#accidentally got hired as a fry cook

[where-is-zoro-one-piece]

Today Zoro is: working the deep fryer at McDonalds!

[lovelyirony]

hi hello i am feeling very angsty so: rhodeytony ft tony's worrying lack of interest in avoiding getting kidnapped and his bodyguard rhodes' increasing stress levels to save a boss that doesn't want to be saved (and, if the flutter in his heart should be anything to go by - should not be his boss anymore). bodyguard to lovers??

Rhodey is a good bodyguard. Hell, he’s the best. 

That was why Pepper Potts hired him, after all. He’s not easy to fool, can follow anyone with a dogged determination that nearly defies human nature. He’s had successful stories before with glowing reviews from multiple people from all different threatened backgrounds. 

(Including at least three world leaders and a pope.) 

Tony Stark is...new. Well, nearly new. He’s a businessman, which isn’t anything out of the ordinary for Rhodey to deal with. 

…except Tony’s highly eclectic, a billionaire, and purposely makes his behavior as erratic as possible. 

It’s fun. What can Rhodey say? He loves a challenge, and Tony is about as challenging as they come. 

-

When he first starts, Tony tries every trick in the book. Rhodey still sticks to him, although he does leave some distance. Tony tries to make him uncomfortable by bringing just about everyone who looks home, and all Rhodey says is, “you gonna feed them cereal when they wake up? Because that’s all you have in your pantry right now, and you don’t pay me to do the shopping.” 

Tony scowls at that, and then changes his strategy. 

-

It’s an odd strategy. 

Tony decides he will just make Rhodey his friend, starting with the nickname of “Rhodey.” 

“That’s stupid,” Rhodey says, because he can already tell it will stick. 

“Not my problem, just my solution,” Tony grins. “Now come on, we’re getting burgers.” 

They’re at a sit-down restaurant. One of Tony’s favorites, actually. Rhodey is not sure why he’s sitting down across from the man with the most influence in the world, but he is. 

“So, what’s new with you? Who are you?” Tony asks. “Pepper sent me your file. You’re from Philly, right?” 

“Oh my god, you sound weird when you say it like that,” Rhodey says, deciding against formality as he basically tells Tony Stark that he sounds weird and shouldn’t say “Philly.” 

“Oh what, is that not what the locals call it?” 

“I’m going to take you there and they’re going to beat you up.” 

“Not the worst Sunday night I’ve ever had,” Tony mentions. “Hey, look at the menu. I don’t want you to flounder when the waitress shows up and you know fuck-all about what they have to offer.” 

“Okay asshole, any recommendations?” 

“The banana milkshake and bacon-burger.” 

Rhodey looks at the menu. 

He does end up with the bacon-burger, but chooses strawberry for his flavor of milkshake. 

“You traitor.” 

“Oh am I? Well then let me tell Pepper that you stole the last good pen she had then-” 

Tony flings a fry at him, and Rhodey laughs. 

- 

Here’s a concerning thing: Tony has a very “c’est la vie” approach about kidnapping. 

Like he genuinely doesn’t really give a shit if he knows what’s going on, or even if he doesn’t. 

Rhodey was eagle-eyed and chased a van three fucking blocks and caught up to the driver, wherein he punched his lights out and got Tony out. His hands were bound in zip-ties and his suit was rumpled, but Tony just blinked at him. 

“You think you broke a racing record with that?” 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did they take anything?” 

Rhodey’s all over Tony, checking for any injuries, any stolen wallets or watches, and thank god everything is there. (Not that Tony would really care if anything was stolen, save for his sunglasses. He spends far too much on those, in Rhodey’s opinion.) 

“Okay geez,” Tony says, batting Rhodey’s hands away. “I’m fine. These people were amateurs. Shit, I’m running late for my consultation meeting, aren’t I?” 

“You just got kidnapped,” Rhodey says, tone rife with disbelief. “You just got taken and your concern is with the consultation meeting?” 

“Well I figured that you were going to come by or I’d be gone a lot longer, but now that I’m not? Yeah. Yeah, I am concerned with the consultation meeting. It’s a tech start-up company, only not that shitty Silicon-nice-guy start-up. It’s a more inclusive thing. I don’t know, I read their little ‘about’ section on their website. Which needs work. But that’s besides the point.” 

Rhodey just follows, dumb in disbelief. 

The few rare times that previous clients have been kidnapped or even attempted, they’ve needed a day to recuperate at minimum. They were shaken up, and usually beefed up the security for the rest of time after it. They also scheduled therapy appointments. 

Tony treated this like it was a traffic jam and he was only running five minutes behind. 

- 

The second time it happens when Rhodey’s there, it lasts a little longer. 

Rhodey has to admit, he maybe did some...under-the-radar looks. The FBI wasn’t moving fast enough, and the legal channels weren’t up to snuff. And besides, Tony did say that he could use Jarvis if he really wanted to. 

(Turns out they both went to MIT at the same time, and Tony had been that obnoxiously short guy in his econ class that rarely showed up, but when he did he showed up in a suspiciously nice outfit.) 

It was a weekend. Rhodey had gone away for two seconds to get a drink for Tony and then he was gone. 

It was...bad. 

The problem is this: 

Tony definitely doesn’t need to be kidnapped as often as he is. He has so many inventions that can prevent that, he’s sold quite a few of them to the military. 

But for some fucking reason, he doesn’t want to be saved. No, he’s content just going along with what’s happening, even though everyone else around him wants him back. Needs him back. 

He finds him bruised and tied up to a shitty folding chair. 

“Hey darling,” Tony says, lips a bloody red. “Can you believe this chair? I would’ve thought they would at least have gotten something a tad nicer. I am their best-dressed guest, after all.” 

Rhodey looks over the torn shirt and the pants that have all but been shredded. His shoes are battered and stained beyond repair. 

“Don’t,” Rhodey says. He sounds tired. He is tired. “Don’t do this.” 

“Don’t do what, get kidnapped? I hardly try,” Tony snaps. “Or do I just have a sign on my back that you didn’t know was there?” 

“You know I was in the Air Force,” Rhodey snaps back. “I got high enough clearance that I was one of the guys who got to see what brand new toy you sent our way. I know you could use any of those, shit, you probably tested it out, so you would know.” 

“And your point?” Tony asks. “What, you’re saying I should know better? Saying you know better than me?” 

“You know what? Yeah, yeah I am saying that,” Rhodey yells as he’s untying him. “I am fucking saying that I know more than you because you couldn’t give less of a shit if you tried about your own well-being! You were kidnapped and I’ve been running myself ragged trying to get you back, and you just don’t care!” 

Tony stares at him. Really stares at him. 

“Let’s go home.” 

Nothing else is said in the car ride home. Tony can’t even look at Rhodey. 

They go home, where Pepper greets Tony with a hug and makes him swear not to leave again, and Tony says “I promise,” only they both know that he’s lying. 

But they’re not calling him out on it yet. No, not tonight. 

- 

Rhodey stays. Technically he doesn’t have to. Jarvis is the most advanced artificial intelligence system in the world. Hell, he’s the only one that’s even in his league, but Rhodey just...feels better staying. 

And Tony’s mansion is a gargantuan structure with about twenty different rooms to choose from, so Rhodey gets a nice view and tries to go to bed. 

He’s never gotten enough sleep. He knows he never would. That’s why the army loved him: he could be up at any hour and he’d be fine. That’s why his dad called him the bane of his existence in a loving manner: Rhodey would be up at four in the morning filling out the crossword before anyone else could. 

He’s up at four a.m. making breakfast. 

Tony’s pantry is still shit, but it looks like Pepper went shopping for him or had someone else do it, because he actually has eggs and juice and actual food instead of the odd pickle jar or way-too-old yogurt. 

“You’re...up,” Tony says. 

Rhodey turns around. 

“Sorry. I, um. Stayed.” 

“It’s fine,” Tony says awkwardly. “What are you making?” 

“Omelet.” 

“I always mess those up,” he says. “Either too much cheese or I forget I’m cooking it.” 

“You want one?” 

“You gonna make me one?” 

“Accidentally cracked one too many eggs, so yes. You want onions and spinach in yours?” 

“Sure,” Tony says. “What are you doing up?” 

“Always bad at sleeping,” Rhodey answers. “Can never really stay asleep for too long.” 

“Forget to take your melatonin gummies?” Tony answers, grinning. 

Rhodey can see a bruise on his collarbone. 

“You sleep okay?” 

“No, but I rarely ever do,” Tony says. “Especially after yesterday’s fiasco.” 

“You mean the whole weekend,” Rhodey says, putting the rest of the eggs into the pan. “Can’t imagine that was fun.” 

“Oh come on, it was a ball,” Tony answers sarcastically. “They let me play cops-and-robbers and I was given pizza. Clearly it was a fantastic time.” 

Rhodey stares at Tony. 

“You know in the contract that I had you sign it specifically states that you have to let me help you, right?” 

“It says you have to rescue me regardless of feelings or previous obligations,” Tony says. 

“Rescuing you doesn’t just mean I chase after vans and track you down in an abandoned warehouse, it means that I rescue you from those situations before they can happen. But I can only do that if you agree that you won’t get kidnapped,” he says. 

“And what, I want to?” Tony asks. “Do I say that?” 

“You don’t have to,” Rhodey says, flipping the omelet over. “You never think you’re worth rescuing it because you think you’re never going to be good enough and I think you think that you owe me for giving a shit.” 

Tony looks at him. 

“You’re really honest.” 

“I try to be.” 

“I love that about you.” 

Rhodey’s hand shakes slightly as he moves the omelet a bit in the pan. He hopes Tony doesn’t notice. 

“Well I would love it if you stopped being kidnapped.” 

“Aye aye, Colonel Rhodes,” Tony says, saluting. Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“Oh my god, do not.” 

“What, am I not supposed to thank our armed services for making this country safe?” he mocks, standing up. “For going above and beyond the call of patriotism and helping keep Americans everywhere safe?” 

Rhodey threatens to eat his omelet when he breaks into singing the national anthem. 

- 

There’s an...understanding. 

Tony starts taking up training with Happy and almost agrees to regular training with Rhodey until Rhodey wants him to get up at six and do some workouts, and he yells “No!” after one workout session. 

Rhodey pointedly pretends like he’s not staring at Tony’s chest when he lifts up his shirt to wipe away the sweat. 

“Come on Rhodey my darling, let’s do breakfast.” 

Tony dragging him to breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. It’s...nice. Rhodey ignores it when Tony waggles his eyebrows as he takes the check and calls him “darling, honey, baby,” and he lets him because it sounds nice. 

He doesn’t say anything to Tony. No, you can’t date your boss. It’s unprofessional as hell and Tony probably is just doing it because Rhodey’s in close proximity and they have a good banter going. 

- 

The next time that Tony has an attempted kidnapping, Rhodey is there. 

He’s there, and he’s being taken away, dragged from Tony, and Tony for the first time looks terrified. 

Rhodey tries to struggle, tries to do anything, because Tony has to get away, and he...

He’s knocked unconscious. 

-

When he wakes up, his head hurts worse than it ever has, and for a moment he’s pissed at Tony because he forgets that he’s been kidnapped and there’s no control over the thermostat because the room is hot as all get out. 

And then he sees Tony across from him, and he’s never seen Tony angry. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, voice shaking. “I’ll get us out of here. I promise. I’m sorry.” 

“Not your fault we have assholes take us,” Rhodey says. “But god I would kill for some air conditioning.” 

Tony smiles a bit at that. 

- 

Here’s a problem: you cannot give Tony Stark anything if you want him to not escape. Either that or he has to be unconscious because he’s a stubborn son of a bitch. 

And they used actual handcuffs to keep him there. God, what a joke. 

Tony learned how to break out of handcuffs when he was twenty and chained to a bedpost on accident. (Long story.) 

This is nothing. 

But the problem is that Rhodey’s here. His bodyguard who really shouldn’t be putting his life on the line for someone as shitty as Tony, but here they are, and he has to get him out. 

“Follow my lead,” Tony whispers. 

“Well of course I will, who else has as much experience being kidnapped as you?” Rhodey mutters. 

“Okay is now going to be the time where you sass me? You’re here too. I could leave you.” 

“You’re not gonna do that, Pepper would make you come back.” 

“No she wouldn’t.” 

“Yeah she would!” 

“Not after I tell her that you used the last of her salad dressing.” 

“Shit.” 

Tony snorts, looking at the room. They don’t have security cameras, which is just...questionable. Oh my god, he got kidnapped by amateurs. 

He’s kind of embarrassed. 

Rhodey gets free, and they’re both headed towards a door, and Rhodey picks up a stray part of a metal pole, and Tony cannot lie and say he’s not intrigued by that. 

Not saying he hopes Rhodey gets to use it. 

He’s just curious how he’ll utilize it. 

- 

They get to just. Walk out. They fucking walk out. What kind of people did they get kidnapped from? It can’t be that easy, can it? 

It can’t be...

It is. 

Okay sure Tony is driving in a hotwired car and they’re being shot at, but all things considered that’s not the worst thing. And the truck is probably considered stolen anyways, and once Tony makes it to the highway, it’s not like they’ll be able to follow without making it onto national news, not that they haven’t already. 

Pepper’s very effective at getting things to trend on national news when she wants to. 

- 

Rhodey is sitting on a beach chair. He shouldn’t be, and he also shouldn’t be drinking a mimosa because it’s four p.m. and definitely the morning, but he figures since he got kidnapped he’s allowed at least one mimosa. 

“So. Your first kidnapping?” Tony asks. “All things considered, yours went well. I think next time we should go to Wendy’s or something, I was starving-” 

“I’m just. I’m glad we’re okay,” Rhodey says. “But yeah. Maybe next time. If there is a next time. I’m going to I think make you hold hands with me so that you don’t get napped by terrible, shitty people.” 

“You could’ve just asked to hold my hand, we didn’t need to be kidnapped together,” Tony says. 

“Hm, is that a breach of contract?” Rhodey teases. 

“Only if Pepper decides to enforce it, and she won’t because you’re the first bodyguard to have an actual success story with me,” Tony says. “So. I’m thinking maybe we skip the kidnapping next time and go straight for dinner.” 

“Oh thank god, I thought you were gonna say a fast food restaurant.” 

“I still could, you don’t know,” Tony grins, winking. “What if our first date is to Burger King? What are you gonna do?” 

“Be mad that I still like you,” Rhodey grumbles. 

Tony cackles, dropping a kiss onto his hand. 

“Do you think I should get another bodyguard or will dragging you away during a party be too awkward for them?” 

“...I’ll think about it.” 

(They don’t get a new bodyguard. 

No matter how much the other security complains that Rhodey’s the only one who knows where Tony is at all times, and they can’t exactly ask them if they’re busy doing...things. 

Rhodey finds it hilarious.) 

[devendrasbeard]

Marry me Once, Marry Me twice, Marry Me Six Times

Prompt: Getting Engaged Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier Rating: M Content Warnings: Alcohol, Drunk Sex, Accidental Sugar Daddy Acquisition (through marriage xD) Summary: Five times Jaskier has proposed to Eskel (more or less as a joke) and the one time Eskel has proposed to Jaskier (for real). Coffee shop AU!

Also on ao3!

The first time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was only a few days after he'd moved to Rivia all the way from Lettenhove.

He reached out to his old college friend, Geralt, who he knew lived in Rivia, and asked him for help with the move. Even though they haven't seen each other in almost ten years, Geralt was more than happy to provide help not only with bringing all of Jaskier's stuff to his new place, but he was also determined to make Jaskier's start in the new city go as smoothly as possible.

And so, he offered Jaskier a job in his coffee shop, so that he didn't have to worry about money right after having moved across the continent. When Jaskier would settle down and think of a plan for his next moves, he'd look for other job opportunities.

It was his third day in "Deja Brew", but Geralt was already convinced he'd made the right decision by hiring his old friend. Jaskier's outgoing personality and clever, witty comments already earned them much higher tips. Little to no customers could withstand Jaskier's charm when he described their cookies and special lattes with flowery words, so their order values also increased immensely.

It was close to lunchtime, so the coffee shop was almost empty. Jaskier was stacking up some paper cups and reorganizing the paper straws by color, with his back to the front door, when he heard the familiar ding of that tiny bell installed just above the door. 

He turned around to greet the new customer but got tongue-tied after seeing the person who entered. It was a very tall man, taller even than Geralt, with shoulders ridiculously broad, gorgeous olive skin and longer dark hair. He was wearing a leather jacket over a red skin-tight t-shirt, and a pair of black jeans. What caught Jaskier's attention were the bits of tattoos poking out of the shirt's v-neck and a piercing on the bridge of the man's nose.

"Fuck me sideways..." Jaskier whispered a tad too loud as the man approached the counter.

"Hey, no swearing in front of the customers!" Geralt shouted from the storage room.

"No worries, I'm no customer," the man smiled softly and winked at Jaskier. "I assume Geralt's around?"

Jaskier pointed to the back door not saying a word, too busy biting his lip and ogling the gorgeous man in front of him.

"Oh, hey, Eskel," Geralt appeared next to Jaskier and greeted the man. "Did something happen? You usually don't come here after work."

"Nah, it's nothing. I left in a rush this morning and forgot my keys. If you could give me yours I'll make dinner tonight," he casually leaned over the counter and Jaskier couldn't help but stare at the chest hair poking out of the shirt and those goddamn tattoos.

"Yeah sure, I'll get them," Geralt replied and patted Jaskier on the shoulder. "By the way, this is my old friend Jaskier, you should remember him from my college stories. Jask, this is my brother Eskel."

Jaskier's eyes widened even more. "Brother?!" He shook his head. "You have a gorgeous, sex-on-legs brother and you never cared to tell me?"

Geralt chuckled. "Of course I told you, back in college. Baby Esk? Little brother did grow up a little in the past ten years."

Jaskier swallowed thickly and eyed Eskel, who was grinning at him with a mysterious spark in his eye. "Gods above," Jaskier sighed. "You're even more perfect than Geralt. I'm sorry, but will you marry me?"

Eskel laughed loudly, a low baritone sound, but so soft on the edges. He patted Jaskier on the shoulder and winked. "I like you, Jaskier. We'll need to get to know each other better if you'd like to marry me, so I'll see you around?"

Eskel left, leaving Jaskier feeling very fuzzy inside, knees wobbly, leaning on the counter to steady himself, and Geralt rolling his eyes at him and asking the gods if it really was a good idea to hire him.

*****

The second time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was about a month later.

He stayed in "Deja Brew" for a while longer than he and Geralt had planned initially, but they both agreed that Jaskier just fit into that place perfectly. His new ideas for special drinks and clever names for desserts helped Geralt's place make a name for itself. 

Jaskier's newest addition to the menu was the "Unicorn Fart" - a caramel cocoa drink with rainbow colored whipped cream and a ridiculous amount of sprinkles on top. Kids would buy that in bulk and parents would roll their eyes at Jaskier when he'd hand the drinks to the delighted kids while making farting noises.

Eskel was a cook in the vegan diner just across the street and he used to pop in every now and then after work or before his late afternoon shift, grabbing a coffee before he went back to his daily activities.

Jaskier would eye him very carefully and absolutely not as sneakily as he thought. It's been a really long while since Jaskier has been with anyone, and Geralt's brother sparked that long forgotten interest in him. Now and then Jaskier would ask Geralt casually about Eskel - how old he exactly was, what he liked to do in his free time - feeling more comfortable talking to his friend about him, than ask Eskel himself.

One evening Eskel came into the coffee shop right before closing time, carrying two takeaway bags and placing them on the counter. "You need to try this!" he said enthusiastically, crossing his arms on his chest. "I've finally managed to make the perfect dumplings."

Jaskier peeked into the bags with interest and took out two containers with wonton soup and a tray with some kind of stir fry. Eskel grinned at him, his face an example of sheer satisfaction.

Geralt emerged from the storage room and grabbed one soup from Jaskier. "It smells great," he smiled at his brother.

Jaskier eagerly grabbed one wonton with his chopsticks and ate the whole thing at once. It was delicious - hot, juicy, full of tasty vegetables - and his eyes rolled back into his skull as he hummed with contentment. He pointed his chopsticks at Eskel, mouth still full, and let out a few appreciative grunts. "This, my guy, is orgasm in the form of food."

Eskel laughed and scratched the back of his neck. Jaskier didn't miss the way his bicep bulged, his shirt almost bursting at the seams. "I'm glad you like it, I'm really proud of this."

"You should be!" Jaskier put away the soup and reached for the stir fry. "Gods, I would give you foot massages at every occasion if you promised to cook it for me everyday."

"You know where I work, Jaskier, you can come by whenever you like."

"I would much rather marry you and enjoy this orgasmic food in the privacy of our home," Jaskier said lightly, while looking Eskel deep in the eyes at the same time. "Could also use some different kind of orgasms you wouldn't be able to provide me with in your diner."

Geralt choked on his dumpling, looking daggers at Jaskier, while having a coughing fit. "For gods' sake! Can you try being less blunt with your flirting? It's my little brother."

"I don't see any flirting," Eskel laughed, sending Jaskier a wink. "I've only been proposed to twice, that's quite serious, my old guy, don't you think?"

Geralt huffed, rolled his eyes and left for the storage room, hugging the soup container to his chest. "I need to place some orders for tomorrow. Behave, you two."

Jaskier leaned casually on the counter, popping another dumpling in his mouth and grunting with pleasure again. "I've proposed twice, yet I haven't heard an answer from you, Esk."

"I like you, Jaskier, you're more than cute," Eskel winked at him and moved to the door. "Gotta do better than that to get a yes, though. See you around!"

*****

The third time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was on the night of Belleteyn.

As a promotional stunt, Jaskier offered their coffee shop customers a pair of limited edition coffee drinks - one infused with rose and the other with lavender extract - along with a big heart-shaped cookie. When couples ordered the set he would also give them plastic flower crowns that he'd bought in bulk a few weeks earlier at a super cheap price.

Geralt was amazed at Jaskier's ideas and kept shooting him appreciative looks, as they both worked fast and agile to get all the incoming orders ready. He even gave in and let Jaskier put one of the flower crowns on his silver hair, "for promotional reasons only, of course."

When the last customers for the day left, carrying two coffee cups each and trying not to drop their flower crowns, Eskel walked into the place, his signature grin plastered on his face.

"Ready to get absolutely shitfaced tonight?" he asked, holding up a bottle of red wine. "I like how cute you both look," he smiled pointing at the now crooked flower crowns on their heads.

"You'll get one too," Jaskier chirped, reaching under the counter and placing the wreath on Eskel's head and pursing his lips. "Absolutely gorgeous!"

"Nice!" Eskel smiled. "Are we going to see the parade or do you guys want to get straight down to business?"

"And by 'business' you mean...?" Jaskier leaned forward on the counter, grinning at Eskel, completely disregarding Geralt's exasperated huff. Jaskier was like a horny, hyperactive little puppy that Geralt had absolutely no control over. 

"It's up to you, Jaskier," Eskel smiled, absolutely unfazed by his friend's innuendos. "Geralt and I have seen the parade more than a dozen times, so if you'd rather hit the pubs already, then I'm game."

"Let's hit the pubs then," Jaskier commanded. "But the flower crowns stay on!"

A few hours and three visited pubs later, Geralt has called it a day and went home, leaving Jaskier and Eskel sitting alone at the bar, telling them to not do anything stupid while he's gone. 

"Sigh, Eskel, you're really handsome," Jaskier whispered, propping his chin on his hands.

"Did you just say 'sigh' out loud instead of actually sighing?" Eskel chuckled.

"I might have," Jaskier tried for a seductive smile. "You're still handsome." He reached out to pat Eskel's cheek, but miscalculated the distance and launched forward, his hand landing on Eskel's thigh and his forehead on Eskel's chest.

"Okay, how shitfaced are we?" Eskel asked, helping Jaskier find his balance.

"Well, I'm pretty hammered for sure. Time to go home?"

"Can I walk you home?" Eskel asked, still holding Jaskier's arms in his grip.

"Only if you stay the night," Jaskier went for a wink but ended up closing both his eyes several times. 

"You're absolutely not subtle while flirting," Eskel laughed, leaning forward and almost bumping their foreheads. "But you're incredibly cute and I'm terribly horny, so I'll take it."

"Talk about subtle," Jaskier snickered.

Before he could find another witty comeback in his alcohol-dazed mind, Eskel's lips were on his. They were soft and plush and very wet, and the kiss caught Jaskier off guard. He wrapped his hands around Eskel's neck and leaned into the kiss.

"Hey, no tongue wrestling at the bar!" the bartender swatted them with his towel. They laughed softly, muttering out apologies and left the pub, hips bumping against each other and legs wobbly.

They stumbled into Jaskier's apartment, Jaskier hugging Eskel's waist, Eskel's arm slumped over Jaskier's shoulder, laughing at something they have long forgotten about.

Jaskier pushed Eskel against the wall as soon as he closed the door behind them. "Okay, are we doing this because we're super drunk, super horny, or do you really really reallyyyyy fancy me?" he asked, propping his arm against the wall and looking up at Eskel's face.

"I like you Jaskier," Eskel said firmly, giving him a quick kiss. "And I'm also super horny, so I hope that's enough a reason for you?"

"Your hot-ass... ass is reason enough for me," Jaskier chuckled and pulled Eskel in for a kiss. Eskel was warm on his lips and his hot tongue in Jaskier's mouth was already driving him crazy.

"Bedroom," Eskel panted. "Quick, before we pass out from all the tequila shots we had tonight."

So Jaskier laid back comfortably on the bed, having already dropped his shirt and pants and he watched Eskel undress. Eskel didn't waste any time, pulling his shirt off in one swift motion and sliding his pants off together with his boxer shorts.

"What the fuck? What the... Shit, fuck, Eskel?!" Jaskier sat up on the bed, eyes wide with wonder.

"You okay, Jask?" Eskel turned to him, brows furrowed with worry.

"You walk around carrying this marvel of a dick in your pants and you didn't tell me?!" Jaskier gasped, his voice reaching incredibly high notes.

"When do you think would be the right time to tell you?" Eskel laughed, crawling up the bed and into Jaskier's arms. "'Yo, I'm Eskel, wanna see my marvelous cock?' This doesn't usually work out well."

"I usually don't propose to people immediately after seeing them, so I guess this could've actually worked," Jaskier replied with a seductive wink, his hands already roaming across Eskel's tattooed chest. His eyes, however, were fixed at Eskel's cock. "Gods, dick so bomb I will really have to marry you! I want to feel that between my legs every day for the rest of my life!"

"Watch out what you wish for," Eskel whispered in his ear, causing goosebumps on Jaskier's skin. "Or you might actually get it."

*****

The fourth time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was when he caught a nasty cold in the middle of summer.

Jaskier was sitting on the couch, watching reruns of "The Great Cintran Bake Off", a cup of now cold tea in his hands. He scolded himself for having worn flip flops to work the other day - a heavy rain had caught him when he was going home in the night and he was soaking wet when he had finally reached his place. The next day he woke up with a throbbing headache and runny nose and had to call in sick.

There was a knock on the door, but Jaskier waved it off. If it was the postman, he'd leave the parcel or letter at the door, and Jaskier didn't expect anyone else.

A moment later there was another, louder knock, followed by Eskel's soft baritone voice. "Jaskier, are you home? It's me."

Jaskier slipped off the couch, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and shuffled to the door to open it.

"Aww man, you look like shit," Eskel said when Jaskier let him in.

"Good to see you too, Eskel," Jaskier replied weakly and shuffled back to his living room to plop back on the couch.

"Geralt has told me you called in sick and asked me to come over and check up on you," Eskel followed him into the living room, placing takeaway bags on the table next to the couch. He put a hand on Jaskier's forehead, worrying his lip between his teeth. "Good thing I have the whole day off. Someone needs to take care of you."

"I'll be fine," Jaskier mumbled from under the blanket.

"What did you eat today?" Eskel asked, eyeing the half empty tea cup on the table.

"Some Aspirin. Butter toast."

"Yeah, thought so," Eskel shot him a condescending look and grabbed the takeout bags. "That's why I came prepared."

He pulled out a container of hot chicken soup and another one with gyoza dumplings. He helped Jaskier sit up and wrapped the blanket around Jaskier's shoulders, so that he could eat comfortably on the couch.

"The chicken soup is what my grandma used to make whenever we were sick. She taught me how to prepare it," Eskel said with a hint of pride. "Eat it hot, you'll feel better in no time."

Jaskier ate a few spoons of the hot broth - it was deliciously salty, with lots of carrots, onions and noodles. He felt a pleasurable warmth already spreading around his stomach and he hummed softly. "Thank you, it's delicious."

"Now, eat it all up and go to bed. You need sleep," Eskel rubbed his back and Jaskier leaned in to rest his head on Eskel's shoulder. "I'll look after you today."

"You don't have to," Jaskier looked up at him, eyes fogged. "I'll take a nap and will be fine. No need to stay around and waste your day off work on me."

Eskel cleared his throat before placing a quick kiss on Jaskier's forehead. "It's... It's not a waste of time to be around you." He lowered his gaze and fixed his eyes on the floor. "You're my friend."

"... with benefits," Jaskier chuckled, then got a coughing fit. "Sorry."

"Let's get you to bed," Eskel commanded with a light smile. "You need to sleep for the soup to work its wonders."

Jaskier slept for over four hours. He was woken up by a warm hand on his forehead - Eskel checking his temperature. He sat up with a groan, but he was relieved to find that his head didn't hurt anymore.

Eskel put a tray with a bowl of steamy hot dumplings in Jaskier's lap and sat next to him on the edge of the bed. "Time for lunch," he smiled. "I also made you some ginger tea with honey - it's much better for your health than that generic supermarket shit you had earlier."

"I don't know if I should thank you or feel fucking offended," Jaskier narrowed his eyes. He then tried one of the gyozas and let out an appreciative hum. "Okay, I've decided to thank you, cause these are fucking delicious! Did you made them yourself?"

Eskel nodded with a smile.

"Gods, I'm so lucky to have you," Jaskier whispered between bites. "Fucking handsome, so caring, great cook, dick so bomb it leaves me breathless... Eskel, I'm going to-"

"Yes, I know, you will ask me to marry you," Eskel cut him off, letting out a breathy laugh.

"I wanted to offer you a blowjob once I get better," Jaskier retorted with a grin. "But marrying you would come with the same benefits, so I guess I should actually ask you to marry me one day."

"Who knows," Eskel replied, eyes unfocused and looking at the wall with a soft smile. "Maybe one day I will actually accept your crazy proposal. Now finish your food and let me get you some more Aspirin."

*****

The fifth time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was when Eskel saved his life.

It was a chilly night at the beginning of autumn. Geralt has left earlier to run some errands and Jaskier was closing up the coffee shop by himself. Having worked there for over half a year now, he knew exactly what to do and it didn't bother him to be left alone for the last hour of work every now and then. He closed the front door, swept the floors, counted the money and put it away into the little safe in their back room. He turned off all the lights and went out, closing the back door behind him.

"Your wallet and phone, pretty boy," he heard a hoarse voice behind his back. 

He turned around to see a man, hiding his face under a big hood, both hands kept hidden in the hoodie's vast pockets. Jaskier shook himself out of the initial shock and looked closer at the person - it wasn't a man, more a teenager, sixteen years old at best. He was grinning awfully at Jaskier, eyes mad and darting, probably on drugs.

"Okay, let's take it easy," Jaskier held his hands up, shivering a little. "I don't think you want to do this."

"Shut the fuck up! Wallet." The guy moved closer to Jaskier pulling a small knife out of his pocket. 

Jaskier instinctively scooted back, his back bumping painfully against the cold door of the coffee shop. This was getting serious and he was sure even his wit wouldn't help him get out of the situation. He looked at the knife's blade shining in the weak light of the few street lamps, took a quick glance at the guy's wild eyes and gritted teeth - he was definitely under some substance's influence, so Jaskier convinced himself that arguing with the guy or trying to talk some reason into him would make no sense. He exhaled slowly, trying not to shake too much while still eyeing the sharp blade in the guy's hand. He tried looking around without acting too obvious - but there was nobody in the street.

"Okay, I'm gonna reach into my pocket and take my wallet out," Jaskier said weakly, trying to sound as calm as possible. "No need to use the knife, okay?"

"Don't tell me what to do!" the guy shouted at him, waving the knife around. 

Jaskier looked up and prayed silently to the gods. He hoped that as soon as he'd handed the guy his stuff, he'd be gone and leave him alone. All he heard was the annoying sound of his teeth clicking and his rushed heartbeat ringing in his ears.

"Leave him alone!" Jaskier heard a growl coming from the end of the alleyway. Before Jaskier could recognise Eskel in the dark figure, he rushed at the robber, knocking him down. The guy fell on his back, losing the knife and groaning painfully. He scrambled to his feet and launched at Eskel, clearly going for a fight. Jaskier watched him lose his balance and fall on his back again, after Eskel had punched him straight in the face. "Get the fuck out of here!" Eskel's voice was dark and threatening, nothing alike the soft baritone Jaskier was used to. Eskel kicked the guy once, before Jaskier grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

"It's okay, Esk," he said quietly. "I'm okay. It's okay."

"If I ever see you around here again, I swear to god..." Eskel started, teeth gritted and jaw clenched. He watched as the guy got up as quickly as he could and limped away, leaving him panting and with a very scared Jaskier clinging to his arm.

Jaskier let out a deep breath, steadying himself on Eskel's arm. Eskel turned to him and grabbed him in a tight embrace. "I'm okay, I'm okay," Jaskier kept repeating, even though his legs felt weak and his teeth were still clicking a little.

"Gods, I'm so glad nothing happened to you," Eskel breathed and kissed Jaskier's forehead. Then he kissed his cheeks and left a soft kiss on Jaskier's lips. He was shaking a little too. "If he'd hurt you, I swear to god..."

Jaskier put a finger on his lips to shut him up. "Thank you, Eskel. I'm so glad you were here."

Eskel huffed. "Good thing I came over... Wanted to ask you to go out and grab a beer with me, but now..." he gestured around, while giving Jaskier a worried look.

"Eskel," Jaskier hugged him, hiding his face in Eskel's broad chest. He felt the stress leave him, as Eskel's strong hands rubbed circles on his back. He let out another deep breath, held back the tears prickling at his eyes, smiled faintly. "You saved my life, quite literally. So, since I now owe you my life, will you marry me?"

"Ahh, there it is," Eskel let out a breathy laugh, placing another kiss on Jaskier's forehead. "I will take you out tonight first."

*****

And then Eskel has proposed to Jaskier.

"Hey, Jaskier," Geralt looked up from the delivery boxes and greeted him when he entered their coffee shop. "Before you change into your work clothes, can you go over to Eskel's diner and pick up a parcel for me? He said he grabbed it for me this morning."

"Sure thing," Jaskier replied, putting his jacket back on. "Be back in ten."

"Yeah," Geralt nodded towards him with a soft smile tugging at his lips. "No rush."

When Jaskier entered the diner, Eskel greeted him at the door and took his work apron off, throwing it to a coworker. "Good to see you, Jaskier," he said eagerly.

"Hi, Geralt said I was supposed to pick something from you for him?"

"Uh yeah... I don't have it," Eskel grinned with an apologetic look on his face, rubbing the back of his neck. "But you can come with me, I have something to show you."

"How long is it gonna take?" Jaskier hesitated at the door. "Told Geralt I'll be back in a minute."

"You don't really have to," Eskel smiled at him. "Asked Geralt for a day off for you today, he's already got someone to cover today's shift for you."

Jaskier propped his hands on his hips and eyed Eskel suspiciously. "Okay, what is going on?"

"Can't tell ya," Eskel reached out and grabbed Jaskier's hand. "Come with me."

They strolled slowly through the city's streets. Eskel was holding Jaskier's hand all the time, rubbing small circles on it with his thumb every now and then. Jaskier looked down at their intertwined fingers and smiled. Eskel's hand was strong and warm, his olive skin soft under Jaskier's touch.

"How come your skin and your hair are so much darker than Geralt's?" he wondered aloud.

"Geralt's a weirdo," Eskel blurted out without thinking, causing Jaskier to chuckle. "Also, he's old."

"Mind you, I'm the same age as him," Jaskier stuck his tongue out.

"Technically, yes. But you're different," Eskel smiled. "When I'm around you, I feel like you're more my age, while Geralt is already like our dad."

"I'm really glad he doesn't hear us now," Jaskier laughed, squeezing Eskel's hand tightly. "Okay, where are you taking me and what is going on?"

"Ah, we're here," Eskel stopped them. "You'll find everything out soon enough."

Jaskier took a look at the heavy steel gate they found themselves in front of. Botanical garden. Jaskier has always wanted to go there but never found the time to do so. He smiled fondly at Eskel and squeezed his hand. So it was a surprise date, a nice walk through the narrow paths between colorful flowerbeds. There were little to no people, since it was a weekday before noon - everyone was either at work or in school and they could enjoy their time together in privacy. A fuzzy heat spread through his chest and he gave Eskel a wide smile. "Thank you for bringing me here, I love it."

"You ain't seen nothing yet," Eskel grinned, grabbed Jaskier's hand and led him inside.

After a while of walking around, Eskel sat Jaskier on a secluded bench in front of a weeping willow tree. On both sides of the bench were flowerbeds of blooming autumn flowers - cyclamens, russian sage, and marigolds. Jaskier turned his face to the sun, letting it warm his skin, and inhaled the mix of strong flowery scents. "It's beautiful," he sighed. "But what's the occasion? It's neither my birthday nor yours... So what's the deal here?"

In reply, Eskel grabbed Jaskier's face and pulled him into a passionate kiss. His lips were warm and plush and so soft on Jaskier's and Jaskier immediately sunk into the sensation, slumping in Eskel's arms. Eskel was holding Jaskier's face firmly, kissing Jaskier so deeply, hungrily, as if he was afraid Jaskier would never want to kiss him again. But Jaskier leaned into the kiss, pressing his body flush to Eskel's, wrapping his arms around his broad shoulders, opening his mouth to welcome him.

"Jaskier, listen," Eskel grabbed his hand and exhaled deeply, when they parted their lips. "I know we're not technically together, like we never put the 'boyfriends' label on ourselves, but I feel that we have a strong connection going on between us anyway. And I know that you're much older than me, but I don't really mind, and if you don't mind, then..." He stopped for a moment, worrying his lip between his teeth, trying to find the right words.

Jaskier stared at him with interest and a hint of worry, looking between their intertwined fingers and Eskel's face.

"I've never met anyone like you, Jaskier," Eskel continued, squeezing Jaskier's hand between his strong fingers. "You're funny and smart, you're like sunshine embodied. You're so beautiful and so confident in who you are and I admire you and... I love you."

Jaskier felt tears already brimming at the corners of his eyes and he exhaled deeply, trying not to burst out crying at the very moment. But then Eskel slid down from the bench and got on one knee, causing Jaskier to gasp loudly.

"Marry me, Jaskier," Eskel said, expression serious but eyes hopeful. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small dark blue box, and pressed it into Jaskier's hands. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You might think I'm crazy but I've really thought it through and if you're ready to take that leap of faith with me, then I'll be the happiest person in the world."

"You mean it." Jaskier's voice was as quiet as a whisper, as he looked at the little box in his hands and then at Eskel's face. "You really want this?"

Eskel nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He squeezed Jaskier's hands between his a little bit tighter.

Jaskier opened the box. He found a small simple ring in white gold inside, holding a tiny aquamarine at the top. He let out a whimper, before pulling the ring out and placing it on his finger. He pulled Eskel up from his knees and into a kiss. "I knew from day one we're gonna end up like this!"

-----

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

[aforrestofstuff]

I'd like to know if you have any cooking skills headcanons!! Like, from who's able to make a absolute meal to who burns microwaved instant noodles.

I’ve done a few individual headcanons about cooking before, but I think it’s time for a refresher. You could call this... the main course.

Okay, enough of that bullshit. Here’s the hcs. Thanks for your ask, anon! ❤️❤️💞

Disclaimer: this shit is crack as fuck because I have very strong feelings about cooking lmfao. FOH don’t interact.

Tornado of Terror: She’d find a way to burn ice cream, honestly. She tries so hard (by god she tries) but her meals always come out as a convoluted mess with ingredients that have no reason being together. She eats her steaks well done and boils hamburgers. It’s a nightmare. She doesn’t really spend too much time in the kitchen, however, because she knows she sucks at cooking and because of this, makes 90% of her diet consist of takeout. But if she did spend more of her day cooking, she’d probably discover the recipe to meth accidentally. It’s that bad.

Silverfang: Stubborn old grandpa way of cooking. He’s got a handful of recipes that have been passed down for generations and he’s gonna carry those fuckers to his grave. When Garou was living at the dojo, the little bastard would try to make some changes to these recipes and Bang had to will every molecule in his arthritis-riddled body to not RKO this kid (not really, Bang wouldn’t hurt a fly). But I digress. He’s a decent cook, knows all the fundamentals and all of that shit.

Atomic Samurai: Can’t cook or bake for shit although he, of course, talks himself up like he can. The extent of his cooking knowledge is only within the realm of “shit you can roast over a campfire when your cheap ass can’t scrape together enough coin to pay the electricity bill”. But now that he’s got that S-Class paycheck and three other disciples to freeload off of, they pretty much cater to his every food-related need. He’s useless in the kitchen. Utterly fucking useless.

Child Emperor: Doesn’t know how to cook (little bastard ain’t even tall enough to reach the stove imo) but luckily he’s got that PHAT BRAIN so he can easily just build a Gordon Ramsey bot 3000 to replace his incompetence in the kitchen. His diet consists of Dino nuggets and microwaveable noodles so it’s not like he’s doing the world a great disservice by not learning how to cook properly.

Metal Knight: Same as Child Emperor except he’s a rich bastard and programs his bots to make that fancy shit with only the finest ingredients. He’s got enough cash from doing black market tech trades and building up his robo-army that this motherfucker could snort caviar for fun. He’s a real pompous asshole about it.

King: His mom taught him to cook a few things, nothing serious. He’s one of those dudes that doesn’t really know how to make much, but the few dishes that he does know how to cook are fucking BOMB. He’s got a cast iron skillet for making pancakes and everything, bitch is already halfway to being a chef himself. Other than that, however, he’s a ramen monster. His blood is practically pre-packaged bone broth.

Zombieman: I’ve said this in a previous hc but he’s a damn good cook. One problem though: he only knows how to make single servings of everything because he eats alone almost all the time. He specializes in meats. Bitch is a carnivore. He bought himself a set of those 500-dollar butcher knives so he can carve up cuts like a monster. He hemorrhages cash into fancy wood chips so he can get that smoky flavor juuuuust right. He’s got an Outdoor Chef setup on his patio. My mans is living the DREAM.

Drive Knight: He can eat but does he really need to? His cooking expertise is popping a new battery in. There you go.

Pig God: Oh my god if this man’s kitchen isn’t Michelin-Star quality. He eats a lot and he cooks a lot, it’s only natural. He’s got an indoor grill and pot chandelier and buys industrial-sized buckets of pickles and roast beef by the cow and— okay he just has a lot of food, alright? And he’s got that PHAT S-Class paycheck so my boy probably has a whole walk-in fridge just to put all the fucking food he eats. Bonus points if he hires a dishboy to work and a contractor to implement a three-sink dish station with “Clean-Rinse-Sanitize” stickers slapped on the steel, lol. But yeah, he cooks for 500 people at a time because he eats enough for 500 people at a time. Gotta maintain that figure, you know what I’m saying?

Superalloy Darkshine: He has. Oh my god— he has a full shelf dedicated to just. DOZENS OF JARS of whey protein. He has two blenders: one for fruit smoothies and one for protein shakes. His kitchen? Spotless. He knows how to cook and he eats like a bodybuilder (because he is one, duh) so he’s got that fridge STOCKED at all times. He cleans like he’s getting paid for it because nothing feels better than wiping down a gas stove until that bitch is spotless. However, his taste is garbage. He can throw down in the kitchen but does it taste good? No. Sometimes the ultra-healthy alternative to something isn’t always the greatest. He’s grown accustomed to putting zucchini in his cakes and almost damn well likes the texture of it, but don’t invite this guy to the potluck because he WILL show up with a vegetable nightmare that’s sure to make even vegans gag. Sorry bud, but nobody likes soy bacon.

Watchdog Man: furry ass.

Flashy Flash: I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but he’s pescatarian. He grew up on a coastal town before being sold of to the ninja village like a goddamned carpet and now fish is the only meat he eats. His cooking ability is about as good as one would expect from a homesless ninja. Like Atomic Samurai, he can throw it down over the campfire and still find a way to make a decent dish (in both presentation and taste) despite having limited knowledge and resources to work with. Bitch can whip up a five-star meal with some branches, a fish, and half a carrot like it was second nature. That’s about it though. He’s useless in an actual kitchen.

Genos: It’s canon. He’s a housewife. He only knows how to make the select few dishes that play an integral part in Saitama’s diet, though (because Genos can eat but he doesn’t really need to, so he only does it when he and Saitama are sharing a meal). Those dishes include things like: actual garbage. He cooks shit food. It’s not his fault. Saitama just eats like a fucking twat. There’s rats that live in the dumpster outside the restaurant I work in that have a better diet than him. Genos just works with what the poor bastard’s got and has gained a pretty mediocre grasp on cooking because of it. If he wanted to, though, he could easily be the best chef in all the land. Too bad he’s more focused on being an ultra-powerful speed demon.

Metal Bat: Tries his absolute best to cook healthy meals for him and Zenko when he almost always resorts to just popping a frozen pizza in the oven and calling it a day. I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but he eats his shit BURNT. Bitch like his steak well done, his yolks grey, and his chicken vaporized. The only exception to this is sushi because there really is no other way to enjoy it other than having it raw. Trust me, though. If there was a way to burn the fuck out of sashimi while still having it be sashimi, he’d find a way to do it and like it. But yeah, as I said: he sucks ass at cooking. He’s tried the tutorials, he’s bought the skillets, he’s sharpened the knives, but he just can’t fucking do it.

Tanktop Master: Same as Superalloy. They bond over gross-ass ultra-healthy recipes that only they enjoy. The Tanktop Gang loves him but they always kindly refuse to eat over at his house because they know he’s gonna try to make them ingest a broccoli loaf or some shit. He’s not too strict about his diet, though. He’ll chill out and have a pizza every once and a while, but only when he’s hanging out with the homies.

Puri-Puri Prisoner: He has a job in prison where he helps out in the kitchen for seventy-five cents an hour, but that’s about the extent of it. He’s got the bare basics down and could put together a decent meal for date night if he really tried (and had a damn kitchen to work with). On top of that, he can throw down some tasty prison food recipes, hand-crafted from the brick box itself. Ramen pad Thai, anyone?

Amai Mask: he’s rich as fuck, why does he need to cook? Bitch hired a chef and now all he does it drink skim milk and eat food from the top shelf. He couldn’t fry an egg if his life depended on it. Poor bastard doesn’t even know what a whisk is. And don’t even get me started on how much of a slob he is. The ten-minute process of making a single plate of spaghetti will have his kitchen in such a disgusting state that it’ll take him and a trusty Mister Clean Magic Eraser five hours just to clean it up. That is, if he even has the basic human decency to pick up after himself. He’ll probably just hire someone to do for him and then tip them a crisp 100-dollar bill for their troubles, only to make an even worse mess tomorrow.

Iaian: I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but yes: he can cook. It’s nothing special. He’s got a suburban dad sense of cooking where he, like King, can only make a select few dishes but makes those dishes taste magical. He’s got 0 utensils and shit kitchen to work with (because Kami’s place is probably like, centuries old on account of him still being a Samurai), but boy can Iaian whip up a feast like no other despite all that. It’s all protein-packed flavor bombs that look simple in comparison to, say, Zombieman or Metal Knight’s food, but it still tastes good all the same. Kama eats off of his plate all the time and it used to annoy him but they’ve grown so close that they might as well share forks at this point.

Okamaitachi: Can’t really cook, but they are a baking god. I don’t know much about baking but I know they’ve got a cupboard dedicated to their plethora of sourdough starters. They buy yeast by the pound and make enough bread to feed entire armies some days. Whatever the gang doesn’t eat, they donate it to the local homeless shelter and make it a habit to go out of their way performing good deeds that don’t always involve sword fighting (something Kami insists he instilled into them via his teachings— which is bullshit. Kama is just naturally good-hearted and sweet).

Bushidrill: Can’t cook or bake for shit but like Atomic Samurai and Flash, can throw it down on the campfire. Don’t let this man near any turkeys or pigs because he will spitroast the fuck out of them.

Fubuki: Okay, not only is she a great cook but she’s as dogmatic as a coked-out head chef. She and the Blizzard Group sometimes cook together in her massive kitchen (she poured all of her measly paycheck into it because by god, if her apartment doesn’t have a kitchen fit for a chef then it’s not worth living in), and she’ll be barking orders like a damn crow. She’s got the two-grand knife set, cast-iron everything, bronze accents on the sink, and the ability to deglaze a pan without starting a fire. She’s a natural. If she cooks for you, then that’s how you know she likes you. All in all, her food tastes and looks great. She’s a bit low on funds on account of being only Class-B, so she sometimes takes little shortcuts when plating her dishes, like using celery leaves in place of parsley and all that jazz.

Saitama: I’ve already said that his diet is absolute shit and part of that is due to being poor, but I will show mercy and say that he’s a decent cook. He only makes what he knows he’s gonna like and doesn’t leave any room for experimentation unless his budget allows it (which isn’t often). His kitchen only has the bare essentials. Genos has offered to buy him more equipment and even renovate the damn thing for him but Saitama refuses each time because then he’d have a bigass kitchen just for making a poor man’s omurice, and that would be a waste. His talent, though? Making a perfect omelet. He can fold the egg like a sheet with no tears and no brown spots. It tastes heavenly.

Mumen Rider: Ultra-safe in the kitchen. He doesn’t even own a knife sharpener because he’s clumsy enough to know he’ll cut himself the moment he even tries to use it. His pot handles all have coverings and he’s watched all of the food safety and fire safety videos out there. He could give a goddamned seminar on it. Food-wise, he’s a decent home cook. Nothing special. He does, however, share Superalloy and Tanktop’s nasty habit of over healthy-ing everything to oblivion and making it a tasteless, vegetative mess. It doesn’t matter if you invite him to the potluck or not because he’ll bring a cauliflower pizza anyway and y’all better fucking enjoy it or he’ll start crying.

Sonic: The same as Flashy Flash, minus the pescatarianism. He’d butcher a pig without blinking an eye, and often uses his katana in cooking (even though it poses like, 87 different safety hazards and is most definitely health violation). He can forage quite well and has taken a liking to wild mushrooms and berries over the years. It’s gotten so natural to him that he now knows by heart the specific time of year in which the wild berries are ripest, and which species of salmon inhabit certain streams on any given day.

Garou: Would burn water. End of story. His cooking is so bad and dangerous that everyone thinks he’s an arsonist when he really just starts fires on accident. Don’t let this fucker near a stove, for the love of god.

[weeklyhumorist]

Big Dave’s XXL American Buffet Is Back And Better Than Ever!

If the last 15 months have taught us anything, it’s the importance of family, which is why the team at Big Dave’s XXL American Buffet wanted to reach out to you, our loyalty rewards members, The Plate Posse, to let you know of some exciting new changes coming over the next few months. In preparation for our grand reopening, we’re introducing a whole new look and feel that we know you’re going to love.

We’ve changed our name

Call it a rebrand. Call it a reimagining. Call it whatever you want, but as of June 1st, Big Dave’s XXL American Buffet will be known simply as “David’s Bistro.” While we felt our previous name did serve as an apt description of what the consumer could expect upon entering our restaurant, we feel it no longer reflects who we are as an establishment. But don’t let the name change fool you, we’re still serving up the same quality “grub” at reasonable midwestern prices.

We’ve raised our prices

So maybe not as reasonable of prices, but close! Long gone are the days of our $1.99 all-you-can-eat scrambled eggs buffet or our afternoon ribfest, where patrons could eat as many ribs as they wanted for whatever they had in their pocket. We decided that that business model no longer really made sense for us, if it ever really did at all. Expect to pay a little more moving forward, but know that your hard-earned money will be going to a good cause, a waitstaff. We’re excited to finally be able to provide our patrons with the opportunity to get refills on their drinks, have plates that are washed on both sides, and not have to fight over who called “next” on an open table. We assure you that despite all the small price increases, our menu will remain otherwise unchanged.

We’re changing our menu

So yes, with our name change, will come a slight alteration to our menu as we’ll no longer only be serving just “American” food. If you think about it, that was a pretty silly idea in the first place and also not entirely accurate as our buffet routinely featured spaghetti, pizza, stir fry, egg rolls, pierogies, and even crepes (which were marketed as pancake roll ups). We’ve decided that limiting ourselves to just one type of cultural cuisine is narrow minded. So with that in mind, we’ve hired a millennial Chef named Tim “Spice” Buckson, to help bring our menu into the 21st century. True to his name, Chef Buckson does indeed use spices on most, if not all of his dishes, which will be new for us and for our patrons.

In addition to the changes to our food menu, we also intend to roll out an extensive beer and wine list. We view this as a marked improvement from our previous menu which only offered something called “Secret Coke,” which was just Evan Williams Whiskey in a styrofoam cup. We think you’re going to love ordering alcoholic drinks like real adults! While we understand that these might sound like significant changes, but restaurants go through menu updates all the time, it’s just part of the business. We’re of the belief that it’s not really our food that makes us who we are, it’s the environment and the people.

We’ve got a new location and we’re banning the Davis Brothers

We’ve relocated from our previous location next to The Auto-Salvage Yard into a quiet strip mall about a half a mile away. We recognize that many folks found the Auto-Salvage sounds of smashing vehicles and electric saws to be peaceful, but we’re going to assume that an equal number did not. As an added bonus, visitors no longer have to worry that their vehicle will accidentally be brought into the salvage yard and demolished. Additionally the Davis Brothers, who we recognize many of you know and love, will no longer be allowed admittance into our restaurant. They were, indeed, an entertaining duo, but they started too many fights and insisted on always cooking their own food, which was a definite liability. We wish them the best of luck at whatever wateringhole they choose to inhabit next, but it won’t be ours. In spite of the move and the absence of the Davis Brothers, we vow to you, our loyal customers, to keep those heaping buffet style-portions intact.

We’re no longer a buffet

Okay, so I know what I just said, but if you really think about it, no one ever needs more than one plate of food. We promise to make the plates really big (not quite as big as the garbage can lids we used to use) and to fill them very full, but you’re only going to be getting one from this point on. Unless you decide on ordering two meals which you are more than welcome to do.

Hey, we’re still the Big Dave’s XXL American Buffet you know and love. We just have a different name, menu, exterior, interior, theme, staff, and overall ethos, but other than those things, we haven’t changed one bit. So we invite our loyalty reward members, formerly The Plate Posse, now “The Olive-garchs,” to please stop by and see us real soon. We’ve missed you!

Big Dave’s XXL American Buffet Is Back And Better Than Ever! was originally published on Weekly Humorist

[broken-clover]

ACC Day 5- Freebie (Family)

I messed up!! I went and messed up!! Five days in and I already got off track. I’m really very sorry, my schedule was messy and I was up past two finishing this and then I managed to fall asleep before posting. Hopefully this makes up for it by virtue of 3,000+ words, which is somehow a thing that happened. I don’t get me either.

Well, finally getting into some Blazblue, today with Bang plus some Kagura and Tenjo! Sort of a follow-up to another fic, Lesson Number One, but I don’t think you’d need to read it to understand unless you wanted to.

Just for the sake of being safe, content warnings for ableist slurs and implied emotional abuse.

“Okay, let’s try this again. ‘Mutsuki.’”

“Moot-soo-ki.”

Kagura sat back in his chair, rubbing at his temples. “No. Like ‘Moot-ski.’ Two syllables.”

“Moot-soo-ki.”

“‘Moot-ski.’” His gaze hardened slightly.

“Moot-soo-ki!” Bang giggled, not even glancing up from the shuriken that he was spinning on his finger. “It has su-ki, so moot-soo-ki!”

He sighed, already tired of arguing. “Just...forget it, okay? You can just call me Captain Kagura.”

“Ka-gu-ra-nii!”

“No, Bang…” Kagura covered his eyes. He sorely regretted agreeing to play babysitter for Tenjo. He knew her meetings were very important and she needed to attend, but would it have been difficult to hire an actual babysitter? Or just let the kid wander around the castle on his own? He was a big kid, he could handle himself.

Bang was already distracted with something else, dropping the weapon and rolling over onto the hundred pounds of fluff named Kagemaru.

“Ka-ge-ma-ru, wanna play?”

The akita made a little ‘harrumph,’ stretching a little and licking the boy’s face before immediately curling up and going back to sleep.

“Still tired from the last game?” He scowled, crossing his arms before turning back to Kagura. “Ka-gu-ra-nii, he’s sleepy and doesn’t wanna play. Can we play together instead?”

The man immediately remembered the massive bruise he’d gotten across his abdomen the last time he’d agreed to one of Bang’s games. “Didn’t Tenjo say you needed to practice your suburi more?”

“Ohhh…” Without another word, he hopped to his feet and hurried over to the little rack bolted to the wall of his makeshift room. There was only one sword on it, a wooden practice blade, mounted low enough that Bang could grab it easily. “Help me practice?”

That, at least, seemed like an easy enough request. Kagura stood up and cracked his joints, swiping his massive blade off of where it had been resting against the wall. “Sure, kid. Gonna take your scarf off, first?”

He was expecting a simple (if emphatic) ‘yes’ or ‘okay,’ but all he got in reply was a quiet ‘nope.’

“No?” Kagura paused in place. “It’s gonna get knotted up. You’re gonna get tangled in your own scarf in the middle of a fight.”

“M’not taking it off.” Just for emphasis, Bang shoved his face into the fabric. “You tie your hand to your sword.”

“It’s to keep the grip from slipping off!” He opted not to think about the time he had tried dropping his sword after practice and proceeded to accidentally sprain his wrist when he left the tether on. “Besides, I keep it under control. What happens if someone tries to grab you by the scarf and choke you with it?”

“Toss it at ‘em?”

“Kid…”

A knock came at the door, thankfully sparing Kagura from any more conversation. “Kagura? Bang?”

“Tenjo-sama!” Bang immediately dropped his sword and bounded over as Tenjo let herself in. “Ten-jo-sa-ma!”

A hand reached down to ruffle his hair. “It’s good to see you. I hope you didn’t give Kagura too much trouble?”

“Nothing’s broken, which I count as a success.” The man quipped in reply. “Meeting go over well?”

“No declarations of war, which I count as a success.” Tenjo offered a rare bit of banter back.

“It’s lunch time now.” Already bored with the adults talking, Bang hopped back and forth on either foot, rubbing his hands against his scarf.

“Yes, that’s correct.” Tenjo laughed softly, holding the door open for him and Kagura to leave. “I did promise lunch after I finished.”

Wadatsumi Castle was remarkably quiet, despite the meeting that had gone on. The building was rather large, with Tenjo’s bedroom and one of the guest rooms that Bang had been staying in being the only real sources of noise in that wing of the castle. Still, after meetings, diplomats and department heads seemed eager to head on back to where they had come from, presumably to discuss information and decide courses of action (or, as Kagura would quip, ‘gossip like housewives and complain for the sake of complaining.’)

The dining hall was designed to seat a long line of dignified guests, but it was rare that more than a few would sit down at once. Tenjo reached down to nudge Bang towards one of the doors at the other end of the room.

“I’ve got something I need to discuss with Kagura briefly. Why don’t you go tell the cook what you want for lunch? I promise I’ll be finished very soon.”

“O-K!” The reply came with a sharp nod. “Beef stir-fry?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Stir-fry, stir-fry, stir-fry~”

As soon as he was out of earshot, Tenjo turned to Kagura. “You seem irritated with something, Kagura, what’s wrong?”

“Just a little worn down after that. He gives off so much energy, I just don’t get it.” He offered a shrug that wasn’t as convincing as he would have liked.

“Children are remarkably energetic. One of the world’s mysteries, but I suppose I find it rather endearing.” Tenjo’s smile thinned into an unreadable line. “I can tell that isn’t what’s bothering you. Is Bang giving you trouble?”

Kagura was still stubborn. “I though the kid would be a better strategist. I don’t think he’s actually looked at a strategy book in his life. He’s still convinced nails are a viable combat weapon.”

That got another little laugh out of her. “He’s nine, Kagura. You weren’t exactly Sun Tzu at his age, either.”

“I guess.” He continued to talk, without really thinking. “Dunno if he’s got any skills for combat in general.”

“Why is that?”

Kagura flinched. He didn’t hear that tone often, but it had just enough coldness to make even him be afraid. “I-I don’t really mean-”

“Just tell me, Kagura.” Tenjo’s voice softened just slightly. “If you’re having issues, I’d like to know.”

“I just can’t get him to act like a proper fighter, no matter what I do.” He pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. “I dunno how you even got him to try the sword. He doesn’t focus. He keeps getting distracted by everything. Won’t take off the damn scarf ever.” His voice sharpened, growing more irritated. “Half the time I swear he’s never heard a real person talk in his life. He never wants to talk about anything other than heroes or weapons. From what I’ve seen, he’s got no more fighting capability than practically anyone you could pluck off a random street-corner. Absolutely nothing special. He’s a pain, Tenjo, how much longer are you gonna keep this up?”

“He’s my protege, Kagura, just as you are. I’m not sure why you seem so insistent in your dislike of him. He likes you very much.”

“Trust me, I know.” He crossed his arms. “Started calling me ‘Kagura-nii.’”

“Not everyone takes on skills in the same way.”

“I know.”

“You say that, but yet you seem so impatient. You can’t expect him to be a carbon-copy of you. I know it’s going to be a bit difficult working with someone who behaves differently than you, and I’m well aware that Bang is a bit peculiar-”

“‘Peculiar?’ Guy wants to fight people with nails.”

“-But it’s just a matter of adapting.” Continued Tenjo, with just a hint of venom to her tone. “And I truly do appreciate your help with training, Kagura. Even if it is difficult.”

He felt a bit of heat rise in his face. Tenjo always knew just how to make him feel guilty. “I’ll figure something out…”

“You’re so obsessed with trying to make him think like you. Have you tried seeing what happens if you think like him?”

Kagura snorted. “Hey, spare me the philosophy. Was this really what you wanted to talk about?”

Her expression fell, almost imperceptibly so, but he was just as attuned to her emotions as she was for his. “Tenjo?

“You know how Bang never mentions his parents?”

“Yeah? Wasn’t sure if he was an orphan or what. What about ‘em?”

“I think I managed to find them.”

Of all things, he hadn’t been expecting that. “You what? Really?”

“I pruned through the technology reports from a couple of years ago. I thought I recognized a Shishigami from one of them. I managed to find names and a location with some assistance from the registrar. Hana and Kanji Shishigami. They live over in block 3. I’ve summoned them to come visit the castle.”

“So he’s going back with his parents?” Kagura replied, trying not to sound eager at the prospect.

“It appears so.” Tenjo was far more downbeat. “I’m looking forward to meeting with them.”

The swordsman turned to her. “You don’t sound it. Something wrong?”

She was quiet for a moment, as though choosing her words carefully. “They seem...very detached from his life.”

“Huh?”

“It’s been over a month. I’ve never seen any signs of his parents looking for him. It was difficult just to find them. How could they not have noticed he left?”

“Tenjo-sama!” A shout accompanied by the slam of a door interrupted the conversation. Bang reappeared from the kitchen, followed by one of the castle servants. “Lunchtime! I got to help!”

They chose to pause there, finding places to sit at the table and eat. Tenjo was able to find a different discussion, a simple and meaningless chat about finance distribution that only served to occupy space.

Bang merely sat at the table and kicked his legs while everyone else talked. He could be a very talkative child, but unless the conversation was about weaponry, heroics, or fighting styles, he didn’t have much interest in joining it. Instead, he prodded at his lunch, meticulously scraping out the chunks of bell pepper that were mixed in with the rest of it.

Before any of them knew it, another servant entered the dining hall, bowed politely, and spoke.

“Milord, Mr. and Mrs. Shishigami have arrived, and are waiting in the foyer. I had another servant gather the young man’s belongings, and find a leash for the dog. They are all waiting by the front entrance.”

Kagura turned to Bang with a smile. “Isn’t that great? You get to go home to your family again!”

The boy merely pushed his plate away, expression suddenly dull. He dutifully hopped out of his chair, standing stone-still as the two adults got to their feet.

“Our time together has been wonderful, Bang.” Tenjo kept her calm, dignified expression. “I will do my best to see if your lessons can be continued in some way. If your parents allow it, I would be happy to keep you as my protege.”

He offered a noncommittal noise. No eagerly flapping arms or hopping steps. Just quiet, quieter than Kagura had ever seen him before. There weren’t any traces of his overactive cheer. Just a sort of empty nothing where he stood.

When the hallways dumped back out into the front of the building, a small pile of boxes were waiting, just as the servant had said, with Kagemaru leashed to a pole. Alongside them, a pair of unfamiliar figures were waiting.

“My lord!” The woman offered a polite bow. “It’s an honor, Imperator.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Tenjo reached out a hand. “You are the Shishigamis? It’s wonderful to finally meet with you.”

The man seemed far shier than his partner, but gave his own polite greeting. “You are too kind, Imperator. I’m Kanji, and this is my wife Hana.” Kagura could see the resemblance easily. Especially with the hair, though his mother’s was neat and restrained while his was shaggy and wild.

The woman’s eyes flicked over him, before settling on Bang. She smiled, though it seemed sharper than necessary.

“Hello, Bang! Wonderful to see you again. Have you been good?”

As soon as she started speaking, Kagura felt little fists grip onto his leg.

Mr. Shishigami was already occupied with a conversation with Tenjo. “I can’t begin to say what a relief it is to know that our boy is safe and sound. I do hope he didn’t cause much trouble for you, your eminence.”

“Oh, not at all. Bang has been quite the breath of fresh air here in the castle.”

“Ahh, that’s wonderful!”

In terms of mannerisms, Kagura was puzzled on how they possibly could have been related. Both were polite and soft-spoken, while all that came to mind when he thought of Bang was raucous and half-coherent chatter.

“I do hope you’ll forgive me for this,” the woman continued, “but Bang seemed very interested in swords and combat during his stay with me. I introduced him to some basic techniques, and he’s been making remarkable progress.”

“Swords? With all due respect, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Hana butted in. “I don’t trust him with butter knives! I wouldn’t think giving him a sword would be at all safe.”

With a little bit of pulling, Kagura tried to dislodge the hands grabbing onto him. He hissed under his breath. “Go on! Why don’t you go see your parents?”

Tenjo gave another warm, polite smile to placate them. “Rest assured, I’ve been very careful with what I teach him. My elder protege, Kagura Mutsuki, has also been very helpful.” She gestured to the swordsman. “And as I said, Bang has been making remarkable progress. His tenacity is inspiring, and he has a very strong drive to problem-solve. He’s taken to this with a remarkable amount of enthusiasm, it’s impressive to witness.”

Despite that, Hana seemed firmly unconvinced. “Oh, I doubt he can solve any problems on his own. You’ve probably noticed, but he’s very unintelligent. Trusting him with anything sharp never ends well.”

While Kagura would agree that she had some point, but there was something unnerving about how casually she spoke, especially considering that Bang stood only a few feet away from her. She didn’t even look at him again after saying hello. Like he wasn’t even there with them.

“I beg to differ.” Kagura recognized that smile, just a smidge forced and usually reserved when she was making a point and wanted it to stick. “Little Bang is almost a natural at my lessons. And he’s very well-behaved. I’ve encountered older students that don’t listen as well. He’s shown quite a lot of potential.”

Kanji had long gone quiet, glancing in between Tenjo and his wife. Hana continued to talk, giving him no time to speak if he even wanted to. “Ah. Well, it’s nice to know that there’s some way to finally get him to listen. I know he can be quite the handful. Trust me, I know from experience. No matter how hard I try to teach him, he’s still such a troublemaker.”

Tenjo was not a woman who was quick to anger. Kagura didn’t see anger in her eyes, but he could make out something forceful. “He has been an excellent student. I was going to ask to see if you would be willing to consider allowing him to continue his studies with me- at no charge to you, of course. Given his aptitude, I think he will make a fine warrior if he is allowed to hone his skills with practice and instruction.”

Very few people would say no to the Imperator. Especially when the tone of her words gave off just enough of an impression that her words were an order, rather than a polite suggestion.

Hana Shishigami looked her right in the eyes as she replied. “I appreciate it, but I’m afraid I’m going to decline. Knowing him, he’s probably forgotten everything you’ve taught him already. He never really learns anything. He’s retarded. He doesn’t know how to remember things.”

Kagura felt Bang flinch against him.

“I see. That’s a shame.” Tenjo replied, expression never changing. “I suppose that’s all the questions I had. Unless you have any of your own, we’ll let you take you leave and return home.”

“...Like hell we are.”

“Yes, Kagura?” The Imperator sounded genuinely confused. “Was there something you wanted to say?”

“Yeah. Like hell I’m letting him anywhere near you.” He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt so much hatred at these people all of a sudden, but it was hard not to lash out. “Where have you two been for the last month that was so important?”

“W-we’re researchers.” Kanji replied. “Lots of experiments to attend to-”

“And for an entire month, you didn’t notice your nine-year-old kid was missing?” Kagura’s eyes were shining with anger. “Or were you happy he was gone?”

“How...how dare you! It may not have been the most responsible moment, but you’ve seen him! He’s quiet, he’s easy to lose track of-”

“Bullshit.” He directed his glare at Hana. “Do you not even know your own kid? He loves to talk. You start him on something he’s interested in, and he can go on for hours. Did you just not pay attention? Or did you tell him to shut up every time?” His stare was so sharp, it could practically cut glass. "Did you ever listen to him at all? Was he just another project, instead of a person?"

The woman looked at Tenjo desperately. “Your eminence, can’t you please deal with him?”

“Kagura is his own person. I don’t own him.” She said. “And I’m not particularly inclined to silence him when I agree with what he says.”

“Y-you-...”

He had been expecting shouting, outrage, anything. Instead, she merely leveled a cold glare at the both of them.

“Fine. Keep the little retard if you want him so badly. Just don’t expect him to amount to anything. He’s barely smart enough to breathe.”

Hana stormed out of the castle foyer without another word. Kanji offered another polite, meek bow before hurrying off after her.

“You okay, Bang?” Kagura looked down to see him still clinging onto his leg, sniffling quietly with tears brimming in his eyes.

“It’s alright. They’re gone now.” Tenjo gave him a gentle pat on the head. “If they’re as smart as they claim to be, then they won’t come back.”

Despite the assurance, Bang seemed no more consoled. “P-please don’t be mad.”

“What? Why would we be mad?”

He looked up at Kagura. “Mommy gets mad when I mis-be-have.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong. There’s no reason to be mad at you about anything.”

“‘m sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Tenjo looked up at the boxes by the door. “Let’s put your belongings back in your room.”

It didn’t take long to move things. Kagura carried most of the light boxes in one trip, with Bang carrying the rest while Kagemaru padded behind. Tenjo lead them back to the room, and they set the boxes down on the bare table.

“Need help putting your things away?”

“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head. “I can do it.”

“Alright then. I’ve got some paperwork to handle, will you be alright on your own?” Tenjo asked.

“Okay.”

As soon as Tenjo and Kagura left, Bang wrapped himself up in his scarf, curled up with Kagemaru, and stayed there for the rest of the night.

[ayehatethis]

Graduation

@horanstemporaryfix

This is your graduation surprise.  I think I started writing this back in September and we talked about how Niall would want to throw you a big thing and you didn’t want that and since all of my stories come from our conversations, this became a thing. I know I already sent you a bunch of stuff, but yeah. HAPPY GRADUATION!

All you wanted to do was finish your last paper and the presentation that you were supposed to give with it, but your boyfriend would not let up. He wanted to throw you a party to celebrate you graduating from college. He was ecstatically happy and more proud of you than you could even imagine. He had left school early to start his career and never got the chance to finish or even think about college and it impressed him that you were about to graduate from it.

“Niall, just let me finish this, okay? We’ll talk later about the party. I don’t even want a party. Just let me get through graduation and we can just go to dinner or something.”

He frowns and puts his hands on your shoulders. You’re sitting at the kitchen counter typing away at your laptop and you know he’s not going to let this go. He’s insistent on a big celebration for you, but you’ve been protesting since the beginning of the semester and he just doesn’t get it.

“Petal, I just love ya and I want to celebrate how smart you are, and I wanna show off how amazing my girl is.”

He leans in and kisses your neck, under your ear. He knows where on your body to touch and kiss at this point to get what he wants. You shrug him away and go back to your typing.

“I’ve got 3 days to finish this project and if I don’t, I can’t graduate so if I promise to talk about a party will you let me work?”

He smiles and says “okay, but you have stop working for a little to eat some lunch. I know how you get when you’re working.”

You’re so frustrated with this conversation but you know he means well, “Fine, but you have to listen to what I want for this party and all I want is some cereal. Don’t overfill me or I’ll be too sick to work.”

“Deal” Niall says and heads out of the room to let you work in peace. Finally.

—

Three days later you have finished your project, given your presentation and had a few free days before graduation. You figured you’d let your boyfriend finally plan his party for you.

You walked into his office, leaning on the doorframe watching him work for a few minutes before he finally says something to you.

“You gonna come in or are ya gonna just watch me for a while longer?”

“I just like to watch you.” You smirk, leaning up from the doorframe and making your way towards his desk. When you reach him he pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms around your waist. “I missed you, Pet.” He says burying his face in your neck.

You wrap your arms around him and bring his face close to yours to kiss him. “Maybe I missed you too.” You lean your head against his. “I thought we could talk about this ridiculous party you want to throw me.”

His face lights up at your suggestion and he swirls the chair around so you can both see the computer screen. “I put together some ideas for it and made a little presentation of my own,” he says completely enthralled with this idea. He starts rambling about all of his ideas and for someone who is as good at business as he is, he’s really going nuts with this.

“I thought we could do it here in LA cause it’s warm and we could have an afternoon turns into evening barbecue and everyone could bring swimsuits and we’ll hire a DJ and a caterer and-“

“Niall!” You cut him off.

“What’s wrong?” He looks at you concerned, running his hands up and down your back.

You start to fiddle with your hands in your lap and stare down at them. You love him so much and don’t want to hurt his feelings, but you don’t want any of that.

“Don’t be upset, I know you worked hard to work all this out and find all these people, but I don’t...really...want any of that. Is that okay?” You look up at him with tears starting to form in your eyes. He looks back at you with more concern in his eyes than anger and that makes you cry even more. He wipes the tears falling from your face away, asking you, “Well you promised I could do something for ya, what do you want instead?”

You shrug your shoulders and look back to him, “I dunno. Something more low key. Just a few people, a small dinner party, just the stereo playing a few of my favorite cds in the background. Maybe my favorite meal that we could make together. No swimming, maybe board games after dinner.”

He looks at you and sighs. He knows you’re right. You hated over the top things.

“What’s your max amount of people?” Niall asks you, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

“Maybe like ten including us?” You shrug your shoulders at him before listing off the names of your friends and family you’d like to be here, but not all of them live close. Niall helps you pick out a menu, as long as you promised not to dump it on his head if he accidentally went overboard on your gift that you insist he not buy you. But Niall is persistent he spoil you, just a little. You finally settle on a guest list and tell Niall just to send an email, and to NOT order those expensive invitations on Shutterfly.

Hello friends, My incredibly talented girlfriend is graduating college this week. We have planned a small get together and we want you to be there. This Saturday afternoon at 4 you can come by our house, dressed casually for a low key celebration for her. She does not want gifts but just to spend the evening with you.

Love, Niall

After you proof the email and guest list, he clicks send.

—-

On the day of graduation you were so relieved to have finally finished. You had worked so hard over the past four years that this almost felt surreal. So much has happened including meeting your incredibly supportive boyfriend.

Speaking of whom, was eager to drive you to the ceremony and tried to take what felt like a million pictures of you beforehand.

The ceremony went on forever, or so you felt. All you wanted to do was get your diploma and go back home. Niall had arranged your party for tomorrow afternoon and the two of you had gone shopping the day before in preparation. You planned on getting home and relaxing before waking up tomorrow to finish cleaning and cooking dinner just in time for your guests to arrive.

After the ceremony finally ended you found Niall hiding in a corner of the auditorium trying to look inconspicuous. He had his face hidden in a program, but you’d be able to pick him out anywhere.

“Ready?”

“Pet, I’m so proud of you!” He gushes pulling you into a tight hug.

“I know, you’ve said it a million times this week.”

“Doesn’t make it less true.” He grabs his phone trying to snap a few more pictures of you in your cap and gown. “Let me get a picture of you with your diploma, darlin’, I promised your mom I’d send her one since she couldn’t make it.”

You groan about how ridiculous this was, but smile anyway. You had wanted your mom to come out to LA to visit, but something had come up and she promised to make it out another time. But you and Niall had planned to go visit for the holidays anyway so at least you’d still see her soon.

You let Niall finish his mini photo shoot and then make your way to the car. The ride home is short, but he keeps his hand on your thigh the whole time.

“I kinda like you in this dress,” he says.

“You’d say that about any dress I wear.”

“Well, you don’t wear em that often so yeah I like seeing your pretty legs.”

You blush and place your hand on his. Your boyfriend is constantly trying to get you out of your comfort zone. He always makes sure to tell you he likes best what you’re insecure about, hoping one day you’ll see what he sees.

__ The next day, you had slept in, which was unusual for you, but after all of the hard work you had been putting in lately, it was long overdue. After your shower and getting dressed, another simple black dress that Niall insisted you wear, you went downstairs to help set up for the party.

Your boyfriend was already in the kitchen getting ingredients together. He was wearing a plain white Henley and a pair of dark dress pants. He had put on a red and white polka dot apron, complete with red frills. You giggle at him and walk outside to the garage and grab some of the other things you had left in the garage refrigerator and head back inside.

He walks over to you with a second apron, “I don’t want you getting anything on that pretty little dress of yours.” He says kissing you and then tying the apron around your waist and around your neck.

“Thank you, babe.”

Niall pulls out a few boxes of spaghetti and the jars of sauce, while you open the packs of meat and start mixing the meatball mix together. Adding breadcrumbs, eggs, parsley, and a hint of salt and onions.

Niall turns the stove on and starts boiling the water before coming over to help you roll the meatballs. You get out a frying pan and cook them in olive oil.

When you finally finish cooking dinner your guests start to arrive.

Niall had flown in three of your friends from home. His roommate Mully, his bandmate and close friend Louis, and a few of his employees you had grown close with rounded out the list.

You had made a playlist of your favorite songs and Niall had it playing in the background when everyone arrived. Your best friend helped you set the dining room table for dinner while Niall entertained everyone.

When everything was ready, you walked over to Niall, placing your hand on his back. He looks over at you, “ready?”

“Yep.” You reply, and he calls everyone to join in the dining room.

Everyone takes their seats and Niall pours everyone a glass of wine. You don’t really like it but he insisted on you having at least one glass to celebrate. Plus he got one with a sweet flavor he swears you’ll like.

Standing up, Niall raises his glass and everyone sits quietly looking to him.

“Hi everyone, thank you for coming. I just want to raise a toast to my lovely girlfriend, Jamie. I can’t say enough how amazing and talented you are and how proud of you I am. You’ve worked so hard and you’ve had such a strong determination to go after your dream and I am so lucky you let me into your life and I just want to tell you, congratulations and I love you.” He leans down and kisses you before everyone clinks their glasses and a chorus of “congratulations” comes from your guests.

“Thank you, Niall. You’ve been so supportive and I know this last semester was terrible, especially with all those rewrites, and most days I just wanted to throw my laptop and cry, but I can’t thank you, and everyone really, enough for your constant support. I am so glad to be done, though.”

There’s a collective laugh, and then the food starts getting passed around and eaten.

—-

Later that night after everyone has left, you are finally able to take this silly dress off and change into comfy clothes. You’re about to yell for Niall to come in and help with your zipper, when he comes strolling into the bedroom still in his dress pants and shirt. His sleeves are rolled up, and his goofy socks on his feet.

“Hey, I never gave you your gift.” He says pulling you close to him.

“You didn’t have to get me anything. You did all this for me today.” You say lightly brushing his arm.

“I wanted to, you know that.”

“Help me out of this dress first,” you say turning your back to him.

He pulls on your hand till you face him again, “No, this first.” He usually isn’t firm with you, so it starts to make you worry. You look at his face and he’s completely serious and you don’t know what to think. What happened to your happy go lucky boyfriend of a few minutes ago?

“Now, before you go over analyzing this, I love you. I’ve never done this before and I’m honestly a bit terrified, so this is gonna be short. I love you so much and I can’t imagine my life without you. I know we can both be stubborn at times and we both have crazy families and lives but none of this means anything without you.”

He kisses you quickly before getting down on his knee.

“Will you be my wife?” He asks, tears forming in his eyes as he pulls out a small box from his pocket.

You nod your head as tears fall down your face. “Get up before you hurt your knee.” You pull him to his feet and he pulls you to him kissing you with much more force this time.

He pulls back saying, “wait, you never actually said yes.”

“Of course yes, Niall!” You say while he slides the ring on your finger.

“Let’s get into comfier clothes and go cuddle on the couch to celebrate.”

He quickly changes out of his clothes and into a pair of athletic shorts, leaving his top half bare, knowing how much you like to cuddle and play with his chest hair. He unzips your dress for you before helping you out of it.

“You finish getting changed and I’ll go get us some ice cream and hot cocoa ready.”

You put on some sleep shorts and a tank top and head downstairs to the living room where your fiancé is getting set up.

You sit against him and start eating your ice cream, taking breaks to sip your cocoa.

"Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and then see what we find?"

“Perfect.” —-

Hours later you’ve both fallen asleep, Niall leaning against the back of the couch, feet propped up on the ottoman. You nuzzled into his chest, legs tangled with his.

——

End

[overanalysing-galavant]

Title: Change of Plan Fandom: Galavant Characters: Vincenzo, Gwynne, Gareth; mentions of Richard and Madalena Pairing: Vincenzo/Gwynne Rating: PG Summary: Missing scene set before the feast in S01E07 based on a theory I had concerning Vincenzo’s sudden change of heart

A/N: I haven’t written much fic, only published like one and a half fics in my life, and English isn’t my native language, but I gave this my very best shot. Apologies to anyone who was hoping that the fic I’d eventually finish would be a Garalena one (you know who you are), but my muse reached down my throat, pulled out this idea and beat me over the head with it until it was finished. Also, there’s not enough Gwynne/Vincenzo fic out there, and those two are super-cute. Enjoy!

Vincenzo hummed to himself as he stirred the soup. He remembered that his father used to sing whenever he was cooking. Especially if he was preparing fish, though that stopped after the Crab Incident. His father hadn’t been the same after that, and Vincenzo didn’t like to dwell too much on him. But humming always calmed Vincenzo down, and boy did he need calming down. He’d never actually killed anyone before, not even accidentally. Which, given thirteenth century hygiene standards, was a point of pride.

He thought about the way Gwynne smiled and blushed whenever he flirted with her. It made him grin despite his nerves.

Oh, well. He’d try anything once.

The chef tasted the soup. Almost perfect, it just needed a little something extra to give it the right kick. Vincenzo looked around. Everyone was busy chopping, frying, glazing or stirring things, and shouting at each other over the din.  He could afford two minutes to leave the kitchen and grab the special ingredients that he had hidden at the back of the pantry.

“Be right back, guys. I just need to check if we have enough cinnamon for dessert.” Vincenzo called over the chattering and general din of the kitchen.

The staff just muttered “Yes, chef.” without meeting his eyes. They’d been here long before he became their boss, and were sure to still be there after he was gone. No one ever talked to him much.

The pantry was dark, cool, and so depleted that his steps echoed off the walls. It felt like a tomb. Vincenzo started walking faster. Now where did he put... ah, there it was! He picked up the bags and turned back towards the exit, heart in his throat. He started humming again, then singing.

“The poison, the poison,  how I love the poison,  I will put it in every dish.”

First strychnine for the soup then some ‘shrooms for the sauce, cyanide makes the danishs delish.”

Singing about it made him feel a little better, but his anxiety got worse with every step he took towards the kitchen.

‘It’s them or us.’ he thought. ‘Them or her. I can’t let her down. She’s not a bad person, she’s just scared. Those royals are going to start another war no matter who wins that duel, and then many more people will die. This is the right thing to do and I’m just nervous cause it’s so quiet in here and because I’m carrying five freaking pounds of poison; once I can hide among the usual bustle and noise in the kitchen it’ll be alright.’

But Vincenzo didn’t calm when he heard the sound of things sizzling in their pans, fire crackling in the stove, and pots gently simmering. Something still felt off. Then it hit him: There was no talking, no chopping sounds, not even one muttered swear word.

“Guys?” he stepped through the kitchen door.

“They ran before I could tell them to remember not to make the food so spicy this time. The King has a sensitive stomach. Then I stayed to make sure that the castle wouldn’t burn down with all those unsupervised fires in here, turned the heat down, flipped some things that needed flipping and, y’know, did your job. And where have you been?” Gareth asked from the other side of the kitchen, casually twirling a filleting knife in his hand.

“I... uh. I w-was fetching... more salt? For the soup and, and stuff?” Vincenzo stuttered, clutching the bags of poison to his chest.

Gareth glanced from the pots on the stove to the heavy bags in Vincenzo’s arms. 

“That’s a lot of salt.”

“Well, I forgot to season a couple of things. Big feast, you know. Lots of s-s-stress!” The last word came out as more of a squeak then he’d intended.

“Hm.” 

The chef breathed a quiet sigh of relief when Gareth started walking towards the door, putting the knife down on a nearby table. However, instead of leaving, Gareth stopped in front of a drawer and riffled through it until he found a spoon, then walked back toward the stove. He lifted up the lid of one of the pots, took a  sniff, then put the tiniest bit of soup on the spoon to taste.

Gareth hmmed again, then spat onto the floor.

“Not enough salt, see?” Vincenzo gave a weak smile.

“Nah, I just don’t like pumpkin. It’s salty enough, though; you must have forgotten that you already seasoned it what with you being so stressed. Tell you what, I’ll take those bags off you and put them back, alright? Least I can do after I scared everyone away.” The henchman slowly approached the chef, still brandishing the spoon. 

Vincenzo’s heart raced; his usually so steady hands started shaking, and his mind came up with ten different ways how a spoon might be used as a murder weapon. Each one was messier than the last.

“Th-that’s alright I’m sure they’ll be back any moment.”  He had never felt so terrified. 

“Not while I’m in here, and I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s really in those bags.”

Shit. He knew. Vincenzo realized he was going to die, right here and now. He wouldn’t even be able to say goodbye to Gwynne.

His eyes slid to the filleting knife on the table next to him. He dropped the bags and lunged for it.

Gareth stopped in his tracks, far out of his reach.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Oh? Wouldn’t you?” Vincenzo looked from the knife in his trembling hand to the spoon in Gareth’s and huffed out a small, somewhat hysterical laugh. “Then what would you do if you were the one holding the knife?”

“Chef, I know what a killer looks like, and you ain’t one. That’s part of the reason you got hired for this job. Now, put the knife down and tell me who put you up to this, and I promise I won’t kill you. Or even torture you.” Gareth amended. “Tell me who was really planning to kill my King, and I’ll give you until sundown to run very far away. Can’t offer you better than that.”

Tell me who put you up to this, and I won’t kill you.

Or torture you.

until sundown to run very far away

‘I don’t wanna have a bleak life anymore.’  she’d said.

Oh, Gwynne. I’m so sorry.

Vincenzo’s hands stopped shaking, the fear for his life was gone, replaced with something far, far bigger. And yet, he felt a strange kind of calm settle over him. He sighed and let the knife drop onto the table. Then, drawing himself up to his full height of five feet five inches, he approached Gareth, looked up into his eyes, and said:

“I put me up to this. It was all me.”

��And why would you do that?” Gareth asked, frowning.

“I hate those nobles who think they are better than us downstairs folk and who push us around all the time like they own us. I mean, I know they do own us, but that’s not the point.” Vincenzo tried to put some heat into his words, but all he felt was detached. Why couldn’t Gareth just kill him and get it over with?

The henchman stared at him, lips pursed. “I thought you liked the King?”

“I don’t. He’s a horrible person. He starts wars, he’s, he’s weird, and he k-” killed my father, Vincenzo wanted to say, but he knew that Gareth knew that he’d been more relieved than anything that that drunk, choleric bastard was gone. That’s another reason he'd been trusted with this job.

“-idnapped a poor woman and forced her into marriage.” He trailed off, looking at his feet. 

God, that was even worse. Gareth would never buy this one. While the servants had felt bad for their soon-to-be Queen at first, that pity disappeared as soon as word got ‘round of what had happened at her wedding. Like, what kind of woman swears a chastity vow right there at the altar in front of all the guests, with no more warning to her husband than “And as the vicar is already here...” and that after she’d had her ex-boyfirend dragged out of the church?And once they all got to know her better, well... It was hard to feel sympathy for someone this horrible. Most of them pitied her husband more, and Vincenzo often wondered what the King even saw in her. 

His Gwynne was worth ten Madalenas, secret evil poison plot or no. At least she only did it because she was scared, and she’d trusted him enough to let him help. Vincenzo allowed himself a wistful smile. He hoped they’d meet in the next life, if there was such a thing.

He knew there were many  reasons why someone might hate King Richard, but Vincenzo wasn’t given to hating anyone and it was hard for him to think of more reasons when Gareth was staring at him with something he would have called pity if he’d seen it on the face of anyone else.

Vincenzo rallied himself. He had to convince Gareth if he wanted to protect Gwynne, so maybe he should go with something he actually believed.

“And then there’s his brother who is even worse. He’s an outright sadist who treats women like chattel and he-”

“Stop. Shut up. I’ve heard enough.”

“Oh. Okay, um...” Vincenzo looked at the spoon Gareth was clenching in his fist. Part of him was scared, but another part just didn’t want to die like this in his own freaking kitchen/room. He scrounged up the last bit of his courage.

“I’ve, um, got a last request? Could you maybe use something sharper than that spoon to, you know? Or at least not kill me in here, because there’s food here and if my death is messy then that’s a hygiene issue and I don’t want that in my kitchen.” He was babbling now. Great. He’d never expected a long life, but he’d hoped that in his last moments he’d be a little bit cooler than that.

Gareth was staring at him again, open-mouthed, like that was the most idiotic thing he’d ever heard. He looked down at the floor behind Vincenzo. Vincenzo followed his gaze and winced. He had forgotten about the massive amount of poison on the kitchen floor.

“Well, the bags haven’t ripped, so that’s easy to clean up.” Vincenzo said, a little sheepishly. “But god knows how many blood-borne diseases I carry,” none, he’d never had the chance to catch any and now he never would, “so...”

“Right, we wouldn’t want anyone getting sick...” Gareth muttered, suddenly deep in thought.

“Look, just *bleep*ing kill me already!”

“No.” Gareth was smirking, now. If lightbulbs had been invented back then, Vincenzo was sure he’d see one hovering over the thug’s head. 

“No?”

“Not today. You are going to do something for me first. I just had an idea that should work out for both of us.”

Vincenzo had been wrong, earlier. This was the most terrified he’s ever been or thought himself capable of being. He involuntary backed a few steps away from Gareth, not at all liking the direction this conversation was going or the way the King’s henchman was looking at him.

Little did he know, that feeling was mutual.

“Oh, for *bleep*s sake! Get your mind out of the gutter! Why does everybody always assume that I’d -? We aren’t in *bleep*ing Westeros!”

Vincenzo didn’t know where that was, but guessed that it wasn’t a very nice place.

“No, you ponce. I need you to finish cooking all this,” Gareth waved his spoon at the room at large “and you are going to make some changes to the menu. Do you still keep a list of the allergies that the guests have?”

“...yes? It should even be fairly current, my father updated it just before his death. But why would you-?”

“Don’t ask any questions, fetch me that list, do exactly as I tell you and I promise you’ll live to see tomorrow, at least. And above all, never mention any of this to anyone. Got it?”

Vincenzo nodded. He knew the value of another day to live.

“Good. Now put those bags back where they came from and then we’ll get cooking.”

***************************

“Look! The King is scratching,” Vincento pointed, smiling. The whole table - except Gareth, of course. He should really at least try to play along; did he want the King to get suspicious? - was scratching, all dignity and royal manners blown to the wind. He might die tomorrow but he would damn well enjoy watching the people who would condemn him to death suffer at least a little bit.

He looked to the other side of the table, hoping to see the high and mighty Queen squirm because she couldn’t allow herself to be seen scratching her own bum in public. She did seem to be in a great deal of discomfort, but...

“Gwynne?” Vincento turned to his girlfriend.

“Yeah?” 

“Did you put extra poison in the Queen’s food before you served it to her?”

They both looked at the Queen, who was bent over and seemingly in a great deal of pain from cramps as she made her way out of the throneroom and ran, presumably, towards the nearest loo.

“N-no? I didn’t do anything to her food!”

No poison, then. Gears were turning in Vincenzo’s head. Strange how impending death focused the mind. Cramps, diarrhea... Vincenzo guessed convulsions and death were just too hard to fake. At least the Queen knew how to play along with a plan, even if it had been the wrong one.

“Why would you even ask me that? I thought you would do it!” She went on ”Not that I’m not glad you are too good a person to kill people, of course.” Gwynne gave him one of her shy, nervous smiles. Very nervous, in fact. Her hands were wringing and there were roses blooming in her cheeks.

She looked so beautiful.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, “same.” 

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Nevermind.” Vincenzo leaned in and pressed another soft kiss to her lips. He was frankly relieved. Appealing as the thought of Gwynne as some ruthless femme fatale had been, he did prefer the nice girl he’d fallen in love with.

“Hey, wanna hide away somewhere and make out until they find us? It’ll be a couple of minutes before the chaos down there is sorted out.”

“A couple of minutes? What can we do with a couple of minutes?”

“Babe, these hands,” he held them up and wriggled his fingers, grinning as confidently as he could “can work miracles with only a few minutes.” In the kitchen, he amended silently. Oh well, he was a fast learner.

Gwynne grinned back and locked her fingers with his. If today was going to be her last, at least she’d make it a good one.

The couple disappeared, giggling and still locking hands, into the nearest alcove.

A/N: The song Vincenzo sings is based on  Les Poissons from The Little Mermaid. I owe a double apology (and my eternal respect because rhyming is hard) to Glenn Slater, who wrote the lyrics both for The Little Mermaid and Galavant.

[smugwanderlust]

Cherri Rose & Me the morning of the event.

When I was in grade school I had a good friend named Levi. It is safe to say that he was my first major crush. I loved his freckles and odd elastic skin. I would always sit with him on the school bus, invite him to my birthday parties, and one time we watched Ice Age on my parents couch. I bring this up because he was a country boy through and through. Back then he was all about raising sheep and doing various rodeo and 4H clubs. I could be wrong, but I am pretty sure he grew up to be a cowboy. Until last Friday he was the closest thing I had ever gotten to Montana country life. Despite the fact that I was raised here.

I was born in the city, but raised in CowTown USA, and for the last 8 years I have lived in various cities. It is safe to say I am not a small town girl. More then that I am not coordinated in the slightest. There is a reason I failed at sports in school. Heck, I am so clumsy that I couldn’t even run track correctly.

My family was hanging out after our Sunday dinner when my twelve-year-old niece started dancing. Somehow we got on the topic of my horrible (uncoordinated) dancing skills. I told my niece that I used to describe my dancing like the speghetti noodle you slap on the fridge to see if it is cooked or not. The way it awkwardly slithered down was a very close resemblance to my dancing skills. However I have since gained weight so now I dance more like an uncooked egg yoke in a frying pan. Slither, slither.

My mom on the other hand is the complete opposite of me. We may look similar but I am more downtown and she is more L.A. Meaning, I am better served in a coffee shop reading a book and she belongs on Rodeo Drive.

Mom looking good in her cowgirl get-up! Thanks J.C. Denton Photography!

Back to last Friday. My mom and I went to the Chicks N’ Chaps event I wrote about awhile back. Oh man, were we a sight. Uncoordinated me attempting to cowgirl it up and my mom who looked the part but was hating getting her (cowgirl) boots dirty. Oh, LAWRD, have mercy!

Like I have mentioned before Chicks N’ Chaps is an organization of woman who promote the sport of Rodeo all while raising money for families who are battling breast cancer. My mom was sponsored by them and we were honored guests.

To my moms surprise the event was styled by a former friend and coworker of hers, Angela. They apparently lost touch after my mom left her former job at a furniture store and Angela went to Europe. Somehow her friend over heard the planners of the event talk about a woman who was battling breast cancer. They were telling my moms story but Angela didn’t realize who it was. She ended up volunteering to cater and decorate. When she ran into my mom at the event, Angela couldn’t believe the story she heard was a friend of hers that she had lost touch with. Talk about a small world.

Angela & Cherri Rose

Angela & Mom talking

                Not only was my mom touched by that little surprise, she also ran into her surgeons mother! Which was also a blessing for mom to hear her story.

Mom talking to her surgeons mother

The event started out with bidding on the silent auction, eating hors d’oeuvres, and greetings. After that we had a local news anchor Jill Valley give a speech about her fight with breast cancer. It was a great speech and I know it touched my mom. Oddly enough they had the same exact type of cancer just on opposite breasts. My mom’s on the left and Jill’s on the right.

News anchor Jill Valley 

In Jill’s speech she talked a lot about the negatives of what it is like to fight with cancer. How you literally picture your last moment alive. In my option it was an interesting way to talk about cancer.

I liked it. She was realistic. She gave us the black coffee version without adding in creamer. She let us know that the fight is painful, hard, draining, emotional, but those are all the reasons you have to fight. Fight to survive. Survive for those who love you and need you in their lives. Fight to help others fight. I wish I could be more helpful on the words that were spoken but I am not a poised news anchor and cancer surviver. Sometimes the giver of a speech is the only person that can give it.

After Jill Valley spoke we did the the rodeo events. This is where it got a little crazy, fun, and down right embarrassing. However, we had to give it our all because there was a custom belt buckle up for grabs.

We went to the roping station where we learned to head a steer. I may be saying that wrong… I am really bad at this whole rodeo lingo… One event was called “Pickup Man,” and I was really concerned because I thought we were going to learn how to pick up cowboys. I was like, “umm… I am married…,” My mom’s friend Sarah couldn’t stop laughing. After she caught her breath she explained that Pickup Men are men who “rescue roughstock riders from twistingfury on the hoof, usher bulls and broncs to the exit and vanish into the background.” I had to google that because I still didn’t remember what Sarah said to explain it. I am just glad I didn’t have to sexually exploit myself.

However, I did get “hand’s on” with a cowboy. Every girl’s fantasy right? Though my husband, who recorded the whole thing, said he was likely gay due to the way he was behaving. Whatever, once touched by a cowboy always touched by a cowboy, right?

Nah, it was nothing special I am just trying to make light out of an embarrassing situation. My mom roped her steer in her second try. Her pom pom days gave her the advantage. I am sure of it. I on the other hand twirled around with the rope not really understanding the concept. Hence the cowboy having to wrap his arms around me and guide me through it. Fortunately, my husband caught it all on video. Lucky us.

After the roping station we headed over to ride Mighty Bucky. At first mom didn’t want to do it and told me that I should do it anyways. I told her that there was no way in hell I was getting on a fake bull that wasn’t even mechanical but driven by a cowboy who “pumped” the fake bull up and down.

It had embarrassing written all over it. I told my mom that if she did it, I would. So after much convincing my mom hopped on the fake bull and rode it like a real cowgirl. It was the funniest thing I have seen in a long long time. I was in tears and almost peed myself because I was laughing so hard. She was wearing a denim skirt so when she first got on she accidentally flashed the world but she made this cute “ooo” sound and squeezed her knees together. She held her umbrella in one hand, because she can’t be in the sun for too long, and the the cowboy began to move the fake bull. She did it so well, hootin’ and hollerin’. She owned the bull..it was so great.

After she was done my heart sank and embarrassment flooded through me. She did it, so now I had too. Oh crap.

Once again mom pulled it off way better then I did. Uncoordinated me. I didn’t even understand the concept of wrapping my legs around the bull tightly. The cowboys kept trying to get me to hold my legs down. Beyond that I kept screaming because for some reason I was scared of the fake bull. I ended up jumping into another cowboys arms just trying to get off that thing.

Remember, the custom belt buckle I said was up for grabs? Well, my mom won! She is amazing.

After the cowgirl training they served up dinner and families joined the party. We listened to music, bid on the auction, went to the photo booth, and bought raffle tickets. They had a 50/50 raffle going on. Which meant that if you won, 50% of the proceeds made on Friday’s event went to Chicks N’ Chaps and the other 50% went to you.

You wouldn’t believe it but my parents won that too. They didn’t keep the money though. They gave it right back to the clinic.

I would also like to mention the photographer they hired for the event, J.C. Denton. He was very friendly and even snapped a few photos of my family using my camera. A lot of photographers get upset about there rights to photograph the event they were hired for. Not him though.

He was nice, friendly, and very talented. He had a drone going around the whole event capturing images. Like the one I used as my featured photo. So if y’all could do me a favor and like his Facebook page it would be an awesome help. I know how hard it is as a photographer to gain the attention you need.

Overall the whole event was very fun and I am so glad we were able to be apart of it. I have more photos on my Facebook page, DC Creations and I am sure J.C. Denton Photography has the official ones on his page too. So Check them out and make lots of comments! I would love to hear from y’all.

For now, this cowgirl is out!

Cowgirl IT UP! (Chicks N’ Chaps Event 2017) When I was in grade school I had a good friend named Levi. It is safe to say that he was my first major crush.