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Shirou muyo chapter 11 saiyans first thanksgivingShirou pov
For the next few months Kale stayed with me until our marriage. Unlike my marriage with Artoria, this one would be in the same chapel ship that Sena’s wedding was on. The wedding would be on Christmas eve. But before that came up I would have to cook thanksgiving meal for the core family living at the house, Seto, my new fiancé and my great-grandparents, greatgreat aunt, grandmother and aunt. I then thought of Kale and had to call Bulma for reference. After she picked up I asked the blue haired woman “about, how much does Goku eat for?” she replied “the most I saw him eat was enough food for 50 people but that was when he was growing. Goku eats about half his weight in food a day. I can’t say much for females but when I was pregnant with Gohan my calorie intake went way up.” My reply was “that is more than my current wife and most of the family combined but I can do it.”
after that, I talked with Kale and asked her “
Knight of the Heart Chapter 3 Part 1/3Ser Agravain was a man who never knew any true peace of mind.
With a self assured gait that seemed more coldly confident than haughty, armour of dark, mottled grey that seemed to border on black, the same black as his swept back hair, and a face that didn’t seem capable of showing warmth even if he were to try, Agravain wasn’t someone others approached on principle. Rather, he was a man approached when he was needed – and that was how he preferred it.
He wasn’t like his siblings – especially not Ser Gawain, who reveled in the glory of being a Knight and performed his duty with a gleaming smile on his face no matter what that duty may be, and took full advantage of the women who would swoon for his affections, no matter how briefly they were offered.
Nor was he like Ser Lancelot – a man of honour and chivalry who was the standard by which every Knight of this generation, and likely the next few, would be measured by, hailed as the “Perfect Knigh
Knight of the Heart Chapter 3 Part 3/3Guinevere had immediately left the arena, Mordred trailing close behind as they tried to keep up with the King. Arturia had been the first one out, but she likely hadn’t gone far.
Indeed, it was Mordred who saw her first; she had immediately run off, giggling like mad as Guinevere moved to keep up.
The tent Arturia had entered was deceptively small, not one would expect a Knight to have, let alone a King. As soon as Guinevere managed to get Mordred to calm down a little more, they had entered; Arturia was halfway out of her armour, but still had enough on underneath to hide her gender, dressed in a tunic of deep blue and beige trousers, each beautifully embroidered with incredibly intricate patterns. She was in the middle of removing one of her greaves in favour of boots of beautifully tanned leather.
Her eyes only showed the faintest signs of surprise before the mask was in place again.
Heedless, or perhaps, unaware of this, Mordred practically threw herself onto the King, climb
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