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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

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Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 4)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 3

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Ciri wanted chicken and so she gets one. Y/N needed warmth amongst the cold weather in the Forest of Kaedwan and she'd received more than a warmth for her body as it traveled straight to her heart; warming her soul. Even getting some sort of comfort from the witcher himself. Other than that, Geralt had a lead on where the sorceress was. Though, right now he needed her to help you Plus, he also had other options other than that.

Warnings: FULL OF Y/N AND GERALT FLUFF. ❤ Geralt is an asshole at first because of certain reasons. 😂 Blood and animal killing in this one. Smiling, soft Geralt, tho still having that stoic expression of his of course. Gotta write him completely in character. 😂 Also, a Hirikka is here and will be on the next chapter!

Words: 3,900+

A/N: There's a part 2 for this chapter. It'll be a chapter 4.1 but will be posted after 2-3 days. ^u^ I couldn't put them together because it'll be 8-9k words long. 😅😂 Sorry, if I write long ass chapters and the pace is still slow. I need to develop their characters, relationship and such. The places said here are from the game however it isn’t accurate and I just made my own direction. Like how I try to make my life go in the right path but failing and actually walking on the wrong path. LMAO. Also, I’m making a masterlist for WOTN! 🤗

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren't from moi as well.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

"Do you not...have cars, Geralt? Or motorcycles?"

You've panted like you were having a marathon, palms falling on your knees as you took a breather; seeing a small cottage on the far end of the shallow path in the forest.

It was a smaller house that had a fence with chickens, goats and pigs segregated by kind. The home was a sandy shade of yellow and a slip of brown which was also made just like how Geralt's have been.

No answer was given to you other than how he was hauling Roach back to look at you who were walking along side with him; not bothering to even ask you for a ride. It's not like you were hoping he would. Based on the change of mood he'd gotten, you were sure he won't lend you his horse to lessen your difficulty in traveling bare foot.

You've already asked what his horse's name was. He simply answered with the word 'Roach', allowing you to touch the horse as she neighed. Much to someone's dismay; specifically a bard who happened to saw the whole interaction, left a mutter to himself.

"Why does the midget get to touch Roach in haste and I don't?!" Jaskier muttered rather in disbelief. The Witcher fixing his black, hooded wool cape attached to his shoulders, giving him a subtle hum with the gravel of his voice.

Jaskier huffed for the third time, hands on his hips as he watched the scene before him with incredulity in his baby blue peepers. You happily caressed her crest as Geralt fixed things on the leather bag attached to the horse's hip.

"Geralt---" Jaskier started but was cut off with a insouciant scold from the man himself, "Don't call her midget," he cut him off without even paying him attention. Jaskier gave a nod; a grin molding his face leading to mischief at the chide given.

Jaskier took a step close and planned to give Roach's crest a caress but his stern friend was fast enough to cease his wishes, "Still, don't touch roach," Geralt quickly mumbled as he felt Jaskier's plan on touching his horse. The bard slyly grabbed onto his own hair, brushing them through his locks like he wasn't about to pet Roach. Geralt closed the bag with a soft click, giving him the side-eye; voice firm and full of derision, "I don't want you singing a song about my horse in the near future,"

Which is why you were walking on your own now with Geralt's good will on making you handle the death march rather like a happy child.

It was probably okay, you thought at the back of your mind. Walking, that is. Exercising in the morning was great, except that if it weren't too chilly unlike him who have gotten a full armor and gear out of his closet like he'd gone out of a magazine or animè. The sword on his back even giving you shivers, but a different kind because of how tough looking he had as his exterior.

You shook your head as he just looked back at you. That look of his that was filled of inquiry; asking you what you were saying in the back of your mind. A huff of pure exhaustion was given to The Witcher before you sauntered forward, leaving the man eyeing you with sass and a high raise of his bushy brow.

Geralt followed through along with Roach as he pulled her reins, slowly galloping as he analyzed your form from behind. His buttoned up tunic that reached the ends of your thighs with a weird kind of foot ware that certainly doesn't help with the crispy, brisk temperature of the forest.

Geralt gravelly sighed, watching you struggle with scrubbing your legs together as you pathetically strolled forward and onto the place that he'd pointed. He was too engrossed at seeing you struggle when he has heard a slight twig breaking from afar, catching his senses and making him look to where it came from.

"Midget," The Witcher tried calling you with that deep voice of his in the middle of the woods. Though, to no avail; you never heard him coherently and continued your stroll through the forest; hollering a message without even looking back because of the mere exhaustion.

"You're too slow, Geralt, like an old man! I'm exhausted!"

He breathed out his vexation of your naivety that you weren't strolling in your world. You were walking in theirs and having your own little dimension while you walk by yourself can be pretty dangerous.

Geralt heard the crack of another wood. It was from behind a large hickory tree. He doubtfully grabbed onto the handle of his sword wrapped behind him; halfway unsheathing the sword and contemplating if he needed to jump off his horse when suddenly a medium sized Hirikka came into his view, maybe an inch shorter than you. Those eyes that were doe, just like yours whenever you wanted something and eventually getting it from him.

"You're hungry, aren't you?" Geralt asked the Hirrika. The tone in his voice softer and in awe. He'd rummaged through his bag without taking his Aurum, blazing eyes away from the harmless creature, feeling an apple inside his bag and threw it as the Hirikka caught it with its own two paws.

"Don't get yourself killed out there,"

Thus, he began to follow you as fast as possible before you even get yourself harmed from any monsters. When he'd seen you leaning on the fences of Cuthberth's home, he didn't know he has been holding a breath for as long as he could remember without seeing the sight of you.

You were making him insane for not even waiting for him and thinking what would've attacked you in the forest of Kaedwan.

Cuthbert was feeding the chickens inside their palisades. His friend thought you were lost but you've said that you came for the purpose of buying chickens with a man. He was friendly enough to give you chitter-chatter while waiting for Geralt to follow you from behind. It took minutes before he arrived with a complete set of body parts; so the worry of him being killed off by a monster was thrown in the dumps.

As he rode his horse closer, you've had the chance to admire the beauty edging to be seen. You were in awe as his mere self was enough to get you ogling at the man treading near. Never seeing such a man like that who wore armors in his everyday life except from seeing Cosplayers in certain conventions that seemed so fake rather than Geralt who felt real. Too real that you were pondering if he was just a mere hallucination or a fantasy of yours.

He was definitely eye-candy. Dashing. Ravishing. Beyond gorgeous.

Cuthbert saw them coming and so, his expression turned wild with a grin. His dirty fingers scratching his bald head in excitement as he jogged out of the fences with a giddy self. "Oi! You didn't tell me it's the infamous Geralt of Rivia, elfin!"

Famous. He's famous? you thought to yourself before keeping your eyes away from the witcher who had already jumped down his horse and gave you a look; asking what was wrong because you were staring like there was a problem at hand.

You didn't need to tell him that your heart was actually the problem. It was always skipping a beat whenever he'd pay a glimpse to stare at your eyes.

A soft clear of your throat, your fist covering your mouth as you do and you eyed Cuthbert inquisitively, "Is he famous? Famous for what? Is he an actor? Model? The king of this kingdom or something?"

Cuthbert patted his dirty hands on his soiled apron full of flour, a hand on his hip while the other reaches out for Geralt's powerful looking shoulder in attempt to give him a pat. The animal butcher's forest green eyes coruscant of fervor. Geralt's initial response was to give him a smile back with the man's excitement in seeing him again, "This lad's a something! Kills all types of beasts, vampires, dragons, huge kikimores---"

You coughed out loud, making them snap their heads from where you stood. Cuthbert's words sounded too surprising to be true. As much as you remembered, vampires only existed in the movies and games; not in the real life survival of people. His words caught you off-guard, "Vamp--vampires? There's vampires here, Cuthbert? Even dragons?"

Geralt looked at you, utmost jaded. The way your voice stuttered alerted him that you were scared or probably still unfamiliar--still illiterate of their world since he was doubting to give you all the information ahead if you abruptly disappear out-of-nowhere with the knowledge of the continent; their world. It would be very much dangerous for it to be compromised especially that you had the experience in teleporting to their dimension.

Cuthbert gave a loud laugh, not believing the strangeness of your words, "You're actin' like yer’ never been here before! I thought yer’ were livin' with the Witcher?! You should ask the white wolf, here! He's killed hundreds! Maybe even thousands!"

You've fluttered your eyes closed, trying to calm yourself from running off the forest and getting yourself killed just like the horror movies you've watched. You've called them idiots, now wasn't the time to call yourself one as well.

Though, you were completely unaware of Geralt's gaze which consist an ample amount of worry. You continued your rambles in a hushed whisper, "I'm not just in a freakin' game that have monsters, but even a live-action movie of Twilight. This is great, real great."

The Witcher clenched his teeth, gradually turning his body to you without moving his soles. His forehead creasing as he could feel your heart beat quickening, "Are there also wolves? Big bad wolves here?" your voiced lowering a miniscule, sounding diminutive.

His friend gave off a shrug, his mouth forming a thin line when he did so as he scratched his whitened beard, "We may never know what this world can bring, Elfin! It always brings out the worst of everythin'!"

At the confident mention of that, you've felt your chest tightening with the knowledge of having vampires and dragons around. What if you died in their world? Would you also be dead in earth? Geralt licked his Crimson lips, staring down at you with utmost comfort that he could give. Yet, he failed at that with how stoic his expressions can get. Though, his eyes were exempted because his feelings can be read through those stern, Aurum eyes.

Midway, he'd lift his burly armor-coated arms to plan and give your back a caress to calm you down; but he was immediate enough to drop it down considering that maybe even a touch to the hand would calm you because he'd seen it trembled. If only he was thoroughly direct towards you; he would in a heart beat.

"Don't panic, Midget." The roughness of his voice; that definite amount of timbre. It was the only word you've heard from him. Short but straightforward. Even so, still the only thing that calmed you down through out all your panic attacks back in earth and even in their world.

Cuthbert has seen Geralt's attempt of comfort; even seeing his eyes shift in a way that nobody else could. He had a smirk on his face, scrubbing that beard he was owning, "Who is she, Witcha'? Another one of those clingy harlots of yours?"

Geralt turned his head to see Cuthbert smirking. The way his eyes changed into a lethargic faze meant that the witcher was mantling the emotions he was having or probably having no idea that he was feeling it yet; in denial of the state he was in.

"---Or the trouble and strife?"

The witcher knew what he meant and decided to let those words fall out of his ear to the other. His hands clasping together on his front as he straightened his back, cocking his head to the side as he narrowed his eyes on the latter, "We need...chickens," Cuthbert raised his eyebrows in astonishment, "You cook now, witcher?"

No words were said besides from a satisfied hum as the chickens clucked before the butcher of animals. The panic died down because of Geralt's voice and you've finally had the will to insert yourself in the conversation.

"I do!" you excitedly exclaimed, stepping a foot closer to Geralt and the witcher was aware of it, giving you the side-eye, "---also, do you have any spices please?"

Cuthbert nodded in comprehension, sending a playful wink to The Witcher and scrubbing his hands together as he also gave you a rogouish smile, "Oh, that kind. The little woman, Geralt! Literally because this elfin is quite short but fetching nevertheless!" Geralt gave him an apathetic blink of an eye, sighing from the talkativeness of the man.

But, also worth it if he could see those anticipated beams of yours as you stood beside him.

The latter gave out a loud sigh, seeming to be in his head space as he talked his thoughts out loud, "---I remember how Gisela cooks Flamiche for me whenever I go home from me' hunt! Though, that woman seldom does it anymore considering how Bridgely gets her attention a lots!"

Geralt gave him that daunting smile of his; wanting to tell the man to just butcher the heck out of the chickens already as he wanted to get it over with. You gave Cuthbert a wide smile, oblivious of Geralt's taunting gaze back at the man. He suppressed a laugh and nodded to himself; quickly running off to Geralt's wishes.

As the chicken was being slaughtered across the fence, Geralt was thoroughly unaware that you were already sniffing and crying because it was all out in the open and you could see how it was being killed. He watched you look over the fence and inspect Cuthbert cutting its head off and it made you shriek, warm tears falling on the sides of your face while watching how much pity you've given to the chicken.

Geralt did a double-take, eyeing you and where you were staring at and saw how you were crying over a chicken being slaughtered. He wanted to laugh because of how you were being sad over it. However, he decided against so as to not offend you when you were just pouring your heart out in this one.

"I thought...you wanted chickens?" the witcher pondered, leaning away from the fence and facing you instead with that amused glint in his eyes.

You've sniffed hard, patting your nose with his clothes that you were wearing from; the snot wanting to come out of its cave. You gazed up at him; eyes damp and reddish from the cries. "I did, Geralt! But not for it to be killed like this!" you hiccuped from all the bawling that has happened, "---It was better to be bought in a supermarket!"

The way you cry always made a pinch inside Geralt's heart. A kind where he would try and do everything to make it stop because you were annoying but also irresistible.

His lips lifted in a slight beam, looking around the forest before peering down at your sobbing thyself. "There, there," surprisingly, Geralt cooed before you; stopping your weeps short as you gaped at the tall witcher. His chiseled face warped in clear softness and mirth, "---for a bountiful feast requires death in exchange for us to be sated,"

The amazing color of his eyes gleamed more under the sun. You couldn't help but outstare back at him with that stupefied look of utter adoration. You snapped out of your daydream when he was waiting for a witty retort but you've loudly cleared your throat; the heat travelling to your neck. Before it can even reach your face, you turned your head back to look at Cuthbert who was now grinning back at you; holding the headless chicken up for you to see. Its blood dripping down the ground as he mouthed a 'what do you think?' back at you and Geralt to tell you if the size of the chicken was a-okay.

Your face quickly morphed into a wince, another mourn about to come to light when you've felt a warm hand on your shoulder; shooting lightning to your spine as you jumped from the physical touch. Geralt gently turned your body around; away from the panorama of chicken slaughter. The way his lips lifting in a small, soft smile never leaving yet. "Don't look at it,"

A huff was sent to the latter, "I can't! It's making noise!"

"Then cover your ears," Geralt's brow raised in sarcasm. Though, those playful sparkle never dying down. You narrowed your eyes back at him, an annoyed crease of your forehead as you explained and raised your hands back at him. It looked dull and definitely freezing, "But, my hands are shaking from the cold!"

Geralt studied you from head to foot, noting the lack of clothes you were wearing. The smile you've grown to love fell as he sighed, looking away for a moment before a tiresome gaze of his eyes was sent to you. He held onto the string of his jet black hooded cape, unlatching it around his neck as you stared up at him in utmost curiosity.

The softness of his cape fell around your shoulders like a furnace hugging your body; better yet the soul that needed a hug after all you've experienced since the first time you've been in their world. You could feel your heart warming at the gesture of Geralt giving you his dramatic cape; even growing hotter when he was tethering the tie together; intently staring down at your face and feeling his thick, calloused fingers inches before your neck.

Maybe, an egg was worthy of using your face as a frying pan right now.

You consciously looked away from the heat of his stare. Geralt tightened the tie around your neck as you've felt the heaviness of his cape over your shoulders. He drew he fingers away from your neck, slanting his head as he never cut the gaze he had; rather than you who'd looked away because you were...blushing.

"Better?" His voice graveled, a small beam carving his face. You've reluctantly gawked back at him, giving him a reserved nod. The way you were acting looked entirely stupid, your eyes looking like those googly ones used as stickers back in your desk as you tried avoiding the intensity of his stare. You bit the insides of your cheeks, deciding to leave the exhilaration out in the back as you had the courage to look at him, "Better!---Never better, Ge-Geralt!" Regardless of the brave act, you embarrassingly stammered and cited his name wrongly with a shameful 'J', "I mean, Geralt. Geralt with a G!" you back paddled in an instant, scratching your temples as you avoided his eyes and tried to fan your face.

The witcher looked askance, he could hear your heart beat running miles after miles. Geralt pondered why and what was making it pump fast when you weren't even having your panic attacks.

He crossed his hefty arms, looking at you skeptically but with a stupefying smile on his face, "Are you going to stop being a bairn now?"

You initially stopped fanning your face, narrowing your eyes back at him; completely confused, "What's a bairn?" he sighed and glanced at the sky, shaking his head with a beam that fell as quick as you've seen it when Geralt heard Cuthbert walking to where you were and glanced at the acquaintance.

The dead chicken was tied close to the witcher's bag located on the hip of his horse. You were busy staring at the four pieces of aftershafted chickens dangling on Roach's side with that sympathetic glaze of your eyes but actually talking at the back of your mind that its death would be worth it because you cook well and he'll taste good.

Cuthbert scrutinized your nodding form. A strange expression written on his face that tells that he was seeing the oddity that you were nodding at the chickens like you were talking to them.

The animal butcher was running his blabber mouth about how his chickens were also missing every other day. Sometimes his pigs or goats that made Geralt narrow his eyes from his share of message; his nose slightly scrunching from the admission of Cuthbert with his missing animals.

He didn't need to know that some were kind of caught by Geralt's hands. Maybe at least ten chickens, three pigs and two goats. Even so, slaughtered by the witcher himself.

The sneaky witcher couldn't catch a chicken as of the moment because he always does it at night. Catching a chicken from other people's fence in the morning can be risky and definitely tricky.

"About...the sorceress," Geralt trailed off, grabbing Cuthbert's attention away from you before he could even think you didn't belong to their world and guessed about his stealing escapades. He spun his head to look at Geralt, thoroughly distracted from how he called him out, "---you still hangin' onto that sorceress you had, witcher?"

"No...It's....kind of complicated," the latter speculated with a shake of his head.

Cuthbert nodded in understanding, scratching the nape of his neck as he seem to ponder, "The tittle-tattles around the village says that the sorceress is in a burgh called 'crow's perch' in the east of Vizima," pause. "It's a long journey out there! Lots'a beasts to encounter before it!" he roughly warned.

The Witcher only hummed in response; deep in thought as he calculated how long will it take to get there after a week when he was done with any favors for the villagers of Kaedwan and for some of his options on how to get you home.

His first choice was the Djinn. Now, he just needed to find one. Again. But, not for the sole purpose of asking peace and a long nap but to help you.

Geralt fished out the black pouch he kept on his sides, reaching out to give it to Cuthbert across the fence. The animal butcher shook his head to decline the money, "No, I don't need yer' coins." he simply admitted with a scoff, "You've helped us a lot; for me to be accepting some kind of repayment from the white wolf himself---,"

"----You deserve a thank you for all your help, Witcher." Cuthbert continued with a grateful tone.

Thus, this was the first time that he'd been acknowledged by his help in slaying monsters and terrifying creatures. The man himself didn't know how pleasing it was to hear those words from a mere human and from a person he'd help back in the years. Even so, seeing those smiles you've given him when you were excited to cook the damn chicken didn't seem so satisfying and delightful to look at; until now..

MORE FLUFF ON CHAPTER 4.1! Heehee! THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE, TATER TOTS! AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO LOVES GERALT CALLING Y/N, MIDGET?

Taglist: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @missjenniferb (I couldn’t tag you AGAIN bud! A different blog was popping out of the recommendation and it wasn’t your blog. Though, I’ll try again on the next update! Don’t worry! Tumblr is being DUMBLR RN. I’M MAD) @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernatural

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eunoiamaybe · 4 years

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More quick tips of mine to protect yourself and others

In pink to hopefully lighten up the current mood, specifically for those who still have to go to work or school like moi , which hopefully is not a lot of people.

- Hand sanitizers cannot replace soap and water (please wash your hands with soap and water whenever you can. hand sanitizers should be treated as an option B only)

- Wash your clothes after you’ve been to a crowded, public place such as the mall or grocery stores (especially if your clothes have metal details on them. this goes for metal details on shoes and your wallet too - remember to disinfect them properly)

- Cut your nails, if you can (especially to avoid biting them, either out of habit or anxiety)

- Write small reminders onto your hands (not only does this helps you remember to do - or not to do - certain things, but it also serves as a distraction. you would feel compelled to look at your hands more. can’t really do that if your hands are touching your face right?)

- With some specific types of doors in public buildings, you can lean your back onto them or use your arm/ elbow to push them open (basically find as many alternatives as you can to not have to touch them with your hands)

- Minimize the use of earphones/ headphones, phones, etc. when you have to go outside (I’ve been trying to leave my phone at home to prevent myself from spreading germs onto its surface with my unwashed hands. this virus can live on these surfaces for long periods of time, so it is best to not invite them into your house and bedroom via your phone or earphones. I would also recommend disinfecting these items when you get home)

- If you have to go grocery shopping (at some point), it’s better to use credit cards than paying in cash. bring your own pen to sign receipts as well (reduce contact with the cashier, other people in line, and possible external virus carriers like coins that have been passed from people to people during previous transactions)

- If you have/want to use your cash, try your best to estimate the amount you would need to make your interaction with the cashier shorter, as mentioned in the previous point (I used to do this all the time when I’m in a hurry and now it turns out to be a really efficient strategy in our current situation)

- Be careful, sure, but try not to get paranoid (take care of your mental health during these times. be selective of the information you receive. remind yourself that the prevention is simple: stay at home, don’t touch your face, and wash your hands. remind yourself that it is preventable if you pay just a little bit more attention to your habits/ routines)

- Take care of yourself (and your immune system too) (get enough sleep, drink loads of water, use mouthwash, eat, exercise, etc. also be mindful of your mental health, as I mentioned before)

- It’s definitely okay to feel lost and scared (it’s okay if you want to cry. it’s okay if you’re overwhelmed and confused. it’s okay if you don’t want to read the news or see the numbers right now. it’s okay if you need distractions. it’s okay for you to feel)

- And finally, please think about others too (this is the time to adapt and work together, not to whine or step on others for one’s benefits. don’t hoard things you don’t need. give up unnecessary steps in your routine like going for coffee or boba. be willing to stay away from friends, family, and loved ones. you are in this whether you like it or not. your contributions matter. your actions matter. your willingness matters)

These seem like small changes, but I hope they play a big part in protecting yourself and breaking harmful habits. If you are currently working or studying from home, I’ve got some tips on productivity that I hope can help you too.

Feel free to add yours to the list. We can do this, guys !!! (p.s. you can tell I’m angry by the last pic)

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desperationandgin · 4 years

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Is anyone else doing this?

There is absolutely no one interested in this tl;dr (what is this, Livejournal in 2011?) but every time I try to write fic, my brain only wants me to write this, so I guess it’s a sign to put things out into the universe.

Predictably, I’m doing a little reflection on 2019 and setting some goals for 2020. I didn’t really set any goals last year, but sometime around Summer of Smut, I told my betas that I wanted to be pushed more to expand on moments in my fic when it seemed like I was glossing over things that could be fleshed out. Because they heard that and pushed me to do better, I went from writing teeny tiny short chapters to one-shots that are over 5,500 words. I can literally see the progression of my writing from too concise to more fleshed out. HUGE thanks to the team of support I’ve totally lucked into this year for helping with that.

I’ll put a read more here so you can scroll by! Before you scroll, I hope you have a good new year!

So, goals for 2020! I’ll get the non-writing ones out of the way first:

Keep my current Duolingo (French) streak going as long as I can.

At first, I was going to just start (well, re-start, because I had this same goal in like...2016 or something) using it in 2020 like a cliche, but instead, 42 days ago I downloaded the app. How do I know it was 42 days ago? Because that’s my current streak! So far the progress is at:

Excuse-moi, comment tu t’appelles?

Elle est Anglaise.

Tu travailles beaucoup.

So, if you ever meet an English woman who works a lot and you need to know her name, I’m your gal! I don’t know what I’m ever going to do with this. It’s nice to know another language, I guess, that in no way benefits my career. It’s what I like!!!

Read 10 novels

I’ve gotten so bad about reading. Three years ago I read 50 books. Two years ago I read 20. Last year and this year? Zero. I reblogged something recently that said reading a ton as a kid/young adult, for a lot of us, was to escape, but now that we have so many ways of escapism available to us (and mine is fic writing and my Firestick), taking the time to stop and read doesn’t seem to happen much. I tried audiobooks once, and I can’t listen while trying to work or multi-task. Inevitably, I focus too hard on the other thing I’m doing and before I know it, I’m lost and have to rewind. So, it’s back to the tablet or the 56849675656 physical books I have. Ten isn’t a big goal. That’s not even a whole novel every 30 days. I’m trying to decide what to read first even though my to be read list is massively long. Let me know if you have any suggestions!

Write more handwritten notes to send in the mail.

The stationary is bought! This is something I want to get better at because...God, who doesn’t just need happy things in the mail sometimes? Is it faster to send an email? Sure, buuuut, there’s just something about sitting down and actually writing out your thoughts to a person. And there’s really nothing like getting old-fashioned correspondence in the mail. You can dramatically read it by a window with only a single candle as your light. Anyway, I have names and addresses and I’m gonna do this.

OKAY, NOW WE’RE TO THE WRITING ONES!!!!!

Write at least 100 words per day.

I wouldn’t only write 100 words per day, of course, but every day I will write that amount as a minimum. Sometimes it will be bad. Other times it could be good and might even turn into something. The simple point is just to write, and I’ve bought a couple of creative tools to help with that. I don’t even know who I would share those 100 words with or if it would be worth it. In any case, by the end of the year, no matter what, I should have 36,500 words total. We’ll see!

Get better about responding to AO3 comments.

I am notoriously bad at this and don’t mean to be. I worry that I sound repetitive or that my appreciation doesn’t sound genuine. I don’t really know how to respond to praise, so if you ever get a reply from me that’s just a heart or just a simple thank you, I’m sorry that I’m not 10x more eloquent in accepting thanks and at this point I’m just grateful people leave it.

Let go of the pressure

I guess that’s self-explanatory, but this fall was not great in my own head surrounding fic. I let a lot of things that were not true make me believe I could only write one thing or nothing at all. Once I let go of that, the one-shots started flowing. I’m happy with my writing right now; not because I think it’s super great, but because I’m feeling it. That may not make sense to anyone else and that’s okay. I was never happy with anything I wrote from August - November. It feels really good to not feel that way anymore and all because I finally listened to my wife and Danielle and took their advice. If the two of them ever gang up on me I don’t stand a chance.

That’s it, I think! Earlier in the month, I thought I wanted to get into meditation; I changed my mind after trying every day for 2 weeks. I also thought this was the year I wanted to start learning ASL, but I can’t figure out a place/time to practice and I don’t want to scramble and stress over something that should be a fun exercise. I have a few other super personal goals that may get talked about at a different point! This is long; if you read it we’re probably actually friends or you are also my wife, in which case please come kiss me.

Happy end of the decade! Hello, 2020.

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thegothicviking · 4 years

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I was tagged by @reeshs @ofmemesandbands to do a little "get to know me ask thingy". Thank you for that, you beauties! 🖤 Excuse my long answers but I think you'd be entertained anyway! (I hope?)

Nickname: Mary Cemetery, Mary, or simply Viking/The Viking.

Real name: That will remain a mystery/a secret but I can reveal that it begins with M. (But it's not Mary or Mari or anything similar) and I do have the word "Viking" in one of my last names (I have two surnames because my parents were not married and wanted me and my big sis to have both of their family names. So yes! A little part of my name is Viking-[something]from my mother's maiden name/original family name. Meaning YES I am indeed Viking!

Zodiac: Taurus/Tyren/El Toro

Favorite musicians or bands:

- The Bauhaus (or Peter Murphy as solo)

- The Sisters of Mercy

- Lords of The New Church (or Stiv Bators as solo)

- Feeling B & Magdalene Keibel Combo (Flake and Paul are my bois!)

- Rammstein (also nice bois!)

- David Bowie (Rest in peace my sweet boi!)

- Dissection (Rest in Chaos Jon, even though you were a homophobic lunatic/Asshole I still liked your music. Swedish Satanic Black Metal)

- A lot of deathmetal

- Skeletal Family (many 80's goth rock bands really)

-Nachtmahr

- Eisbrecher

- Stahlmann

-Deine Lakaien

- Scorpions

- Depeche Mode (anything from the 1980's really)

- Classical compositioners like Edvard Grieg/Beethoven/Bach and a little bit of Mozart or Vivaldi

- KSMB. Swedish punk rock/German punk rock or Swedish metal (yes...I am a Norwegian that prefers SWEDISH Black Metal. Shoot me if you must!)

- Rosetta Stone

- Pretencious Moi? (Their lyrics are like an unfinished story and you can fill the gaps!)

- KNORKATOR (absolute insane and silly bois, I love them!!)

- Rozz Williams (Rest in Peace my sweet beautiful boi!),

- INXS (Rest in Peace M. Hutchence my beautiful boi!)

- Die Ärzte

- Skitarg (like a Swedish ICP but of course a lot better and with funnier lyrics!)

- Danzig

Favorire Sports team: Team Bisexual! 💜

Other Blogs: Not yet. I still need to learn how to add other blogs and then I will do one specifically about my Liebeslied Rammstein fic series and the character's. And maybe also my poetry in there too. Or maybe not.

Do I get asks?: Sometimes. Mostly I get questions about being Norwegian/Scandinavian or someone make rude Anon comments about one of my posts and I have to defend myself and my opinions. But a part from that; No. Not that many.

How many blogs do I follow?: 132

Tumblr crushes: Yes.

Lucky Numbers: 13 (After I won a non-smoking contest in class and my name was number 13 on the class list) I have also always liked the numbers 8 and 0. I prefer even numbers.

What am I wearing?: Comfy plain black suit/tracksuit looking pants that are both stylish and comfy AND has pockets!!, and my black long sleeve Feeling B jumper, no socks and no bra and black hotpants (knickers. I hate wearing thongs/g strings!)

Dream Vacation: I long to go back to Prague, and I want to visit Egypt and the Pyramids, Berlin (because we only got to stay in the city for a couple of hours..ugh!) I also long back to Auschwitz....(yes. I do. I was there in 2007/2008. I am a WWII history nerd!)

Dream car: Either a very old school and dashing Ford Model T, a hearse or a big brutal Panzer Tank. There is no in between!

Favorite Food: Anything that doesn't contain too much garlic (Iiiish!), raisins, Olives, Pineapples (NO PINEAPPLES ON PIZZAAAAAA!), coconuts or too much spices/chili/Soy (I am allergic to Soy) And don't worry you can feed me Vegetarian/Vegan food too! I won't try to bring my own meat and I will trust your cooking skills as long as you don't feed me any of the ingredients above!!

Drink of choice: That depends on the situation/disaster/time of the day and mood. Is it a good day? Then Water, Corona (the beer not the virus!!) or Energy drinks. Is it morning? A good Landersino (weak capuccino but strong milk coffee) Is it Evening/night time? Then a nice cup of tea. Has it been a terrible day? Then Gin & Tonic, Vodka & Redbull, A really strong Long Island Ice Tea or Rum & Coke.

Instruments: The horrible cat shriek sounding Recorder Flute. That is the only instrument that I am rocking at the moment! (I will play the Titanic song for you if I truly love you!)

Languages: Norwegian Nynorsk, Norwegian Bokmål, my dialect, English, Swedish (Gothenburg dialect or Scaania/Malmö dialect), Spanish and I am also trying to learn German and Welsh (yes. Welsh. It is beautiful but impossible to learn!)

Celebrity Crushes: David Bowie (rest in peace sweet alienboi!) Stoya (female pornstar), Till Lindemann, Noomi Rapace (Swedish Actress), Michael Nyqvist (Swedish Actor. Rest in Peace my sweet boi!), young Kate Bush, Antonio Banderas, John Maclean (discovered this divine creature on Youtube recently!), Rozz Williams (Rest in Peace my sweet boi!), Peter Murphy, Emilie Autumn (but I don't listen to her that often anymore), Adora Batbrat (Gothic Youtuber but I am not that fan of her anymore), Razor Candi (Gothic Model but she has gotten some more surgeries now that I don't like), Salma Hayek, Shakira.

Random Fact(s):

A little gross but I have basically no nails on either of my pinky-toes. I was born that way and I am the 5th generation woman on my mother's side that doesn't have pinky toe nails! (I miss the upper part so trying to cut them is always a game of Russian Roulette...will I be able to cut it? Will I cut my skin, bleed and die?? I'll have to cut and see because the tiny little stump/piece of nail is still jabbing me if it gets "too long" :)! )

I was also born with a more inward bent spine/back and I was told by my Chiropracter (or how you spell it?) at the age of 10 that if I didn't do exercises/wore a corset..(at the age of 10!?!?) for my back then it would break/snap should I ever want to get pregnant (even though I always look pregnant when I relax and walk "normally".....*sigh*). So yeah I need to work up my core! (But I am too lazy to do so ...)

I know how to belly dance (not that many moves but I'm still learning from online classes)

I can write and read in the Elder Futhark runes without cheating!

I am a natural cold blooded bitch with a normal temperature of 36.4 °C, instead of the standard 37.5°C. (Once again this is from my mother's side)

I did amateur acting from the age of 6-19 and in 10 out of those 13 years/plays I had to be a boi/man because we were always in short of bois and I have a deep voice I guess.. (so yeah for 10 years of my childhood I was basically a boi/man!)

Despite enjoy dressing up in skirts and dresses and do my makeup I have a very butch/masculine personality (I was a tomboy as a kid) and both men and women are either terrified or confused by this (as they expect me to be just as feminine as my looks/makeup. Which is silly!)

I am sadistic (in my writing and in my thoughts) and one of the reasons why I write is to be able to TORTURE and/or KILL "people" without getting arrested :)

Ok so I am not gonna tag anyone in particular. If you would like to answer these questions then go right ahead and do so!

Uki. Takk! Det var/va alt! (Ok. Thanks! That was all!)

#the viking finally answers #the viking gets tagged #sorry for the delay my beauties!

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ravenaboutfandom · 4 years

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hi! sorry if this is a lot, but i saw you saying to drop an ask under the weird asks posts, and i'm curious, so here i am! i would like to know: #s 6, 7, 12, 16, 18-20, 28, 32, 43-46, 49, 52, 58, 62, 65, 66, 70, 80-84, 85, 87, 92, and lastly 94. you don't have to answer them all, i'm just genuinely curious! hope your day is going great!

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

hmm, definitely not sportswear. i like a mix of preppy, boho and grunge.

7. earbuds or headphones?

EARBUDS. pausing without taking my phone out of my pocket? removing the earbuds easily? THANK YOU. also they’re a lot more discrete than my big turquoise over-the-ear headphones.

12. name of your favorite playlist?

happy & cute. made by moi.

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

CROSS-LEGGED. ALWAYS.

18. ideal weather?

sunny, warm breeze, no clouds.

19. sleeping position?

i go to sleep on my right side and wake up on my right... wrapped in two blankets and hugging my stuffed otter.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

my laptop, if possible. notebook or any scrap paper otherwise.

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

jean jacket or hoodie. well, also cardigans.

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

fantasy! hm, or superhero. but i like sci-fi too. well, top answer is fantasy.

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

t-shirt and exercise shorts or pajama pants. i really want a nightgown though.

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

being snarky, singing, reading fast, and drawing

62. seven characters you relate to?

hm. lester/apollo from trials of apollo, sophie foster from keeper of the lost cities, cress from the lunar chronicles, hermione granger from harry potter, percy from percy jackson, flora from quarantine, and glimmer from she-ra. i think that’s seven lol

65. any permanent scars?

one on my foot from when i sliced it open with a door in fourth grade. fuun.

66. favorite flower(s)?

peonies and sweetpeas!

70. left or right handed?

i’m a righty

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

jewel tones!

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

...aren’t those the same thing?

82. pc or console?

console, cuz i don’t have a pc for games...

83. writing or drawing?

AGH. BOTH.

84. podcasts or talk radio?

i don’t really listen to either.

85. fairy tales or mythology?

both. both is good.

#thanks for the ask anon! #this was a LENGTHY one

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borisbubbles · 5 years

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Eurovision 2010s: 180 - 175

180. Alma - “Requiem” France 2017

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[2017 Review here]

~M’brace moi, dis-moi qu’tum’aimes~

God Alma is always a pain to write about because is there a fun way to convey “I think this is good, but not great”? That might actually be the worst thing about it. It takes away all the creative writing fun / snark I have in picking apart these entries. INEXCUSABLE!!!

There are a few things I’m not too hot on: I think the staging and the overt reliance on back- and floordrops (recurring theme for France in this decade) is a bit underwhelming. I’m also not fond of the revamp. The language change itself is.. a bit forced but what bothered me more is the additional orchestration, which breaks my immersion and stops me from really getting into the ~Spam Replay Button~ territory.

ON THE FLIP SIDE HOWEVER, “Requiem” does a lot of things right: For starters, it is one of those Vocal Exercise songs that normally end up being a vocal disaster, but Alma seamlessly manages to avoid Elhaida’ing herself into a mediocre 17thish place. Secondly, while the act literally is just LEDs, they are also visually appealing LEDS (particularly fond of the spinning floordrop). But mostly, “Requiem” is a fun uptempo orchestral ballad, and god, uptempo ballads are SO rare in ESC, I WANT MORE OF THEM!!! Watch us get 0 of them in 2020 after everyone tries (and fails) copying “Proud” instead

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179. Compact Disco - “Sound of our hearts” Hungary 2012

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*Gasp* a charity song that I ~LIKE~. All it takes it repackaging it as 80s-inspired synthpop with some dubstep and I’m SOLD. 🤗 To be fair, I only care about the ~sound~ of our hearts this song but it’s one of my favourite tracks in 2012, perhaps even in this decade? I have it on my youtube playlist!

So if I love “Sound of our hearts” that much, why am I booting it now? Well... you know why. I’ve mentioned this before but in addition to being the Land of Fire, Friends, Favouritism and Autofellation, Azerbaijan was the Land of Potato-Quality Soundmixing. Many of the songs I ADORED pre-show ended up sounding like gutter scum and Compact Disco were one of the most severe casualties. Csaba’s voice already sounded shaky in A Dal, but in Baku it turned into a postmodern Nuku Pommiin, specks of nuclear vocal poo scattered EVERYWHERE!!!! The ~delightful~ blonde backing whose name I’m forgetting (omg I am SO pissed I’ve forgotten her name because she is to Hungary what Dagmar Oja is to Estonia and WE STAN!!) carried it hard for me, enough for Green.

So, Bakustans, listen hard and listen good: 2012 will be purged from this ranking in DROVES in this section of the ranking. “Sound of our hearts” is only the first casualty in this Battle Royale. Ten more will follow. Place your bets now and LET THE GAMES BEGIN :cannonshot:

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178. Ester Peony - “On a Sunday” Romania 2019

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~She left us, on a Thursday~

But first, I’ll rank some lovable randoms. 🤭 “On a sunday” slaps and did a lot of things right for me, but each of those come with a caveat.

Ester delivered probably her best vocal performance on the night of the semi, but she also stopped slurring her words, which I found very endearing

I think her Acting is pretty convincing, but she’s dressed like a secretary.

The dancers provide cool, animé-inspired moves, but feel pointless

The backing guitarist “possessed” look is immensely cool, but idea of possession is underutilized throughout the rest of the performance

The backdrop is mesmerizing (with good use of the pyrotechnics), but too many wideshots are spent on it.

I think Ester was robbed hardcore, however it was What Romania Deserved by letting Wiwibloggs EMMELIE DE FUCKING FOREST on their jury to ruin Bella with her TERRIBLE DANISH TASTE!!!

Overall, I think the end product is very good, however... not *as good* as it could’ve been. “On a sunday” goes in the right direction but doesn’t run away with its Inspired gothic horror novel theming, like say, a Moldova or a Georgia would have. If Romania had shown more bravery, they would’ve been rewarded by the audience, and Leonora could’ve died instead. I will repeat my motto again, people: stage right or pay the price.

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177. Douwe Bob - “Slow down” Netherlands 2016

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~Slow Down Brudder~

“Slow down” is good. 🤗 There isn’t much else I can say besides noting it’s a canister of cajun spice that is somewhat let down by a dumb chorus, but he makes it work.

Funnily enough, I have a LOT more to say about Douwe’s backstage content, which is why he made it this far. Most notably, Douwe proved himself a prolific backstage flirt, hitting off with men and women alike. 💜💙💚💛🧡❤. In addition, he was a top tier ancillary character in Sergey’s storyline where they clearly had something which Sergey hastily tried shrugging off as a “bromance”, adding to the hilarity of Sergey desperately trying to hide his homosexuality with the least convincing straight-acting tropes EVER. <3 But the Douwe role I cherish the most is as the human-shaped dartboard Hovi Star could hurl his razorsharp, acid-coated witticisms at. That’s mostly a Hovi thing however, so I’ll save that for when its time to rank him. (not very soon. 🤭)

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176. Elnur Hüseynov - “Hour of the wolf” Azerbaijan 2015

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Elnur is mostly an academic fave for me, because he in a way he’s the cannonically most important Azeri entrant ever. First as being a part of Azerbaijan’s delectably decadent debut, and second for being the harbinger of New Azerbaijan, where they’ve discarded their blatant jury pandering and instead carve out their niche of as everybody’s overstaging indie darling. 🤗

Elnur IS the second weakest link on the chain though (after AISEL), but he is not without his charms. The tacky eclypse/blood moon backdrop <3 Shirtless dancer <3 the HOWLIIIING <3 Melodramatic ovine-voiced TRASHFEST <3 Azerbaijan really transformed themselves from literal (not literal) Satan into a solidly above average Eurovision Country and Elnur is the perfect entry to mark that transition.

#Eurovision #Eurovision Song Contest #Azerbaijan #The Netherlands #Romania #Hungary #France #Elnur Huseynov #Hour of the wolf #Douwe Bob #Slow down #Ester Peony #On A Sunday #Compact Disco #Sound of our hearts #Alma #Requiem #Alexandra Marquet

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raeynbowboi · 6 years

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It Has to Be You Part III – A Helping Hand

Ashido blinked in confusion at the art gallery tickets in Yaoyorozu’s hands. She beamed warmly, her cheeks flustered with cheerful euphoria. Ashido scoffed, “You finally get the nerve to ask Kendou out and you decide to paint the town beige?”

Yaoyorozu frowned, “I thought it seemed perfectly suitable. Kendou and I love culture and artistic expression.”

Ashido waved her hand dismissively, “It’s all fine and good for like... something to do together, but it’s not exactly first date material. Dating is supposed to be fun!”

Yaoyorozu shook her hair loose from her ponytail and set her scrunchy down on the common area table. “Well, if we’re looking to do something fun, I could get tickets to the symphony.”

“The symphony?” Ashido pretended to gag, “Yao-momo, no offense, but haven’t you ever been on a date before? The whole point is to do an activity together. As in, to be moving, talking to each other, and forming an intimate connection.”

“You don’t feel intimate and emotional while listening to Mozart’s 5th Symphony?”

Uraraka scratched the back of her head, “I kinda have to agree with Ashido. It’s nice to find something the two of you can do together, but neither of those ideas is good for a date. A first date is important. It’s about getting to know one another in a comfortable and low-pressure environment.”

Ashido yawned, “Boring! Don’t either of you girls know how to have fun?”

Uraraka exhaled sharply, “Well, Ashido, since you’re such an expert on dating, why don’t you enlighten us? What is a proper first date?”

Ashido grinned, “Duh! Laser tag! It’s good for whether you wanna play as teammates or as opponents, plus you get to do something active and fun!”

Yaoyorozu frowned, “I’m not much of a fan of simulated warfare. I doubt I’d be much good at it either.”

Ashido looked thoughtful, “Well, why don’t we ask everybody? Heck, in a class of twenty people, someone’s bound to have a good idea for what to do on your date with Kendou!”

Yaoyorozu’s eyes lit up, “That’s a marvelous idea! I’ll take notes! Oh what the heck, I’ll even go a little zany and color-code it as well!”

“You’re a wild child, Momo,” Ashido said with an eye roll. Ashido and Uraraka went door to door drawing their fellow classmates out into the common area to gather around Yaoyorozu. Even Bakugou felt social enough to participate, following Kirishima downstairs.

Kaminari rubbed his chin in contemplation. “I’d say go to an Arcade. Lots of games, good food, happy atmosphere. All around a cheerful and energetic environment which is good for having fun.”

Sero shook his head, “Nah. Gotta take a lady to a comedy show. If you both laugh at the same kinds of jokes, it’s meant to be.”

“I’d take him to Karaoke!” Hagakure cheered, “Even if we weren’t that good, it’s a lot of fun, and it’s nice to be noticed for a change.”

Tokoyami folded his arms as he thought, “I’d go to a poetry cafe. They don’t have to write anything. We could just sit and discuss what we hear.”

“I wouldn’t do anything extravagant,” Midoriya said with a shy smile, “Probably just get some coffee and chat.”

Jirou twirled her finger around her earphone jack, “Rock Concert. Nothing is more romantic than sharing your interests with your partner. Though I guess as long as the music’s good, it doesn’t have to be rock.”

Kouda began to mutter something softly when Aoyama leapt up dramatically, “And what of moi? Why, I know this absolutement adorable little bistro on the west side of town that would make for a charming evening of superb cuisine! Anyone care to join me?”

Kirishima’s eyes lit up as a bright smile crossed his face, “I’d wanna go to an amusement park. There’s so many different rides and games, we’re sure to find something we both like!”

Ojiro stroked his tail absentmindedly, “I’d probably go pretty traditional. Dinner and a movie. Maybe a kiss on the cheek goodnight if she was okay with that.”

Uraraka beamed sweetly, “I’d probably take him on a picnic. Nothing too fancy. Just some sandwiches, some chips, and maybe a thermos of soup.”

Iida rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “I would vote to take Kendou shopping. It’s out in public in case you’re worried about being alone with her, it’s a casual atmosphere to encourage discourse, and by seeing the types of clothes she buys, you can ascertain her style and interests.”

Satou blushed as he rubbed the back of his head, “Honestly, I’d just bake her something. Mama always said a home cooked meal is the best way to keep a happy family.”

“I’d take them to a fancy restaurant,” Todoroki stated, “Treating someone to something nice is a good way to show them that they matter, and that they’re worth the expense.”

“Mini Golf,” Asui croaked, “it always makes me feel like a kid again, ribbit.”

“I’d take anything simple, really,” Shoji’s duplicate mouths grumbled, “A stroll in the park is really all it takes to make a tender moment.”

“I’d take them on a bicycle ride on one of the park trails,” Shinsou said with a yawn, “they’re usually pretty scenic, and there’s not a lot of foot traffic if you want to talk.”

“Man, it’s nice hearing a normal answer instead of one of Mineta’s gross innuendos.” Uraraka sighed wistfully, “Thanks for clocking that little cretin, Hagakure.”

“My pleasure! Serves that creep right for trying to sneak into the girl’s locker room!”

Yaoyorozu clapped her hands together triumphantly, “Thank-you so much everyone for your input! Oh! Kouda, we never got to hear your answer!”

Kouda looked down sheepishly, “I-It’s fine. I doubt my answer would have mattered anyway.”

Yaoyorozu shook her head, “Oh, I wouldn’t agree with that at all. We’re all sharing. I wouldn’t leave you out of that. Please, what is your idea of an ideal first date?”

Kouda twiddled his thumbs as he mumbled, “I like volunteering at the animal shelter. All the pets are really friendly. I couldn’t date someone who didn’t like animals.”

“That just leaves Bakugou!” Sero crooned with a smirk.

Kaminari laughed, “How much you wanna bet he’s gonna say ‘hand-to-hand combat’?”

“Whatever they want.” Bakugou’s voice was unusually calm. He wasn’t growling or sneering at anyone. It was almost smooth and sweet the way he said it.

“Boo! No cop out answers!” Ashido yelled.

Iida nodded, “I agree with Ashido. The purpose of this exercise was to help Yaoyorozu think of what to do for her date with Kendou. As a team-building and trust-building exercise for the entire class, I would hope that you could be a team player long enough to give a simple answer.”

A spark of irritation glistened in his red eyes, but he spoke with the same calm demeanor he had before, “If the whole point of the date is to learn more about them while having fun together, then doing what they want to do puts the odds in your favor that they’ll end up enjoying themselves. They’re more likely to think the date was fun, and by association, they’re more likely to think that being around you is fun. And by letting them pick the date, you also get to glimpse at the kind of person they are, what they like doing, and whether or not you like doing the same types of activities.”

“Aww!” Hagakure squealed, “That’s actually really sweet! And it came from Bakugou. Who’d have thought?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The momentary glimpse of a calm Bakugou had been as fleeting as any would have predicted.

Kirishima scratched his chin, “But, what if they’re thinking the same thing and want to do what you want to do? What would be your answer then?”

Bakugou sneered, “I already gave you my answer! This is what I get for spending time with you people. Nothing but snide comments, mockery, and belittling my answers. I’m going to bed!” He got up in a huff and stormed off to his room.

Ojiro stretched, “And on that note, I think I’m going to turn in for the night. I don’t want to be too tired tomorrow.” One by one, the boys got up and trailed off to their dorms, leaving only the girls alone in the common area.

“That was awkward,” Uraraka said with a sigh, “Just when I thought Bakugou was starting to warm up to people, he exploded again.”

Asui shook her head, “I dunno, he did have a point. He came out here and he participated, and when it was his turn to speak, people poked fun of him and then objected to his answer. I’d say the blame is pretty evenly split this time.”

“I’m just annoyed that he hasn’t asked Kirishima out yet,” Jirou said.

Ashido scoffed, “Like Kirishima is any less to blame! The boy is crushing so hard and it’s so freaking obvious! Why can’t they just ask each other out already?”

Yaoyorozu ran a brush through her hair, “Between Bakugou, who is about as socially graceful as a drunk hippo balancing on a toothpick, and Kirishima, who has such a problem with confidence and rejection? I’m not really that surprised that they’re both afraid to make the first move.”

Ashido gasped, “Oh! We should set them up on a date!”

Jirou laughed, “Well then, it was nice knowing you. Bakugou would kill you if he realized you set him up like that.”

“Well,” Hagakure pondered, “What if they didn’t realize it was a date?”

“What do you mean?” Asui asked.

“What if they went into the evening thinking they were just hanging out with friends? If the evening started with a bunch of people moving together, and then by some weird circumstance, they ended up being the only two people still there… who knows? They might already be in such a good mindset that rather than getting all flustered and nervous, they just treat the rest of the evening like they were still part of a big group. And maybe that ease around each other will help them be more upfront with their feelings!”

Jirou smirked, “That’s downright sneaky, Hagakure. I’m impressed.”

“Who knew you could be so devious?” Ashido said with a coy grin, “I’ll take Sero and Kaminari on this stealth date, since they’re the people Bakugou is most comfortable being around.”

“Then it’s all set!” Uraraka said, “But, uh… what was Kirishima’s ideal date again?”

Yaoyorozu glanced at her notes, “An amusement park.”

“Perfect!” Ashido cheered, “It’s so big and crowded, so it’ll be super easy to ditch them once we get there.”

“Well, don’t ditch them too quickly,” Asui warned, “If you disappear the moment you get there, they’ll probably be just as stiff and awkward with each other as they would be if they knew it was a date. The whole point is to help smooth over the rough edges and help these two. In order to do that, they need other people around to help them relax.”

Ashido groaned, “I just want to skip all this angsty pining and get to the part where they’re dating already. I’m so sick of listening to Kirishima rant about how ‘this time he’s gonna do it. He’s totally gonna just walk up to Bakugou and ask him out’ only for him to come back like fifteen minutes later and report that he got too scared to say anything.”

“Well, we must exercise caution,” Yaoyorozu said. “We’re meddling with two people’s lives. There’s a line between jump starting a relationship and rushing one.”

“You worry too much, Yao-momo,” Ashido said with a dismissive wave of the hand. “We’re not forcing anything. They both like each other, but they’re too afraid to do anything about it. We’re just giving them a helping hand.”

Kirishima’s eyes lit up under the flashing lights of the Naboo Amusement Park, its giant Ferris wheel a stark part of the local skyline.

He turned with a smile toward his friends, “This was a great idea, Ashido! I really needed this.”

Ashido smiled back at him, “We all did! We work hard to do well in school, but it’s also important to remember to treat ourselves to a little fun every once in a while!”

The only one who wasn’t excited was Bakugou, who was trying and failing to hide how much he was already shivering in the late January cold. “Well let’s get moving,” he growled, “the faster we get moving, the sooner I’ll be warm.”

Kaminari opened the park map, “Well, where should we start?”

“Oh, I heard the Widow Maker opened up!” Ashido gassed, “It’s even faster than the roller coaster they used to have! Plus, they added a whole new feature called Dead Man’s Drop. It’s almost a straight 90° angle! 4/5 doctors guarantee you’ll lose your lunch!”

Bakugou sneered, “Don’t tell me you like that adrenaline junkie shit?”

“Hey, hey!” Kaminari interjected, “Check this out, they’ve got go-karting!”

Kirishima frowned, “But wouldn’t the track be covered in snow and ice this time of year?”

“Nah,” Kaminari grinned, “It’s indoors. So, there’s also centralized heating.”

Heating was just the magic words Bakugou needed to hear, “Where the fuck is it? I’m dying out here in this damn ice age.”

Kaminari pointed it out on the map, “It’s over that way, toward the spinning tea cups.” The group moved quickly, spurred on by Bakugou’s grumpy insistence, followed by his relieved sighs as they felt the internal heating of the go-kart speedway wash over them. They found an empty table in the waiting area as Kaminari went to sign them up.

“Well, it’s going to be a bit of a wait. The ticket taker guy said we should expect about a twenty minute wait time.”

Bakugou gave a small smile, “Eh, I don’t mind the wait so long as the heater is working.”

Sero threw his coat over the back of his chair as he flopped down, “I agree, Winter sucks. I always gotta choose between leaving my elbows exposed and risking frostbite, or covering them and not being useful if a situation were to occur.”

Kaminari chuckled, “Since when are you useful?”

Sero huffed in protest, “C’mon man, I expect that kind of razzing from Bakugou, but not from you.”

Bakugou snorted, “He’s right, Pikachu. He’s very useful. He can help kindergarteners with their arts and crafts.”

Kaminari laughed as Sero groaned. Ashido crossed her arms, “Shame on you guys for ganging up on Sero like that. Sero will be a great hero. He can help beauty pageant contestants tape their butts in place.”

Sero rolled his eyes and turned to Kirishima, “Are you going to turn on me too?”

Kirishima snapped back from wherever that train of thought was taking him, “Hm? Uh, sure, Sero. Hey, does this place sell food? I’m kinda hungry.”

Ashido arched an eyebrow, “Didn’t you eat before?”

Kirishima frowned, “You said there wasn’t time. I didn’t even grab my wallet.”

Ashido checked her pockets, “Aw crap, I spent all of my money on the entrance fee. Sero? Kami?”

They both turned out their empty pockets, and all eyes fell on Bakugou, only to find he was already at the snack counter. He returned shortly carrying a box of candy and he tossed it to Kirishima. “Geez, I knew you were a hair brained idiot, but how could you be so careless that you forgot to eat?”

Kirishima beamed brightly, “Hey, thanks, Bakugou! That’s real nice of you.”

Bakugou scoffed, “Like I’d let you starve.”

Ashido, Kaminari, and Sero shared a sly smile as Kirishima munched happily on the box of sweets. They’d purposefully let Kirishima miss lunch and subsequently ‘forgot’ their wallets in a ploy to get Bakugou to come to his rescue, but they’d expected it would take a lot more goading on their part.

“What are you idiots all grinning about?”

Busted. Bakugou’s fiery red eyes were locked on them. Ashido was luckily quick on her feet, “I was just thinking, you and Kirishima made it into the top 8 of the UA Sports Festival. I wonder how much better you would do if you found a way to use your quirks together for next year’s festival.”

Kirishima looked up, talking between mouthfuls, “Oh yeah, I remember Midoriya was muttering something about tag team combos and working on quirks together. I say, if he’s gonna try that tactic, we should too!”

Bakugou’s usual expression of apathy fell away at the mention of battle strategy. He began to tap his finger against his mouth when Sero and Kaminari’s snickering distracted him. “What are you assholes laughing about?”

“Dude,” Kaminari wheezed between laughs, “Do you realize you’ve started muttering like Midoriya?”

“What?!” Tiny explosions began to crackle in Bakugou’s hands.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Kirishima remarked, “Midoriya copied you to create his Shoot Style, and now you’ve started to mutter like him. Considering you two grew up together, it makes sense that you’ve sort of picked up behaviors and traits from one another.” He popped another candy into his mouth with a shrug.

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Ashido urged, “What were you thinking, Bakugou?”

Bakugou leaned back in his seat, “Before I get ahead of myself, I’d need to know more about your quirks, and what their limits are. For instance, Alien Queen, what are the physical properties of the slime and acid you produce?”

Ashido threw her hands up, “Wait, you can remember the hero name Ms. Midnight disapproved of, but you can’t remember my actual name?”

“Why does it matter?” Bakugo arched an eyebrow, “You’re going to spend your whole adult life being addressed by your hero name, so it’s more important than your actual name. Plus, Alien Queen is a lot more memorable than… whatever your name is. Frankly, I thought it was unfair the way she shot your idea down.”

Ashido crossed her arms, “Oh, well, thanks I guess. Uh, what properties of the slime is it you actually give a shit about?”

“Your slime is similar to a liquid, but due to the acidity and viscosity, I wonder whether it’s as good of a conductor of electricity as water is.”

Kaminari snapped his fingers, “Ah! I get it! If Ashido can spread her slime while she skates around the arena, coating it in a layer of conductive acid, and then I put my full charge into that slime while Ashido isn’t standing on it, the slime will help contain the electricity, and it’ll zap our opponents, without any risk of hurting our allies!”

“That’s the idea,” Bakugou said.

“Acid does conduct electricity,” Ashido said, nose deep in her phone. “I just Moogled it.”

“That’s so cool!” Sero said with a toothy grin.

“Yes,” Bakugou agreed, “which is why I think it’s best if we keep this strategy between the five of us.”

Kirishima popped the last candy from the box into his mouth, “Are you suggesting some kind of an alliance to give ourselves a leg up in next year’s sports festival?”

Bakugou nodded, “We worked well together the first year. If onlookers see how we worked together one year, then how we actually worked to improve our teamwork, we could make a big show of our cooperation. It would win us a lot of attention.”

Kirishima smiled wide, “Count me in. We never know what kinds of challenges the sports festival will give us, so the better prepared we are to handle different kinds of obstacles and challenges, the better chance that we’ll thrive in any circumstance. The more of us working together, the better we can make up for each other’s short-comings no matter what the problem is!”

“Heck yeah!” Ashido cheered, “I’m all in!”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Sero said.

Kaminari chuckled, “I never thought I’d see the day when Bakugou Katsuki of all people was the one suggesting teamwork. But definitely count me in.”

Ashido clapped her hands together, “Then it’s settled! We train together in secret to take on the second sports festival as a unit!”

Sero stroked his chin, “Should we have like, a code name for it?”

Kirishima’s eyes lit up, “Heck yeah! The Bomb Patrol!”

Kaminari gave it a thumbs up, “I love it!”

“Look out, sports festival! Last year, only one of us made it to the podium! This year, let’s aim for two!” Ashido’s eyes burned with a feisty competitiveness.

Kirishima glanced at Bakugou, “So, now that we’re a team, what’s next?” As he spoke, their number came up for the track.

Bakugou smirked, “Now? Now, you losers choke on my dust as I run circles around you.”

Ashido frowned, “As if! You’ve got me all fired up now! I’m going to obliterate you boys!”

Bakugou sneared, “Like I’d let that happen, Raccoon Eyes!”

“Seriously? Hey, c’mon! We’re teammates now! Enough with the mean nicknames already!” Ashido moaned.

Kirishima laughed, “Well, it is still Bakugou after all.”

Kaminari strut out ahead of the others triumphantly, a smug grin smeared across his face. Bakugou grumbled in defeat. Ashido groaned, “I can’t believe I got fourth! How did you get so good, Kami?”

Kaminari grinned wide, “I spent a lot of time playing video games, working my hand-eye-coordination, timing, and reflexes. Why do you think I was so keen on go-karting? Hehe. I knew I’d dominate. I must have had half a lap on you, Bakugou!”

“Don’t get a big head on yourself, Pikachu,” Bakugou growled, “I’d hate for your only brain cell to get lost.”

“Awww,” Sero teased, “Bakugou does care about us, Kami!”

“Shut up, Flat Face!”

“Hey! Check it out!” Ashido pointed at a tall, mansion-like building that looked as though it was designed by the secret love child of Dr. Seuss and M.C. Escher. “It’s a fun house! I hear this one’s really good! They use mirrors and special effects to turn it into a maze! They even have designated staff whose sole job is to escort lost customers back to the exit! We should go!”

Bakugou sneered, “Pass.”

“It’s probably warmer inside than it is out here,” Sero pointed out.

Bakugou sighed, “Alright. Watch this ends up being a hoax and it ends up taking like five minutes to get out of there.”

The fun house ended up being a little more challenging than Bakugou had expected, but after about twenty minutes of walking into dead ends and getting turned around in a maze with mirrors for walls, Bakugou had emerged to the other side with Kirishima in tow. He’d kept Kirishima close by, knowing the doofus would get himself lost if he didn’t keep him on a short leash. Bakugou figured the others wouldn’t be far behind, until almost another full twenty minutes had passed.

“Oi, Kirishima, what’s taking those idiots so long to finish?”

“I’ll ask them,” he said, pulling out his phone. After fifteen seconds, his phone dinged. “Huh. They actually finished a while ago. They didn’t see us out here, and they figured you didn’t wait for them, so they went out looking for us.”

Bakugou scoffed, “Well, guess I can’t be mad at them for knowing me.”

Kirishima’s phone dinged again, “Oh dang. Kami says his phone battery is about to die, and he forgot to bring a charger.”

“What about Raccoon Eyes and Flat Face?”

Kirishima sighed, “Looks like Sero left his phone at home because it was doing some updating, and Ashido’s screen cracked, so hers is being repaired. Guess we gotta go find them the old-fashioned way.”

Bakugou groaned, “Great. They’re all so scatterbrained, they could have wandered off to any number of places.”

Kirishima thought for a moment, “Oh! Hey! Remember the other night when we all talked about our ideal dates? Kaminari said he liked going to arcades! There’s an arcade here in the amusement park! Maybe he’s in there playing games.”

Bakugou shrugged, “Can’t argue with that logic. It’s the closest thing to a lead we’ve got.”

The arcade was jam packed with little kids running excitedly between the flashing lights and loud noises. Some teenagers clustered around the games that required a bit more skill, while a couple grown men occupied themselves with some of the older games. Still, no sign of Kaminari or the others.

“Well, this was a dead end,” Bakugou growled.

“They could show up,” Kirishima argued, “Why don’t we play a few games while we wait?”

“Tch. Why should we waste our time playing games when we’re supposed to be finding your idiot friends?”

Kirishima smirked, “What’s the matter, Bakugou? Afraid I might beat you?”

An irritated fire ignited in Bakugou’s eyes, “Is that a challenge?”

“Name your game.”

Bakugou chuckled, “Okay, Shitty Hair. Ski Ball. I’m going to make you eat those words.”

Bakugou was a man of his word. Kirishima’s final score was completely dwarfed by the amount of points Bakugou accumulated. Kirishima laughed, “Okay! I concede! I should never have challenged a master at his own game!”

Bakugou snickered smugly, “I told ya, I’d win.”

Kirishima smiled, “But now, it’s my turn to show you up!”

“Dammit!” The air hockey table buzzed as Kirishima slammed the puck into Bakugou’s goal.

Kirishima laughed, “That makes 6:3! Are you scared of me yet?”

Bakugou glowered at him, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Shitty Hair. I’ve never lost a game of air hockey before.”

Kirisima smirked, “Then I guess today’s going to be an auspicious day. Your undefeated title is as good as mine!”

Bakugou sank the puck into Kirishima’s goal as the machine rang, “You sure about that?”

Kirishima set the puck back at the center line, “By the way, did you have any ideas for combos we could do?”

“A few.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Well for one, with your hardening and my explosions, I could effectively launch you like a cannonball to break through an enemy formation.”

Kirishima smiled, “Hey! That’s not a bad idea. Plus, it’s a great way to get me in close with opponents!”

“If we have Flat Face with us, we can use his tape like a bungee cord to bring you back to the team, or with a little momentum, you could get spun around with enough force to work like a wrecking ball.”

Kirishima smiled, “I gotta say, I like the new team attitude you’ve got, Bakugou! With all of us working together, we’ll really stand out during the festival!”

“What about you?” Bakugou asked, his eyes never lifting from the game, “You got any combo ideas?”

Kirishima frowned, “Kinda? I have like half of an idea? Like… What if you could basically use me like a battering ram?”

“What? You mean like… somehow launch ourselves together with me behind you or riding you somehow and using you to knock down walls?”

“Something like that.”

Bakugou frowned as he contemplated it, “It’s not a bad idea. I think if we could sit down and hammer out the details, that could work.”

“You think?”

“I think you have a lot of versatility on a battlefield with the right amount of creativity.” Bakugou grimaced as the puck slid into his goal and the machine buzzed.

“That’s game point!” Kirishima beamed, “Thus ends the reign of Bakugou!”

Kirishima wasn’t expecting to hear Bakugou laugh. “Okay, okay, Kirishima. I admit defeat. Tie breaker. DDR.”

The boys were evenly matched as they followed the commands of the machine. Bakugou was strangely beautiful when he was focused on something. The usually harsh lines of his face fell away and his eyes became sharp and determined. Yet, every other part of him became relaxed, and Bakugou entered an oddly serene and almost meditative state. Kirishima couldn’t help but smile, “You’re surprisingly good at this!”

“I don’t know why you’re surprised, Hair for Brains, I play the drums. That’s all about keeping the beat and focusing on timing. This game is basically the same thing, just with a few added steps and some flashy colors.”

“Yeah, I could see that.”

“What about you, Kirishima? How’d you get to be so good?”

“Practice. There was an arcade not too far from my house, so I often went there after school.”

“That would explain your grades.”

“Hey! I did fine in middle school! Okay, I wasn’t going to be valedictorian, but I wasn’t bottom of the barrel either! Heck, I’m still not! I’m not even in the bottom five of the class!”

“I’ll be impressed when you crack the top ten.”

“Mean. By the way, have you taken dance classes before?”

“Eh? What makes you say that?”

“The way you’re moving. You move like someone who actually knows how to dance.” Kirishima laughed, “You should see Iida when he plays this game. His upper body doesn’t move at all. He looks like he’s doing some kind of Irish jig or something.”

“So what if I have?”

“What kind was it? Hip hop? Jazz?”

Bakugou’s face turned pink as he muttered, “Ballet. Make one joke, and I burn you to a crisp right here.”

Kirishima just smiled, “That’s kinda cool actually. Do you do much dancing?”

Bakugou scowled, “What? No. I just took the class to work on my balance and my footwork. It was to make me nimbler and to improve myself as a hero.”

Kirishima chuckled, “Oh yeah. I’ve heard of some professional athletes who have taken dance lessons for basically the same reason. So, I guess I shouldn’t be looking forward to watching you in any recitals?”

Bakugou shook his head, “Nah. I was never that good. It was just some beginner classes. Like I said, it was more about focusing on my balance and my footwork. Though learning how to do pirouettes ended up being useful. I don’t get so dizzy when I use my Howitzer Impact.”

Kirishima arched an eyebrow, “Do you think I’d benefit from learning ballet?”

“Mmm, no I don’t think so. My fighting style incorporates a lot of acrobatics and relies heavily on mobility and agility. You’re kind of the exact opposite. You’re more focused on standing your ground and being an unmoving wall. Sure, agility might matter a bit, like just working on running faster so you can cover more ground, but I doubt having better balance or working on fancy footwork is going to make that big of a difference in your fighting style. If anything, you should focus on bulking up, putting on some weight, and maybe try taking some classes in wrestling, sumo, or martial arts. Those will probably be more useful to you.”

The song came to an end as their scores were finalized. Kirishima sighed, “I guess education does trump practice.”

Bakugou’s eyes scanned the arcade, “Still no sign of those idiots.”

Kirishima shrugged, “Mina mentioned the Widow Maker, earlier. Maybe they’re waiting in line to ride it?”

Bakugou groaned, “Can’t we just send out a search party?”

Kirishima sighed, “We are the search party.”

Bakugou’s teeth chattered as he shivered in the cold. They were almost to the front of the line, and still no sign of those damn idiots. “They’re not here, Kirishima. Let’s just go.”

Kirishima shook his head, “No way! We’ve been waiting in line for like forty minutes. I don’t want to make that wait meaningless. Besides, Mina made it sound like so much fun!” A warm smile spread across Kirishima’s face and Bakugou surrendered himself to his fate.

The metal bar latched into place and the cars began to clack as they rolled forward on the track. Kirishima’s heart leapt into his throat as the cars began their ascension toward Dead Man’s Drop. In the seat beside him, he could feel Bakugou tense up in anticipation of the coming ride. They slowed to a crawl as they reached the apex of the crest, and then, his heart was flung into his stomach as the ride plummeted them back toward the ground. Bakugou spat swears like a machine gun, “Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Holy fucking shit! Shit! Fuck!” By the time the ride came to a stop, he was clinging to Kirishima’s arm. The instant the metal bar released, Bakugou bolted out of his seat toward the exit. The first thing Kirishima did was throw up.

Kirishima moaned as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the trash can. Bakugou stood near-by waiting for him to finish. Kirishima lifted his head, “I thought I could handle myself. Guess I was wrong. Aw shit, I just barfed up the lunch you bought me. Sorry about that.”

Bakugou averted his eyes, “No big deal. The box wasn’t that expensive.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were afraid of roller coasters?”

Kirishima expected Bakugou to growl and yell and get defensive, but his response was rather quiet, “I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

Kirishima looked up from the trash can, “That’d be super unmanly, bro. We all get scared, Bakugou. I can still remember when I was about nine or ten years old, and my mom took the whole family camping. A wild bear wandered into our campsite, and she frightened it away. Not fifteen minutes later, she screamed because a cricket landed on her knee. Just cuz my mom is afraid of bugs doesn’t change the fact that she scared off a wild bear.” This beautiful sentiment was immediately followed by more vomiting and a weak Kirishima whining, “Now I’m hungry again.”

A small smile crossed Bakugou’s face, “C’mon, Kiri. I’ll buy you something sweet and some seltzer for your stomach.”

Kirishima groaned, “My hero.”

Bakugou paid the vender before handing Kirishima the dango, and a can of soda. “Thanks. We haven’t searched this carnival section, Bakugou. Maybe they’re somewhere around here.”

“We should split up,” Bakugou said, “We’ll cover more ground. Plus, both of our phones have more than half their battery life left, so we won’t get lost like those idiots. We’ll meet back up in thirty minutes over there by that shitty ring toss game.”

Kirishima’s search was fruitless. He walked among the stalls and booths of games, but there was no sign of the others. Me munched absentmindedly on his treat and washed down the taste of bile in his throat. After twenty minutes, he gave up and started back toward the ring toss game. When he arrived, Bakugou was already there waiting for him.

“Here,” Bakugou tossed Kirishima an ash blonde teddy bear, “I got tired of looking so I decided to play one of the shitty games. I don’t really want it, so you take it.”

Kirishima smiled, then he gasped. “Hey, look! The Ferris wheel! That’s gotta have a great view of the park! If we can’t find them from up there, well, we’re just not going to be able to find them.”

Bakugou sighed, “Honestly, I already stopped giving a shit about finding those fucking idiots. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re not even in the park anymore, and frankly, I’m about ready to follow their example and bail.”

“Well how ‘bout this: Let’s try the Ferris wheel, and if we still can’t find them, we’ll call off the search and go home.”

Bakgou scratched the back of his neck, “Alright. Guess I can’t object to that. But whenever we do see them again, I’ll wring their necks for making me waste two hours looking for them.”

The sky was swathed in the soft orange light of dusk as the car lifted Kirishima and Bakugou up into the air. Kirishima scanned the walkways below, the little toy bear’s head peeking out from his jacket collar. He sighed in defeat, “Yeah, I still don’t see them. Sorry for wasting your time.”

Bakugou shook his head, “Nah. Not your fault. It was a good instinct trying to look for the high vantage point. The only ones who wasted my time today was those loser friends of yours.”

Kirishima leaned on the guard rail, “I dunno. I don’t feel like my time was wasted.”

“Mm?”

“At least I didn’t have to look for them by myself. Thanks for the company today, Bakugou.”

“Oh, well… Yeah.” A cold wind blew through, as Bakugou’s cheeks and ears turned pink from the chill, and he began to shiver.

Kirishima scooted a little closer to him, “You okay? Hope you don’t catch a cold because of me.”

“Hmm? Oh, no it’s…. I’ll be fine. Just… I’m really tired.”

Kirishima nodded, “It’s been a long day.” He looked out over the cityscape as the light slowly changed from orange to red and gold. “The sky sure is pretty this time of day.”

Bakugou turned to look at him. “Yeah, it is.”

This was a long one in the making, but I’m really happy how it turned out. I’m also going to start doing half chapters starting with Part III ½ focusing on what was happening with other characters during the events of this chapter. If you missed the first two parts, they’re right here! [Part I] [Part 2]

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johnnymundano · 5 years

Text

Hamlet (1969)

Directed by Tony Richardson

Written by William Shakespeare with an assist from Tony Richardson

Music by Patrick Gowers

Country: United Kingdom

Language: English

Running Time: 117 mins

CAST

Nicol Williamson as Hamlet

Judy Parfitt as Gertrude

Anthony Hopkins as Claudius

Marianne Faithfull as Ophelia

Mark Dignam as Polonius

Michael Pennington as Laertes

Gordon Jackson as Horatio

Ben Aris as Rosencrantz

Clive Graham as Guildenstern

Peter Gale as Osric

Roger Livesey as First Player / Gravedigger

John J. Carney as Player King (as John Carney)

Richard Everett as Player Queen

Robin Chadwick as Francisco

Ian Collier as Priest

Michael Elphick as Captain

David Griffith as Messenger (as Mark Griffith)

Anjelica Huston as Court Lady

Bill Jarvis as Courtier

Roger Lloyd Pack as Reynaldo (as Roger Lloyd-Pack)

John Railton as 1st Sailor

John Trenaman as Barnardo

Jennifer Tudor as Court lady

(All images taken from the Internet. Sorry about that.)

Like many English I have happily accepted every plaudit thrown at the work of William Shakespeare as though I myself had a hand in writing it, while never actually bothering to expose myself to any of it, outside of school anyway. It’s all a bit too much like hard work, you know, got other things to do. This nose won’t pick itself. But in the interests of satiating a mid-life crisis hunger for self-improvement I girded my withered loins and prepared to chuck myself unto the breech of the Bard of Avon’s oeuvre. Being a hesitant creature by nature, I decided to afford myself of the water wings provided by onscreen Shakespeare performed by actors I like. I really like Nicol Williamson (Excalibur (1981), The Reckoning (1969), The Seven Per-Cent Solution (1976) etc) So, here we are then with someone (moi) who is far too late to the party rocking up to tell you about Nicol Williamson’s Hamlet (1969). It’s actually Tony Richardson’s Hamlet starring Nicol Williamson, but in the theatre (darling) to get bums on seats the star gets top billing. In movies this would result in Mark Hamill’s Star Wars, so they don’t do that. And I can see their point because although I know who both Tony Richardson and Nicol Williamson are, I did only come for Nicol Williamson.

No offense to Tony Richardson, mind. Prior to Hamlet he had directed many movies including the cinematic landmarks (deep breath, now) Look Back in Anger (1959), The Entertainer (1960), A Taste of Honey (1961), The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner (1962), Tom Jones (1963) and The Charge of the Light Brigade (1968). (phew!) Other movies exist in between those, but those are the career makers; most people get one career maker, Richardson had a fistful. Back then though, people obviously had a lot of time on their hands for as well as being a movie director, Richardson co-founded the influential English Stage Company and directed Shakespeare in Stratford-upon-Avon. Crucially though, he also found time to co-found Woodfall Film Productions. Hamlet is of course written by Shakespeare and this movie is a Woodfall Films production. So a Hamlet movie is well within Richardson’s comfort zone. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard work and it doesn’t mean that the fact it works should be taken for granted. Nothing should ever be taken for granted in the world of film. After all Ridley Scott directed Alien (1979) but Ridley Scott also directed Prometheus (2012). And Alien: Covenant (2017). (Could someone please take the Alien franchise off Ridley Scott? Thanks awfully.)

Basically, Hamlet is a good film, well, actually it’s more precisely a really good filmed performance of Hamlet rather than a good film. It’s pretty obvious the budget was what a generous person might term, um, constrained. There’s a lot of stone arches in heavy shadow standing in for Elsinore castle. A lot. Other than this, uh, minimalism it's a pretty meat and potatoes production; with just a soupçon of suggested incest between Ophelia and Laertes and emphasis on generational conflict to add some '60s spice. It's basically Hamlet as written; it's not set on a Glasgow sink estate or in a cupboard in Hitler's bunker. Fret not though, Richardson knows what he’s doing, because the big difference between a performance of Hamlet and a filmed performance of Hamlet is you can get right in there with the camera. And that’s cheap as chips, whereas building Elsinore castle and showing the ghost are not an option. Brilliantly and counter intuitively Richardson takes the opportunity of filming Shakespeare to go not large, not cinematically widescreen in scope, but instead to go small.

Yes! Nicol Williamson can look you right in the eye as he moodily wonders whether he should off himself. No matter how much your seat cost in the theatre you can’t get that. And every seat in the cinema (or your house) costs the same, so it’s also a great leveller; everyone gets the same view. A ruddy good view at that. You can practically see the pleased gleam in the actors’ eyes as they launch into some riff that has (quite rightly) become part of the linguistic furniture of the world entire. “Oh, sure, you know this one” they seem to say “but you’ve never had it spoken directly to you, and for you alone. Tuck in! fill your boots” Imagine Elvis singing Suspicious Minds to you and you alone. Imagine is all you can do, because he died on the toilet in 1977. But you can actually have Nicol Wiliamson look you in the face and do that one about slings and arrows, even though he died in 2011 of oesophageal cancer.

But Hamlet isn’t just a one-hander, people other than Nicol Williamson are in it. And as fierily magnificent as Nicol Williamson certainly is as the truculent vengeance seeker, everyone else is great. Because, I imagine, if Tony Richardson says he’s filming Hamlet only a berk would turn him down. For there are no berks in sight in this one. One of the fun things about watching old movies of Shakespeare plays turns out to be the familiar delights secreted within the cast. Gordon Jackson, mostly familiar to me as CI5’s George Cowley in TV’s The Professionals (1977-1983) is here as Horatio, Roger Lloyd-Pack AKA Trigger from Only Fools and Horses is here as Reynaldo, Marianne Faithful is, much to my surprise here as Ophelia, and to my even greater surprise, she’s really very, very good (which will teach me to be so presumptuous), Michael Elphick of Boon (1986-1992) pops up and, hey nonny no, who is this playing Claudius, the King usurping uncle? Why, ‘tis none other than Anthony Hopkins, who has been in a couple of things I can’t quite recall right now.

Basically there isn’t a single face onscreen who doesn’t know what they are doing. And that’s why it works as an excellent introduction to Shakespeare. They know what they are doing so while you may not catch all the language (it being somewhat less than modern) you will always catch the gist and the intent of the speech. I’d bet you’d be very surprised by how much you do actually get; you should give yourself more credit. This Shakespeare stuff was never meant for just the toffs, it was meant for you and me; people who want to wind down after work. Don’t let the buggers keep all the good stuff to themselves, yeah?

Now, obviously, the preceding was a) awful and b) not a review of Hamlet itself. I’m not entirely sure who would possess the temerity to critique Shakespeare’s Hamlet (“Shakespeare’s foreshadowing is far too blunt and the whole exercise in adolescent angst is in dire need of a car chase or some boobs to lighten things up.”) What I am saying is, if you feel the need to attempt Shakespeare then you could hardly be in better hands than those of Nicol Williamson, Tony Richardson and ITV’s Boon. Go on, give Hamlet a go. It’s what Old Bill would have wanted.

#nicol williamson #tony richardson #anthony hopkins #marianne faithfull #1969 #the 1960s #shakespeare #hamlet #gordon jackson #roger lloyd-pack #michael elphick #theatre #culture #highbrow #united kingdom

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chambersmyers67-blog · 5 years

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Friendly Furniture Aids For Movement.

I am specific that you have actually perhaps listened to or seen mobility device platform lifts that will certainly give individuals that are mobility device bound a means of entering and also out of their automobiles. In attaining power you have to establish particular individual qualities like looking into a beneficial location to start, check out and create the sources needed to acquire a desired position as well as do something about it. Simply under 6.6 million individuals go to a gym regularly, below a peak of more than 6.7 million six months ago. Using the power of the Zeo Crystal, Tommy, Kat, Rocky, Tanya as well as Adam ended up being the Zeo Rangers, Planet's last resort versus the Machine Realm. It consists of the electromechanical head which is in charge of reading/writing data on the CD/DVD and consumes great deals of power. Also if a gym does not allow a youngster to join, they may prolong babysitting services. According to lots of fitness center sales pitches, you'll drop weight, you'll transform your body and your total lifestyle will boost if you join their fitness center. When it comes to high quality of wheelchair lift, convenience and also convenience is the very first standard for purchaser. It has 11 gyms in Spain as well as 4 in Portugal, in addition to 5 outlets in Australia. With a mobility device system lift the individual has the power to set their wheelchair on the lift and also secure it right into area. The three sorts of face lift treatments are the deep plane lift, the mid lift and the string lift. The genuine power of Power, however, is that ... it's putting African-Americans at the heart of a TV pattern - the antihero - that previously has largely been the district of white men. If you're new to the fitness center you might be daunted, but if you follow these basic standards, it will ease your change from lazy person to fitness center rat. The Bowflex Sporting activity residence fitness center does occupy a fair bit of room; the impact of it is larger than what many people anticipate. The only means for any of the Rangers to call one another would certainly be their independent wrist devices, which really did not count on the Megaship for power. The Bowflex Sporting activity house fitness center is a versatile maker that covers basically every muscle group of the body. Some fitness centers do not allow any person under 18, while some nationwide chains, such as 24-HOUR Health and fitness, allow minors ages 12 to 17 to join. Mention punch power and individuals have the tendency to recollect huge, protruding arms and triceps muscles. When you are looking for the mobility device lift van or you are intending to have van customized, it is suggested to you that you deal exclusively with a credible member of the National Flexibility devices dealerships association when you are have to purchase a mobility device handicap lift van. With the matches still in his hand, he struck up an additional fire, illuminating the opening, showing a collection of actions heading to a reduced degree. I looked up to see what can be the last time Jack checked out me with love in his eyes and afterwards counted on encounter my back to him as i raised my leading to disclose my bare back to him. Although the concept of power is not inborn but learned some individuals have it and also others do not. I additionally like his summary of the cost of power; lengthy hours, hard work, as well as loss of family members as well as individual time. He raised his hand as well as i tensed my body, wheezed as well as closed my eyes all set for the discomfort. Sports Direct stated its ₤ 5 deal was being tried at its brand-new purpose-built fitness centers as well as maybe turned out at the former LA Health and fitness websites in the future. The health club is 142,000 square feet as well as consists of equipment such as outside as well as interior swimming pools, 12 tennis courts, exercising weights, machines and 120 health and fitness classes in a week. It has 40 gyms in huge cities around the UK. Conversely, everyday membership prices just ₤ 5. The majority of regional recreation centre gyms could be used on a PAYG basis. These wheelchair lift vans are specially made to accommodate wheelchair bound person. Enhancing temperature levels incorporated with the damaging contaminants released by nuclear power plant contribute to unhealthy air high quality, activating asthma assaults and various other breathing harms. Pfeffer (Glad this is a created review I have no suggestion how you can state that name) is an academic that specialises on organisational behavior, as well as this book is basically his advice on the best ways to acquire, preserve, and also recognize power. The gamers handled to prise open the lift doors as well as were handed containers of water, coffee as well as sandwiches as temperature levels increased inside. Each time we placed ourselves right into package we shed our power since at this moment we shed the ability to recognize our limitless possibility. What interests me extra is how in each story human life is placed relative to law and political power. The oppositions could not doubt whether the Clean Air Act authorizes EPA to limit carbon dioxide pollution from nuclear power plant. The emphasis of his book is the result power carries those who do not have it. He breaks his analysis down into 3 measurements of power: the initial is straight negotiating and also engagement, the second is the exclusion of the helpless from that bargaining process and/or agenda-setting by the effective, and also the third is the internalization of the ideals, worths, and also choices of the dominant by the controlled. Rather counter-intuitively, the quicker removable quad lift has the same uphill ability as a fixed-grip quad. An old gym at the site closed in 2012 as well as the centre was demolished and reconstructed by the Royal District of Kensington and also Chelsea, who spent ₤ 29million. To me, this is really sad since as I claimed, it was hand made equipment by Joe Gold himself and also has a particular worth to it if nothing else than for historical factors. Then she entered 8th quality and also participated in track, swimming, then softball period came. After the Turbo Rangers lost their powers, he effectively led the team into room, where they discovered Andros as well as the Megaship. I have actually had numerous unforgettable miracles given that I discovered the Secret and now I'm expecting enjoying the things I've developed in the past, caring every little thing in my present, and lovi While the Secret is the legislation of attraction, the Power is the regulation of love. It deserves having a look at which Pokémon are in the health club you intend to attack prior to opting to enter into battle to make certain you have the appropriate sorts of Pokémon to prosper. L'entraînement par accélération sur les plates-formes Power Plate ® acquire une foule d'avantages notables put atteindre, voire dépasser, les objectifs de problem body. Lewis, pushing the ground, blood dripping down his face, reaching out for the last vital to his power. So while energy power plant fitness centers may not generate blinding light, their presence does leave a bit much more light at the end of the passage. Individuals who frequently flock to cosmetic surgery clinics to have a mid lift are those in their 40s or 50s. Stood under the largest shower she had ever before seen she delighted in the feel of the water as it moved down her, sighing with satisfaction as the power shower gently massaged her body. The no-frills health club group, which is managed by exclusive equity house CCMP Funding Advisors, had hoped to provide the business in London following the ₤ 250m float of its main budget rival, The Fitness center Team, last November. Push-ups and also pull-ups are the most standard upper-body motion to establish power endurance. This workout equipment is frequently gone along with by a display screen that tracks the heart price,. in addition to other details like the number of miles run or calories melted. Il est vrai que j' y consacre a peu prés 4 heures par semaine chez moi en musique et je peu vous dire que je ne price aucune séance tant je me sens bien après mon heure de power plate. There are various other basic functions of patio PL-P mobile wheelchair lift are as adheres to. The High court already determined that question also in American Electric Power v. Connecticut, in 2011. Both fitness centers have actually moved the inner city location of Sparkhill as well as cater for a mainly Muslim clientele. The Lumo Raise costs ₤ 80 in black, white as well as grey with black and silver magnets. If you stroll into the gym with reduced power or really feel as if you have flu-like symptoms, the very best point to do is to delay your workout for a couple days. There is an alternative available to you if your objective is to lift weights and also get a cardio benefit at the same time. People waste a lot of money on unneeded cardio equipment, multi gyms as well as overpriced specialist products that quite frankly aren't specifically helpful in an industrial gym, let alone a house training area. Going to imp source was as essential to a Roman as mosting likely to the gym was to a Greek.

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iwantjobs · 3 years

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Trang’s draft of her cover letter

August 7th, 2021

Commissioner Kilolo Kijakazi

Social Security Administration

6401 Security Boulevard G-401

WHR,

Baltimore, MD 21235

(800) 772-1213

Dear Commissioner Kijakazi:

I am announcing a job for myself in a future newly-established Social Security department designated to reduce mental illness violence afflicting the safety and happiness of our beloved freedom country of the United States. I have 13.2 years of solid experience as a human with mental illness who successfully overcame her violent rage by exploding into 4 massive lawsuits as a pro se litigant using my own money (hastily sold my condo for a dirt price in 2008 for $200K profit to avoid being mental-crippled homeless during first 2 years, maxed out all credit cards which took me 13.2 years to pay off, became a homeless in the car with everything in storage for days during coronavirus (the car is still my most stable home: driving bed with a night peeing bucket). Though I never won anything, I was able to release my pain and anger using a safe and non-violent outlet (suing), and now I am happy to announce that I am healthy enough to return to part-time work at home dealing with the same 3 people as co-workers.

I would like to donate my idea to the Social Security Disability as an appreciation for their financial support the last 13.2 years as a once healthy heterosexual human being (female) who became an invalid and a mental as the results of being sexual assaulted in a minor form by a dyke-lesbian boss at gay Starbucks in gay San Francisco (her gay breasts brushed against my chest 4 times during her first month of employment as store manager), sexually harassed by homo supervisor to have a baby with him, unprofessionally pressured to hang out outside of work as friends by another homo male supervisor as a way for him to lure heterosexual males via me so he can flirt with, and intimidated and bullied by them and their 8 heterosexual followers (my heterosexual co-workers) to the point none of them reported by work-related-back-strain injury which crippled me with permanent back pain requiring me to carry a cane if I don’t want to suffer too much daily pain in my back and knees (walking my crippled back) which forces me to lay parallel to the HARD floor at least 18 hours a day. For every hour of sitting, standing, and walking, I have to lay down parallel to the hard floor for 1 hour or I’ll crack and threaten to kill people When I am desperate with pain, I literally shove all the chairs and table to the side, lay a piece of fabric on the floor and just lay on it until my back feels better. If I drive with this back pain, I know I will crash and kill myself and people. I can only type 1 hour per day with my arthritis hands which I developed at 35 years old from punching my anger and violence into the computer nonstop to type out my gay Starbucks lawsuit in 2008 Social Security.

While laying around sucking disability checks (excuse moi for my colloquial use of the language because society seems to think people like moi on disability checks are useless humans and we are plaques of humanity), I was able to meditate (lay there on the hard floor in the quiet darkness by myself to think and talk to myself) to conjure up this plan on how we can reduce the mental-illness violence starting with our country using myself as an example:

1. Offer disability checks to those who claim mental illness that will or might result in suicide and mass violence instantly. I had to wait 2 years to get my first disability check (if it wasn’t for my corporate-days credit cards and the selling of my corporate-days condo, I would have been homeless and I would have succumbed to violence in retaliation). This plan will get the sickos like moi off the streets and out of schools and work buildings before we do harm. They might use this money to buy ammunition, but they might also use the money to stay at home and heal their anger in a non-violent way if we show them how (free legal advice coupons with easy templates and easy instructions on how to sue and what to write in lawsuits). Give them free health insurance to heal their mental illness. Give them coupons to get free healthy yummy food to temporary calm their anger (healthy food but still yummy as one their medicines). Force them to go to stretch-meditation-exercising places (one of their other medicines). Force them visit psychiatrist office weekly by rewarding them with more coupons or money to pay their debts. Force them to work on a plan to get back to work after they heal.

The pen might be mightier than the sword, but it is extremely hard to use the pen even for an average person. We have always lived in a humanity where it has been easier to use the swords than the pens. If we want to reduce mental illness violence in the United States, we must begin to offer a system where the pens are easier to use than the swords. It’s up to us to change that starting with the disability department of the Social Security Administration Agency. For that, I respectfully submit my plan to you to reduce mental illness violence in the United States starting with this new and urgent disability program.

Please contact me at [email protected] or at 1669 Hollenbeck Ave, #2 P.O. Box 198, Sunnyvale, CA 94087.

Sincerely,

Mai-Trang Thi Nguyen (or Trang)

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pilferingapples · 6 years

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Another letter from Algeria! Translation and all errors therein mine; I’ve attached the original French at the end, if anyone wants to help out! comments in (parenthesis) are my own, and mostly indicate minor deviations from the text for flow. Notes are also under the cut, after the rest of the translation.

This is the Birth Announcement letter :D

21 April, 1857

It includes what it returns.* So here you are a godfather and Jeanne a godmother! We expect you (to visit) for that. And if you cannot have this year or another (soon), the ceremony will be Muslim or held by representatives.

But I hope you will come!

A first (child) after twelve years of marriage; at least eleven years, September 1847, this is a child made with reflection, and if time does add something to the affair, he must be a perfect product.

Jeanne has a cousin! And if God gives life to this little goujon (a slang term of endearment, here, like “a little minnow” or “tiny fish”) he will become a great fish, and the illustrious lineage of ours will not be extinguished in the weeds.**

Here is finally a Salic leader!*** a dynasty that takes body! --The mother & the child are doing well! One eats, the other nurses! both abundantly.

You see that the name of your godson ,Alderán, is the name of his grandfather, Andre as the name of his uncle and godfather, Petrus after the name of his father and Benoni after the name of his uncle, our late beloved brother.

I have a long letter started for you, but I am leaving it there, for fear of missing the mail and announcing the big event of the day too late.

Should we rejoice at the birth of a man? there are pros and cons. There are philosophers and nations who weep, others who laugh. As for me who finds life a sort of joke in bad taste, I almost reproach myself for having participated in this attempt against nothingness. One day, if he were not happy, would not Alderan be well advised to tell me, "Why, my father, did you give me what I did not ask you, what you did not know? worth a lot, what you knew to be mediocre or bad. "

For can not the poor child have their fill of life before being very old? ... it has happened.

We are at the head of 200 roses including 32 collectibles. We are flooding with beautiful roses Mostaganem. Were Jeanne at distances less immeasurable, within musket range, still nearer, we would crown her with wreaths****always fresh, in this season, to beat the golden diadems of fairies and princesses.

As soon as (Gabrielle) is in good health, she will answer Jeanne's beautiful long letter, for the moment she is too busy making milk to fill a little cousin of her grand niece. Impossible to hold pleasantly a feather & a baby. The pen can wait, it does not meow.***** Jeanne, moreover, loves her cousin too much, to want to disturb him in the exercise of his meals.

Farewell, my dear Andrew; another time, having more leisure I will write to you more words, painted or scribbled on paper.

It's raining however - it's cold - since November 15th we are in the northern region. Africa is a myth-- & the sun, a tale of my mother Goose.

Your affectionate brother,

Petrus Borel

Notes:

* “Ci inclus de quoi il retourne”-- this feels like A Saying, or something? But I can’t find any sign of it as such.

** literally “in the cattails”.

***This sounds like Petrus and Gabrielle’s son may be the first boy their generation of the Borels has had? That is, the first born as a Borel, that is, to any of the brothers (a Salic dynasty!)-- which if so is a heck of a roll on odds, since there were nine of them! But the next son of his generation I’ve been able to find was born in 1864, so...maybe?? ...also knowing the mortality rate on infants at the time I’ll end any suspense; this kid lives a long life, goes into clerical work, marries, and has a few kids of his own. That’s about all I know about him, but he does survive 19C childhood!

**** the direct translation here is “chapels”, but it seems to be an established slang for wreaths/ ornamentation.

***** okay I’ve been fighting the urge to coo over this whole letter, but that is the cutest way of describing a baby cry

--also I love Petrus having his mid-letter New Parent freakout because THE WORLD IS SO TERRIBLE, WHAT IF MY KID IS SAD AT ME. Aww, dude. You’ll be long dead before he has his first existential crisis!

...now I’m sad. But this is such a happy letter, and they so clearly wanted this kid a lot; it’s nice to read after Some Things.

French

Ci inclus de quoi il retourne. Te voila donc parrain et Jeanne marraine! On vous attendre pour cela. Et si vous ne nevez pas cette année ou un autre, il sera musulman ou tenu par des representants.

Mais j'espere bien que vous viendrez!

Un premier ne aprés douze ans de marriage, onze ans au moins, septembre 1847, cela peut passer un enfant fait avec refléxion, &si le temps fait quelque chose à l'affair, ce doit être un produit parfait.

Jeanne a donc un cousin! Et si Dieu prête vie à ce petit goujon il deviendra grand poisson, & illustre lignée dont nous sommes ne s'éteindra pas en quenouille.

Voici enfin un chef salique! une dynastie qui prend du corps! --La mère & le enfant se portent bien! L'une mange, l'autre tette! le tout abondamment.

Tu vois qu'il se nomme, ton filleul, Aldéran du nom de son bisaieul, André du nom de son aieul & de son oncle &parrain, Petrus du nom de son père & Bénoni du nom de son oncle, feu notre frère bien aimé.

J'ai une longue lettre commencée pour toi, mais je la laisse lá, de peur de manquer le courrier & de t'annoncer trop tard le grand événment du jour.

Doit-on se réjouir à la naissance d'un homme? il y a du pour &du contre. Il y a des philosophes & des nations, qui pleurent, d'autres qui rient. Quant à moi qui trouve la vie une sorte de polissonnerie de mauvais goût, je me fais presque un reproche d'avoir participé à cet attentat contre le néant. Un jour, s'il n'etait pas heureux, Aldéran ne serait-il pas bien avisé de me dire "pourquoi, Mons mon père, m'aviez vous donne ce que je ne vous avais pas demandé, ce que vous saviez ne pas valoir grand'chose , ce que vous saviez être médiocre ou mauvais."

Car ne se peut-il pas que le pauvre enfant ait plein le dos de la de la vie avant d'être bien vieux? ...Cela s'est vu.

Nous sommes a la tête de 200 rosiers dont 32 de collection. Nous inondons de roses magnifiques Mostaganem. Que Jeanne n'est -elle á des distances moins incommensurables, à portée de mousquet, plus prés encore, nous la couronnerions de chapels toujours frais, en cette saison, à faire bisquer les diadèmes d'or des fées &des princesses.

Aussitôt que l'accouchée sera en bonne posture, elle répondra à la belle & longue lettre de Jeanne, pour le moment elle est trop occupée à fabriquer du lait pour gonfler un peu le petit cousin de sa grande niece. Impossible de tenir agréablement une plume & un mioche. La plume peut attendre, elle ne miaule pas. Jeanne d'ailleurs aime trop déjà son cousin, pour vouloir le troubler dans l'excercice de ses repas.

Adieu, mon cher André; une autre fois, ayant plus de loisir je t'écrirai plus de paroles peintes ou griffonées sur papier.

Il pleut cependant'--il fait froid- depuis le 15 novembre nous sommes en région septentrionale. L'Afrique est un mythe-- & le soleil , un conte de ma mère l'Oie. Ton frère affectionné,

Petrus Borel

#Letters from Algeria #Four People and a Shoelace #Petrus Borel #Alderan Andre Petrus Benoni #I swear what a name

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fanfictionconnectionwordpress · 6 years

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Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | VanderwoodxOC Cerise - Tagged | Ch. 18 Proposed Cooking Lessons

***My apologies for last week's lack of post. My puppy was diagnosed with a dreadful disease which we are lucky he survived followed by myself getting a terrible cold. I hope this week's sweet fluffy chapter will help. There is a deleted scene chapter before this available to my patrons. It’s called ‘Preparations Apart,’ and is all about Vandy gettin that ring and there are shower selfies involved. ~Let’s Connect! FFC***

*Remember, this is a sequel to Vanderwood Backstory, and Cerise has a bio. You can support my writing on patreon and get access to my VIP Discord Server or other goodies like early chapter releases and hidden scenes. Tagged Chapter Directory*

They had spent the last day apart, and boy did he feel it when he woke up. Vanderwood pulled away from the mass of pillows that he’d cuddled into because they smelled like her, grumbling softly as he hadn’t slept nearly as well without her. He’d gotten her ring yesterday, that and hurt himself again by exercising after their exchanged after-shower selfies had caused him a pants tightness problem. Jesus…by now she’d probably also gotten her pills, too, not that that would do him any good. Yet. Bloody Hell, what kind of a man was he that that was what he was focused on?

He sent her a good morning text, assuming she would still be sleeping. It took him a while to get up and make breakfast, opting for toast again and some juice to wash down pain pills. He felt exactly like he had yesterday now, so he really had set himself back a day. At least it wasn't horrendously painful. Vanderwood didn't have much time left before he was going to be asking the love of his life to marry him. It was all so fast, but he knew she was the one for him, and he knew that she felt the same way, even though he was still anxious and nervous. He snorted at himself, only because he’d gone from, ‘I’m going to ask her someday’ to, ‘Now.’

Vanderwood kept practicing the words, hoping they would come out right. As much as he had practiced, 'Will you go out with me,' he had found that, 'Will you marry me' sounded incredibly different. At least it had been good practice in learning more words? Vanderwood showered and got dressed, opting for his v-neck shirt and black shirt over the top rather than a t-shirt. He should look at least a little nice, right? They were going to stay together tonight, so he packed up a little bag and grabbed the ring box, placing it in his pocket with a deep sigh, trying to release all the nerves that were building in his gut. It was nearly time. Vanderwood sat on the edge of his bed as he watched the minutes tick by, sending her another text. `I'll see you soon, shortcake. I miss you.`

***

Cerise was woken up by the sound of her phone going off. Groggily, she unlocked it to check her messages. It had been from her boyfriend...He was going to come over soon. Cerise stretched and hopped out of bed, scattering a few pillows about as she did so. She padded over to her bathroom and discovered that she somehow looked like an absolute mess. Her hair was all over the place. "...Did I fight a fricken leopard in my sleep?" She mumbled to herself as she tried to tame her messy locks with a brush. When she was satisfied, she clipped off a section of her fringe to keep it out of her eyes and set off to find something to wear.

She opted for a pair of shorts instead of a skirt and a tank top with tennis shoes. Cerise threw a cute jacket over the top and didn't skip the stocking, because it was still winter, after all. Finally, she brushed her teeth and put on lotion before plopping down on her couch in the living room and turning on the television. Now she pulled out her phone to reply, a smile on her face. `Miss u 2. I'll b waiting <3`

***

His phone pinged, and by now he was tired of waiting around. Surely, she wouldn't mind if he came a little early? The anxiety was eating at him, and he felt like he needed to ask her now. Hell, he probably wouldn't make it through the front door at this rate. Vanderwood sent her a quick text before grabbing his things and tossing them in the car. `Can't wait. Coming over now.` The drive seemed even longer than before. It wasn't really that long, maybe 20 minutes, but eternity stretched out before him before he had finally parked and was at her door, taking a deep breath as he knocked, hand finding the little box in his pocket. This was happening, and it was happening right now.

***

Her phone pinged and buzzed again, causing her to grin. It was cute that he couldn't wait to see her; she felt the same way. Cerise was eager to see him again after spending a night apart. Judging by how her hair had been that morning, she’d probably tossed and turned all night. She decided not to text him back, since he was driving, and she didn't want him to be tempted to check his phone while on the road...Not that he would. He was so much smarter than that.

She didn't know how much time it had been before she heard a knock at her door, causing her to jump up and all but run to it. Cerise flung it open and threw her arms around him, forgetting that he was sore. "Oops!" She let go and laughed sheepishly, "I kinda forgot...I just missed you." Cerise tried for a hug again except a lot gentler that time. She just felt like she was brimming with so much affection and excitement just by him being there; she felt like she could burst.

Vanderwood grunted at the pain of her embrace, but it was swiftly followed with one much gentler. He wrapped an arm around her as he kept his other hand in his pocket. "I missed you, too...Cerise....I have to tell you something." He stepped away from her just a little, his hand finding her chin and holding it, so he could keep his chestnut brown eyes locked with her honey gold. Cerise was about to complain that it was really cold out there and that they should probably head inside if he wanted to tell her something, but the look in his eyes were so intense and captivating she couldn't find the words. All she could do was stare up at him, the cold making her breath visible in the air.

"I can't remember being so happy as I am with you. You've given me everything, and I can't help but want to do the same. You're ma moitié, my everything, the only woman I'll ever need." The words were coming so easily, flowing perfectly even as blush rose in his cheeks. "I need to ask you something...something really important." Here it came, he'd practiced over and over and now was the moment of truth.

The words that came out of his mouth made her blush, he was being so sweet this early. Did he really miss her that much? She nodded when he said he needed to ask her something important, but she got worried for a moment when he suddenly dropped to one knee and visibly winced. Marion was in that much pain? He should have stayed in bed. Cerise was about to interrupt him and tell him that he was in pain and needed to come inside to rest, that they could talk later, but his next question threw her off.

"Iras-tu sortir avec moi...No....wait..." No, no no, that wasn't right. A look of confusion washed over her face. He...was asking her to go out with him. For the third time now. Was this some weird British thing? Vanderwood bit his tongue as he tried to remember. He had royally screwed this up, beautiful. Think, you dunderhead. "Veux-tu m'épouser....Yes...veux-tu m'épouser?" God, he couldn't blame her if she said no and made him ask again later, because that really sucked. Vanderwood felt stupid on many levels, but he produced the little ring box anyway.

Before she could try to interrupt again, once she broke out of her confused daze, he had asked his apparently corrected question. Did he realize what he was asking her? Apparently, he did, because he also produced a ring box. So here he was, proposing to her in her apartment doorway. Tears began to brim in her eyes as she dropped down with him and threw her arms around him, hugging tightly and forgetting again about his soreness. This wasn't something that she had expected this early in their relationship or...at all, really. She would have been happy just being by his side. "Of course...yes. Yes, I'll marry you." It didn't matter to her that they'd only even known each other for a short while, Cerise already knew that she and him were meant to be together. Why prolong the inevitable?

He saw the tears first and when her arms wrapped around him just a little too tightly, he knew. Vanderwood knew she was saying yes before the words left her mouth. Even though he was a cheesy, rather blunt, damaged idiot, she still wanted to marry him. Vanderwood wrapped her up tighter in his arms, despite how much it was hurting his back and leg to sit there like this. Cerise was going to marry him, and he couldn't be happier. He shifted just a little to open the ring box for her and take out the ring to place it on her finger. "This was my errand yesterday...I'm so happy you liked it..." And he was, probably happier than he'd ever been.

He kissed her ring softly before nuzzling her nose, his hands on her cheeks, wiping away a few stray tears. "Je'taime, Cerise...You've made me the happiest man in the world already." Vanderwood really hadn't made it past her doorway after all. The relief and joy washed through him now; the joy he could see in her eyes, that was worth making a fool of himself on her doorstep, even though his leg was starting to cramp up.

So, that had been his errand...he did say that he thought she'd like it. Cerise absolutely loved it. The ring he had picked out was simple but completely beautiful. He really knew how to pick something out to compliment her. As much as she annoyed him and wasn't good at much of anything, this man had asked her to marry him. Her, out of all the people in the world. "I love you too, Marion." Cerise sniffled a bit before standing up, holding onto his hands to motion for him to follow. It was really cold outside, and she didn't want him to get sick on top of all the pain he was in.

Vanderwood tried not to wince too much as she pulled him along into the house. He really had cramped up, but with how happy she was, it was so incredibly worth it. Once they were inside and the door was closed, she was embracing him again; she didn't want to let go. Cerise was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that the man currently standing in front of her was going to be her husband and was now officially her fiancé. There was such an intense feeling of joy that she had never experienced before now, and she wanted to remember it for the rest of her life.

If Cerise had been taller, she would have just kissed him, but she wasn't going to ruin the moment by hopping around like some deranged bunny just to reach him. "Thank you...for choosing to stay with me. And for putting up with me." She nuzzled her face into his shirt, still holding him. "You make me happy~ I don't think there's even an emoji that can express what I'm feeling right now. "

His heart wouldn't stop fluttering, all thanks to her. "Cerise..." She just kept holding him, and he didn't want to stop holding her, although he did want to kiss her. Could he manage the pain to do that? Cerise was his fiancée now. It almost seemed surreal, but there it was. This woman, who for all intents and purposes should have run away from him, should have turned him away the moment they met, had agreed to become his wife.

Her comments had him smiling and pulling her closer. "I would choose you over anyone. And I'll ‘put up’ with you for the rest of my life." He gently stroked her hair, his heart warming further. Of course, she would want to use emojis to describe it. There was no resisting it now. To Cerise’s absolute delight, it seemed he was going to kiss her.

Vanderwood pulled away from her solely so his hand could cup the side of her face as he kissed her, deep and slow. He poured his love for her into that kiss, wanting her to feel just how much it meant to him that she cared for him, that she wanted to take care of him at all, the joy that she brought to his formerly bleak world. His Cerise, immature and irritating, but wonderful, strong, caring, open-minded; Vanderwood couldn't come up with enough praises, because nothing would ever be enough. His body was reacting to her now even past all of the excitement, so he pulled away, blush hot in his cheeks.

Just from that one kiss--their first as an engaged couple, he told her wordlessly how much she meant to him and how much he loved her. Cerise loved these intense moments where words weren't needed. She poured her own heart into her kiss, getting lost in the flood of their shared affection. It felt like he’d pulled away far too soon for her liking, but she could understand why...She was starting to get worked up, so she could only imagine how he felt. The blush on her cheeks matched his as she took his hand and led him to the couch. "Sit here while I make some warm tea for my future hubby~" Just saying it made her heart leap.

He was thankful to be sitting down, and now he was blushing even harder at being called her future hubby with such a sweet voice. He was a little cold; he realized that now. The winter air had sunken into him but not been felt past his excitement. Vanderwood watched her as she made the tea, taking in her appearance. She was wearing shorts and a thin top with only her stockings and jacket to really provide any true warmth to her. He bit his tongue looking at her. His future wife didn't know how to dress for the weather apparently...but she sure dressed in a way he liked. Vanderwood internally slapped himself, sinking into the couch instead.

As she made her way to the kitchen, she examined the ring he’d gotten her. It was real. He had really asked her to marry him. That cheesy vanderjerk. The blush was still taking up residence on her face as she brewed a cup of tea. She added only a little ginger to some green tea with lemon and a small bit of honey. While she was at it, she made herself a cup, too, sans the ginger and with a lot more honey. When she was done, she carefully brought his cup to him with a smile. "Here~"

Her sing-song tones would be the death of him. "Thank you...future wife." Vanderwood reached for her, gently tapping her lips with his pointer finger. "I feel like I don't tell you enough just how beautiful you are." Attack of the cheesiness. She really was, though, and the outfit only made her look even better. He shifted to indicate he wanted her to snuggle up to him, not worrying about soreness, just wanting her close to him. After their night apart, he didn't want to be away from her at all.

Cerise felt like she was on cloud nine, and nothing could bring her down. Him calling her his future wife made her feel like she was falling in the best way. The color dominating her face was redder than her namesake. The word 'wife' felt like it couldn't apply to her quite yet--she was only twenty. People got married that young, right? How old was he, even? She figured he couldn't be that much older than her, even if he did act like such a stick in the mud sometimes. Cerise couldn't help but giggle a little. He was being so very cheesy today...Though he had every right to be, especially if he was as elated as she was.

"Oh~?" Cerise took him up on his offer, snuggling up to him closely. "If you think I'm so beautiful, maybe we should start going out or something." She teased him and carefully reached over him to where she’d put her own cup of tea on the side table. Vanderwood wrapped an arm around her as she snuggled into him. Her tease had him coughing softly in embarrassment. "Yeah, I think I really would like to go out with you." He was about to say something to her about how much he liked her outfit, his hand at her hip so he could reach out and touch the soft fabric of her top. Vanderwood started absentmindedly playing with it, but then she completely broke his train of thought. "You know what, though?" Cerise took a sip of her tea and looked up at him, grinning. "I still think you look better in a skirt than I do~"

Fucking Seven. "I..." Vanderwood felt his eyebrow twitch just a little in irritation at the redhead. Someday, somehow, he would get that little shit back for showing that picture of him in a maid’s outfit by embarrassing the kid. If that were even possible. "I have to disagree with you." He bit his tongue before having some of the tea she'd made for him. There was a bit of ginger in it, but it wasn't nasty like the last time, and he would have been grateful for it even if it was. "Did you want to help me with lunch after we finish our tea, fiancée?" It felt ridiculously silly to keep repeating that she was in fact going to be his future wife, but it also gave him that warm fuzzy feeling he was coming to enjoy so much.

"Oh, but I think you're mistaken, dear Marion~" Cerise was definitely going to have to ask the red-headed man for any copies of that picture that he might have. She was sure that Vanderwood would protest as soon as he found out, but she'd find some way to convince him to let her keep it. He had repeated the word again; he was definitely as excited and giddy as she currently was. "I would love to help you, but I can't believe I get to have such an attractive teacher. Good thing I'm the only student, huh?" She took another sip of her tea. "Can't have the others getting all jealous that I'm marrying the teacher." Cerise glanced at her ring again, unable to get over how pretty it was or how well it had fit on her finger. How did he even know her size? She didn't even know her size.

Vanderwood snorted softly. "I'm more worried about me getting jealous if someone else were teaching you." That was most certainly true. It was a new thing for him, but he was definitely more jealous than the average person, and he had a feeling that his jealousy could be lethal in the right situation. Cereise nodded, talking into her cup of tea. "Would suck to be that person, huh?" She had already seen small glimpses of his jealousy, and there was no doubt he'd be quite a force under the right (or wrong) circumstances.

His eyes fell to her ring. It suited her so perfectly, and that just made him smile all the more, not only because she seemed to love it, but also because he felt damn proud of himself for picking something that matched her so well. "Does the ring fit okay? I made an educated guess." His fingers had continued absentmindedly playing with her shirt as he drank his tea, by chance slipping just under the fabric to brush against her scar.

"It fits perfectly, actually. I was surprised, it was a really lucky guess." They both sat there in silence for a little while just drinking their tea and enjoying each other's company after their time apart. While cuddled up to him, she could hear him breathe...it was such a comforting sound along with his steady heartbeat. She felt his fingers brush over her scar once more. Did he feel guilty?

Cerise tried not to think about that day, the words he had said. He didn't mean them, yet they still came out of his mouth. She shook her head and pushed those thoughts away. Of course, he didn't mean them, it probably hurt him to say them as much as it hurt her to hear them. Marion wouldn't have asked her to spend the rest of her life with him if he didn't want her around, if he didn't care for her--didn't love her.

Vanderwood had been tracing her scar for some time now, but then his fingers slipped down over the much smoother skin of her hip. He moved his hand, placing it up on the couch. Even just that one small touch to her skin had made him react to her. It had been too long and too stressful since the last time he'd had sex, clearly. He bit his tongue before taking a big swallow of tea, trying to hide just how red his face was.

When his hand moved from her scar to her hip, she began to automatically respond with a blush. Just as quickly as he had done it, he’d pulled his hand away. She looked up at him with a questioning expression, finding his face was totally red. Cerise was happy that he was doing so well, that he had so much better impulse control now. If he hadn't been so sore, she might have tried at teasing him just a little. Instead, she opted to just let him have his moment, pretending she hadn't noticed how flustered he was...which in turn made her more flustered.

He placed his tea to the side. Why was it that he already wanted to put his hand on her again, wanted the contact? Addiction based or just because he loved her? Really, he was doing much better than he thought he would ever be able to at controlling himself, although he still worried. She deserved the best of this world, and he only hoped he could make that happen...only hoped he would be able to keep her from getting hurt in his presence any further than the times she already had.

Just a day before after her brush with painkillers he'd said...some things. In the moment he'd meant them, and it was a fear for him that he would ruin her life, but...Vanderwood looked down at her. He would keep that from happening, and she was willing to risk everything to be with him, just like he was to be with her. She had that right just as much as he did.

Cerise kept her head down and focused on her tea. The silence was starting to be a little uncomfortable for her. "Marion...I never really asked you. How old are you? I guess it's kinda silly asking that now considering..." Cerise found the hand that he rested on the couch and began to play with his fingers. "I'm twenty...but I'm sure you already know that. Being a super-secret agent and all.”

Her question pulled him out of his thoughts. "Oh...well..." That's right, he'd never told her. "Yeah...I've known since the day after I brought you to the first hotel. Seven sent me a file...but I could only read the first sentence. Didn't feel right to read the rest." She probably had some idea of how old he was already, so it wouldn't be a huge shock right? "I'm 28. I'll be 29 soon."

Okay, so he was eight years older than her, that wasn't bad. At the mention of the word 'soon' her eyes lit up. "Soon? When is your birthday?" Cerise loved celebrating things. Holidays and birthdays made her so excited, but the birthday of her fiancé? Sign her right the Hell up! She was totally going to learn how to cook by then, so she could surprise him with something she made that wasn't terrible and burned. By now, she was pretty much hovering right next to his face, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Holy shit, why was she so excited? He leaned away just a little, furrowing his brows at her. It was just a birthday. Hell, he'd never even done anything for his birthday. "It's...December 23rd. Just about a month from now...but I'd rather not dwell on it." Vanderwood couldn't even remember people saying happy birthday to him. No wait, he could. Caleb. Caleb was the only one who remembered. Vanderwood wrapped his arms around Cerise, pulling her into his lap tightly and burying his face in her hair. His heart had felt like it was being suddenly crushed, her presence in his arms easing it somewhat.

She didn't even have a chance to ask him why he seemed so upset before he was pulling her into his lap. The atmosphere felt sort of…gloomy all the sudden...Had something happened on his birthday? Did he just not like celebrating it? If it was bad memories he had...she wanted to do her best to replace them with good ones. He was twenty-eight...and probably hadn't celebrated his birthday in a while. Cerise had a lot of work to do if she wanted him to look back fondly on it, but now she figured they had their entire lives ahead of them to make that happen. He had buried his face into her hair, probably not wanting to talk right now, so she just nuzzled into him, letting him enjoy the silence as he held her there.

The silence and just her warmth, it was comforting. It was exactly what he needed. After a few minutes, he felt like he could talk again. "I'm sorry..." He mumbled into her hair before he released her slowly. "That was a little sudden...Just...unpleasant thoughts." Vanderwood gave her an apologetic smile and a soft kiss to her forehead. "You do whatever you want for my birthday...but I can't promise you I'll be in a good mood."

Cerise shook her head and gave him an understanding smile. "Don’t worry, you know? We're gonna make happy memories." God help him if she forgot. Vanderwood internally winced at the idea, but Cerise wouldn't forget...judging from how excited she had been...she wouldn't forget. His hand found the side of her face, cupping her cheek as he had a tendency to do before he gave her a kiss, nice and slow, pulling away to kiss her nose. "Now...is my beautiful fiancée ready for her first lesson? I'm a little hungry."

He didn't really feel like talking about it right now, as much as he had promised her his honesty...it could wait. Those childhood memories were more painful than the stories of his scars and were overshadowed by Caleb's death in ways that made him feel like he couldn't breathe past the pain in his chest. It was strange; usually he'd never think about those memories, they were just locked up behind a wall of pain, but this memory, as painful as it was, it also felt good. His brother had loved him. Vanderwood bit his tongue to keep from turning into a mess again.

She didn't think even in a million years she would get tired of his kisses. Each one never felt like the last, but all of them were enough to always take her breath away. "I'm so ready." She hopped up off the couch and towards her kitchen at an incredible speed. Not only was she really hungry, but she was really eager to learn from him. Cerise turned around and motioned for him to follow. "Come on, slow poke! At this rate we'll be celebrating my birthday before you get your butt over here."

"Alright, I'm coming." He snorted softly at her enthusiasm, that and her birthday was almost a full year away, and he couldn't possibly be that slow, even injured. Vanderwood couldn't help but smile like an idiot as he looked at her, thinking about just how much she meant to him. "Let me go get the groceries. Wash your hands while I'm gone...And maybe find me a hair-tie?" Cerise teasingly saluted him and found him the hair-tie he had asked for before washing her hands. They were going to be cooking, so she made sure to wash them extra well.

He had left the groceries in the car in his excitement to propose, so now he went to get them before entering her house again and placing them on an open space of counter. "Alright...so we're making omelets with some vegetables, not too difficult and pretty healthy." Cerise was drying off her hands when he reappeared back in the house with the groceries, nodding as he spoke. Omelets sounded pretty easy, and vegetables weren't that scary either. She could totally impress him with how quickly she could pick this up. Eggs and vegetables were nothing. "That sounds delicious! I can't wait~" Cerise handed him his hair-tie. "So, what's first, Teach'?"

"I'm probably going to start by teaching you how to wash and cut the vegetables while I whisk up and cook the eggs." Vanderwood chuckled at her enthusiasm. Cerise was a marvel to him sometimes. He put his hair up before looking her over. She had a Hell of a lot more hair than he did. Considering the mess she'd made the last time she cooked, it was probably better for her to have her hair up, too. "But...I think you should put your hair up first, too."

He was not risking her lighting that on fire. Vanderwood loved her hair, more than he really cared to admit. "Oh, my hair too?" Cerise nodded and disappeared out of the kitchen and into her bedroom before returning with a thicker hair scrunchie and handing it to him. "You do it~" She didn't give him a chance to answer before she turned around, shaking her hair out with her hands for a moment.

A light blush appeared on his face. He loved messing with her hair, really, so putting it up, as dumb as it sounded, it was a little on the intimate side, at least for him. "Alright then." Such a simple task shouldn't really make your chest feel warm and fuzzy should it? Vanderwood took the hair scrunchie and put it on his wrist as he gathered her hair up carefully before sliding the scrunchie from his wrist to around her hair, making sure to get it tight enough that it would stay but not so it would hurt her head.

He gave her a quick kiss to the top of her head then moved to grab some carrots and broccoli from his grocery bag, handing them to her. "Alright...so, first we get them out of the bags. Then we wash them off. The carrots will need peeling, but the broccoli just needs a good wash." Vanderwood washed his hands quickly, leaving the water running to wash the veggies. "So...let's wash the broccoli first, since that doesn't need peeling."

Cerise bounced in place excitedly as he talked before taking the broccoli from him. “You got it~” Easy stuff; she was practically a broccoli-washing pro! Cerise hummed excitedly to herself before turning the broccoli over. He watched her, shaking his head a little. Lord, she was in adorable form. At least he could trust her to wash broccoli, right? That wasn't so hard.

Vanderwood had gone to open the bag of carrots, so they could wash those as soon as she got the broccoli cut up, and then his thoughts were violently interrupted when he was splashed with water. She had managed to somehow make the stalk fling water at the both of them, getting in her eyes. "Sorry!" Cerise apologized and rubbed her eyes. She didn't know broccoli could be so...rubber-bandy and flingy. He looked over at her to see that, yup, somehow she had managed to mess up washing, but at least the broccoli was clean? He carefully took the broccoli from her and placed it on a cutting board, trying not to be bothered by the fact that there was a wet spot on his back. "That's alright." She really was rather clumsy.

Did he trust her with a knife? Vanderwood cut the stalk of the broccoli off himself before motioning for her to stand in front of him, demonstrating cutting the broccoli apart from the little cluster. He hadn't expected her proximity to be a problem for him, but she was so close, and he needed to get away before problems arose, so to speak. Vanderwood did just that, shifting away from her directly after showing her how to cut the pieces apart. "So...just cut them away from the bigger portion while I wash the carrots." She could get that, right?

"Yessir!" She answered with another salute, trying to ignore how close he had been to her. Cerise had cut things before. That shouldn't be hard...At least she couldn't get splashed. Except with blood once you manage to cut your finger off. Cerise froze. Whoa, what a terrible thought. She shook her head; she wouldn't be cutting any appendages off today. Carefully, she did as he’d instructed and managed to successfully cut the florets away from the stalks without much of an issue. How in the world could she do that but not wash the goddamn thing correctly?

Vanderwood had started on washing the carrots, snorting at her salute. Thankfully, cooking was a good mind clearer, but he kept glancing at her to make sure she wasn't cutting herself. Her voice got his attention. "I think I did this right." As he looked over, his eyes widened. "Yeah, you did great. And no blood." That was supposed to be an internal thought, but now it was out. "Um...I wasn't expecting any." He resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck, because then he'd just have to wash his hands again. "So...um...put that in a pot, and let's wash and peel some carrots."

Cerise couldn’t help but feel a little flush in her cheeks as he, apparently accidentally, pointed out the obvious. "It's okay...I'm actually surprised too." She confessed with a nervous laugh. That probably wasn't reassuring at all, but there it was. Cerise deposited the broccoli into the designated pot. "Okay...carrots." He seemed to be busy with washing them...which was fair considering how she had treated the broccoli, so she could just start on the peeling.

She grabbed the peeler and a carrot. He hadn't really shown her how to do it, but it couldn't be any harder than chopping broccoli. Vanderwood was surprised to see her grabbing the peeler already, apparently wanting him to wash the carrots while she peeled. Did she need to be shown how? Probably not…Holding the carrot, Cerise applied pressure with the peeler and peeled the top skin off. Well...it was more like half the carrot...which as she applied pressure to get the chunk of carrot off, suddenly shot across the room. Cerise just stared blankly and she watched the orange torpedo hit the wall and then the floor. Why? Why was she so bad at this?

He had been watching what she was doing, a little confused by how she was choosing to hold the carrot, but he wasn’t expecting the orange missile situation. Vanderwood just kind of stared at the carrot on the floor for a minute. "Um...let me help you with that." He tossed the carrot, grabbing another, a little wary as he took her hands from behind her again. His head bent to lightly press a kiss to the spot just behind her ear, an easy task with her hair up, before he bit his tongue and returned to the task at hand.

No time for nonsense...Vanderwood took the carrot and placed it in her hand, showing her how to properly hold the damn thing, because apparently that was too difficult for her clumsiness, God, she was cute...and slightly terrifying. Cerise cooking could probably be weaponized. Vanderwood had to suppress a snort as well as control the little side of fear that gripped at him as he envisioned her shooting carrots at someone. He shook his head before he helped her peel a few lines off the carrot. "It can peel both ways, but I think you should peel in the direction away from your body...To be safe." His concern for her safety was outweighing his concern for how close he was pressed to her like this.

For a moment, he seemed to be thinking, maybe in more reverent silence over what had happened to that poor carrot. Cerise was still having her own little moment of silence over that, quite frankly. It was becoming apparent to even herself just how bad at this she was. His comment about peeling away from herself for her own safety made her scrunch up her nose for a second before her face relaxed. "You know...that's fair." She peeled the carrot like he had shown her away from herself, and once she had started, she found it rather easy, as long as she held it correctly.

He stepped away to start on the eggs, but Vanderwood had found himself mostly watching her rather than dealing with the eggs out of worry. After the first carrot, it looked like she was doing okay. She managed not to maim any more defenseless carrots and successfully peeled the rest he had washed as he cracked the eggs into a pot for stirring together.

Cerise figured that cutting them was next as she finished, placing the peeler aside along with the final carrot. "Done with this part~" She sang out and went to go and grab her knife. Unfortunately, she had completely forgotten that she might not have peeled them over the trash can, causing her to slip on the orangey peels. The kitchen was not her friend. Cooking was not her friend. The Gods above obviously hated her.

He had snorted softly at her sing-song tone, having moved to place the eggs on the counter, and then he noticed her slipping. Vanderwood's heart was in his throat as he reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her into his arms successfully before she could hit the ground. Cerise had closed her eyes in preparation of hitting the floor, but it never came. She opened one eye to see that he had grabbed her before she could. It was a good thing she hadn't managed to grab for the knife; that would have been a disaster. Vanderwood was about ready to curl up in a ball in the corner. The mess too…the carrot peels on the floor he hadn’t noticed out of concern for making sure she didn’t launch the carrots about the room.

Obviously, she simply wasn't meant to cook. It was fate, clearly. Life had prepared him to be the housewife for her, because his future wife sure as Hell wasn't one. He realized he was holding her rather tightly and let go slowly. "Are you alright?" When he finally let go, Cerise looked down to see what it was that made her slip. Yep. That figured. She knew she should have peeled the orange traitors over the trash can. Cerise looked back at him and blinked. "Yeah, I'm fine..."

Despite her saying so, he still felt the need to check her over, apparently. His hands went to her shoulders, moving down her arms and then to her waist and over her legs as he searched for any sign of injury, his face slowly turning redder. It was sweet how much he worried over her, even for super simple things. God, she was so clumsy...Maybe cooking would never be her thing. In theory, it seemed so simple, but she just was not able to pick it up. Maybe in time...who knew?

When he was done checking her over, she noticed that his face was at a new level of red. The touches were innocent, and she thought nothing of them, but the way his face was flushing only made hers match it, and she couldn't help but to look down at her feet, letting her hair obscure her face again. Marion moved to press a soft kiss to her forehead, which didn’t make it easier. "I think you've learned enough for one day, shortcake...Please go sit down before I have a heart attack..."

Cerise wanted to argue with him, tell him that she wanted to stay in the kitchen and learn more, but he did have a point. If she stayed in there today, she was either going to kill herself or kill him in some ridiculous freak kitchen accident. She didn't even blame him for shooing her away. Cerise stalked over to the couch and plopped down with a bounce, turning her head so she could watch him in the kitchen. It made her feel bad that she sucked at cooking so much that he basically had to do everything. Maybe she was just good at other things and hadn't realized it? Cerise let out a sigh and pulled her phone out, stopping to glance at her ring. If she was going to be someone's wife...his wife--shouldn't she be better at these things? Some woman she was...but she didn't think he was the type of person at all to ask her unless he was absolutely sure that she was what he wanted. She had time to learn things.

A smile played on her face as she opened the camera and took a selfie of herself with her ring in view, making sure to angle it to where Vanderwood could be seen cooking in the background. Cerise had her doubts about being a good wife, but she wasn't going to let that dampen her excitement. She figured she must have added like fifty tags to that photo and surprisingly opted not to put stickers all over it. It was a great picture how it was and didn't need any decorations--Cerise's ring was decoration enough.

As expected, as soon as she uploaded the picture, her phone began to blow up with messages and notifications. She couldn't help but giggle and read through the well wishes and congratulations. There were a few salty people, but she tended to ignore them. They were going to have a beautiful relationship, haters or no.

Vanderwood really wasn't sure he could take more kitchen mishaps, focusing on taking care of the mess that was making his skin crawl before he could start cooking again. Occasionally, he peeked at her from his periphery. It looked like she was on her social media. A little smile crossed his face. How had he, a guy who had tried all his adult life to avoid having any online presence whatsoever, fallen in love with a woman who was virtually famous?

It struck him as incredibly ironic. On top of that, it was a bit dangerous, but...Cerise was the love of his life, and he wasn't about to let any more danger come to her. It might show up at the doorstep, but he would take care of it. Vanderwood let the veggies cook while he worked on the omelets, adding a little cheese, which hopefully she liked. "Lunch is almost ready." He looked at her there on the couch. That woman, that perfect little obstinate woman, was going to be his wife.

Cerise perked her head up at his announcement. No doubt if she had stayed in there, it would have taken ten times as long. This incredibly domestic setting made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. There were no issues to worry about, no secret threats to speak of. Cerise hopped back up off of the couch and made her way back to the kitchen, coming up behind him to wrap her arms around his torso as he’d turned around. It could have waited, sure, but she just really felt she needed to hug him right then.

Vanderwood was portioning the veggies onto the plates with the omelets when she wrapped her arms around him from behind. He hadn't been expecting that at all, but his heart flipped in his chest, and his hands found hers as he hung his head and closed his eyes. It was such a simple little thing, just a hug, but he felt so happy, a moment of peace and quiet with his soulmate. His finger stroked lightly over her ring, the ring that said she was his wife to be. She felt him relax into her arms and they were able to share a quiet little moment. It was nice to just be near him, especially when they had recently spent so much time apart. Cerise decided she hated being apart from him and hoped that there was never another situation that he had to be away for so long, because his absence was definitely noticed.

How long did they stand there like that? It felt never ending, and maybe that's just what it was like to be truly happy. Vanderwood gently moved her hands away to grab her plate and turn to hand it to her. "I love you, shortcake...I'm so glad you said yes." He felt blush in his cheeks again, but that was just how today was going to be, it seemed. It was the best day of his life so far. "I love you, too." A light blush dusted her cheeks. Marion sounded so soft and sincere, and it made her heart flutter. "I'm glad you asked me. " Cerise shot him a smile before she was headed back to the couch with her omelet, waiting to start on it until he joined her. Not only had she gotten the cooking lesson she was promised today, but she’d gotten a proposal for something much better.

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