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thereoncewasagirlnamedjane · 1 month ago

Text

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

‣ synopsis — 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

✩ 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.

#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 · 5 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 · 1 year 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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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 · 1 year 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 · 18 days ago

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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 · 4 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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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.

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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 · 5 months ago

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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 · 6 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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