#sky you talented bean!!!

[curlyy-hair-dont-care]

My own tags are intriguing me haha

To all the Tumblr users who tend to use tags very liberally:

Let’s play a game.

Type the following words into your tags box, then post the first automatic tag that comes up.

you

also

what

when

why

how

look

because

never

[caramelarrowswife]

hiii! i really enjoy reading your purecacao fanfiction you’re one of the only people on tumblr feedjng me right now ☹️ your work is amazing!!

also uhhh sneaky request perhaps a purecacao fic where they both try and train each other in their respective fields? it would be really cool to see the contrast between them, warrior, healer etc also it could be some cute bonding time!

thanks and keep writing :3

New Talents

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

Dark Cacao Cookie and Pure Vanilla Cookie were both respected and honoured in their unique abilities. A king who could wield a sword like no other, and a healer that could mend broken bones within minutes…

Yet, there was one recurring problem in the Dark Cacao Kingdom; a lack of medical herbs. Learning a little magic never hurt anyone, right..?

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

PART 1 - HEALING

“Your Majesty!” A servant came rushing into the king’s office, startling the latter into looking up. “Your visitor has arrived, sire! He is earlier than expected-”

“Of course he is,” Dark Cacao Cookie said with a sigh, rising to his feet. “He always is. Lead the way.”

The servant nodded nervously, having to jog slightly to keep up with the long strides the latter took.

The servant and his master parted ways only when they arrived at the grand courtyard of the Citadel, where a massive cacao tree grew. It was both the biggest and oldest tree that grew in the entire kingdom; it had served as a primary income of cacao beans for many centuries.

There, under the shade of the tree, waited a figure that stood out against the cold and dark of the Dark Cacao Kingdom. His hair was blonde, his robes as white as snow and his cape a cheerful golden brown.

The newcomer’s eyes, opened just now, appeared to be mismatched; one as blue as a clear sky, and the other as yellow as the sun that shone in it.

“Dark Cacao Cookie, my friend!” Pure Vanilla Cookie said happily as the taller approached. “Oh, what a pleasure it is to see you healthy!”

“I wouldn’t describe my current state as ‘healthy’,” Dark Cacao hummed in reply. “These are the hardest months of the year… we cannot afford to waste resources on small injuries, even if said injuries start to infect.”

“Oh.” Pure Vanilla was silent for a second, before smiling again. “Well, my dear, how about I teach you a little trick? Everyone can learn magic, and the only resource it takes is your patience!”

“Yes, because I have so much of that,” Dark Cacao said drily. He removed his left glove anyway.

Pure Vanilla sucked air in sharply. The injury wasn’t large and could definitely be treated, but he could imagine the pain it brought the king..

“Accidental stab wound,” Dark Cacao murmured. “Held my blade the wrong way when sharpening my sword. It cut my palm.”

Pure Vanilla tsk-ed, holding Dark Cacao’s hand in his own. “Watch very carefully, and I’ll show you what you must do.”

Dark Cacao nodded, trying to focus on the magic and not on the fact those pretty eyes had closed again. “I’m listening.”

“Hold your hand above the injury, but do not touch it! I want you to imagine the energy streaming from your very core to your torso, to your arms, to your palm. Imagine using the energy to heal the wound, imagine your body fighting to close again.”

Dark Cacao grunted in reply, all his focus on the tingling of magic he could feel in his palm.

“Very good.. and now, for the final step..”

Dark Cacao’s eyes sharpened, fully prepared to do whatever was asked of him-

“Say ‘abrakadabra’.”

“No,” Dark Cacao deadpanned. “I’m not an idiot, Pure Vanilla. I know that is not how it works.”

“Worth a shot,” Pure Vanilla giggled, his eyes squinting in amusement. Dark Cacao felt his anger seep away. Damn that healer.

When Dark Cacao started repeating the earlier (valid) steps, he was mildly amazed to find his wound actually closing up. He knew Pure Vanilla was an extremely powerful healer, but he wasn’t aware of his teaching ability.

“..thank you,” Dark Cacao said, the corners of his mouth raised ever-so-slightly.

“Anytime, my friend!” Pure Vanilla said, beaming with happiness at the small smile he had been graced with.

PART 2 - FIGHTING

Dark Cacao had promised he’d repay Pure Vanilla when the latter left for his homeland, and he was a man to his word. So, here he was, on the training field, pulling out the old practice dummies.

Pure Vanilla sat on a nearby bench, watching him prepare the area. Sure, the healer was very innocent, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate his partner’s nice physique as he worked.

“These,” Dark Cacao said after he was done, tapping the eyes, the neck and the torso, “Are the best places to hit an enemy. A stab or punch to the eyes will momentarily disoriented and blind them, giving you a chance for a new attack. The neck is very important, too; a well-placed stab through the vocal cords or the windpipe, and you’ve won your battle.”

Pure Vanilla nodded, studying the dummy in front of him with a slightly tilted head. His orchid-like staff rested on the bench beside him, its eye focused on the explanation up front.

“There are multiple weak spots on the torso,” Dark Cacao continued. “The middle of the chest might seem logical, but it can be very hard to reach the heart; if you do it exactly right, your weapon might slip through the ribs, but it’s unlikely.”

Pure Vanilla hummed softly, indicating he was listening. It had been ages since he heard his lover talk so much and so passionately about something; they both knew Pure Vanilla wouldn’t need this information all too much, but it was nice to listen to Dark Cacao’s rant.

“Instead of going for the heart, go for the groin or abdomen. You, being a healer, know where the vital organs are - when faced with danger, always aim for those.” Dark Cacao threw Pure Vanilla the wooden sword trainees would use. “Go ahead, give me your worst.”

Pure Vanilla raised his eyebrows. “Am I not to practice on the dummy?”

“Ah, I doubt you can do much harm with that sword. I have a protective layer under my hanbok.”

“Hm.. very well, then,” Pure Vanilla said, standing up. He circled Dark Cacao for a few seconds, like he had seen the latter do so many times in battle, before striking. The blow was easily deflected.

Pure Vanilla’s eyes narrowed. Dark Cacao wasn’t going easy on him, then. Well, if that was the game they were playing…

Pure Vanilla lunged again, aiming for the other’s stomach - only, at the last moment, he changed his direction and went for the back of Dark Cacao’s knees. The usually stoic king let out a yelp as his legs gave in.

Dark Cacao clearly hadn’t expected such a strategy from a beginner, his eyes wide in surprise as he was knocked to the floor. He only realised what was happening when he felt Pure Vanilla sit on him to hold him down.

With a quiet (and very rare) chuckle, Dark Cacao pushed him off. “Okay, okay, enough, we’re not wrestling.”

Dark Cacao stood up, straightening his clothes before looking back at a proud Pure Vanilla, and he wasn’t shocked to feel pleased instead of angry.

“That was a very nice attack,” Dark Cacao admitted. “But if I had known what you were doing, I would’ve stopped you-!”

Pure Vanilla laughed, a joyful sound. He picked his staff again, throwing his wooden sword at Dark Cacao’s feet. “If you say so, my dear.. I can see you didn’t expect me to have any talent, hm?”

“That’s not- I did not-” Dark Cacao protested.

“I know,” Pure Vanilla chuckled. “I’m only joking..”

Standing on his toes to reach Dark Cacao’s cheek, Pure Vanilla surprised him for the second time that day; a small kiss was pressed to his face.

Despite the cold around them, Dark Cacao could feel a warmth rising to his cheeks…

[cherryblessing]

📎— A DATE WITH SATORU?!

``some days, getting lost is the best way to find where you’re meant to be.``

The sun hung low, casting golden hues that spilled over the bustling streets, wrapping everything in a warm glow. Satoru tugged at your hand, his grin as bright as the day itself. His fingers interlaced with yours, the casual gesture somehow grounding despite his chaotic energy.

"So," he asked, tilting his head in that familiar playful way, "where shall we go?"

You shrugged, a laugh bubbling up as the scent of street food mingled with the crispness of the late afternoon. "You were the one dragging me out, remember?"

"True, true," he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. His free hand gestured broadly, as if presenting the whole city to you. "But I thought it’d be more fun if we wing it. How about... ice cream first? Or wait, a movie? Nah, karaoke! I need to bless the world with my angelic voice."

"Angelically off-key, you mean," you shot back, grinning at his exaggerated gasp of betrayal.

He stopped mid-step, spinning around to face you with a mischievous gleam in his too-blue eyes. "You dare doubt my talents?" he asked, his tone mock-serious.

Without waiting for a reply, he slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. His hum—a hilariously offbeat rendition of the café tune drifting nearby—vibrated against you.

"Okay, okay!" you said through laughter, the sound bright and untethered. "Maybe karaoke later. For now, let’s grab a drink. Coffee?"

"Coffee?" he echoed, his brows shooting up as though you’d just suggested something profound.

"Yeah," you quipped, "so I can watch you drown yours in more sugar than should be legally allowed. Honestly, it’s impressive your teeth haven’t quit on you yet."

Satoru gasped again, one hand clutching his chest with Oscar-worthy theatrics. "Excuse me, I happen to have impeccable taste. My coffee is just—what’s the word?—enhanced."

"Sweetened beyond recognition, you mean."

"Details, details," he said with a dismissive wave, steering you toward the café.

Inside, the smell of roasted beans filled the air as the barista handed over two steaming cups. Satoru’s drink looked more like dessert, whipped cream piled high and drizzled with caramel. You raised a brow at him as he took a proud sip, the whipped cream smudging the tip of his nose.

"You’ve got—" you started, laughing softly as you reached to wipe it away with your thumb.

"Enhancements?" he finished smugly, leaning closer into your touch, his sunglasses slipping down just enough to reveal a teasing spark in his eyes.

"Sure, let’s call it that," you said, shaking your head with a fond smile on your face.

The two of you slipped back out onto the street, the day unfolding in spontaneous bursts. He led you into a cozy bookstore, immediately picking up the most ridiculous title he could find to perform a dramatic reading in his booming voice.

Later, you found yourselves caught in a light drizzle. Without missing a beat, Satoru popped open a rainbow-colored umbrella he’d "borrowed" from the lost-and-found at the café.

"You could’ve just used your technique," you teased, huddling closer under the small canopy.

"But where’s the romance in that?" he replied, grinning.

Every turn of the day felt like a discovery, filled with laughter, shared glances, and moments of quiet joy that seemed to stretch time.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in soft purples and oranges, Satoru turned to you. The golden light kissed his snowy hair, framing his face in a way that softened the usual sharpness of his grin. For once, his voice was quiet, almost tender.

"See? I told you. The best adventures aren’t planned."

You looked at him, his gaze holding a warmth that rivaled the fading sunlight. And in that moment, you couldn’t help but think: maybe he was right.

all writing, including poems are my own.

©cherryblessing.2024

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

WRAPPED IN RED.

PAIRING — ari levinson x f!reader

CONTENTS — one-shot; fluff; tiny bits of angst if you squint really hard; xmas/holiday themed; making new traditions; strangers to friends to lovers; reader is not physically described but is very asian-coded

SUMMARY — All he wanted was some takeout, yours was the only restaurant still open on Christmas eve, and Ari gets so much more than he bargained for.

WORD COUNT — 4.1k

NOTES — not expecting a lot of excitement for this one tbh, but I was very excited to write it. this is for my fellow asian girlies out there and everyone else who’s looking for some good old fashioned christmas fluff <3

✩ masterlist ✩ library blog

It took him a total of eighteen minutes to decide to leave the house. 

The sky was pitch black it was so late, and he knew trying to find a place open this late was a long shot, but his fridge was empty save for half a stick of butter and a jar of pickles. He really didn’t think he could fast for a whole other day, nor did he think himself talented enough in the culinary arts to slap together anything edible out of those two ingredients. 

So Ari drove around the city until he found a place with its lights still on, the open sign hanging askew on the door, and was relieved to see it was a Chinese restaurant. Who didn’t like Chinese food? 

He thought he knew what to expect when he pulled up to the Lantern House. He could see through the storefront window walls painted dark crimson, brightened up just a touch by several umbrella chandeliers. 

Once inside, he saw watercolour paintings of lotus flowers and mandarin ducks and leather dining booths separated by large wooden screens. Carefully-folded cloth napkins were resting on top of plates made of fine china, chopsticks and soup spoons stacked in plastic containers at each booth, and lazy Susans spinning around porcelain tea sets and bottles of chilli crisp, soy sauce, and sesame oil. 

There was a lucky cat perched on the corner of the hostess’s stand, waving at him mechanically as he picked up a menu from the neatly stacked pile. He looked around for the hostess, or any wait staff, but there was nobody else here. He heard someone rummaging around in the kitchen, could see the figure of someone hunched over the stove through the open door. 

Ari perused the menu quickly, glancing up and down the laminated pages, only to realize this wasn’t the kind of Chinese food establishment he was used to. 

Rather than the usual combination fried rice, orange chicken, and beef with broccoli, he was met with menu items like Hainanese chicken and rice, egg bean curd and fried gluten served in a sizzling hot pot, snow pea tips and goji berries in garlic sauce, chilli fried turnip cakes, and—was he reading that right?—blood jello congee. 

What the hell was congee? 

Or blood jello, for that matter? 

“I know,” a voice said all of a sudden, following by the rhythmic tapping of a pen against the edge of a notepad. “Lots’a weird stuff in there, huh?” 

“Uh—” Ari began, not knowing what to say without uttering something inadvertently offensive, halting immediately when he looked up to see you leaning against the doorway of the kitchen. 

His cheeks grew warm for some reason. Maybe because he’d been half-expecting a woman donning a red qipáo with gold threading, her hair twisted up into a bun. Instead, you stood there staring back at him in a black t-shirt and jeans, your midsection covered by a plain red apron, smirking as if you could read his stupid mind. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly and broke eye contact, mentally chiding himself that he should know better. He was no stranger to being stereotyped either, after all. God, he should just order something quick and just high tail it out of here before he embarrasses himself further. 

But then you laughed good-naturedly, stepping forward and reaching out a hand to help him flip to the next page. You smelled like salt and spice and orange blossoms as you pressed yourself to his side, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, peering down at the pages while he stared at the top of your head in wide-eyed bewilderment. 

“It’s not all weird, I promise,” you said, your voice tinged with amusement. “Any food allergies, sir?” 

“No,” he managed to say once he found his voice, “but I like to keep kosher.” 

“Ah, so shrimp and pork are out of the question then,” you nodded, not missing a beat, and he almost wanted to kick himself for not correcting you with his name instead. Then you looked up with an almost mischievous grin and a peculiar glint in your eye, and Ari felt his grip on the menu slacken just a bit. “You’ll need to trust me, stranger.” 

Ari considered this for a moment. He was already here, and he likely wouldn’t find another place that was still open, so he decided that yes, he would. He was nodding before the thought had even finished forming in his head. 

“How do you feel about grouper?” You asked and he blinked a few times before shrugging, not really feeling any way about it one or the other. You then proceeded to excitedly go through the menu items with him, pointing out the specials but also ones that you thought wouldn’t be too adventurous for a first-timer. 

You promised to be right back, giving him one last smile before disappearing back into the kitchen. Ari shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing around the restaurant before sliding into a nearby empty booth while he waited for his order of salt and pepper fried grouper and Cantonese-style beef chǎo miàn, all of which came with a free hot and sour soup. 

The place was quiet. Strange for any regular Tuesday night, maybe, but he suppose it wasn’t all that strange for Christmas Eve.

Most people were at home with their loved ones, sitting by warm fires and festively-decorated trees, eagerly awaiting the time for opening presents and dipping carefully-iced sugar cookies into steaming mugs of hot chocolate. 

Feasts of their own had been prepared as they welcomed visitors of all kinds, some they saw often and others they hadn’t seen in a while, not many deciding to brave the cold and snow in search for takeout. 

Except him, evidently. Well, not just him. 

Because the door suddenly opened, triggering the chime of your security system, revealing a middle aged man and two small children brushing freshly fallen snow off each other’s shoulders. 

“Excuse me,” the man called out hesitantly in an accent Ari couldn’t quite place. “You are open, yes?” 

“Yes, we are!” Came your muffled reply from the kitchen, and a few seconds later you came running out with your notepad and pen. You rushed past his table, doing a double take before asking if it was okay if his order took a few minutes longer. Ari agreed amicably, it’s not like he had anywhere else to be. 

He watched as you quickly ushered the family inside, seating them in a booth by the window so the children could watch the snow and twinkling lights outside. Ari tried to mind his own business as you poured them steamed hot cups of tea—an oolong blend that he would later learn was a favourite of yours, named after the iron goddess of mercy—and took their orders while they told you of their holiday plights. 

The man’s wife and the children’s mother was unfortunately stranded in another part of the country due to the snow. She wouldn’t be able to get a train ride home until Christmas night, and as a result they had to postpone their family dinner. Thank goodness you were still open, because he couldn’t cook to save his life! 

Ari couldn’t help but smile when you handed the kids some festive red envelopes to lift their spirits, each containing a chocolate coin wrapped in shiny gold foil. 

And as the night wore on, only a handful more customers passed through the doors. With each visitor, Ari felt the world shift. 

You waved goodbye to the small family as they piled into their car parked just outside the restaurant, not turning away until they were out of the parking lot and out of sight. 

You smiled and listened attentively to the stores of a lonely older gentleman, who had lost his wife just months prior, and was spending the holidays alone for the first time in fifty years.

You cooed at a fussy toddler balanced against the hip of a frazzled-looking young woman who couldn’t have been much older than twenty, all the while packaging up their leftovers with practiced ease. 

They all thanked you with smiles, some clutching your hand with shining eyes before they left, wishing you a merry Christmas and blessing your heart, as if trying to convey something else they couldn’t quite voice. 

Ah, Ari thought as he glanced down at his table, noting the sign in your window that announced you would also be open on Christmas Day. 

Even though most of the world was effectively on pause, you couldn’t close your doors yet. Not when there were people out there, no matter how few and far in between, who needed this place, who needed this small beacon of light on one of the darkest and coldest nights of the year. 

For people like you and him who, for any number of reasons, weren’t celebrating today, or for whom it was just any other day, and who came in search of a warm meal when they had no one or nothing else. 

Ari stayed after all, too caught up in the spirit of the season even though he’d never paid much attention in previous years. His earlier awkwardness and apprehension was quickly forgotten when you arrived with his order, smiling kindly when he didn’t move to leave and brought him a cup of tea, and he ate every last steaming morsel, slurped up every last noodle, and gulped down every last drop of broth. 

Only when his takeout containers were clean and empty and his stomach was full did he actually stop and look up, and you were watching him with this proud little grin. He was helpless but to return the gesture. 

“What’s your name, stranger?” You asked him before he went home, handing him the check on a small tray with a few mints in shiny red and gold wrappers. 

“Levinson,” he said, so used to reciting his last name first. He quickly corrected himself, “Ari.” 

“Okay then, Levinson,” you chuckled, your fingertips brushing against his open palm as you gave him his change. Then you looked at him with the softest smile, your eyes genuine, “Drive safe out there, okay?” 

He nodded politely, popping a mint into his mouth even though he usually never partook. He would only realize later that it was out of instinct, quickly trying to stop his heart’s frantic escape. The minute they hit his tongue, however, he found that they were candies. 

The entire drive home was milky and strawberry sweet, even if it ended with him slumped over with his forehead resting against the steering wheel when he remembered he hadn’t asked for your name in return. 

And so it took him a few more days to decide to return, right before the new year, with only half the reason being the amazing food. The restaurant was much busier this time, but you still brightened visibly when he walked through the door. 

“Levinson, Ari!” You shouted over the noise of conversation, over the hustle and bustle of your busy staff, all of whom turned to look in his direction, “you made it back!” 

You were once again his server, flitting between tables before stopping at his, and he asked hesitantly why you didn’t wear a name tag. You blinked slowly at him a few times, before realizing with a surprised laugh that he didn’t know what to call you. You said it to him while beaming, Ari’s own cheeks almost flaming in a way he hadn’t experienced since his youth, nodding when he repeated it back to you in a quiet voice. 

He made sure you didn’t see him pull out his phone, updating the entry for the restaurant’s number in his contacts. 

How do you feel about grouper?

Without context, it was a strange question to fall in love to. 

Because, looking back, Ari thinks he might have begun that sweet yet treacherous descent from that moment on. 

It took him another six months before he managed to try everything on the menu, after you made substitutes for everything specifically so he could try them. Pork was switched out for chicken or beef, shellfish set aside and fish tossed into the mix in its place, even though they changed the flavour of the original dish. 

“I hope you know what a big deal this is for me,” you’d joke, playfully shaking your head and rolling your eyes at him. But Ari always clocked the way you watched him with bated breath as he tried them, your eyes wide and hopeful without even realizing. He would later wish he would’ve told you that yes, he did know. Did you know how grateful he was? 

Instead, he’d stare blankly at you as he chewed, only faltering and grinning when you groaned in frustration and impatience, practically stomping your feet as you whined, “Just tell me what you think already!” 

And he would cave. Maybe not everything was to his liking, he admitted, but enough of it was that it kept him coming back. 

Among other things. 

It wasn’t long after that that he spontaneously asked you to join him late one night. He was up at odd hours of the night, so it wasn’t uncommon for him to swing by to pick up his order only minutes before closing. You began insisting he could eat there while you cleaned up, and while he watched you mopping the floors and closing the till, he glanced down at his meal and couldn’t help but wonder if you’d eaten. 

It would be nice, he thought, if you sat down with him for a change. When he asked, his heart stuttering at the way you paused and looked so taken aback. When was the last time someone looked after you instead of the other way around? 

There was no one else in the restaurant, the sign on the door already flipped over to say you were closed, and Ari, with all the boldness he could muster, gestured to the opposite side of his booth in invitation. 

You glanced at him a little hesitantly, before looking away and smoothing a hand over your slightly disheveled hair and glancing quickly down at your plain yet sensible attire. With a bit of coaxing, though, you finally put aside your mop and decided to sit across from him after all. 

And if he’d felt the world shift that first night, this was the night he felt it flip completely upside down. 

Ari wished he didn’t have a penchant for leaving things unsaid, that he would have told you what he’d really thought then. You didn’t ever need to be self-conscious; he’d thought you beautiful since the moment you met, and this was how he always wanted to see you. And with each visit, it was just as thrilling to learn you were as beautiful on the inside. 

Instead of the usual cups of tea, you brought out a bottle of chilled plum wine and a set of beautiful glasses that looked like they were saved for special occasions. You giggled when he pointed it out, whispering even though no one else was around that you’d bought it for dirt cheap at a flea market. 

Ari smiled wide then, and soon all decorum between restaurant owner and customer was forgotten as he told you, through a mouthful of ground chicken and chives and a tangy black vinegar dipping sauce, “If I could only have one food for the rest of my life, it would be these fuckin’ dumplings.” 

“Ari,” you chided, using your chopsticks to pick up a rice noodle roll stir fried in a fragrant satay sauce. He thought that it was the first time you’d said his first name, and that it might have been the best sound he’d ever heard. That was until you laughed, the musical little sound making his heart leap. 

And even though he used to joke to his colleagues about how useless of a day Christmas was for him, even though he always used to say it was just another day, it seemed that even he wasn’t exempt from the makings of holiday traditions. 

Because for years after, even when it wasn’t Christmas, you and Ari would sit  together sharing meals in an empty restaurant late into the night. He got to know your regulars just as much as you—

Silas and his boys, the family who had come into the Lantern House the same Christmas he did and began making their own traditions of having family dinner here every now and then. 

Mr. Han, who lives just across the street and always brings home an order of shāomài as an offering for his late wife. 

Traci with an ‘I’, a college student and single mom, whose little girl loved your restaurant’s freshly steamed mǎ lā gāo. 

—and you’d tell him that it reminds you of when you were a kid, when your neighbours all knew each other and took the time to catch up over steamed sticky rice dumplings and fried dough sticks wrapped in rice noodles. 

And when Christmas Eve did come around, Ari would show up at your door like clockwork. Your staff would exchange knowing smiles behind your back, shooing you towards his table despite your protests of how busy it was, more than happy to take on the work in your stead for a change before heading home to their own families. 

So, you would warm him up with a cup of tiěguānyīn and a kiss on the cheek. You would welcome him with open arms, literally, holding him close enough to let his heart beat right next to yours for just a few seconds, but it was enough. More than enough. 

You would point to pictures pinned against the walls of your beloved restaurant, the ones that told your own story in a series of snapshots—tales of parents who were enjoying retirement as they zipped all around the world and sent you endless flurries of postcards, of lifelong friends who you either see often or hardly ever see anymore because life just gets so preoccupying, of the regulars who continued to be drawn in by the promise of hot meals and a warm heart. 

Ari’s eyes would then land on one photograph in particular, swallowing hard to see his own blue eyes staring back at him from your wall, his smile easy and bright despite his normally serious disposition. It was taken on your third Christmas together, and you were leaning close to him in the shot, tucked right against his side just like that very first meeting. 

He wanted you to give him permission, to tell him that his arm always had a place around you so long as he wanted it. And he wanted it all the time, he realized. 

But Ari was never on leave for long. 

The first time he told you about his job, minus all the unnecessary details that were incredibly classified, you did your best to send him off with a smile and well wishes. His work was important and he helped people, and he knew you would never consider asking him not to do it, even if it was rife with danger and uncertainty, even if he could see the part of you that worried he might never come back. 

As the years went on, with each goodbye, you stared up at him as you pulled away from a hug, as if trying to memorize the lines and edges of his face, before tugging him back into embraces that always felt like they might be the last. 

“How will I ever know if something happens to you out there?” You would say, trying to keep your voice light and smiling wryly but looking like your heart was catching in your throat. 

“Aw, you worried about me?” He would joke, even though he knew he looked just as stricken and scared, wanting to say something else altogether. 

As far as the world knew, you and him were nothing to each other. But to him, this was it. He didn’t care what, if anything, ever came of it, or whether it would remain just like this forever. This was all he ever dared to hope for. 

He wanted this to be the only place he ever came home to. 

He wanted to be the one to greet you with a kiss hello, smile as he tasted the sweet mango pudding on your lips. 

He wanted to be the one to wish you sweet dreams with a kiss goodnight, then grumble about the way his mouth tingled with the leftover spice from whatever you had for dinner. 

He wanted so desperately to be the one with the intimate knowledge of how you kissed first thing in the mornings. 

And each time you bade him goodbye, he swore you were breaking off a piece of yourself to tuck into his carry-on. 

Because no matter how far or how long he went, you never really left him. You flooded his memories the same way the smell of winter melon and pork bone soup flooded his nostrils as it boiled away on your stovetop, right from the moment he stepped inside your kitchen. 

“Just because you abstain doesn’t mean I have to,” you’d tease before slurping noisily from your spoon and making obnoxious yummy noises.

You stayed with him the same way the sound of sliced rice cakes sizzling enticingly on oil-covered frying pans never left him until he’s had a bite. You tried teaching him how to make them one time, to less than desirable results. 

“No, I swear it’s good!” You looked at him with wide eyes as you chewed. He would glance back at you, unimpressed. 

“They’re not even fully cooked,” he’d say, but his cheeks were warm as he watched you finish them all. 

And even though you weren’t with him, the thought of you still made him smile the same way he’s seen you grin to yourself, satisfied, after enjoying a mouthful of savoury and spicy dándán noodles. 

“Obviously, I have to try them before I can serve them!” You mumbled through grease-covered lips. “It’s called quality control, Ari.”

“Obviously,” Ari agreed facetiously with a slight roll of his eyes, but the edges of his mouth always quirked up into a half-smile. “You bottomless pit.”

And when his plane finally lands, hours after the clock as struck midnight and signalled the arrival of another Christmas Day, his car makes the familiar turns and detours down the streets. He’s almost breathless when he arrives in a vacant parking lot, and the lights to his very own personal lighthouse are still on. 

The doors open, greeting him with the sharp smoky scent of incense permeating the walls and tablecloths. You’ve told him on numerous occasions that you only light them now out of habit more than anything else, but you still promised to light one for him every now and then. 

“A little prayer won’t hurt, will it?” You’d reasoned with a sheepish smile the very first time you lit one in front of him. “Just in case there is some deity out there actually listening, I need them to know you need protecting.” 

Ari is going to tell you tonight, the very first chance he gets, that he knew he loved you then. 

And with an offering of your now cold pan-fried dumplings placed onto the table next to the burning incense, he’s certain that all the gods are probably scrambling to hear your prayers for just a taste. Or maybe you thought the smell of his favourite food and the lights from the Lantern House in the otherwise moonless night would help guide him back. 

Either way, perhaps it’s okay to think he’s alive because of them. Because of you. 

When you step out of the kitchen, still wearing your apron, wrapped in red just like the very first night he ever saw you, Ari drops his bags to the floor with a careless thud. You open your arms and he falls into them, his hands finding their place on your back to press you close, and he feels like he can finally breathe again. 

His lungs expand with something even lighter and sweeter than air—the smell of salt and spice and orange blossoms. He kisses away your grateful tears one by one under the watchful eye of a nearby lucky cat and falling snowflakes until your mouths touch, and then he’s whispering it between your lips. 

Ari promises to always come back, every single Christmas until time stops and even thereafter, come hell or high water. 

And every year, without fail, you will always be the light that guides him home.

fin.

© 2025 by thereoncewasagirlnamedjane. do not repost, translate, or copy to third party sites. no part of this work may be fed into any AI software or websites. minors are asked not to interact with my blog; you are responsible for your own media consumption. followers with zero engagement, serial likers and blank/ageless blogs will be blocked.

[kotton-kandy953]

━ 𝙻𝚄𝙲𝙺𝚈 𝙼𝙴

➛ yandere!nagito k. x fem!reader

title page┆word count: 714┆warnings: none┆a/n: not thoroughly proofread btw. the prologue can be skipped if you do not want to read it. I only wrote it for context reasons !

❝ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ, ɪ'ᴍ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ ❞

╰⋯➤ saccharine — jazmin bean

PROLOGUE ━ SCHOOL TRIP ?

⤷ 𝖄𝖔𝖚

were completely shocked by the information just dumped onto you and the 16 other students.

For context reasons, I have to explain what has happened in the last few hours.

Today was supposed to be your first day of School at Hope's Peak Academy as the Ultimate High-school level Digital Artist.

But to everyone's dismay, some pink stuffed bunny named "Usami," who proclaimed to be your teacher, explained that you and a bunch of high schoolers you've never met are forced to go an a "heart-throbbing school trip" in this strange tropical paradise.

After she finished explaining that you all needed to collect hope fragments and get along, everyone just went their separate ways, you included.

You were about to go into the lobby of the hotel when a hand suddenly rested on your shoulder. You let out a sigh before turning around.

There were two taller males standing in front of you. One was skinner with pale, almost white skin. He had white hair and tips that faded into a pale brown.

The other had tanner skin, green eyes and spiky short hair. He was the last person to enter the classroom earlier.

"U- uh... hi...?" You asked awkwardly, not really wanting to indulge in conversation at the moment.

The white haired male smiled, "Sorry to bother you... L/n, is it?"

How did he-

"I'm Nagito Komaeda, the Ultimate Lucky Student. I know, a worthless talent, huh? I won't blame you if you ever forgot it"

His brown haired companion awkwardly broke the weird tension Nagito had put in the atmosphere.

"I'm Hajime Hinata, nice to meet you." He cleared his throat, "And I don't really... remeber my talent..." he trailed off.

"It's okay if you don't remember it, a lot has happened in the past hour." You smiled reassuringly, making Hajime smile back.

But Nagito smiled even bigger, "I should've known you'd say something like that! As expected from such a hopeful Ultimate as yourself!"

"Uh... thanks? I’m Y/n L/n, the Ultimate Digital Artist.”

After that... odd... conversation with the two, Usami suddenly came onto the nearest monitor and announced to everyone that they needed to go to the beach.

"Are you going, L/n?" Hajime asked after glancing over at Nagito.

"Do we really have a choice?" You responded.

Once the bathing suits were distributed and your classmates started to get in the water, you stood by Hajime, who also didn't want to join the others.

"You're not going with them?" You asked curiously.

He shook his head, "No, I don't want to..."

That was until he heard Usami's "encouraging" words and ran to go get a swimsuit.

Then, you were alone.

"Maybe I should—" before you could finish your thought, the sky grew grey with dark storm clouds. And the monitors blinked on and a strange, laidback, high-pitched voice rang out.

"Mic check... mic check... can you hear me?" Everyone froze at the strange change of atmosphere.

"Now then, sorry to keep you all waiting for so long. Let's leave all this worthless entertainment behind...

It's time for the main attraction! You guys better hustle over to Jabberwock Park!"

And that's what you all did, despite their oddly playful voice, it has a very threatening undertone that sent a shiver down your spine.

Once at said park, a half-white half-black stuffed bear appeared out of the blue and became know as "Monokuma" in a rather... extravagant way.

Next, the stuffed bear quite literally violated Usami and transformed her into Monomi, his "younger sister."

Then finally, he explained to you all that one must get away with murder to leave the island.

When he began listing the many ways to end a person's life, you froze in fear and shock.

'M- murder...?' you thought, no, there's no way this is real...

Noticing your unease, Nagito made his way over to you and rested his hand onto your shoulder. He gave you a smile that was supposed to calm your nerves but it only did the opposite.

“Don’t touch me, please.”

back to title page┆proceed to chapter one┆partially proofread

[piltover-sharpshooter]

Since it's mother's day in some parts of the world, I thought I'd show you this cool new art I got of Caitlyn's son!

NOVA

(Art by the hilariously talented, incredibly amazing, totally underrated @thegoldentigress @covens-burrow @stray--spark @nova--spark @jackiewinters-doodles @sera-bean)

For those who don't know, this is Nova, The Stellacorn Goathorse! For some reason he crashed in Piltover instead of Targon as he fell from the sky, and Caitlyn took him in and has been taking care of him. Despite being a Goathorse he is sentient, and can understand things perfectly. He mostly plays around the house, or enjoys his time with his sisters (Noelle, Trinity and Jingle all @songofsilentechoes muses) and he's been training to fly! Even if he still can't and he has only recently stopped jumping off the Kiramman manor roof.

As befits the heir of the kiramman household (self-proclaimed) Nova often has many gifts given to him by friends and mom's friends, and while a lot of them he keeps safely in a box, there are some he often takes with him:

A small rainbow scarf given to him by Jingle

A three star design on his fur honoring the three sisters, with the biggest loudest star being a punk star to specifically honor Trinity

A Brooch with the Kiramman symbol made for by @raging-soul-of-fire 's Aura.

A Shell Anklet given to him by @thegoldentigress 's Qadira

A Braid decoration he wears around his tail from @the-windweaver 's Quirin

And a horn decoration made by @flordivina's Leblanc and blessed by Soraka.

[jojo-ker06]

✨️A Song for Flazino ✨️

Flazino also gets a song! For him I've chosen the deleted Frozen song "More than just the spare". It fits to his character very well because this song is about wanting to belong to somewhere and showing that you are capeable of doing things that others just haven't seen yet.

Flazino has always been the out-cast thanks to his missing arm and he was even bullied for most of his life by other children. The only one who accepted him is his father. (Flazino's mother passed away a few months after his birth.)

Flazino's father decided to move with his son to Rosas because it's advertized as the place where everyone is accepted and he wants his son to have friends and a good life.

But things don't work out well and Flazino has to look for acceptance from the 7 Teens. They like him, but they are worried about his young age and missing arm, which leads them to underestimate him (as many have done before.)

This song is supposed to show how he feels. I hope you enjoy it!

..........................................................................................

✨️More Than What You See✨️

(Intro)

" 'Little Kid'?

...

Is that all what they see?

(Song)

I say I'm too big for a kid, but they say I'm too small for a teen

And to be part of their group is my biggest dream

They already have a smart one, a strong one and a poet

I'm just the one-arm kid, don't I know it

There's really nothing left for me

Of course the missing limb is what they'll see

Well, fine by me

I'm viewed as the exta button on a coat

Seen as too fragile, it could come loose

But if I have to be a button

Why can't I be a button that's of use?

Oops

I may not be agile and I've never won a race

And once in a while I'll fall on my face

But this little button wants to be with the stars in the sky

This button wants to fly

Wait! Buttons can't fly, that doesn't make any sense

So I'm a rusty horseshoe hanging up

Over somebody's old barn door

And I'll be hanging there forever

Just wishing the horse sees it needs one more

And maybe I can't be the perfect one

And maybe I don't get every thing done

But horseshoes are more than just a accesory

This horseshoe is more than what you see

Oh dad now it's just me

Without you I'm alone

You've always seen the talent in me

The thing I've not yet shown

There is nobody or thing that I woulden't attack

For you I'd do anything

And soon dad I'll have you back

So I'm just a left-handed young boy

Whos talents are too ignored

Like a button, like a horseshoe

Like a kid who's bad at metaphors

Maybe I don't have a magic touch

And I'll never have a talent as such

But I know that there is something in me

Yes I'll show what I can be

Because I'm more than what you see-

*crash*

Sorry!"

..........................................................................................

WoaS!Flazino sketches because this bean has invaded my head🎀

Also, why not include showing what he looks like from different angles lol? I do need to practice that.

I hope you enjoyed the song and these sketches of Flazino✨️

(Tags: @starss-artss @your-ne1ghbor @rascalentertainments @spectator-zee @pinkninja0708 @evestarsart )

[tixdixl]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, VEX - Birthday Fae Vignette P.1

✨️✨️✨️

Gia: Hi, Happy Birthday.

Vex: Hi hello, Ramshackle Prefect! It’s a delight and a pleasure to see you’ll be my interviewer for the birthday festivities today, Gia.

Gia: Let’s start. Can you tell me about a memorable birthday gift you received?

Vex: A memorable birthday gift, you ask? That’s a rather fun question to start with, don’t you think?

Vex: Well… It would have to be the gift I received from a childhood friend of mine. See, when I was just a little dragon, I had this friend of mine that uh… he really liked to make things. He was incredibly talented, and had a really brilliant mind, you see? And he made me this hair tie out of properly tanned leather.

Gia: Still have it?

Vex: Ah… No, unfortunately. It snapped a long time ago, and I genuinely couldn’t find someone to fix it. I could not ask him to try and fix it either, you see. Because it happened after I moved, I had no way to reach out and contact him, and it brought my guardians too much pain to try and bring it up to them in polite conversation.

Gia: What was your childhood like?

Vex: Oh! It was like living in the middle of two worlds, truly. In one place, it seemed like every single set of eyes only looked upon you like a beast in a cage. Truly, I was like a spectacle to behold whenever I wasn’t behind the doors of my guardians’s mansion.

Vex: Which, of course, my guardians tried their best to protect the outside world from the fearsome and mighty dragon, the beast every knave and troubador wished to slay. All the while they had to teach their designated troublemaker the proper etiquette and manners of high society.

Vex: The only time these sorts of things melted away was when I spent time with my one childhood friend, you see. He was a human, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Gia: …human?

Vex: Oh! Yes, I’m sorry. I do feel like it’s important to mention, because where I come from, it’s unfortunately not common for folks like me to hang around the common folk. As… much as it pains me to say. I never understood the fear or animosity. But it seems to follow me everywhere I go. Only other fae seem largely unbothered by my whiffling and burbling and… so, I sincerely apologize. I realize that may seem really unseemly, but it’s my experience. I… I hope I didn’t commit a faux pas.

Gia: It’s fine.

Gia, shrugging: I think you’re pretty cool.

Vex: Well, I greatly and sincerely appreciate that!

Vex, nodding; But yes, I had one friend in my childhood who I really cherished and appreciated. I still really cherish and appreciate him.

Gia: What were some of your favorite things to do with your friend?

Vex: We climbed a lot of trees. Have you ever seen a tumtum tree so tall and shaped like a twisty, curvy straw?

Gia: Can’t say so.

Vex: We climbed one once. I remember he beat me to the top, and I ended up having to use my claws to pull myself up the bark. I felt like a bandersnatch trying to weasel my way up the branches and touch the sky.

✨️✨️✨️

A/N: big shout out and thank you to @ramshacklerumble and @the-trinket-witch for letting me include your beans!!! It means a lot, and it really helps me be able to share their stories.

Part 2

Part 3

Tag list: @ramshacklerumble @the-trinket-witch @twstinginthewind @elenauaurs @lumdays

@cyanide-latte @winterweary @boopshoops @theleechyskrunkly @thehollowwriter

@rainesol @inmateofthemind @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @chillygourami @starry-night-rose

@tinyvirgodoodle

Lmk if you want added/removed

[lol-jackles]

I understand producers wanting a no risk lead and Jared earned that credibility and reputation. I don’t disagree with everything you said about Jared.

But I’m still surprised that Jensen didn’t earn the same reputation being co-lead and surprised he has not been given the opportunity to lead or co- lead again on another show. He seemed to have built a strong reputation with directors and producers and execs in the industry so shouldn’t he be on that same short list? I just don’t get what jensen is missing that jared or max theriot, Tom Ellis or Justin Hartley seems to have. What is that “x” factor?

The work he did on Smallville, Spn, Big Sky and The Boys, why didn’t that earn him points to have studio execs ensure he stays employed and part of a show?

Even in an industry that 97% are unemployed, Jensen seems to be a standout actor that gets constantly overlooked. Why?

Jensen was going to be a lead in Greg Bertlanti's unnamed project, but then Zaslav happened. But you ask a very good question on why the networks' bean counters don't have him on a Short List.

First, my wild guess is while Jensen's scene stealing talent improves the episode he's in, it's not the same as having screen presence to create a story, which is a must for lead actors to carry a show. For example, Jared's two-minute screentime in "The End" was not scene stealing, he became Lucifer for the sake of the story and left a memorable impact on the viewers' impression.

Think of every time spin-offs were created to capitalize on the scene stealers’ popularity, only for the scene stealers “special-ness” to evaporate into the ether when they have to carry the show by themselves.  Rebel Wilson had her own tv show called Super Fun Night. but it failed because fans expected to see the whacky side kick persona, but instead got a Rebel Wilson playing a normal woman who is sometimes socially awkward.

Second, Jensen has a bit of a branding problem.  If an actor doesn't understand what their brand is, then how do you expect casting directors to see it as well?  

Actors make the mistake of trying to please every customer by changing who they are and not understanding that getting hired starts with choosing a brand for themselves and sticking to it.  Say you own an Italian restaurant and I come in and say, “Oh, gosh! You know what? I want Mexican food.” And then you say, Okay, we’re cooking Mexican food now.”   This is what a lot of actors do.

I used to joke that Jensen was like an active from the show The Dollhouse. Actives are neutral human husks until they're downloaded a personality to carry out a specific mission.  You don't know what the true nature of an active unless you're willing to watch several episodes to look for clue crumbs to their innate personalities.  

I tell young aspiring actors on how to discover their brand by pretending to write a profile for an online dating site.  People usually don't write descriptive sentences but use adjectives: funny, athletic, intense, quirky, great smile, etc.  To help them along, ask their trusted friends and family members to make a list of 5 qualities that pop into their heads.  Then use the impression that appear over and over again because now you know that is you, your essence.

Too many times actors wait for an agent or manager to show up and tell them who they are. Or they ask me, “what do you think I am?". Actors have to decide for themselves and figure out their acting “singularity”  -- that exclusive combination of attitudes and behaviors that make them an original even when they're typecasted. Some people describe Jensen as a version of Dean-lite, but that doesn't make Jensen an original then.

Third, Jensen is not a natural born-leader. Most of us aren't, but like acting, you can constantly work on the craft. Leaders are supposed to protect their team, but Jensen was still soft-bashing Jessica Alba twenty years later. I don't care if Jessicca was a bitch, a real man is not supposed to betray a woman’s confidence. He can still talk about the difficulties of working with Jessica while respecting the position she was in and up against. In contrast, Jared immediately defended his female co-stars when it was popular to dunk of them: the Olsen twins, Paris Hilton, and Snookie.

[lightweaverelend]

WIP - Peak a boo a surpise - Iwthyc

CW: Gore

The winds were tame as the carriage pulled up to the Koffe house that was on the point of Lamplight Street. Leonhardt got up and walked out straightening her skirts as she did so. The sun was out though clouds in the distance gave a foreboding sign of a storm to come. Leonhardt proceeded into the House as she opened the door, the assaulting aroma of beans being crushed wafted in waves as she found herself sitting. She sat down and waited for whom she was to meet. 

She pulled out the paper files that she had carried with her from her suite. Slowly filling through them with her thumb, some were papers with writings, news clippings, and the like. Something caught her eye. It was a pillar in the news that read: The Founder in the chain now meets with the Eldian Our Lady of Peace. She felt something grip her. It was him. She thought he was dead. Though it was him. Though his neck bore stitches. She shuffled through the pillar reading it: “Within the early time of day Eren Yeager now faces charges after several month-long recuperation from surgery.” A silent shuffling arose from across her, accompanied by a cough. Leonhardt looked up and was met with the face of Lady Tybur. 

“Oh, I'm sorry Milady. I suppose you are the one who called for a detective?” Leonhardt asked, grasping a pen and ink from her bag. Shuffling to also find the right papers. She could feel her mind surprised and frazzled. Quickly got up shaking hands with the lady Tybur., not allowing her cold demeanor to slide away. 

“Yes, I am. I need someone - of your talents. Though I was unsure if I should have come to you or reported it to the soldiers. But I guessed that you could also if you thought it best.” The lady Tybur seemed to grow out of breath, Leonhardt placed a solid hand on the woman's lap. 

“Breathe. Talk to me slowly, what happened?” She said removing her hand and getting to jot anything of everything of importance down. 

“Well I received a letter that bore a strange waxing seal and within the letter was that of a threat. A threat against my nieces and nephews. This was but a week ago, now I awoke and made my way to see them, one was found dead.” Leonhardt wrote this. Word for word. 

“Could you describe in-depth detail? If it is not a burden?”Leonhardt asked poising her pen at the ready.

“I - I can try.” Lara gulped. “There was a large pool of blood. The Head was bashed in the back and three poles of wood were used in the back. The body looked like it fell forward. He was wearing his night clothes.” She started tearing up, and Leonhardt padded her.

“I think it best if I visit the scene for myself. Where did this happen?”  She asked.

“He started a job at the banks and bought a house on the same block down by the docks.” Lady Tybur said trying to pull herself together. 

“Thank you, Milady. I'll go down there right now.” Leonhardt payed for thei rKofees. And made her way out of the small shabby Kofee house. She hailed a carriage and got into one.

“The docks” the driver nodded taking the small golden coins and sl;idig them into his coat pocket. Leonhardt opened the door climbing in. 

She sat as the carriage began to toil away as her afternoon had gotten away from her the sky was now a slow blistering orange melting away into a pink. The sea was a mirror to the sky almost giving way to an expanse of beauty. She sighed as she watched the small licks of the ocean spray. She walked down the way that rode alongside the wooden pier. Some houses and stores were slowly closing up - lamplights snuffed out. She made her way to the rusting building with a small pile of letters and news clippings. She knocked on the door. No sound came back to her. Her hand made contact with the chilling knob, and turning it slightly the door moaned open. It was silence followed by a hush of a silent wind that beckoned her inside. She walked slowly eyeing the entree way. A coat holder stood abandoned dusty hats now home to cobwebs where placed upon it. She continued stepping fully into the antechamber. A staircase led upwards - a door to the left was open ajar. Leonhardt slowly pried the door open which led it into a study, a fire pit filled with ashes sat in the middle of the wall to the farthest side, a table piled with books and an old coffee cup solemnly alone. She wandered in brushing a stray blonde lock behind her ear, she rifled through the books, they all were of some alchemical maths. Though she did not understand. A skull shone upon them frequently though. She walked out and began up the steps. As she got to the main room she found the door was open and she was greeted with the site of the crime. The Young Tybur man lay face-planted right through a wooden pole. Breaking the skull. Dried blood crusted about it. The man also had two others in his back where his arms met his backbone. Leonhardt coughs her breath. She paced into the room and saw the small vines that grew around the poles. They were grey tendrils that gave way to flower buds. She looked closer at the face and saw that where a mouth ounce was a black flower seemed to be growing. Same with the eyes. She scratched at her note pad making quick notes on the scene. She looked at the poles. Wet oak. Cracking. She continued looking around there was a bed - sheets open. Blankets disheveled. There was blood that streaked onto the ground. She knelt smoothing the creases of her skirt, looking at the scene more intently. There were slice marks across the ear - or at least where an ear might been. Blood pooled out. Though it was now dried and swelling into purple welts. 

“What in Ymirs name…” Leonhardt trailed off as she watched the small buds start to bloom. Black flowers grew the leaves curling vines growing around the arm. She jerked back putting her notes away in her satchel. Slowly she made her way out of the suite and made her way down the stairs. A chill percolated on the back of her neck. Turning her head slowly as she opened the door - she thought she felt eyes on her. Though when she looked there was nothing there. The Day was ending as the sun slowly vanished. She hailed a taxi home. 

[needfantasticstories]

You! Name your favorite Link and say why he’s your favorite. (I say like I don’t already know XD, I’m just going around and asking all my mutual)

Aw fuuuuuuu… I mean, depends on the fic I’m writing? Let’s run with Sky, since it’s him for sure at the moment.

This’ll be a bit long.

I love how Sky had time to question who he was and actually find some answers. No one told him he had to be anything before Fi and Impa gave him a destiny. He just wanted to be his best self. Loves life. Deals with school issues. He’s got hobbies and interests like woodcarving and some mystery sport (soccer? Fencing? Bomb throwing? Loftwing quidditch? Who knows?!)

I love that he starts with a big surrogate family at the academy. They praise him because he’s genuinely a nice kid, trustworthy, hard working, strong and helpful. But they don’t dawn or anything. He’s chill. When he helps others, he also inspires those around him to be their best, like Fletch.

(TBH they kinda rely too much on him… or use him… *cough*Hylia*cough*)

He helps people all over the islands, even Pippit’s “lazy” mom and a creepy toilet ghost (moaning Myrtle, is that you?) All the Links help others, but he knows these people intimately, and the familiarity did not breed contempt.

He’s probably the most “modern” out of the Links. He has a comfortable life. And he left all that comfort behind to go explore the Surface, but not for curiosity. For his bestie! (He has the option of declaring his love for Peatrice too, so he’s got agency to keep it purely platonic, if perhaps secret for a while)

I love how loyal he is to Zelda as his best friend rather than as romantic partner or ruler, going up against the most insane and ridiculous odds. Like, I love my friends and family, but I’m not sure I’d deal well with having to face fire keese, bokos, F-ing Ghirahim (Noooope! I’m out!), let alone having to cut the goopy toes off a giant world-eating slithering black jelly bean just to save them. But he’s like “Yes, obviously I’ll do it! We all help each other.” (Communism poster boy. I will not elaborate)

He’s like the biblical Adam plus Samwise Gamgee. Like, “Oh you fell/need to go on alone? I’m coming with you!” And jumps. And then he finds out he actually can come back up, iirc. Instead of some flawed, fallen Eve character, he finds out his bestie is GOD. And she is just as self-sacrificing as him. (I love their story so much)

Back to Link. He’s got raw talent. (I know a guy in real life like him. He picks up skills quickly, so he’s bored in classes and falls asleep a lot. And he has a simmering rage deep down, that comes out to defend what’s his. As much as the game tries to frame this as a weakness, when they also give him prophetic dreams and a desire for not drawing attention to himself (bullies!) and a sweet but slightly jealous bestie, he’s got plenty of reasons to be sleepy. Nightmares, narcolepsy, staying up late to practice in private, limited downtime for hobbies… let the boy sleep in!

I love how expressive he is! Of all the Links, he’s the most emotive over things that are not food or treasure/items. I like to think he’s more emotionally mature and empathetic, and Jojo’s comic supports this. His first in-story action is to rush to help Time, who was speared, instead of attacking the monster. Later, he’s supportive of Wind’s enthusiasm when others tease him about the childishness of masks, and is the sweetest about teasing Legend for being a bunny. The man’s heart is gold, sturdy but soft too.

And his music! The boy rocks the harp. Musical prodigy too? Who has insanely good footwork and can balance on a tightrope and probably dances better than anybody in Skyloft if he wanted to?!? (No wonder Zelda is jealous.)

Oh, and Pippit calls his bird a red terror, so he’s probably gotten into some shenanigans with it growing up. The divine bird is a delightfully bad influence, and I love it.

I’m sure I could go on, but that’ll do for now. He’s a shield first and a sword second.

[oceansprompts]

𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕗𝕒𝕟𝕪'𝕤 𝕢𝕦𝕠𝕥𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

PART 3. . . . adjusted for general use. . . . change as needed for usage

I’ll tell him you’re seeing us off. Don’t say anything. Just meet us out front in about an hour. Please?

I’m not coming with you. Come on. Let’s walk together quietly and I’ll try and help you understand.

: That’s alright. I appreciate you want to help.

I know you do, and that’s the trouble.

It’s a mistake you always made — trying to love a wild thing.

You were always lugging home wild things — Once it was a hawk with a broken wing. Another time it was a full-grown wildcat with a broken leg... remember?

You mustn’t give your heart to a wild thing.

You mustn’t give your heart to a wild thing. The more you do, the stronger they get until they’re strong enough to run into the woods or fly into a tree, then to higher trees, then to the sky.

You’ve got to understand. I can’t come back.

You got to understand what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t want to seem like I’m pressuring you, but it got to.

I’ll take care of him. Don’t you worry.

All right. I guess you know what you’re doing.

Keep an eye on her, will you? At least see she eats something once in a while.

Please, please understand. I love you, but I’m just not that person anymore. I’m not.

I am still that person; 14 years old, stealing turkey eggs, and running through a briar patch.

I guess the next best thing is a drink. Yes, I very much need a drink. Will you buy me one, darling?

Only promise me one thing—don’t take me home until I’m drunk... until I’m very drunk, indeed.

Do you think she’s talented, deeply and importantly talented?

Hmm. No. amusingly and superficially talented, yes, but deeply and importantly, no.

Gracious. Do you think she’s handsomely paid?

Well, let me tell you something. If I had her money, I’d be richer than she is.

Tom, Dick, and Harry—no. correction. Every tom, dick, and Sid—Harry was his friend. Anyway, every tom, dick, and Sid sinks—thinks if he takes a girl to dinner, she’ll just curl up like a kitten, in a little furry ball at his feet, right?

I have by actual count been taken to dinner by 26 different rats in the last 2 months, 27, if you count last week, who’s in many ways a super rat.

So, my darling, I have tonight made a very serious decision.

No longer will I play the field.

The field stinks, both economically and socially, and I’m giving it up.

Quiet, up there. You want to wake the whole house?

Ah... Do I detect a look of disapproval in your eye? Tough beans, buddy, ‘cause that’s the way it’s going to be.

What’s the matter? Don’t you think I can do it? Tell me. Seriously I’m interested. Don’t you think I can?

It’s all up to me. I don’t know why you don’t understand. I need money, and I’ll do whatever I have to do to get it.

I think we should have a little drink to that. It’s all gone. Isn’t that too bad? Got any whiskey upstairs?

No, no. you disapprove of me, and I do not accept drinks from gentlemen who disapprove of me.

So take it. You should be used to taking money from ladies by now.

If I were you, I’d be more careful with my money.

It should take you exactly four seconds to cross from here to that door. I’ll give you two.

I saw the paper, and—well, actually, I’m kind of embarrassed about it, but since it concerns you, I thought I ought to talk about it in person.

Well I can’t go through the whole thing again. It’s sufficient to say, I’ve come to make up.

Would you mind turning around for a second? On second thought never mind. That’s such a corny line anyway. I’ll turn around myself. Come in.

I thought he was just a rat, but he was a super rat all along. A super rat in rat’s clothing. You don’t even know the best part. Not only was he a rat or super rat. Rather he was also broke.

I’ll tell you one thing, darling—I’d marry you for your money in a minute. Would you marry me for my money?

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Re todays' full supermoon. (Per Moongiant.)

September Harvest Full Moon

September’s full moon is known as the Full Harvest Moon, as it is the full moon that is closest to the fall equinox. In the northern hemisphere, the Full Harvest Moon rises very soon after sunset, providing plenty of bright light for farmers harvesting their summer crops. September’s full moon is so well-known for its luminosity and brilliance that certain Native American tribes even named it the Big Moon. The Full Harvest Moon holds major cultural significance in many different communities, who spend this full moon not just celebrating the fall harvest, but also the moon itself.

The most widely known tradition associated with the Full Harvest Moon is the Mid-Autumn Festival, celebrated by Chinese communities all around the world. It is also known as the Mooncake Festival. On the full moon night of the eighth lunar month, people gather with friends and family to admire the brilliant full moon while eating mooncakes and drinking tea. Mooncakes are a rich pastry traditionally filled with sweet bean paste or lotus seed paste, and sometimes even include salted egg yolks. The sweet osmanthus flower also blooms during this time, and is often used in teas and the reunion wine drunk when visiting with family. It is a common tradition to celebrate by carrying brightly colored lanterns, so you can often enjoy the beautiful sight of lanterns hanging in front of buildings or in parks, or sky lanterns floating towards the full moon.

There are many other variations on the Mid-Autumn Festival throughout Asia, including Vietnam and other Southeast Asian countries. The Japanese celebrate this full moon with the Tsukimi tradition (which literally means moon-viewing in Japanese), where people prepare offerings to the moon and eat round tsukimi dango, or rice dumplings. In Korea, this full moon is celebrated as Chuseok, which is one of Korea’s most major holidays, similar to Thanksgiving. People travel back to their hometowns for reunions with their family and tend to their ancestors’ graves. Traditional activities include exchanging gifts, playing folk games, drinking rice wine, and eating songpyeon, which is a rice cake shaped like a half-moon.

For most of the cultures that celebrate variants of the Mid-Autumn Festival, the desserts eaten during this festival are made using fruits, nuts, and grains harvested during this season. Similarly, the Full Harvest Moon is called the Nut Moon by the Cherokee tribes, who gather all sorts of nuts to make nut bread, which is eaten during harvest festivals such as the Ripe Corn Festival. During this moon, Native American tribes pay respects to Mother Earth for her generosity in providing food for her children, including corn and other staple foods.

Chinese communities, on the other hand, spend the Mid-Autumn Festival worshipping the Moon Goddess, Chang’e. According to legends about Chang’e, there used to be ten suns in the sky, which caused drought and suffering throughout the land. Houyi, a talented archer, shot down nine of the suns to save the world, and was rewarded with the position of emperor. Unfortuantely, he later became a malevolent tyrant, obsessed with the search for an immortality pill. In order to protect the common folk from being ruled over forever by a cruel emperor, his wife Chang’e stole the elixir of immortality from him during the full moon of the eighth lunar month. Enraged, Houyi chased after Chang’e, who swallowed the elixir to prevent Houyi from taking it. As a result, Chang’e became a deity herself and flew away to the moon, where she lives in a Moon Palace with her companion the Jade Rabbit, who pounds herbs in a pestle to help her create the elixir of immortality. Appropriately, the Chinese Lunar Exploration Program is named after Chang’e.

[thanks Ian Sanders]

[sadbeautifutragic]

fave lyrics this week?

• my special talent is not writing, it's not singing / it's feeling everything that everyone alive feels every day

• when that sky rains fire on you / and you're persona non grata

• the high is worth the bruise / i'd still eat the fruit

• and i have two friends i listen to them like the bible / my ex gets a little wave little smile / good luck, god speed / now i'm in my holy revival

• thinking it can change the beat of my heart when he touches me / and counteract the chemistry / and undo the destiny

• his favorite game is chess / who would ever guess / playing with the pieces in my chest?

• i ain't a killer, but don't push me / don't wanna have to turn a ***** guts into soup beans

• like the sap from a cedar / rolling down to be near her

[vynahillockresort]

Luxury honeymoon Resorts in Wayanad | Best nature resorts in Wayanad Wayanad, a lush, green paradise nestled in the mountains, with cascading waterfalls and fragrant spice plantations, is more than just a place to visit; it’s an invitation to awaken your senses. And amidst this breathtaking scenery, Vyna Hillock Resort stands as a peaceful retreat where you can relax and truly experience the beauty around you. If you’re looking for the perfect getaway among the many resorts in Wayanad, get ready for an unforgettable journey.

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While Wayanad’s popular hikes and tours offer a glimpse of its beauty, we believe the real magic lies off the beaten path. At Vyna Hillock, we’ll take you beyond the usual tourist spots, showing you hidden gems and genuine experiences that will touch your heart. Learn the secrets of Wayanad’s local communities, their ancient dances passed down through generations, and their traditional healing practices. Discover secret waterfalls, where the only sounds are the rushing water and the gentle breeze. Taste coffee brewed from beans grown right here on our slopes, each sip a reminder of the land’s richness. This isn’t just sightseeing; it’s a life-changing journey of connection and discovery, unique to our special place in Wayanad.

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At Vyna Hillock Resort, we know that true luxury is about creating a personalized experience. Your stay won’t be a cookie-cutter vacation; it’ll be a unique adventure designed just for you. Want to do yoga at sunrise on a misty mountaintop? We’ll make it happen. Dreaming of a private campfire under a sky full of stars? Consider it done. We’re not just hotel staff; we’re your guides, creating your Wayanad story one special moment at a time.

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Forget ordinary rooms and plain decorations. At Vyna Hillock, our accommodations are peaceful escapes where nature and comfort blend together beautifully. Imagine relaxing in a hand-carved stone bathtub, listening to the sounds of the jungle, as sunlight filters through the leaves above. Or waking up in a cozy canopy bed, surrounded by the soft morning mist, a gentle reminder that you’re not just in Wayanad, but a part of it. Each room, whether it’s a cozy cottage or a spacious villa, is designed to connect you with the outdoors, bringing nature’s beauty right to your doorstep. This is what true luxury feels like.

Stillness and Spark: Find Your Balance

In today’s busy world, true luxury is about finding a sense of peace and rekindling your inner spark. At Vyna Hillock, we offer a peaceful place where you can reconnect with yourself and rediscover your energy. Meditate in our bamboo grove, where sunlight creates beautiful patterns on the forest floor, and the only sound is the gentle rustling of leaves. Join a cooking class led by our talented chefs, and learn the secrets of Kerala’s flavorful cuisine, a mix of spices that will delight your taste buds. Or simply curl up by the fireplace in our cozy library, with a carefully chosen selection of books ready to take you on new adventures.

Dining: A Symphony of Flavors

Our approach to food is all about using fresh, local ingredients and respecting the land. Our chef, a true culinary artist, turns Wayanad’s natural abundance into delicious dishes that showcase the region’s rich food traditions. Each meal tells a story: the sweetness of local honey from our own beehives, the tangy flavor of hand-picked tamarind from nearby orchards, the warmth of spices freshly ground each morning. Dining at Vyna Hillock isn’t just about eating; it’s a journey for your senses that nourishes both your body and your soul. It’s a truly special experience, unique to Wayanad.

Sustainability: Rooted in Respect

At Vyna Hillock, our commitment to sustainability is more than just words; it’s at the core of everything we do. Our buildings blend harmoniously with the natural surroundings, solar panels capture the sun’s energy, and our organic garden provides fresh ingredients for our kitchen. We believe in responsible tourism that benefits both the environment and the local community. When you choose Vyna Hillock, you’re choosing a future where Wayanad’s beauty will last for generations to come. This dedication sets us apart as a place of mindful luxury in Wayanad.

Your Story Begins Here at the Best of Resorts in Wayanad

If your search for an unforgettable experience in Wayanad has led you here, remember that Vyna Hillock stands out from other resorts in Wayanad. We’re not just a place to stay; we’re a gateway to the heart of Wayanad, a place where your story becomes intertwined with the land’s ancient rhythms. Here, you won’t just experience Wayanad; you’ll become a part of its living tapestry.

Ready to write your own Wayanad chapter? Your story begins here at Vyna Hillock, a haven among the resorts in Wayanad. Visit our website or call us today.

[katebishopofearth]

List five things (less or more is okay too) that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last ten people who reblogged something from you. Spread the love!! (And obviously no pressure if you don't want to.) ❤️

Awww thanks friend 🥹 Sorry it took me a billion years to remember to reply to this. I needed this today.

Comments on fanfic. It doesn't matter how old the fic is or how short the comment is. It'll make my entire day.

Cats! Black cats orange cats tabby cats calico cats. With their pointy ears velvet noses swishy tails toe beans.

The feeling of walking out of a truly brilliant musical and having your mind blown by the sheer talent, of years and years of hard work distilled into its purest essence in two-ish hours for your enjoyment.

Queer joy. Queer people being themselves in all their chaoticness and being loved and accepted for it.

Sunsets. When the sky is all orange and pink and you're amazed that you live on a planet where you get to see this.

A really good climbing session. The feeling of being able to do things with your body that a few years or even a few months ago you didn't think you could.

Cooking. Something about working with your hands, listening to a podcast, chopping, something simmering on the stove... this is my happy place where I can stop thinking about all my "should"s and just focus on the fact that in an hour or so I'll have a delicious meal.

The sea. Most early civilisations have some kind of flood myth, and when you look at the sea it's easy to see why. There's nothing on this side of the atmosphere that's more primordial, that reminds you of your own mortality and smallness.

Days or evenings when I have the flat to myself. The feeling of owning your space, of not being interrupted, of not having to explain anything to anyone.

Friends <3 When I was growing up I never imagined that I would have the kind of friends that I do now. Truly a found family.

Wow I can't believe I got to 10!