Jessica “Jessie” Lauren Graff is a professional stunt woman and athletics-based television personality. Her nickname is “Tumbleweed”. She is a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, a black sash in Kung Fu, and is trained in five other styles of martial arts. She is also a championship pole vaulter and competitive gymnast.
She has become well known for her athletic achievements on the obstacle course show American Ninja Warrior, including in 2016 becoming the first woman ever to complete Stage One of the Las Vegas Finals course.
Graff started doing stunt work in 1997, and has appeared in several television shows and movies, including X-Men: First Class, Make It or Break It, Another Period, Bridesmaids, Knight and Day, Bad Teacher, John Carter, and Sons of Anarchy. As of 2016 her most recent high profile stunt work has been for the CBS series Supergirl. (X)
Here you go folks, photos from my Brown Sash test in Wing Chun under Sifu Francis Fong. I had a days notice on taking this test, literally found out as we were landing in Atlanta. Nevertheless if I give myself credit I blew the test away and did extremely well. From the technique to the extremely challenge rounds I pushed hard and delivered. Got a few more pictures that i’m waiting on those and I’ll post them later on. But this is the body of the technical part of the test. Next year Red, two more years to Black Sash.
So right now I’m sitting waiting for my flight to Atlanta; I’m heading to the Fracis Fong Instructor Association camp. Three days of high level Wing Chun training under my Sigung Francis Fong. I haven’t had the opportunity to go until now and I’m extremely excited. Not just instrumental in earning my black sash in Wing Chun but a very important part of earning an instructorship under Sigung Fong which is something I’ve wanted for years. Very excited for this trip and all I’m going to learn.
Note: This is probably the most decent piece I’ve written in a long while. Super happy c: Enjoy!
Genre: Romance, AU, Friendship
Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug
It was obvious to anyone within the vicinity of the girl that she had been stood up. It’s no high class—entire paycheck’s worth—, fancy restaurant, with exquisite lobster and expensive steak; but, at the same time, no run down fast food joint. Comfortable booths and polished tables, perfect lanterns and a light atmosphere—more like a family restaurant of sorts.
The girl—dressed in a cute, short sleeved red dress with a black sash around the waist and a matching black jacket, and little black flats—sat in a booth alone, stirring the straw to her pink lemonade around, the melted ice clinking against the crystal. Condensation dripped down the side of the medium sized glass, making a circled puddle of water on the tabletop. Sighing, the girl checked the time on her phone, only to place it back down after seeing her date was now two hours late. She honestly couldn’t see why she hadn’t left after the first hour; for some reason, she felt like staying…just in case.
The surrounding tables, full of either couples or families, watched in sympathy as the girl with the curled black pigtails sat alone, no smile on her face. Her waitress came around every twenty minutes, refilling her lemonade and suggesting the check, but every time she refused, saying she’ll just wait a little longer. Even if there’s no point.
“Marinette, hun, we’re closing in an hour,” Alya, her best friend and waitress, said with eyes full of pity. “Are you sure you don’t want the check?”
Marinette sighed, and checked her phone. “No, I know he’s not coming, but I don’t want to go home just yet,” Home, another place alone in the dark.
Alya sighed, shaking her head and walked away. She had tried telling Marinette the guy wasn’t good enough for her, that she would only get hurt. She didn’t want to admit she was right, because it meant Marinette’s sadness.
Marinette met the guy while visiting the Louvre again for the hundredth time living in Paris. He was sweet, offering to buy her lunch at the food market just down the road, after reciting interesting facts about each piece of artwork they passed in the monumental museum. They met up at the Eiffel Tower the next day, seeing as how the weekend had not ended yet, and he eventually asked her out for a date the following Friday—which was tonight, and he never showed up.
The sound of porcelain colliding with the wooden table brought Marinette’s attention to her right, where a small plate and a mug had been placed beside her lemonade. It appeared to be a brownie and a cup of hot chocolate. Marinette glanced up at the person responsible, assuming it was either Alya, trying to be a friend, or her date finally showing up. However, he was neither. A waiter; of muscular build and tan skin, blonde hair and holy moly—those were some green eyes.
“You look like you could use it,” he smiled, lips curving perfectly to melt Marinette’s heart.
“T-thank you,” Marinette blushed, twiddling her now nervous hands. “But I’m okay—,”
“It’s on me,” he insisted, pushing the brownie closer to her. “I hate seeing a sad expression on such a beautiful face,”
Marinette smiled and let out a small laugh. “Thank you,”
The waiter, Adrien (after reading the name tag pinned to his shirt), returned the smile, nodded, and left to tend to his other remaining tables.
Marinette unraveled the napkin containing her silverware, and dipped the fork into the brownie. The chocolate melted in her mouth, it was delicious. Definitely the perfect dessert to end such a pathetic night.
The second time someone stood her up, she wore a pastel pink poodle skirt with a white button up and a light green cardigan, adorned with white heels. Her black hair fell free from her everyday pigtails, curled in a small up-do, with pink barrettes. A new design from Marinette herself, fresh from the dress form.
She was scheduled to meet a guy for lunch from the university she attended, a fellow student from the graphic design class. He caught her one day walking about campus, and asked about her fashion designs. He had an assignment to create original characters and place them in an outrageous environment. His only issue, he couldn’t design outfits for the life of him. Once the two got talking, she agreed to commission him for a lunch date. Usually she left the date-asking for the other person, but this time she felt flirty and confident, must’ve been that new outfit she designed and was dying to try out. Low and behold, here she is, in the new outfit, alone. Again.
A mug and a plate, both filled with chocolate, nudged itself into her peripheral vision; Marinette glanced sideways to see Adrien trying to sneak the two onto her table while being jokingly discreet. Once he saw he had been caught, he jumped up, folding the tray behind his back and smirking.
“Ah, looks like the princess has caught her knight sneaking himself into her room late at night, whatever shall he do?” Adrien hummed his laughter.
“Leave the check with her and quit buying his princess chocolate,” Marinette laughed, but dug into the treat anyways.
“Ah, but you look much happier,” Adrien said, rolling on his heels. “I couldn’t disgrace my princess by allowing her to be so distraught.”
Marinette smiled, feeling instantly ten times better. “I’m used to it,”
“You shouldn’t,” Adrien responded in a low voice, but he had begun walking away, he couldn’t be sure if she heard him.
Fortunately for him, she had.
Her third date also failed to show, but Marinette couldn’t find it within her to care. She felt drawn to this place, something about it made any bad day turn into a better one. No, she didn’t care her dates stood her up, someone else always made it better.
“You could always say ‘no’,” her routine chocolate meal arrived, only this time, whip cream, cinnamon, and chocolate chips had been added to her hot cocoa. She glanced up at Adrien, questioningly. “Alya said you like it this way,”
“I do,” Marinette smiled, bringing the mug closer. The warm scent infiltrating her nose. “What’s this about saying 'no’?”
“Your dates, the people that ask you out,” Adrien said, slightly leaning on the table. “You can always tell them no, that would be better than saying yes and being left behind, right?”
Marinette scooped a small portion of whipped cream into her mouth, chewing the chip as well. “Maybe I like saying yes, because I know my night will end up happy anyways,” her eyes met his.
Adrien seemed to be pondering her words as he watched her. She dressed simple this time, a white patterned sweater and ripped jean shorts, with brown ankle boots. She left her hair down, curling all around her shoulders in a midnight wave. He didn’t understand, who in their right mind would ditch a date with his beautiful princess?
He felt angry. There she was, sitting by herself—again—in the same booth she picked out every time she came here with a supposed “date”. She looked adorable, gorgeous, beautiful. He couldn’t pick one.
He made up his mind, he was going to give her the date she deserved. His shift ended in five minutes, and he thankfully brought a change of clothes with him. Changing, he snuck into the kitchen without Marinette spotting him, and made his routine meal for her, only doubled. Carrying the tray of goods, he walked out onto the floor in casual, civilian clothing. Blue jeans, a white tank top, and a short sleeved black button up, leaving the buttons undone. He set the tray on the table, watching in amusement as she jumped, and startled, watched as he presented their meal on the table, before taking a seat across from her. He folded his arms on the table and smiled at her still shocked expression.
“W-what is this?” she asked, placing her phone down and cupping her mug.
“I hate watching you sit here alone without a date, so tonight, I’m yours,” he said, feeling bold.
She blushed, lifting the cup to her mouth, she mumbled, “I didn’t have a date,”
Adrien blinked. “Excuse me?”
Marinette sipped her drink and set the cup down. “Tonight I actually didn’t have a date. I just felt like coming here,” she hesitated, “I just like seeing you,”
Adrien stared, then erupted in laughter. “I never caught your name,”
“It’s Marinette,” she smiled. Something about her intrigued him, he couldn’t stay away.
“Adrien,” he replied, but he guessed she already knew that. He does work here after all. “So, after this you want to take a stroll with me around Paris?”
In case you needed something to be upset about today, I present to you this thing I noticed about Roy Mustang at Hughes’ funeral.
Now take a good look at what Mustang is wearing at Hughes’ funeral, with the slicked back hair and the black sash.
Now, what do people normally do after a funeral (especially after they let themselves cry for the first time in probably like ten years)? They go home, spend time with people they care about, talk to people who knew the person who died and reminisce with them about how great the person was.
But now look at the next scene, where Roy goes to the crime scene and starts trying to solve Hughes’ murder.
Anything look familiar? The hair? The sash?
Roy Mustang cried at his best friends grave, then WENT BACK TO WORK AND INVESTIGATED STUFF ABOUT HOW HIS BEST FRIEND DIED.
I know it’s super edgy
and overdone but my fave Rose outfit will always be the long black skirt + pink sash combo. The pillow dress is creative and the god tier outfit is eye-catcing but the grimdark outfit… that’s Iconic.