just: well, it's a movie :)

i dont hate this movie though like it's not even worth the energy for that

i think that ultimately, despite all my issues with it, this movie was a step in the right direction when it comes to having non-western stories being told by non-western people in big name productions

i'm glad raya and the last dragon exists

i just can't help but be dissapointed though bc this movie put so much effort into putting my people and culture at its forefront but at what cost???

good characters and story for a good setting and design????

does it have to be one or the other?????

DOES THE DRAGON HAVE TO HAVE EYEBROWS??????

[waveypedia]

got fears but i face them

~

Lena and Webby finally reconcile.

Ao3

~

Webby and Lena don’t talk until three full days after the FOWL raid.

Oh, they talk, all right. Dewey never misses an opportunity to drag the kids together and gush about the adventure. While they had floated and filtered throughout the family on the long ride home, the ten kids had made an unspoken home base in the bottom corner of the plane, near the emergency hatch that Launchpad had accidentally opened. They chatted brightly, sharing jokes and trading jabs, high on the adrenaline of a long day and a treacherous fight won. But Webby and Lena never interacted directly in their conversations beyond pleasantries. 

They didn’t talk in the way that mattered.

After the comfortingly familiar sight of Duckburg had crested over the horizon and the plane had landed, Webby and Lena left each other without so much as a goodbye. Ty and Indy were hovering impatiently at the Sunchaser’s doors, flooding inside as soon as they possibly could and scooping Violet and Lena in their arms. Webby stood off to the side, her grandmother’s steady hands on her shoulders. She watches two doting fathers hold their daughters close and thinks about family. She thinks about her Granny, and Huey, Dewey, and Louie, and Uncle Scrooge-Dad, and Uncle Donald and Aunt Della. She thinks about May and June, safe and happy with Uncle Donald and Aunt Daisy.

She thinks about June in her room and a flippantly cut string and Lena’s wrath. June watches Lena too, with Aunt Daisy’s hand on her head, and guilt flashes in her naive eyes. 

It’s almost the push she needs. Energy floods Webby’s tired body, and she tenses to surge forward and crash at Lena’s feet, blubbering with apologies and tears. 

Granny’s hand tightens on her shoulder, a silent warning.

Webby glances up. Granny’s eyes meet hers, as wise and clever as ever. She shakes her head, a tiny signal. As always, Granny can read Webby perfectly. Webby may not be able to read Granny so accurately, but this time the message is clear. Now is not the time.

Webby understands. With her family’s help, she’s getting better at social cues. This is the Sabrewing family’s moment, not hers.

Webby looks away.

Webby looks away, and promises to claim her moment soon.

--

After that, the next few days are both a flurry of activity and uncharacteristically empty for an adventuring family such as the McDucks. As per usual after an adventure, they trudge into the mansion, adrenaline sludging off in droves, and crash in bed for the next twelve hours. Webby wakes to the smell of blueberry pancakes, her favorite in childhood, and stumbles downstairs to where Granny is occupying the empty kitchen, a small, knowing smile on her face. She eats, watches the unfortunately missed Ottoman Empire series finale with her brothers (“I can’t believe we missed the series finale!” “We had to go rescue Webby and Huey, Louie.” “Yeah, but it’s the series finale! Now the show is over and there’ll be no more Ottoman Empire, ever!” “Eh, I’m sure they’ll reboot it in another thirty years.” “Yeah, but I’ll be old by then!”), eats less-than-healthy food that the adults let slide, and sleeps again.

On the second day, Webby and her brothers set up a room for May and June at the mansion while Aunt Della, Uncle Donald, and Aunt Daisy make last-minute arrangements to bring two extra kids on their vacation. May and June apologize, awkwardly and haltingly, at every possible occasion, and it’s all Webby and her brothers can do to lessen their guilt. But there’s one apology that sticks with Webby more than the rest.

June pulls her aside late into the afternoon, while Huey is teaching May the Junior Woodchuck certified method for hanging up curtains. 

“I’m sorry for cutting your string,” June says, nervously playing with her pigtails. “I know it’s really important to you.”

“It’s fine!” Webby’s voice is much brighter than she feels. The memory leaves an acidic sensation in her stomach and a bad taste in her mouth. Tears prick at her eyes at the secondhand sensation of Lena’s destructive fury and June’s panicked cries. But most of all, the helplessness and unsureness Webby felt in the moment. She had to watch her best friend tear into her adopted sister without a second thought, and part of it was justified but not all, and she didn’t know what to do. Her undying loyalty was shot in the face of uncertainty of who to pledge it to.

June frowns at her. She may be a FOWL clone, a test tube baby, barely a few months old, but she’s sharper than she looks. Louie’s lessons must be paying off. “It- it doesn’t have to be. I know I messed up. I messed up a lot.”

“You didn’t know what you were doing,” Webby says. The lie is heavy on her tongue, even if she means well.

June can’t meet her gaze. “Please, Apri- Webby.” Her sister’s head snaps up, her gaze shining and uncharacteristically serious. “Don’t make allowances. I want to earn your forgiveness.”

Webby blinks, stunned speechless, for a few moments. When she finds her voice, she clears her throat hesitantly. “Thanks. I… I appreciate that.”

June licks her lips nervously and nods her head, slow and careful. “Thank you for listening to me. It’s… new to me.”

Webby smiles awkwardly. “Of course, sis.”

As she had intended, June’s eyes light up at the term, and her vivacious smile is back in full smile. She squeals and squeezes Webby in a quick hug before returning to Dewey and Louie, the former who is trying to get the latter to do his laundry. Webby smiles fondly.

Webby knows most siblings don’t really call each other “bro” and “sis”. It’s a fixture of the media. Dewey explained it to her a week after Huey, Dewey, and Louie sat her down and told her in no uncertain terms they wanted her to be their sister. (She cried.) But with May and June, it feels right. They may not be normal siblings by both the media’s and society’s standards, but they’re sisters all the same.

The smile slips off Webby’s face as her thoughts spiral. June was right. The string issue is still bothering her, and she needs to address it.

Lena and Violet haven’t stopped by the mansion since the original failed FOWL raid. It’s not unusual for them to stop by later after an adventure, but usually they stay for the night after the trip.

They didn’t this time. Ty and Indy swept them away.

In bed, on the night of the second day, Webby lies awake long after lights-out. She stares at the ceiling, at the glow-in-the-dark stars she and Lena stuck up there two years ago, back when Lena was stuck as Magica’s lackey. The fear in her gut curdles into steady determination, and Webby Vanderquack makes a decision.

She picks up her phone, charging next to her, and texts Violet. Can I come over tomorrow?

Despite the late hour, Violet replies immediately. That would be agreeable.

No text bubble pops up to indicate Violet wants to say more, so Webby likes her message and sets her phone on the nightstand next to her. She lies her hands crossed on her belly and breathes deeply, wide awake. But a few minutes later, her phone buzzes again.

Is this purely a social call, or do you wish to speak to Lena?

Webby stares at the screen for a couple minutes, biting her lip. She knows Violet’s seen her read receipt, and usually that would spur Webby into action, but she can’t spew nonsensical responses right now. 

Finally, she settles on a simple Yes.

Violet’s reply is swift. Good.

This time, her typing bubble pops up almost immediately. Lena has been much more reticent since we departed Alexandria. My research has shown me that communication is the most effective path to healthy relationships.

Webby’s beak quirks up in a small, fond smile. Yeah. Me too.

I do not doubt that the pair of you will heal each other. Violet responds. Good night, Webbigail.

Gnight, Vi.

--

At precisely one-thirteen PM on the third day, Webby stands on the doorstep of the Sabrewing household, clutching a small purse and a bag of candy.

She rings the doorbell, and Ty greets her at the door. His face splits into a warm, fond smile at the sight of her, and it warms Webby’s heart. Ty and Indy are by no means the adults she’s closest to in her family, but from the moment Webby met them, they’ve never failed to make her feel welcome and safe and loved. 

“Come in, come in!” Ty gushes, guiding her into their familiar foyer, where Violet is peacefully reading a book. “Lena’s upstairs.”

“I’ll show her, father. Thank you.” Violet rises from her armchair, placing a bookmark in her book and carefully setting it down on the coffee table. She gracefully crosses the room and latches onto Webby’s arm.

“Okay. Have fun, you guys! I’ll make some snacks.” Ty gives Webby a quick hug and kisses Violet on the head, and then waves them away. Violet tugs Webby up the stairs and up to Lena and Violet’s shared room.

They pause outside the shut door. One of the Featherweights’ old albums floats through the walls. 

“This is where I leave you,” Violet intones. “Call me when you are finished.”

Webby smiles. “Thanks, Vi.”

Violet starts to step away, but pauses. “Webbigail?”

“Yes?”

Violet turns to fully face Webby, her expression deathly serious. “You are my best friend. But if you ever hurt Lena, I will hurt you. Tread carefully.”

Webby grins. “Thanks, Vi. Don’t worry.”

Violet sniffs, offended at the mere accusation. “I will not.” 

She leaves, and Webby turns to face the door. She spends a moment visually exploring every nook and cranny of the soft oak, and then takes a deep breath and knocks.

Lena opens the door, hair disheveled. “Dad, I don’t want chocola- Oh. Pink.”

Webby rocks nervously back and forth on her feet. “Hey, Lena.”

Lena blinks at her, her expression unreadable, before stepping aside and gesturing to the inside of the room. “Well, I guess you’d better come in.”

Webby smiles nervously and steps inside.

Lena and Violet’s room is messy and cluttered in a way nothing in the mansion is, because for all the Duck family’s characteristic untidiness, the mansion is simply too big and Granny is too competent of a housekeeper to let any clutter stay. Like Uncle Donald’s houseboat, Lena and Violet’s room, and the entire Sabrewing house, is cluttered because it’s lived in. It feels homey. It feels like family.

The room is filled to the brim with Violet’s various books - both hobbyist and scholarly, and Lena’s hair dye and vinyl albums. In the corner, Lena’s pet raven watches Webby carefully from its cage. They’re all in agreement that he’s not a normal raven, but his latent abnormalcy has yet to show itself.

“So.” Lena crosses the room to stand by her bed and her raven’s cage, shoving her hands deep in her pockets and rocking back on her heels. She won’t meet Webby’s eyes. “What’s up?”

Webby fidgets with the friendship bracelet on her wrist. The strings are frayed and soft from three years of constant wear and similar stimming. “I… I came to apologize.”

Lena’s hand strays to her bracelet as well. “Me too, Pink.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you for blowing up at June,” Webby says. “You told me not to forget you and, in your perspective, I basically did.”

“No, it’s my fault,” Lena sighs. “I let my temper get the better of me. I knew June was basically a little kid, and I still blew up at her. It was because of me that she got the opportunity to run off and steal the Sword of Swanstantine.”

Lena tugs at the hem of her sweater, scowling darkly. “I guess I just almost killed my family. Again. It’s fine; I’m used to it.”

The words are barely out of her mouth before Webby launches herself at Lena, barely able to contain herself. She wraps her arms around Lena and buries her head in the soft, worn cloth of Lena’s sweater. “You shouldn’t be! It wasn’t your fault before and it’s even less of your fault now. You’re part of this family.”

Lena’s arms rest lightly around Webby’s shoulders, and her chin touches the top of Webby’s head. “Yeah, I know that by now, Pink. I’ve come a long way, huh? But that doesn’t erase the fact that I messed up.”

“Well, so did I.” Webby replies stubbornly.

Abruptly, Lena pulls apart, her hands set steadily on Webby’s shoulders. She stares straight into Webby’s eyes. “Webby, I know the boys are your brothers, but for the first time in your life, you had a link to your biological family,” Lena states. “I don’t blame you for defending them, and you shouldn’t either!” For the first time, Lena drops her gaze, her beak curling in frustration. “I overreacted. Plain and simple.”

“But it came from a place of love,” Webby insists, her lower beak wobbling. “I- It means so much to me that our relationship means so much to you that June cutting our string set you off like that! Really!”

Lena smirks. “That’s sweet, Pink. It’s true. But I still shouldn’t have used my magic.”

“Maybe it was a little much,” Webby finally admits. Lena scoffs at that, but otherwise stays quiet. “But please don’t blame yourself. Bradford and Black Heron set May and June up to steal me and the Missing Mysteries. They would’ve found a way to cause an issue with or without you.”

Lena squeezes her shoulder. “There, you see? It’s Bradford and Black Heron’s fault, not yours.”

“But they were after me,” Webby insists. “And- and maybe if I’d been a little more forceful with Granny, maybe she would’ve told me about my real heritage.”

Lena snorts. “Please, Pink, Tea Time wasn’t the best spy in the biz for nothing. She didn’t spill her secrets until all other hope was lost and her literal worst nightmare had come true before her eyes.” Webby flinches at that, and Lena’s tone and grip softens. “Point being, it’s not your fault.”

“Well, it’s not yours either,” Webby insists.

“Maybe not,” Lena admits at last. “But I’m still going to apologize to June. Maybe I didn’t cause the Annual Duck-McDuck Family Crisis, but I still hurt June. That wasn’t okay.”

Webby smiles. “Thanks, Lena. I’m so happy you guys are trying to get along.”

Lena grins back. “Eh, we’ve got a lot in common. I’ll bring her and May over to my weekly ‘So your childhood guardian was a villain who used you to try and kill your new family’ hangouts I have with Boyd and they’ll be sold. Hopefully.”

The mental image of Lena, Boyd, May, and June hanging out at one of Lena’s favorite dives and discussing the perils of their childhoods over greasy burgers brings a smile to Webby’s face. “I’m sure they’ll love that. Eventually.”

“They’ll come around,” Lena says, but she doesn’t sound entirely sure.

“They will,” Webby affirms. “They’re… it’s not easy to adjust. Their entire lives were upended. But they’re trying.”

Lena smiles. “That’s all I ask for,” she says simply. “As long as I can help.”

“You will,” Webby promises. “Now, do you agree that you weren’t responsible for the incident?”

“Yeah,” Lena smiles wryly. “But neither were you.”

Webby clutches her elbow. “I still messed up, though. I could’ve handled it better. And I still hurt you.”

Now it’s Lena’s turn to rush forward and squeeze her in a hug. “Well, I guess we both did,” she murmurs, a little too flippantly. “Good thing we both came to apologize, yeah?”

“Mhm.” Webby nods into Lena’s chest. She’s so soft and warm and stable. “So, are we good?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Lena replies. “I need to apologize to June.”

They sit on Lena’s bed, and Webby leans into Lena’s side, toying with her friendship. “I missed you,” she murmurs, avoiding Lena’s eyes.

Lena chuckles, and while it’s in good faith, there’s not much amusement behind it. She ruffles Webby’s hair lightly. “I was only gone for a couple days, Pink.”

“Three,” Webby corrects absentmindedly. “This is the third day.”

Lena grins. “So you kept count, eh?” 

“Of course,” Webby responds matter-of-factly. “It was all I could think about.” She readjusts herself so she’s leaning against Lena more, and tilts her head back to see Lena’s face.

Lena is blinking, baffled, before her beak curves into a small, fond smile. “Huh. Me too.”

Webby’s smile grows and grows. Lena’s come a long, long way since Webby followed that fateful message in a bottle. She’s been much more comfortable with open affection for a long time now, but it still makes Webby’s heart sing.

“We should do something,” Lena hums. “Hang out, with no adventure or magical villain threatening our lives. We haven’t done that in a while.”

Webby laughs softly. “Yeah, it has been a while, hasn’t it? But you should know by now. There are no normal hangouts in this family.”

Lena chuckles, soft and fond. “Yeah, well. I’ll take whatever I can get as long as I can hang out with you.” She wraps her arm tighter around Webby, and snuggles closer. “I know what I signed up for when I joined this family.”

They sit together on Lena’s bed, facing away from each other, in the comfortable silence. 

“You know,” Webby breaks it after a few minutes. Her nervous fidgeting has returned. “You know, sometimes I wish it didn’t happen like this.”

Lena blinks. “Hm?”

“I-” Webby gestures animatedly, frustrated, days and months and years of pent-up emotion spilling out all at once. “I wish I didn’t have to find out about my family this way. I wish Granny could’ve just told me, without the FOWL capture and fights to the death and kidnapping all of our friends. I’m okay now, but… but it was really scary,” she finishes in a small voice, burying her head in her hands. “I didn’t know what was going to happen. I didn’t know if my family would be okay.”

“Oh, Pink.” Lena gathers Webby into her arms and pulls her onto her lap. “I know how you feel. It must’ve been really scary.”

“It was,” Webby murmurs. “It really was. But I love adventuring, and I already know what would happen if we stopped - heck, Uncle Donald already made that wish! And it didn’t turn out well! I shouldn’t feel this way, and I hate it.”

“You know, those two feelings aren’t mutually exclusive,” Lena says, raising her eyebrows. 

Webby twists in her embrace to meet her gaze. “Huh?”

Lena shrugs. “There isn’t much to it, honestly. Your daily, run-of-the-mill adventures aren’t the same as this scheme Bradford’s been cookin’ up for decades. They don’t usually involve life-changing revelations.”

“Yeah, but…” Webby sags in her embrace. “It’s still an adventure.”

“Honestly, it’s not healthy for you guys to keep having all your major events in life-or-death situations,” Lena snorts wryly. “But I guess that’s our family for you. Doesn’t mean it should stay that way, though.”

“Sometimes it’s out of our control,” Webby murmurs, a half-hearted protest for a battle she already knows she’s lost and didn’t even want to win in the first place. “Like when Lunaris chased Aunt Della down to Earth. She thought he was a friend. Or… or when Magica attacked us.”

“Yeah,” Lena mutters. “But your grandma still shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“She said she won’t anymore,” Webby says.

“And that’s great.” Lena squeezes her tighter. “That means it probably won’t happen again. The past is in the past, Pink. You can’t change it. Trust me, I’ve had my fair share of troubles with that fact.”

“You can’t control what other people do,” Lena continues. “Like with Lunaris and… and Magica. All you can control is yourself.”

“I’ll do my best to spill all my secrets before one of Dad’s mortal enemies has to threaten my life for it,” Webby snorts, half-sardonic and half-lighthearted.

Lena punches her gently. “I don’t think you’ll ever have a problem with that, Pink. You’re a pretty open book.”

Webby bites her lip. “That’s not a bad thing, is it? Bradford and my sisters were able to manipulate me pretty easily.”

Lena scoffs. “Yeah, and it ended so well for Bradford, didn’t it?” Webby keeps her gaze away from Lena’s face, and instead watches Lena’s hands clench and unclench into fists.

Lena sighs, taking a deep breath to reorient herself. “What I mean, Pink, is that it’s not a bad thing. Honestly, it’s one of your best qualities. I know I wouldn’t be here today if you weren’t so trusting and earnest.”

Webby smiles, but it’s forced. Evidently, she hasn’t picked up enough of Louie’s tricks yet, because Lena’s unwavering, deepening frown tells Webby she can see right through her.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t train,” Lena offers. “I don’t think you should become more distrusting and cynical, but maybe you can work to recognize when others are trying to manipulate you.”

Lena glances down at her hands, spinning a stray pencil (where did she get that?) around her fingers. “I could help you, if you’d like.”

Webby grins up at her, teary and emotional. “I’d like that.”

Lena drops the pencil and wraps her arms around Webby again. For the millionth time that day, Webby buries her head in the comforting familiarity of Lena’s soft sweater.

“I missed you,” Lena murmurs.

“Me too,” Webby replies. “So much.”

“So very much,” Lena echoes, and tugs Webby closer. 

For the first time in three days, the tension dragging Webby down loosens, and she is free. She is home.

~

i started writing this either the day of or the day after the finale, left it alone for two weeks, and wrote the second half today during a writing sprint (shoutout to silv’s server!). funny how these things work.

i have a lot of feelings on the finale, both good and bad, but i’m always going to be sad that lena and webby’s direct interaction in the entire series was a fight. they didn’t deserve that. 

i love dropping in little headcanons and doing little worldbuilding with places like lena and violet’s room. it sounds like a cozy place. there’s literally no way to prove this unless frank returns from his hiatus and answers an ask ig but if poe isn’t still out there and doesn’t end up drawn to lena i’ll eat my hat. let him be her weird familiar/uncle!! cmon disney!! 

title is from i’ll show you by k/da! i originally used a different lyric (”heart full of fire”) as a placeholder and now i want to use it in something else because it’s so pretty haha

i love webby and lena. while i was writing this i was thinking about how in some of the recent amphibia episodes, one of the characters was hurt by another’s good intentions and wants to forgive them, but needs time. i thought about going that route but honestly? i think they just need to talk this one out. neither of them were really mad. the moment just caught up to them. they’re so close and in tune with each other.

reblogs > likes!

[flourchildwrites]

“I want all my alchemists, current and former, to lay low for the time being while we reassess the State Alchemy program. I am here to ask what you want in return for your service and your discretion.”

Behind the reflective surface of his horn-rimmed glasses, Grumman’s eyes shift to the foot of Alphonse’s bed where Izumi’s cookbook sits open. “Your just deserts, as it were,” he adds with a smirk.

Alphonse doesn’t have to ponder what their plans are.

“All we want is to go home, sir, to Resembool,” Alphonse answers. He smiles to lighten the mood; loose skin pulls around the corners of his grin. “And I’d also like to see a few friends. Maybe try some of the foods from my list before we leave Central."

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga

Relationships & Characters: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Izumi Curtis/Sig Curtis, Gracia Hughes, Elicia Hughes, Grumman, Winry Rockbell, Pinako Rockbell

Genre: Character Study, Post-Promised Day, Recovery, Just Deserts

Trigger Warnings: Underweight Character

Rating: G

Word Count: 2,967 words (Complete)

A/N: I'm incredibly excited to share the fic I wrote for @fmacookbookzine, Tastes of Amestris! Most of the desserts mentioned in the story have recipes in the cookbook. I owe a special thanks to the zine moderator as well as my betas, Tas and @vino-and-doggos. I appreciate kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, comments, likes, and reblogs if you feel so inclined.

Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. The repair becomes part of the object’s history and enhances its beauty.

...

There is a plate in the china cabinet of Pinako’s kitchen that Alphonse likes best. It looks the same as the others with pale pink vines looping along the fluted rim. Yet, this particular piece is set apart from the rest. Once cracked in half, Alphonse’s favorite plate has a vein of gold that binds the fractured parts together.

He was there when it happened on Winry’s sixth birthday. Ms. Sarah assembled an unorthodox birthday dessert in honor of the occasion, an elegant presentation of fresh berries, whipped cream, and puffs of baked meringue. The final touch was a pinch of mint, and once combined, Winry gazed excitedly at her mother’s handiwork stacked atop the fine china. In her wonder, the child’s footing faltered.

All told, it was an everyday accident that had Pinako tutting softly under her breath as she picked up the pieces; however, precious little went to waste in the Rockbell household—a place where broken things (and sometimes people) came to be restored. With the conscience of a healer and the precision of a surgeon, Granny carefully glued the jagged edges together with golden lacquer. Raised lines stuck out along the break and dried, leaving the piece even more beautiful for the story it had to tell.

When Alphonse looks in the mirror now, his face also tells a story. Though, he thinks that it is not a tale the hospital staff wants to hear. They are thankful for the large red letters that read ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ stamped across his medical chart. They look away from the sunken eyes and gaunt cheeks that stare back at Alphonse from the mirror Sig is holding for him. Each time Alphonse sees himself, he half expects to confront a gunmetal helmet with half-moon holes glowing red and horizontal vents instead of gutting cheekbones. The reality is disorienting but not unwelcome.

Like the metallic bond holding together his favorite plate, Alphonse likes the way his golden eyes gleam with the satisfaction of seeing his and Edward’s bodies restored. All except for his brother’s leg, and perhaps Edward does not regret that loss. It was a price paid-in-full for the people the Elric brothers helped and the lesson they learned, albeit the hard way.

Alphonse’s fingers tremble as he grasps the razor. He glances up from the mirror to the burly bear of a man holding it. “Press the razor to your face and gently pull upward,” Sig kindly instructs. “Let it do the work for you.”

The young man nods and does as instructed, ready to savor the task of shaving for the first time with the most patient person as his teacher. Alphonse takes his first pull of the razor, and it glides across his upper lip with little resistance until, at the very end, his hand trembles again.

He feels a sharp sensation, and while examining his visage in the mirror, Alphonse notices a red mark above the corner of his mouth mingled with traces of shaving cream. Sig holds out a handkerchief.

“You should have seen my first attempt. You did well,” Sig says with a pleasant grin.

A warmth fills Alphonse’s hospital room, crammed with four people who function as a family, just as they did back in Dublith. Edward reclines on the bed next to his brother with his arms stretched lazily behind his trademark braid. Izumi watches the exchange between her husband and Alphonse with a small smile, barely keeping up the pretense of reading her recipe book. She keeps her vigil at Alphonse and Ed’s bedside despite her injuries.

There’s a staccato series of knocks on the door. Between the abrupt sound and the sudden appearance of an officer drenched in Amestrian blue, the spell of domesticity is broken. It is replaced by a colder reality: Ed and Alphonse Elric are being kept by the military. They remain unsure who is being protected from whom and to what end.

Their guard straightens up. A sheen of sweat collects on his brows and the collar of his woolen uniform. His voice is strained as he pulls up into a rigid salute to address Ed. The Fullmetal Alchemist cocks his brow incredulously at the formal display.

“Sorry to intrude, Major Elric,” the officer finally announces, “Mr. Alphonse Elric. You have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” Ed parrots; a sharp remark is already on the tip of his pitchy tongue. “If it’s that Colonel Bastard, again, you can tell him-”

“It’s not Colonel Mustang,” the officer interrupts. “It’s Genera- I mean Führer Grumman.”

The collective attention of the room turns as a shorter, older man emerges from behind the guard. He moves slowly and smiles through his thick, white mustache. The deep blue of his immaculate uniform contrasts the faded fabric of the lower-ranking officer ahead of him. Service ribbons in every color weigh down the left side of the gentleman’s long jacket.

“Acting Führer,” he corrects with adroit, disarming syntax. “But then, we’re all friends here. Who cares about a little thing like formalities?”

...

Alphonse scratches at his freshly shaven upper lip as the usual introductions are observed. It seems that Ed will be doing the talking, and with that in mind, Alphonse expects a brief visit. Nevertheless, Grumman paves the way for pleasantries as well as business. Not five minutes into the discussion, Alphonse realizes that the new acting Führer speaks with authority.

It would be wise, Alphonse decides, to listen carefully.

When Führer Grumman asks Izumi and Sig to step out for an afternoon cup of tea, the request is not a suggestion. The strong-willed teacher rises with the help of her husband, and the couple leaves begrudgingly. Alphonse grins sympathetically at them as they exit. It bolsters his confidence when Izumi returns his smile with an assertive nod.

Grumman does not hesitate to fill the seat their teacher vacated. Gravity bears down on Alphonse’s frail shoulders, but he sits as tall as he can.

“The way I hear it, you boys saved the day,” the Führer proclaims, flashing a set of pearly whites. “I’d say my government owes you both a debt of gratitude.”

With all the rough-edged diplomacy he can muster, Ed responds. “Yeah, well, we didn’t do it for the government, old man. And I’m done being a dog of the military. Whatever plans you’ve got in mind, count us out.”

The Führer’s reaction is nearly nonexistent. Instead, he leans against the hardback of the chair and immediately winces.

“Dreadfully uncomfortable,” he announces, shifting forward. Grumman waves a hand to draw the guard in closer. “Be a helpful lad. See that Mrs. Curtis is given more comfortable seating.”

The young officer scurries off, closing the door behind him, and the older gentleman turns his attention toward Alphonse.

“Oh, I understand perfectly. The military will ask nothing further of you if that’s what you want,” he replies. “But the situation we find ourselves in is unusual—a conspiracy in the upper echelons of the government, a nation-wide episode of unconsciousness, the condition of Alphonse’s body, and the inexplicable connection it all has to alchemy. These are the sort of concerns that fuel the rumor mill.”

The older gentleman pauses, idly twisting the ends of his mustache between his fingers as he divulges the political landscape of Amestris.

“I want all my alchemists, current and former, to lay low for the time being while we reassess the State Alchemy program. I am here to ask what you want in return for your service and your discretion.”

Behind the reflective surface of his horn-rimmed glasses, Grumman’s eyes shift to the foot of Alphonse’s bed where Izumi’s cookbook sits open.

“Your just deserts, as it were,” he adds with a smirk.

Alphonse doesn’t have to ponder what their plans are.

“All we want is to go home, sir, to Resembool,” Alphonse answers. He smiles to lighten the mood; loose skin pulls around the corners of his grin. “And I’d also like to see a few friends. Maybe try some of the foods from my list before we leave Central. When I can eat solids again, that is.”

“Your list?” the Führer asks.

“It was in a book he used to keep,” Ed explains. His tone softens, as it always does when he speaks of his brother. “It listed foods he wanted to try when he was inside... Anyway, I think we lost it.”

“I see.”

Grumman’s response is curt. With a final flourish, the old man straightens his cap and rises from the chair. It seems that he’s heard all he needs to hear.

“I’m going to keep an eye on you boys,” he concludes. “Just the one, mind you, for whatever that’s worth. It’s a fine idea for you both to return to Resembool. Recuperate and rest, and when you figure out what you’d like to do with your time, give me a call.”

The old man produces an ivory card from the pocket of his uniform; a phone number is scribbled on the front. The card itself is an innocuous thing, but the peace offering reeks of political maneuvering. Ed frowns as Führer Grumman places the card on the small table between the brothers’ beds. Alphonse is torn, equal parts intrigued and wary of the strings attached to this phone number.

“The good people here tell me that Alphonse will be ready to travel in four months,” Grumman continues. “In the meantime, I’ll see that you are allowed visitors and suitable food that Alphonse would like to become reacquainted with.”

Alphonse focuses on the task at hand. He thinks of the timeline and of the way Edward approached his recovery from the automail installation. A determined glint ignites in his golden eyes, almost glossy with the lacquer of conviction. Alphonse is weak, but his spirit remains tireless.

“I’ll do it in two,” he says.

Edward, only too happy to put the politics of Central City behind them, nods in agreement.

...

A month’s time sees Alphonse with his hair clipped short; his once sunken cheeks have regained some fullness. Edward, Sig, and Izumi have long since been discharged, but they take turns keeping Alphonse company from the spare couch of his hospital room. Just like Führer Grumman promised, it’s more comfortable than the standard chairs, but that doesn’t mean Alphonse is content to linger.

Now more than ever, he’s determined to go home, walking unassisted down Resembool’s roads. However, for the moment, it’s all Alphonse can do to steady his awkward gait by digging his toes into mats and bracing his arms against the parallel bars. He thinks something as simple as walking should come easily; his legs have other ideas. Another fall brings his physical therapy to an end for the day, and Alphonse returns to his hospital room.

He takes the bumps and bruises in stride. He makes it a point to smile at the staff even when their treatments bring him pain alongside progress. From the confines of a wheelchair, Alphonse greets his guard—a man called Doug who likes comic books and whistles to fill the silence. Doug never pries and is quick to look the other way when Ed overstays his official welcome.

“Ready for more visitors?” Doug asks.

Alphonse’s face lights up with anticipation, and he cranes his neck to peer around the doorframe. Tawny brown hair and emerald eyes fill his field of vision as the small body of a precocious child lunges toward him. She nearly jumps into his lap before her mother pulls her back while balancing a covered plate with one arm.

“Elicia! Ms. Gracia!” Alphonse greets. Recognition washes over both visitors' faces at the sound of Alphonse’s voice.

“So that’s what you look like,” Elicia observes. She giggles madly, rocking back and forth from heel to toe.

Alphonse is quick to change the subject; he also refuses to think about the way Elicia’s gregarious nature reminds him of a certain someone.

The visit is pleasant and predictable. Gracia frets about his weight and serves him a double portion of adorable pudding domes that mother and daughter whipped up for the visit. The vanilla concoctions are cleverly molded into cat-shaped faces, painted with slanting eyes and curving mouths. Soft and creamy with a hint of coffee, they are as sweet as Elicia.

Between the confection and the company, Alphone passes an hour or more catching up on life and letting the child bounce between the walls of his hospital room. When mother and daughter depart (with promises to return with quiche), the silence feels harder to swallow. Alphonse cannot help but think of Winry and Pinako, of apple pie and strong coffee mixed with the smell of automail oil.

He wants, more than anything, to go home.

...

The doctors are surprised when Alphonse meets his deadline; Ed, ever faithful, is not. Alphonse leaves Central City General with his head held high and only stops to rest when the hospital is out of sight. His senses are overwhelmed by the feeling of a starched collar against the back of his neck, the pull of a new vest across his chest, and the weight of Grumman’s card in his pocket.

Alphonse follows Ed’s lead through neat cobblestone roads that feel familiar and yet entirely different, steeped in a tactile reality that he can touch, feel, and taste. Thick exhaust from passing cars sticks to the back of his throat on their way to the train station. Yet, the stench is suddenly replaced by delicious aromas wafting from a nearby café.

His rumbling stomach is drawn to a wide store window where rounds of raspberry mousse cake sit proudly on display. Chilled pink and green tinted layers sit beneath a tempting red glaze that appears sticky, smooth, and oh-so delectable. Alphonse imagines that the confection tastes tart and tangy with notes of brandy and pistachios. He wants to charge into the cafe and order every morsel that’s for sale, but his brother has other ideas.

“Better get going,” Ed says, throwing an arm around Alphonse’s shoulders to steer him away from temptation. “We’ve got a train to catch. You’ve been waiting a long time for what Winry’s whipping up.”

Reluctantly, Alphonse tears himself away from the sight but not before committing the name of the confection and the café to memory. He leaves Central swearing that, when the time is right, he’ll be back.

...

Their return isn’t quite as Alphonse imagined. There’s no hero’s welcome; only a few nods of recognition are offered as they make their way down Resembool’s country roads. But as soon as Alphonse sees the Rockbell residence, a place that marks their journey’s end, accolades don’t matter.

Edward offers to carry him, and Alphonse refuses, bracing himself against his walking stick instead. With gratitude, he thinks of the people that have propelled the brothers along their quest—especially the travelers from Xing. He hopes that they, too, made it home.

And in the blink of an eye, their dream is realized. Den pounces upon Alphonse, recognizing him despite the amount of time that has passed. Winry isn’t far behind. She tackles the brothers to the ground and wraps her arms around them. The trio is a mess of blonde hair and tears of joy.

“Dummies, welcome home!” she exclaims, and for now, Alphonse is inclined to believe this is where he belongs. In this home and amongst these people, he intends to reconcile the pieces of himself while his appetite for the sweet things in life returns.

Winry serves him her famed apple pie on the pink porcelain plate, its halves still bound together by golden lacquer. It’s wonderful and not just because of the flaky crust that crumbles under his fork or the cinnamon sweetness of the soft apples. It’s wonderful because, for the first time in a long time, Alphonse is precisely where he wants to be.

...

Many apple pies are shared around Pinako’s dinner table. There are also birthday cakes for Alphonse (two to be exact) and pans of bread pudding served with blueberries and vanilla sauce. He eats and laughs and grows stronger by the day.

When Alphonse looks in the mirror now, he still likes what he sees, and the girls in town tend to agree. His favorite white-collar shirts hint at the toned torso hiding beneath, and his square jaw exudes newfound confidence. Yet, his ambition to make their world a better place remains the same—too loud for a quiet country backdrop.

Alphonse realizes that the path he is meant to walk extends much farther. His studies, inspired by the prospect of adventure and letters from a feisty alkahestress, resonate with the Dragon’s Pulse. Finally, Alphonse is compelled to dial the number scribbled on the back of the old ivory card and is delighted when he’s connected to the nation’s most powerful man straightaway.

“Had your fill of Resembool yet, son?” Führer Grumman asks. “Are you ready to add to that list of yours?”

“Funny you should bring up my list,” Alphonse retorts, more than willing to play Grumman’s game of allusion. “There’s this Xingese dessert that Princess Mei Chang goes on about in her letters, a red bean soup. It would be a shame if I never tried it, don’t you think?”

Grumman chuckles. “Suppose you could use some diplomatic credentials for the trip. Try not to cause an international incident until Mustang takes over.”

The golden glint in Alphonse’s eyes makes no guarantees. His well-mannered innocence is tempered by past mistakes and fused with a gunmetal resolve.

“I can’t make any promises,” he replies.

[glapplebloom]

The first of the Map Missions where its just a pair.

What does Pinkie Pie do on her days off? Bake. But before she could try her Granny Pie's super-special triple-chocolate, fifteen-layer marjolaine recipe, she got a call. So she leaves it to Gummy to finish it while she’s away. And he stays in that kitchen the entire episode, not moving an inch.

She and Rainbow Dash are being called to the city of Griffonstone to help with a problem. Twilight really wanted to go because she got a book all about Griffons ever since Gilda showed up. Speaking of which, Rainbow Dash doesn’t have high expectations since Gilda turned out rude, but Twilight (using the book as a source) believe that Gilda is an exception not the rule.

While Twilight can’t go because the Map didn’t call her, she gives them enough information to know how to greet the culture there. But like a school that hasn’t updated their books since the 70s, the information in that book is WAY out of date. So everything Twilight expected was gone and Gilda proved to be the rule, not the exception.

Speaking of Gilda, she’s finally back! When Dash told them why they’re here, Grampa Gruff (Gilda and Gabby’s Grandather but not Gallus’) tells them the information Twilight was missing. The Idol of Boreas was the artifact that made the Griffons as great as the book said, but many moons ago the Arimaspi stole it and they’ve been miserable ever since. So it is pretty understandable why Gilda is how she is.

Hearing the story, they decide to split up. Rainbow Dash goes to look for the idol, Pinkie Pie tries to follow Twilight’s book and Gilda leaves to make enough bits selling scones to leave. And since Pinkie Pie wasn’t coming up with a lot of stuff, she decides to help Gilda make those scones actually edible. That’s when she discovers that Gilda can be helpful on her own.

After all, as far as we know, Gabby and Gilda are related. And if Gabby is so super friendly and helpful, Gilda has to have some traits of that within her. It is seeing Gilda being helpful that Pinkie figured out what they really need to do. She goes to find Rainbow Dash to inform her of the news.

Which is perfect because Rainbow Dash is hurt, stuck on the edge of a cliff and unable to fly because of the strong winds. Pinkie Pie goes to Gilda for help and without much effort convinces the Griffon to help. And this is why I was more interested in Gilda’s return over Trixies.

Gilda had a strong connection to Rainbow Dash since Jr. Speedsters Flight Camp. By learning more about Gilda, we could learn more about Dash. And this episode showed that so well. Meanwhile Trixie had no connection to Twilight other than being a Unicorn and was pretty forced as a villain. She becomes SO much better when paired up with Starlight.

With a newfound motivation, Gilda goes to save Rainbow Dash. But one thing leads to another as Gilda ends up holding a ledge while Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie are dangling below her. She sees the idol and tries to reach for it but have to choose between the idol or her friends. Gilda chose her friends, and she chose wisely.

We end with Gilda taking the lesson to heart and going to be trying to spread friendship to Griffonstone. Though that mission most likely belongs to Gallus. While this is the first stepping stone to bring Griffonstone the magic of friendship, I think the true mission for this Map Mission was to unite the friendship between Rainbow Dash and Gilda. It wasn’t like they were gonna cross paths anytime soon, so glad to see them back as friends.

Click here to see the original review as well as the canon changes in GLAB.

[moonstone27ls]

Ducktales finale spoilers

You’ve been warneddddddddd

Warning

Warning you againnnn

Sooo Ducktales will be ending soon my thoughts? Not as sad as when compared to Rise of the TMNT, Venture Bros, Brooklyn 99 (though it had a good run considering), Drunk History, Dark Crystal Age of Resistance. Though there are rumors Darkwing Duck is gonna be rebooted.... uhh maybe excited? I'd say maybe becauseeeee again its on a streaming service... and no for anyone's future question don't have Disney+ and have no intention of getting it why? Cause I'm broke/on a budget and I can't buy every stupid streaming service for the sake of a few shows.

But I'm getting off topic the show in general... sorta sad but sorta not. I'll be honest some eps of Ducktales in the last season didn't fit well with me. Some felt uhh very cliche/or readable, some felt kid dumb (but its a kids show so you're gonna get a few of those more than once), some felt like they were uhh if I had to compare like when you'd watch Adventure Time and you'd be "WTF was that one for". I wouldn't say dark you're just "that one felt random". Sometimes thats not bad but heh depends on the taste.

There are a few things disappointed we didn't get to see one Donald & Della's ACTUAL parents interacting with their children, GRANDCHILDREN. Don't get me wrong their interactions with Scrooge was nice but we barely got one ep with family that WASN'T him. You'd think given what dangerous work they were involved with we'd see a flashback or actual talk of their parents talking to them. Especially with Della being a single mother oO. Kinda feel it slightly unrealistic that they'd just sit and do nothing (and no there's no sign they're dead so they should be around) when their daughter disappeared into space. I mean maybe it'd been nice to see a few eps of past Donald getting advice from his mother Hortense how to raise the triplets. Heck would have like to see Hortense & Matilda's relationship.

Second the triplets father would had been nice oO. Yes he does have a father. All these fan ships but no one actually wondering "hey who's the boys father?".

  Third would had been nice to see more of Violet's family life. I mean whats the point of giving her "dads" if they never have a role beyond background character. Heck would had been nice to see a day of Violet and Lena's life with their fathers. Yes probably to the viewers it probably would had been boring but whatever 8B.

Four uhh I dunno explore space more? Maybe actually see some of Moon's home. I'll be honest that episode of "Moonlander on Earth" ep always bugged me. While I could believe some of the moon aliens wanted to stay on earth. I'm not convinced an entire planet thought Earth was so amazing they'd just stay there forever. People are fickle things, I can believe some wanted to stay like a vacation. But I feel at some point some, like Penny wanted to just go home. And I always found it... disturbing that no one attempted to really listen (no I don't count Webby cause that was written more of an experience lesson than "oh I miss home"). I mean the McDucks have all the money in the world, thats how Scrooge spent almost all his fortune finding Della. I'm just not convinced Scrooge and them thought "Hey we got extra rockets if they wanna go home we'll let them". No it was "oh they'll never get home, lets not bothering asking or giving them those extra resources. I think the show MISSED a good opportunity to let Penny go home (as well as others). And since Fenton or Gyro are often considered so smart they couldn't make a special teleport device JUST for them or ways to keep communicating with the moon. Thus meaning they could have explored space. And while some might argue "yes we needed Penny for the finale" (minor spoiler). She didn't DO anything she and Goldie were mostly used for cameo purposes. Sooo wasted use there.

Hmm anything else....  would have LIKED to seen more eps with Gandra/Fenton but hey if that Darkwing Duck spinoff is a thing maybeeee Gizmoduck will make special appearances and Gandra/Fenton can double date with Morgana & Drake(yes I wanted her to make an appearance I liked her goth look). Uhhh I don't think we ever got a Selene & Della interaction. (So far no eps were really... well friendship stuff. I mean I got a small fraction (if that) with Gods on the Block ep but it was near the literal END)

Also wish we could had more from the old show cameos Kit/Molly, Rescue Rangers, Goofy... pft plus I'll be honest before the show ended would had loved an actual cameo of Goofy, Mickey & Donald just alll together. Pfttt omg I would had loved a Max & Roxanne cameo date/wedding (yes I shipped them).  Haha more interactions would had been fun. And while I enjoyed the Talespin sorta crossover... could had more (and yes sorta ship Kit/Della. heh sorta more of a crackship haha). And lets be honest that Molly cameo was wasted potential. I mean would had been cool to see Baloo & Becky. Though I understand to a degree why we didn't. At least with Baloo.  But ahh well what can you do.

  And same with Daisy and Donald buttttt gonna take some of the finale as something. I'm just gonna say it left enough for my imagination to think "they're having a happily ever after soon". Uhh another minor spoiler with Ludwig revealed not to be dead (which I'm glad)... just disappointed he wasn't in the credits or given more interactions with Scrooge. Yeah I know they weren't BEST friends or anything but I dunno I do associate them as friends.

Anything else... uhhh would had been nice to see more of Boyd and Doofus family moments too. I mean I dunno consideringgggg that life probably was better for Doofus' parents now that they had an ACTUAL loving child. Be nice to have seen more scenes. I mean heck that last ep with Doofus... uhh jumping? I assume it meant Doofus had closure and accepted his fate? So I dunno would had been good to see him and Boyd bond more. Heck I'd like to have seen his parents' telling Gyro in finale (yes minor spoiler) take care of "our" son.

Nowww onto the finale gonna put spoilers soo warning here.... as for the finale it was... good. I'm not gonna say "Oh it was the best everrrrrrrr". Nah it was pretty good given their budget or whatever. Yeah some felt rushed and all those cameos while I appreciate the thought felt wasted potential. I mean I get why budget/timing etc. Just saying you know could had some Goldie/Scrooge moments, more Lena & Violet, Webby friendship stuff. I mean heck when they were all "released" (and judging by that cube system) there was a lot we don't really see where they go or how the Ducktales group got everyone where they originally belonged.

What did I think of Webby's so called surprise... uhh mixed. Bigger picture wise kinda explained that need to be so clingy. To a degree I sorta agree with the split fans I like it and I don't like it. But I get it the writers NEEDED something for shock value cause lets face it they ran everything else. I say a part of me didn't like it cause I was kinda hoping this version would show us Webby's real parents. And I'm not fully convinced that photo was just a fake or some random relatives Beakley took to shut her up. 

I think she sounded genuine when she said "I missed a lot". I admit when the whole "oh she's made from FOWL" was becoming obvious. I thought Beakley was subtly hinting that her daughter made Webby. I dunno could see that happening seeing that this whole ep was hinting at adults who did NOT think of their actions effects (yeap Scrooge, Della's choice to go on that rocket, Bradford's granny traumatizing the dummy), I thought "Ohh sooo she felt neglect and rebelled or fell for the enemy". But anyways yeah I still think Beakley probably DID have a daughter. Where is she? I dunno, thats kinda the whole point. Either she died or like Donald did with Scrooge, broke away from her family. I really believe whatever the reason, her daughter's gone from her life and Beakley deeply regrets she wasn't a more attentive mother. She probably to a degree saw Webby as her second chance to do better by her.

Hmmm lets see anything else.... as dark as it was with what Bradford did... not really shocked. And while he was obviously a villain I think his background did prove a point. But I could be thinking of Dean Venture and Dr Venture's childhood. Not every kid is built or for that matter wants an adventure life. Bradford was a product of his well intentional but neglectful family. Had the triplets or Donald not wanted this life that could had been them. Thankfully it wasn't 8B.

I admit the part with the villians at the end was quiet surprising. Not because they turned him into a bird pft. But because technically they saved Scrooge but heh I get it, chalk it up to either "they don't like to be used" or "Bradford was so terrible he was beneath even their level". Just somewhat made me wish Magica could have found Poe or something (I liked his design and voice actor). 

 And super glad we didn't really lose a lot of villains. I dunno I wanted Phantom Blot & Pepper to escape, fight another day stuff. And I kinda think to a degree thats why we saw that dumbed-down clone of Bradford. He's gone but that clone could get "smarted" up to stir more trouble 8B. Maybe I dunno.

Heh but all in all I enjoyed this finale. Its was wayyyy better than Star and Tangled's finale, no flippin' drama :P. I mean I suppose you could call Donald & Daisy leaving drama? but no not really cause literally none of this bothered me. The credits kinda gave me that nostalgia of how this show got so much attention. So while it was rushed maybe and it had its flaws. All in all it kept up with the heart. Soo I enjoyed the credits a lot good way to say goodbye

(just putting that gif there cause I liked it 8B)

Anything else....KEITH FREAKING DAVID, another reason to give this finale a point best flipping part I’m just sad I have no gif to use XD

[thestralsofspinnersend]

Balance

December 23, 2009

Draco was dreaming. He was walking with Voileami in a frost covered graveyard. It was peaceful in the softly lit liminal space of the dream. Icicles formed on colossal rib cages and hefty femurs that scattered the clearing, jutted out from the frozen packed earth. Dragons, Draco’s mind supplied. It was a dragon graveyard. He was approaching a particularly large ilium, it’s curved shape sloping out of the snowy ground. He reached his hand out to brush his fingers along the smooth surface—

tap tap tap

The dream blurred and faded out, the cold feel of the smooth bone dancing on his fingertips. He heard Harry swear from what felt like a great distance, and felt a whoosh of cold air under his warm duvet, thoroughly pulling him from the grasp of the dream, the yard of bones morphing into the dark cottage that surrounded him.

tap tap tap

“Whas’ wrong?” Draco slurred, half asleep, sitting up as a mostly naked Harry stumbled in the dark towards the kitchen window where an owl pecked persistently on the glass. It was dark out, still, and while Draco had no idea what time it was, the fire in the grate had died out completely. His sleep muddled brain reasoned it was well past 1am.

tap tap tap

Harry looked like a grizzled mountain man standing in the kitchen in his pants, unshaven, with his bed head like a lion’s mane haloed around his head.

“Harry?” Draco asked, curling the duvet around him tightly, protecting himself from the chill in the air.

Harry was squinting without his glasses at the letter he retrieved from the owl. A bluebell flame in his palm doing little to illuminate the words.

His eyes were suddenly wide, scanning the parchment, shock apparent on his face.

“Draco— we— get up— we gotta go— Luna!“ He stammered, dashing back towards the bed. He flung the parchment at Draco and began pulling clothes from the chest of drawers and yanking them on. Draco took the parchment with interest, reading Greg’s familiar script.

Draco and Harry,

Just wanted to let you know Luna started having contractions around dinner time. Things started picking up after midnight. The midwives are on their way, but there’s no rush. It could still be ages, it is her first, after all . Come whenever you’re ready. I’m in way over my head.

—Greg

Draco smiled, while Harry continued racing around the cottage in a state of complete overexcitement.

“Harry—”

“Draco, get dressed! Merlin how are you still in bed?!”

“Harry— dear lord—“ Draco muttered, getting up from bed, still wrapped in his duvet. He reached for Harry who was brushing his teeth while trying to put his jacket on, getting toothpaste all down his front. “Harry she’s just in labour, calm down. Put the kettle on— for Salizar’s sake, you’re covered in toothpaste.”

“Put the— what?! What if we miss it?! We have to go!” He tried shouting around his toothbrush. Little Dipper squawked indignantly from his perch.

Draco chuckled and went to put on the kettle himself, his large duvet swishing behind him. “It’s her first, its twins. It’ll be hours yet. The midwives are just getting there now, let’s give them time to get settled, and then we’ll go. No need to race out the door— come have some tea.”

Harry looked scandalized, gawking at Draco as though he had completely lost his marbles. “Are you joking?!” He asked around his toothbrush. Draco just hummed as he set out their tea cups. Harry stood staring at Draco for a moment before seeming to realize that Draco was not in fact joking. He stomped off back to the bathroom and finished brushing his teeth.

When he came back he looked pensive and distracted, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re sure we won’t miss it?” He asked, sounding wary.

The kettle had started whistling and Draco was back by the bed, changing into something warmer than his nightshirt and pants. “There are no guarantees in life or birth.” He intoned absently, the phrase coming to him easily. It was a mantra that had been repeated to him during his training days in school, something the midwives and birth attendants always said in response to unanswerable questions and unknowable futures.

Harry just cocked his head, looking completely nonplussed. Draco walked back to the kitchen, bathed in candle light, and poured the boiling water into their cups.

“I mean that we probably won’t miss it for the reasons I stated, but that there are no guarantees, obviously.”

“Shouldn’t we hurry then?” Harry asked, clearly agitated but trying to keep his cool in the face of Draco’s unusual ease.

Draco shrugged. “It won’t hurt to have tea and be calm when we get there. Luna and Greg don’t need us showing up in a whirlwind and fretting. They shouldn’t have to worry about us. They need to focus on having their children.”

Harry quietly came to sit at their small table. “I suppose that makes sense.” He said, his shoulders finally relaxing. “When Hermione had Rose, Ron sent me about a dozen owls, panicking all the while. I wasn’t any better off.”

Draco smiled, handing Harry his tea. “Birth is unpredictable by nature. And, often times that feels scary. You can try to predict it, plot it, graph it, say it should take X amount of time, or follow a certain pattern, but in the end it does its own thing. You can only sit calmly on your hands and wait until you’re needed.”

Harry sipped his tea. “Did you ever want to do deliveries? Reproductive healthcare, I mean?”

“Oh good lord, no.” Draco said, scandalized. “It’s entirely too stressful for me. Schedules go right out the window, you can’t plan a damn thing, and when its low risk, I’m entirely superfluous, the midwives are much more qualified. And when its not low risk, I’d rather not be involved, thanks. Blood curses are all the excitement I need.”

“You just seem to be really comfortable with this when you’re usually the most high-strung person I know.” Harry speculated with a small grin.

Draco snorted and looked down into his tea, remembering back to his training days. Remembering the feeling of being a scant 20 years old, screaming on the inside, feeling wholly overwhelmed and questioning his life decisions, as a laboring woman in the high risk clinic squatted on her bed before him, braced on a support bar and moaned through the contractions that were engulfing her.

The hilarity that he was expected to be mature and wise enough to help bring life into the world threatened to send him straight to the Janus Thickey ward. How the old midwives, seeing his large, shocked eyes, guided him by the elbow to where he was meant to be and taught him to sit quietly. Taught him to lean into the discomfort of the unknown, to be patient, to hold vigil when there was nothing to be done but wait. He remembered the feeling of utter inadequacy as he watched this mother give birth with the guidance of her midwives, as he did what he was told.

How, at the end of it all when the mother turned to him and thank him for his help, he had to refrain from shouting back that he had been a useless wreck and nearly a detriment to the process with his fear. Instead he had smiled politely and congratulated the mother on a job well done. And, when he left the room, if he broke down crying in the bathroom, no one needed to know, did they?

While he never wanted to attend births again after that rotation, as the emotional strain was almost crippling, he took those lessons with him, remembered them, practiced them. Leaned into discomfort when it arose. Sat it with. Became its friend.

“I loved the granny midwives and birth attendants during my training, they taught me a lot.” He said after a moment. “And, like I told you, home births are a bit of a pureblood tradition. It feels very— ordinary.”

Chapter 23 Balance of Misunderstood Creatures is up! This is functionally the last chapter of the whole saga, the epilogue is to follow. Come tell us what you think! @thestralhouseofblack

[ywjoonie]

     hello  everyone  !  i’m  meg,  a  twenty  one  year  old  that  lives  in  the  est  &  uses  she/her  pronouns  !  under  the  cut,  you  can  find  some  information  on  joonhyung  along  with  some  helpful  links  !  if  you’d  like  to  plot,  feel  free  to  like  this,  im  me,  or  even  ask  for  my  discord  and  i’ll  provide  it  for  you  !  now  onto  joonie…

NAVIGATE

application  &  statistics  &  wanted connections 

NAM JOONHYUNG

     nam  joonhyung,  better  known  as  joonie,  is  a  twenty  one  year  old  cismale  that  uses  he/him  pronouns.  he  was  born  december  12th  of  1998  and  currently  resides  at  house  112  in  namjeon  village.  he  works  as  a  cashier  at  the  bakery  in  yangwon  in  order  to  put  himself  through  college,  where  he  majors  in  computer  animation.  if  you  give  him  some  fancy  art  supplies,  you’re  sure  to  get  on  his  good  side  !

DIVING DEEPER

     joonhyung’s  family  has  hated  yangwon  for  generations  and  generations.  even  though  the  nam’s  aren’t  even  sure  why  the  hate  began  anymore,  they’ve  continued  it  and  passed  it  on  to  their  children  regardless. one  of  the  first  lessons  joonhyung  learned,  along  with  his  twin,  was  to  be  prideful  of  his  heritage  and  home,  and  be  spiteful  towards  yangwon.  even  though  he  had  no  particular  reason  to  dislike  the  neighboring  town,  his  twin  took  to  hating  it  so  much,  along  with  the  rest  of  his  family,  that  he  felt  opposing  yangwon  was  his  only  option  —  even  if  he  didn’t  actually  have  any  issues  with  the  place.

     joonie  had  always  liked  causing  trouble,  starting  shit  and  wreaking  havoc.  the  boy  thrived  off  chaos  &  whether  it  was  in  yangwon,  at  school  or  even  at  home,  he  enjoyed  being  a  pest.  despite  harboring  no  real  hate  towards  yangwon,  it  often  made  his  family  proud  when  he  &  his  twin  caused  a  ruckus  there  so  he  took  to  starting  trouble  and  breaking  the  law  in  that  town  especially. because  of  this,  the  nam  twins  are  regarded  as  troublemakers  in  yangwon  and  not  much  else.  joonie  has  never  cared  much  about  his  reputation,  so  it  doesn’t  bother  him  that  people  in  yangwon  glower  when  they  see  him  in  passing.

     though  the  nam  twins  are  typically  disliked  in  yangwon,  in  namjeon  it’s  a  different  story.  his  family  has  lived  in  the  village  for  quite  some  time  and  they  are  highly  regarded  there.  though  he  has  a  tendency  to  be  quite…  mischievous,  to  say  the  least,  all  the  grannies  of  namjeon  pinch  his  cheeks  and  look  at  him  with  pride  anyways.  he  knows  he  hasn’t  done  anything  to  make  these  people  like  him  aside  from  being  born  a  nam,  but  occasionally  he  quite  likes  the  praise  those  around  namjeon  give  him.  it’s  most  likely  one  of  the  biggest  attributes  to  his  slightly  arrogant  demeanor.

     aside  from  being  the  younger  nam  twin,  one  of  the  pair  of  troublemakers  who  are  known  for  their  distaste  for  yangwon  and  the  chaos  they  create,  joonie  has  his  own  passion  and  desires.  as  much  as  they  boy  loves  to  commit  small  acts  of  arson  and  spray  paint  on  the  side  of  buildings,  he  loves  to  draw  even  more.  he  isn’t  quite  sure  when  he  began  to  draw,  but  it  had  always  calmed  the  storm  that  endlessly  brewed  inside  of  him.  he  didn’t  just  love  it,  he  was  good  at  it  too,  and  eventually  he  decided  it  was  what  he  wanted  to  do  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  whether  it  be  on  paper  or  on  his  tablet,  nothing  in  the  world  truly  makes  him  as  happy  as  drawing. 

     though  his  family  has  never  seemed  to  care  much  about  his  dreams  of  becoming  an  animator,  his  dreams  of  people  all  over  the  world  seeing  his  drawings  on  their  televisions  screens,  he’s  pursued  it  anyways.  joonie  has  lived  his  whole  life  trying  to  make  his  family  happy.  hating  yangwon,  following  his  twin’s  lead,  asking  no  questions  —  but  this,  this  was  one  thing  he  wouldn’t  give  up.  even  if  everyone  in  yangwon  and  namjeon  and  all  the  surrounding  areas  would  always  see  him  as  one  of  the  nam  boys,  he’d  never  give  up  one  being  seen  as  just  simply  joonie. 

     currently,  aside  from  being  a  troublemaker  around  all  towns,  he  works  at  the  bakery  in  yangwon  in  order  to  put  himself  through  college.  his  family  snarled  their  nose  when  learning  he  would  work  in  that  town,  but  the  pay  was  good  and  even  if  he  got  glares  from  every  other  customer,  it  was  worth  it  to  use  the  college’s  fancy  animation  programs.  joonie  loves  his  family,  has  followed  in  their  footsteps  in  so  much,  but  while  they  continue  to  push  the  twins  to  follow  in  their  father’s  footsteps,  joonie  dreams  of  leaving  town  and  making  a  name  for  himself.  one  he  doesn’t  have  to  share  with  his  twin. 

     personality  wise,  he  can  seem  like  an  annoying  pest  who  doesn’t  worry  about  much  else  than  having  a  good  time  no  matter  the  cost,  and  can  be  a  bit  of  a  petty  criminal.  despite  this,  he’s  actually  very  caring.  he  may  love  chaos,  but  he  doesn’t  wish  harm  on  anyone  and  actually  quite  dislikes  to  see  other’s  hurting.  underneath  the  legend  of  the  nam  twins,  underneath  of  what  people  think  they  know,  he’s  got  a  good  heart  and  dreams  just  like  everyone  else  around.  he  hopes  one  day  he  can  be  himself  and  make  all  those  who  know  him  proud  by  doing  so.