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thereoncewasagirlnamedjane · 2 months ago

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wrapped in red.

PAIRING — ari levinson x f!reader

CONTENTS — oneshot, 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.

W/C — 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

✩ read on ao3 ✩ janie’s 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.

#ari levinson x f!reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x asian!reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson fluff #ari levinson one shot #chris evans character fanfiction

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kotton-kandy953 · 6 months ago

Text

━ 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

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lol-jackles · 2 years ago

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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.

#jensen ackles

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lightweaverelend · 5 days ago

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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.

#Fic | I want to hold you close #Cw

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arecaceae175 · 2 years ago

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GUESS WHO SHOULD BE WORKING ON XYR FINAL PROJECTS BUT WROTE THIS HYRULE SNIPPET INSTEAD

(hint: it's me)

@miadancer24 I DID IT HERE'S YOUR BOY! This is a portion of a fic I'm working on that's basically 8 times Sky defends another member of the chain and one time they all defend Sky :D

So here, have 675 words out of context fluff / hurt/comfort first draft of our most precious bean learning to love himself (just like all of you should):

(Warnings: discussion of low self esteem)

[...]

Sky gently lowered himself to the ground next to Hyrule. Hyrule had his blankets wrapped snugly around his head and shoulders, and his eyes were still drooping despite the stamina potion from Wild. Legend had argued they needed to let Hyrule sleep, but Sky knew Hyrule would need food and water for his body to heal.

"Hi," Sky said softly. Hyrule's gaze flicked toward Sky then fell back to his mug.

"Hi," Hyrule said.

"Can we talk?" Sky asked. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

"I'm not going to say what I did was wrong," Hyrule said.

"I know," Sky said. He felt a small smile on his face. "I'm glad you're standing up for yourself."

Hyrule's face burned red and he averted his eyes further.

"I want to talk about what you said," Sky added. "Do you remember?"

Hyrule paused a moment, then shook his head no. Sky sighed.

"I won't repeat it, but... Hyrule, can you look at me, please?" Sky asked. Hyrule slowly brought his gaze up to meet Sky's. Sky took a deep breath and put as much sincerity into his gaze as he could muster.

"You don't have to earn your place," Sky said. "We love you for who you are, not what you can do for us."

Hyrule couldn't hold Sky's gaze. He turned away and ducked his head into his shoulder. Sky scooted closer and hovered a hand over Hyrule's shoulder, but let it drop back to his knees.

"Your worth is innate. You deserve to be here because you're an amazing hero, and you have so many skills and talents, and you're a wonderful person to be around, but also because you just do," Sky paused, and let his own gaze fall to his feet.

"You know I get sick a lot. Before I figured out how to keep my body healthy, I would be stuck in bed for days at a time," Sky said. Hyrule kept his shoulders hunched, but turned his face enough for Sky to see the tears glistening in his eyes. Sky took a grounding breath, and continued.

"I felt like a burden, sometimes. I felt like I had to make it up to everyone when I was healthy since they took care of me when I was sick, but I would overdo it and end up sick again. Once, I admitted to Zelda that I felt guilty for being a burden on her, and..."

Sky chuckled as the memory of her, frankly adorable, angry face came into his memory.

"She was so mad. She was offended I thought that of her, and upset I thought that of myself, and mad at herself for letting me believe that about myself. Overall, not pleased," Sky continued with a smile. Hyrule's returning smile was small, but it was there.

"Now when I have bad health days, or bad mental health days, I just tell her, or Groose. It works a lot better that way," Sky said. He shifted until he was in front of Hyrule and put his hand on the dirt between them.

"I know you want to help, but you can't overdo it like that and risk your own health. We would still value you even if you never used your healing powers again, or never helped in battle again, or anything, okay?" Sky asked.

Hyrule's gaze was locked on Sky's hand. Slowly, Hyrule pulled his hand out from his mound of blankets and placed it over Sky's. Sky felt hope surge through him as he flipped his hand to grip Hyrule's and squeezed it reassuringly.

"I know one conversation isn't going to completely change your mindset. You don't have to believe me right now, but... can you at least say you're going to try?" Sky asked.

Hyrule nodded, and Sky watched a tear slowly slide down his cheek. "I promise."

[...]

#ace writes #:D #sky defends the chain #linked universe #lu hyrule #lu sky #this is only first draft #hope it's good to read :)#i was feeling the feels when I was writing this 🥲#IT GETS BETTER GUYS #IF YOU'RE WHERE HYRULE IS RN #I CAN PROMISE #IT GETS BETTER #<3

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needfantasticstories · 1 year ago

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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.

#lu sky #linked universe

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oceansprompts · 2 years ago

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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?

#roleplay memes #rp sentence meme #sentence meme #sentence starters #roleplay prompts #roleplay #roleplay starters #ask box #ask box prompts

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 1 year ago

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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]

#Harvest Moon #Ian Sanders #moon #seasons #mother earth #Mid autumn #Moon Goddess #stories

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sadbeautifutragic · 2 months ago

Note

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

#anonymous #ask

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vynahillockresort · 6 months ago

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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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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.

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katebishopofearth · 7 months ago

Note

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!

#asks #thanks for the ask <3 #reasons to live

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briamichellewrites · 8 months ago

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1999. Chester Bennington. He was the missing piece the band didn’t know they needed. Jeff scouted him in Phoenix, Arizona and invited him to LA to audition. He was tall and thin with curly hair and glasses. When he sang, they quickly realised he was what they needed. It was his twenty-second birthday when he auditioned. He had no idea if he should even go. What if they didn’t like him? What if he didn’t go and he missed a great opportunity?

It was fate. All six of them knew it. He was there for a specific reason. It was because of him, they were finally the band they wanted to be. They were making demos in Mike’s bedroom. Bria joined them when she wasn’t in the studio. They all got used to seeing her. The nineties were coming to a close, but she was still wearing grunge like it was still 1995. She and Mike were still together.

She was nominated for multiple awards for her debut album. That included three Grammy nominations. Mike and his family were so proud of her! They watched the ceremony from their home. She won Record of the Year and Best Alternative Music Performance. Her parents hugged her before she went to accept her award. She thanked them for believing in her. As well as the other awesome alternative rock artists and bands who came before her.

Nineteen years old. The sky was her limit. She signed with Converse to design and model a pair of high-top shoes. They would be made and then sold in stores. She also signed a deal with Juicy Couture to be the face of their brand. Her agent was receiving more offers because she was in demand. Her cameo on That 70s Show was a success. It showed her acting talent.

Her parents didn’t know what to do with their daughter’s fame. She had paparazzi waiting for her whenever she went out in public and tabloids were writing stories about her. They trusted her and they didn’t believe whatever the magazines said about her. Because of the media attention, she preferred staying home with her friends. Whatever they did wasn’t going to be talked about in the media. They could say and do whatever they wanted.

They made sure she stayed grounded and didn’t let fame go to her head. Chester was invited to hang out with them. He did. As the kid who was bullied for being different, being accepted was foreign to him. He wondered if they secretly didn’t want him there and were inviting him to be nice. No, they liked hanging out with him. They assured him of that.

During a televised interview, Bria addressed the rumours of her having an eating disorder. No, it wasn’t true. What was the truth?

“I am medically fragile. I battled leukaemia between the ages of two and four years old. It was then discovered that I am allergic to meat and have celiac disease. So, I can only eat very specific foods. Fruits, vegetables, rice and, beans.”

“For those who don’t know, what is celiac disease?”

“It’s an autoimmune disease where the immune system attacks itself whenever I have gluten. Gluten is the sticky stuff that’s in bread and other grains. If I have that, I’m on the floor in excruciating pain. It feels like someone is ripping apart my insides.”

Since it was not well known, people living with celiac disease were thankful for her spreading awareness. Her fans were grateful to hear that she didn’t have an eating disorder because they didn’t want that for her. Symptoms were different for everyone. It was frustrating because they couldn’t eat whatever they wanted like everyone else.

They knew what would happen, though and it wasn’t pleasant. The reason why people were talking was because she was photographed eating a salad while out with Mike. He was eating a full plate. She and her publicist talked about how they were going to address it before the interview. Her parents thought she did a great job of handling it. They were busy at the hospital. Her father was sometimes recognised by patients. Are you Bria’s dad? Yes, he was.

When they met with her on one of their rare days off, she talked about how she was afraid sometimes of leaving her house. Why? Because of the paparazzi and the tabloids. That was hard to get used to. They could understand that. It shouldn’t stop her from living her life, though. People were social creatures. They were not meant to stay inside all the time.

She should focus on her friends, instead of worrying about what others were saying about her. The people who loved her knew who she was. Kids she went to high school with were not surprised by her success. She was always performing. Of course, she would choose music. It was either that or acting.

“You guys should come on tour with me when you put out your album”, Bria said.

“When we put our album out”, Mike said with a smile.

“It’s going to happen, babe. I know it!”

“Thanks for your support. You want to talk to Jeff about that?”

“I for sure will. I’ll kick his ass.”

He laughed. Did she get a kitten? Yes, she did! She got an eight-week-old Ragdoll kitten named, Micha. He was beautiful with a long white coat. At the moment, he was asleep on her lap. Mike laughed when he heard his name. Did she choose it? No, he came with the name. Even though he was a dog guy, he had to admit he was beautiful. She sent her parents a text message letting them know about their grand kitten.

We can’t wait to meet him! - Mom

Good thing she wasn’t allergic to animals. She would be very disappointed if she couldn’t adopt them. He knew how hard that would be for her since she loved animals. It didn’t matter what they were. When she was younger, she had to stop and say hello to them. Even if they were just the squirrels running around the neighbourhood.

His parents thought she would be a veterinarian. No, she was a performer. At least she didn’t have to take her cat outside to use the bathroom when it was cold outside. That was one good thing about having a cat. Micha woke up and stretched out his paws. She scratched his head. That feels good, human! He loved being adopted! It was a lot better than living at the shelter.

He was the only cat, so he didn’t have to share. The humans who worked there were nice but they couldn’t give him one-on-one attention. His human could. He licked his paw and used it to clean his face. Bria told him good job, making Mike laugh. She was adorable. After a while, he meowed for food. She put him on the floor. He followed her to the kitchen where he continued meowing. Mike looked down at him, as he put his paw on his leg. Meow!

He didn’t have any food for him. After dishing up some food for him on a paper plate, she served it to him on the floor. He sniffed it before eating. Yum! Yum! Thank you, human! Mike joked she had become a slave. Welcome to adoption, Michael! He laughed. Micha would rule over her with an iron paw. But for now, he was an adorable kitten.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon

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ruebedo-iosis · 10 months ago

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My Honkai Star Rail Oc

(PART 4)

Shiloh Amal/ Black-Snake

(First attempt at actual movement based animation. So it's a bit rough)

-------Voice-Over/ Lines & Quotes

First Meeting: Oh ho! A new face, I see. Name’s Shiloh. I’m Looking forward to a Dandy day, you too?

Greeting: There's my Trouper, ready for the next Jump if you are!

Parting: Ah, Time to hit the Back Yard already? Go on, Just don't give me the Red lights.

About Self: Me? Nothin’ special bout lil, ol’ me. Guess I worked hard to get my Paper in the Bannerline, but that don't mean nothin’ after the Slall. Jus’ gives me itchy feet.

Chat- Species- : I try not to chat with Other Halovians, Something bout them jus’ rubs me wrong. Born for adoration nd’ all that holier than thou, attitude. Not for me. Wait, you didn't realize? I'm actually flattered.

Hobbies: Could go Tie one on if you're up for it. Oh, an Actual Hobby? Uh, mama taught me to play the Calliope. That's Kal- E- Ope. But you don't see those much outside the Bandwagon.

Annoyances: Those who chew too much fat and only blubber their blabbing. That, nd’ those rich sellouts who believe they got that X or whatever. Honestly, those types don't know beans.

Something to Share: I don't try to have my ears to the ground. But you do tend to hear various local mush when out with the Wagons. What really interests me is leaving little …gifts er, tips… to the right people of course! Don't you worry.

Knowledge: When they say, sky’s the limit, sometimes, I wish it really was....Keeps you grounded.

About … :

. Sampo : Oh, Y'know Sampo? I don't have any personal experiences ,but he's a real class act! Mama always told me to avoid people like him, but he actually seems rather docile compared to others I've seen ‘round. Maybe I'll invite him for a good ol’ jackpot over drinks.

. Sparkle : Now she is a champion in acting. You'd be better expecting nothing in the wheelhouse of relevance with her ‘round. She'd put any act I've ever met to shame. Though I'd still rather keep her off my ballots.

. :

Eidolon Activation: Ha! Would ya look at me now?

Character Ascension: H-hold on! Lemme Stretch some Kinks out!

Max Lvl. Reached: Is that really the whole show?

Trace Activation: Just one more Trick to the Trade!

Added to Team With … :

. :

------------//(Combat)//-------------

Battle Begins, Weakness Break: Looks like a 10 in 1.

Well that's a Fink.

Battle Begins, Danger Alert: euugh, Not folded yet.

Turn Begins: Curtains up!

Whew…Showtime.

Turn Idling: …..ehm…..ah……Hey Rube!....no? Worth a shot.

Basic Attack: I’ll just call ya Larry.

Enhanced Basic Attack: ((this character doesn't have a line for this.))

Skill: Let's Awe and Amaze!

Hit by Light Attack: oof, just a Brodie.

Hit by Heavy Attack: Augh! You want a real show?!

Ultimate Activation: Best Take Your Seats For This One,

Ultimate Unleashed: It's Time For The Main Event!.....Ta-Da!!

Talent: I'll lend a hand!

Let me help!

Downed: Ahh… Can you play, Stars nd’ Stripes, fr-ever?

Guess it's… All Out nd’ Over.

Return to Battle: Guess I Still ve’ got A Concert!

Health Recovery: A Dukie? Fr’ me?!

Technique: Head's Up, Roustabout!

Battle Won: Woo-Hoo! A Real Windy Van Hooten’s!

Treasure Opening: Any Props?

Precious Treasure Opening: Oooh, Better than a Grafters Fetch.

Successful Puzzle Solving: I'm no Gaffer, but I still got some wits.

Enemy Target Found: Look, A Knockabout Act!

Return to Town: Home Sweet Home, just not the Home Run.

#i made this #digital art #honkai star rail oc #hsr oc #my ocs #hsr original character #honkai star rail original character #rei13 #original character #my gifs

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waynes-multiverse · 10 days ago

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Ooooh I'm so excited what you came up with!!! That prompt still makes me snort lol

I love the whole premise of pranking Dean 😆 My deep-dive down below 👇

The beans in your pocket jingled merrily as you sat on the bench in the warm sunlight, soaking up the beams like a happy cat on a stoop while the small town of Belleville woke up.

Yup, that would be me 😂 Love me some pranks. I probably wouldn't be able to hold in my cackling, though lol

Dean had told you to sit in Baby and wait for him before he strode down the street to the newsstand on the corner to pick up a fresh copy of the newspaper to see if there was anything weird happening in this little town.

Uh-oh... 😂 (I'm legit on the edge of my seat, waiting to read about his stupid face like a maniac lmao)

The same diner where he’d stolen the last bite of flaky goodness from your plate and shoved it into the black hole he called a mouth and earned a slap on the shoulder by you.

He is such a Joey 😂💚

This morning when you’d taken too long in the bathroom, Dean had shoved a giant plastic spider under the door to smoke you out. It had led to an unfortunate incident with you racing out of the bathroom screaming for him to kill it, clad only in a towel while Dean filmed you on his phone and laughed until he had tears in his eyes.

Yeah, he deserves this... lol

“He carjacked you?!” Dean shouts, eyes widening. His body tenses and you watch him begin to look up and down the street frantically for some glimpse of Baby.

I'm already laughing so hard help 😂😂

They were still the same shade of green like the ferns that lived on a well-watered forest floor, the color of a pine tree that unfurled it’s leaves in the warm summer months and reached to the sky, and they were lecked with gold that caught in the afternoon sun when it hung directly overhead.

This is probably the most amazing and beautiful description of Dean's eyes I've ever read. Like WOW 😍👏

“You sold my car for magic beans?” Dean shouts so loud that you’re sure somewhere in the midwest a murder of crows all rose from the earth in an angry swarm. You can imagine them, black plumage running together into the sky, ink over paper, oil on water.

I was already dead during this whole scene, but this description brought be back to life and then killed me again 💀🤣

“That doesn’t matter if he had an eyepatch and a peg-leg! You sold Baby! You sold my car! How would you like it if I took your first child?”

OMFG stitches! stitches!!! The drama 🤣🤣🤣

“It means that they are worth a million times what Baby was! I could get you a hundred Impalas with these bad boys! And I’ll demonstrate!” You hold them up triumphantly before hurling them to the warm soil underneath the tree to your left.

Oh, she's going full in! Love the commitment 😂

“Oh for the love of- CAS!” Dean’s eye is still twitching when he roars the angel’s name, not looking away from you as he does.

YAY CAS!!! 😍

“Nope.” He shakes his head, determination flashing in his eyes. “I’m just getting started.”

Oh no... Of course he can't let it go 😂 I imagine they'll still prank each other when they're 80 lol

The ending was so absolutely sweet, though. You could really witness the depth of their friendship 🥹 I also loved the paragraph how the world keeps spinning and it's just another beautiful day. There was so much beauty and realness in that. Tugged on my heart 😭🫶

Thank you so much for writing this for me and congrats again on 1k followers. Truly deserved and more for so much talent 🩵🩵🩵

PS: Please add me to your tag list. Thank you 🫶

This Isn't Over

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader (platonic?), Reader POV

Prompt: "You sold my car for magic beans?"/"Hold on, this guy was legit. He had a creepy cloak and everything."

Requested by: @waynes-multiverse

Tropes: Established friendship

Summary: When Dean plays a prank on you, your only option is to retaliate, but maybe you took it too far. (This can be read as platonic or as a friends with benefits situation- whichever you want it to be 😊)

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Some cursing, Ridiculous Pranks, Friendship, Prank Gone Too Far? Reader and Dean being menaces to one another? Fluff? Reader is described as having hair long enough to put up in a bun.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

A/N: Second fic for my prompt celebration! This one was requested the lovely @waynes-multiverse ENJOY!

The beans in your pocket jingled merrily as you sat on the bench in the warm sunlight, soaking up the beams like a happy cat on a stoop while the small town of Belleville woke up.

There was a kiss of fall on the wind that played with the hair at the nape of your neck, winding through the strands and pulling them out of the messy bun at the back of your head.

But it was a good day.

You’d met Dean here yesterday, your paths crossing as they always did when the two of you were out looking for jobs and it was a happy coincidence. Your friend looked a little more worn around the eyes than he usually did, a few gray strands in his golden brown hair, but he had the same smile that crinkled all the lines on his face and made you feel special.

Dean didn’t smile like that at everyone, you supposed after ten years of friendship you’d earned that. The two of you had been through quite a bit together and you guessed that there was more than enough to come.

You smiled to yourself, leaning against the wooden back of the bench with a content sigh.

The leaves on the trees hanging over your head and lining the streets were just starting to brown, slipping into yellows, reds, and happy oranges to herald the changing of the seasons.

In your experience places like coffee shops, grocery stores, and diners were usually breeding grounds for the best gossip, where people would congregate and talk in hushed whispers about the happenings in town.

But not here. There was nothing but smiles and happy chatter that caught on the wind from the cafe just within ear shot that also brought the warm smells of cinnamon and coffee with it.

The best thing Dean and you had discovered here was the apple pie at the diner he’d taken you to this morning. The same diner where he’d stolen the last bite of flaky goodness from your plate and shoved it into the black hole he called a mouth and earned a slap on the shoulder by you.

Your lips curl slightly on the ends mischievously thinking that Dean had what was coming to him.

The pie wasn’t the only reason why you’d decided to play a harmless prank on your friend.

Your revenge would be swift and merciless.

As soon as he had rounded the corner you’d slid across the worn leather front seat, put Baby in reverse, pulled out of the parking spot and backed her into the adjacent alley, just out of view. You’d then crossed the street to the small grocery store and asked the shop owner if you could borrow five loose dried beans. He’d obliged you with an odd look on his face, but you didn’t care.

You’d never cared that people thought you were weird, you hunted creatures that no one believed, weird was every day of your life. Not to mention you were sure that you'd go stir crazy if you were stuck anywhere "normal."

“Hey sweetheart.” Dean calls walking towards you, a fresh newspaper crinkling in his hand and a coffee carrier with two mugs sitting snugly inside. His smile drops as he surveys the empty street. “Where’s Baby? Did you take her to a car wash?”

“Dean, the most amazing thing happened!” You bounced from the bench, a wide smile on your face. “I was sitting here minding my business and this guy showed up-“

“He carjacked you?!” Dean shouts, eyes widening. His body tenses and you watch him begin to look up and down the street frantically for some glimpse of Baby.

It was like your best friend to jump to the worst conclusion, and given what the two of you did for a living it was a valid assumption.

“No, let me finish!” You wave a hand with a laugh. “He complimented the car, asked me what year she was, what engine she had under the hood- etc. Finally, he told me that he wanted to buy her.”

“This better not be where I think it’s going.” Dean’s eyes narrow, suspicion swimming in the familiar green hue.

Over the years as the two of you aged, Dean’s eyes never did. They were still the same shade of green like the ferns that lived on a well-watered forest floor, the color of a pine tree that unfurled it’s leaves in the warm summer months and reached to the sky, and they were lecked with gold that caught in the afternoon sun when it hung directly overhead.

You continue hiding your amusement at his reaction with much difficulty, trying to channel the laugh bubbling up into false excitement.

He really had this coming.

“So I told him. This car is worth more than money and he goes, ‘oh it’s sentimental?’ and I said yes, and I thought he was going to leave, But then he says ‘well I don’t have cash but what I do have are-’“ You reach into your jacket pocket, it’s really Dean’s, but he’d put it around your shoulders at the diner when a blast of air-conditioning made you shiver. “BAM!”

You hold out your palm and show Dean the five dried beans from your pocket, pausing for effect.

Dean’s gaze drops to your hand, not quite comprehending what you were trying to say. “What the hell are those?"

“Magic beans!” This time you wiggle your fingers mysteriously, allowing the smile you were trying to hold back stretch over your face.

Dean’s eye begins to twitch. “Please tell me that you stole them from him and you took Baby to a carwash.”

As if Dean would let anyone other than himself wash his car.

“Nope. I told him that he had a deal.” You smile wider.

Your friend looks like he’s about to faint and spontaneously combust at the same time when he realizes exactly what you said. His expression freezes somewhere between horror and realization, looking from your open palm to the empty street as if to confirm what you’ve already admitted aloud.

The people walking by stop and look at the two of you.

“Hold on, this guy was legit. He had a creepy cloak and everything!” You argue, again fighting a smile. “I’m sure that-”

“That doesn’t matter if he had an eyepatch and a peg-leg! You sold Baby! You sold my car! How would you like it if I took your first child?” The coffee in the carrier sloshes with Dean’s gestures so much that he thinks better of it and puts down the carrier on the bench you vacated to tell him the “good news.”

“Calm down Rumplestilskin! These are magic beans!” You roll your eyes, feigning annoyance.

It wasn’t so hard to fake it given that you were still angry from the spider prank this morning.

“You keep saying that, but I don’t think you understand what it means!”

You wait a beat, pretending to be interested in the reddish brown kidney beans that turn a burnished orange in the light of the sun.

A car drives by, the clouds continue to float above your head, the wind picks up to sift through your hair, but nothing happens to the beans

Predictably.

“Huh.” You muse, biting your lip to keep yourself from giggling. “Maybe they’re slow acting?”

“Or you sold my car for a bag full of shit!” Dean runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands so hard you think he'll pull them out.

“Maybe I’m using them wrong? They didn’t come with instructions.” You say, pating your pockets as if looking for something and continuing to ignore Dean. "Maybe we need to sing or something. Quick, pick a song!"

Your chest was burning from keeping the laugh at bay, jaw aching from keeping the smile that wished to break through.

I have to be strong. Just for a few more seconds. This will be worth it.

Honestly, it already was.

You begin to hum the beginning of ACDC's Thunderstruck, pinching your lips together as you do and avoid Dean's murderous gaze.

“Oh for the love of- CAS!” Dean’s eye is still twitching when he roars the angel’s name, not looking away from you as he does.

“What?” Cas says, appearing behind Dean with his usual frown, eyebrows furrowed together. His trenchcoat is pristine, billowing slightly in the breeze that picks up at his appearance.

“Take me to my car.” Dean demands to the angel, who looks at him like he’s crazy.

“That’s why you called me here?” Cas raises an eyebrow.

“Yes! Take me to my car CAS!” Dean shouts even louder.

Some of the people at the coffee shop two doors down lean back in their chairs, staring in your direction, curious about what's going on.

“He’s not a lojack system.” You clear your throat to hide the giggle.

Oh this is so much better than when I changed out his shampoo with blue hair dye.

“I don’t want to hear it from you.” Dean points an accusatory finger in your direction.

“I don’t know where you car is Dean.” Cas replies.

Dean’s eye continues to twitch, until finally he lets out a high pitched. “Son of a bitch!"

Dean takes off in a dead run down the sidewalk in the direction he came from, shouting "I'm coming Baby! Hold on!" His voice echoes over the buildings that line the street as he almost crashes into an older man who's out walking a small dog in a bright pink sweater.

The laugh finally breaks free from your lips in a strangled cackle as you film Dean running away from you, before sending it to Sam. It was the same thing that Dean had done with his video of you and it was only fair for Sam to give him as much crap as he'd given you when he called to laugh at you after receiving Dean's text.

“You didn’t really sell his car did you?” Cas asks, while you continue to wheeze, gasping for breath on the sidewalk.

“Nah-" You choke out. "I wouldn’t do that. I know how much he loves her. She’s in the alley.” You gesture with your head back behind you. “Bastard put a plastic spider under the bathroom door this morning. Scared the shit out of me.”

Cas looks confused. “A plastic spider?”

“Yeah, he knows I hate spiders.”

“But if you knew it was plastic why were you frightened?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t know it was plastic.”

“Oh.” He still looks confused so you reach over and give him an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder to reassure him.

You didn’t have many interactions with the angel, but you took it as your job to make sure he understood some things about human life.

So far it didn't appear to be helping.

“It’s alright Cas, you can go back to whatever it was you were doing.”

He nods once and vanishes before you can say anything else.

You sit back down on the bench laughing to yourself into your coffee mug while Dean comes running back up the street.

“Why the hell are you still sitting here? We have to find her! Who knows what that freak could have done to her!” Dean exclaims, shaking your shoulders.

“How does it feel to be faced with your worst fear?” You smirk while taking a calm sip of your coffee. “Payback is a bitch isn’t it Winchester?"

Dean’s face goes from worried to angry in a heartbeat. “Are you friggin kidding me?! You pretended that you sold my car because of the shower thing?”

“And because you stole the last bite of my pie!”

“I’ve stolen the last bite before-”

“Then you had it coming.” You take another sip of coffee with a triumphant smile.

“Wow. Just wow.” Dean frowns at you. “I hate you.”

“I know.” You smile wider, patting him on the back. “I hate you too buddy. Now come on let’s go see if there’s anything here to do."

“You do realize this isn’t over right?” Dean says as you begin to walk towards the alley where you hid Baby.

You stop to look over at your friend. “Wait, what?”

“This isn’t over.” Dean repeats.

“I think it is-”

“Nope.” He shakes his head, determination flashing in his eyes. “I’m just getting started.”

You stand there for a moment, taking in the serious expression on your friend’s face. You saw all the hardened edges of his jaw, dusted with scruff that made him look just a little more wild.

Fine.

You step closer to him, so close you can smell the shampoo he stole from you this morning, without blinking an eye at his display. “It’s cute that you think you can win.”

Dean’s smirk grows wider, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “I always win, Sweetheart, one way or another.”

The world continues to spin, the birds above caw and flap their wings, the wind brings the smell of coffee and autumn, but Dean’s eyes remain on yours, unmoving, unwavering.

It didn't scare you.

“Then bring it on, Winchester.”

A/N: This one was a lot of fun to write! Imagining Dean running down the street screaming "I'm coming Baby" made me cackle 🤣 But thank you so much again @waynes-multiverse for giving me this prompt!

If anyone else would like to ask me for a prompt for my prompt celebration there are still some left!

As always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, Likes, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think 🥰 Also, if you'd like to be added to one of my taglists for the characters I write, please let me know!

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies

#wayne reads #fic rec #amazing writers 🤍#for me 🥰#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader

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