#farmer price is just so special to me okay :’)

[moondirti]

I have to ask about the sheep reader bc my god your brain is so wrinkly and now the images won't leave my head ahhhh love your writing so so much

hybrids. manipulation. brief smut. referenced neglect

it was that or cult leader price which i feel like has been done before so,,, idk man. something about sheep girl! reader being gifted to him by a hybrid averse neighbour, trussed up in the back of their pickup, soft belly up, eyes quivery and wet with tears. though he does not need an addition to his flock — certainly not one that would require extra care — he notices the abrasions sectioning your bare patches of skin (consequence of crowding in with the more animal individuals of your kind), and chubs up upon realising how easy it would be to soft-soap you into submission.

all it takes is a bit of kindness. he herds you into his home, bathing you in a galvanised steel tub with shampoo made for human women. his hands are large and rough, work-worn, but they weave into your wool gently as to not tug on the knots that have accumulated with neglect. you bleat in the novel attention, peering up at him shyly when he works the soap down your back, cupping between your legs to make sure he gets the dirt spoiling your privates.

freshly clean, you’re a pretty thing. round in the most mouth-watering places, teeth healthy upon inspection, plump lips perpetually cast in a pout. price goes so far as to tell you while he detangles your hair with an animal comb, petting your bare cheeks to feel the way they warm. loveliest lamb i’ve ever had the pleasure of caring for. set to be my favourite, at this rate. the most special.

that’s what the collar he buckles ‘round your neck seems to argue, too. fashioned himself out of full grain leather, dyed pink, antique buckle making a sturdy hook for the bell he will eventually procure.

you give in like he’d brought a meat tenderiser down on your flesh. pull apart like a well-cooked feast, unspooling all your ripe sentiments on his lap. as he sups on lamb chops — seated on his arm chair with you by his feet, making you suck his fingers clean — he tells you what to expect in your new home. the schedule, the other animals, your place within it all. you will not be given this treatment daily, yet it does not mean he loves you any less. most winter days, he’ll lay a bed of straw in the barn, assuring you that it’ll be away from the rams and their meddling horns, and come to check in on you when you can. that way, you’ll make friends who can keep you company while he’s busy.

and the way you nod, nose twitching under his heavy palm, hesitant but so trusting of the only kindness you’ve ever known — he can’t help but skip a few steps. promises you that if you get along with everyone well enough, if you’re good, he’ll reward you with a nice bath, trim, and private meal weekly. it’s the right thing to say, too, because your hips jut excitedly at the suggested luxury. just one taste of it and you’re so easily conditioned.

he can’t imagine how eager you’d be if he were to give you more. more; like fondling your doughy pussy as he is so tempted to do, kneading until you’re sloppy and soaked through your wool. like giving you a taste of climax, fingers foraging expertly within your walls, stretching your hole out to eventually supplant them with his cock. you’d move so well underneath him, fluffy and malleable, legs moved up and out of the way to press against your teats. if he knows anything, he knows sheep acquiesce to handling like butter to the knife. he could bend you, tie you, pick you up in whatever way he sees fit, and you’d take it. all he has to do in return is make you squirt messily onto the soft grass, and pump you full of his seed until you cannot clean yourself out without the help of his hand and a hose.

all in due time.

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Miscellaneous Monster Tales 1

Oh cool. There's bonus content about the monsters.

Walking Mushroom

Makes perfect sense that there are different breeds of walking mushroom. Wish I was a mycologist right now so I could appreciate this a bit more.

H-how much does that book cost? 1,238G?

Meanwhile the various meals at the dining hall ranged from 160-190 G while there was a meat bun soup that cost 210 G and those came with free travel rations.

Let's say 200G is equivalent to $10 US. In other words, 1G = $0.05. That book would cost $61.90.

Also the actual price says 1,238 G+. Is that a premium currency or is there a sales tax involved?

Slimes

This one's really interesting. Most slimes are parasitic. They effectively act like stomach cells and steal portions of their host's meal for themselves. Their mucous layer is probably meant to protect them from their host's digestive system similar to how our own stomach cells produce a mucous to protect them from stomach acid.

Maybe some species have a more mutualistic relation with slimes. Maybe the slimes help break down certain compounds the host can't break down, similar to how our guts are full of bacteria that break down tons of things for us.

Imagine being a poor little critter that got eaten by a frog. Then when you end up in its stomach, you then get eaten by a slime in the frog's stomach.

Man-Eating Plants

Laios just won't stop talking about how shadowtails ensnare their victims. He does bring up an interesting point that they can adapt to any creature when determining how to restrain their victims.

Maybe that shadowtail that grabbed Marcille was feeling around her to determine things like muscle-tone, body thickness, and joint articulation so it could find the best ways to restrain her.

Breeding shadowtails so they keep their restraining instincts but no longer have the parasitic aspect could be useful for things like capturing animals to relocate them or maybe to design specialized casts for broken bones. But realistically, the main draw would definitely be for kink and Marcille is a kink-shamer.

Mandrake

So mandrakes having human-looking appearances is pure coincidence. But farmers like trying to grow them into human shapes for the equivalent of the county fair.

But how do they harvest them without the mandrakes screaming?

Basilisk

So there IS a hen version of the basilisk.

Baby basilisk is so cute.

Basilisks hatching back-first just adds to the confusion of which is the head and which is the tail. Chickens and snakes both break out of their eggs using sharp implements to break the egg (snakes have egg teeth specifically to help them cut through the shell). If it hatches from the back, then its birth feathers are probably fairly sharp.

The basilisk anatomy is just giving me more questions. Both halves have their own stomachs but the chicken half also has the craw and gizzard. This means both halves are equipped to eat whatever they would normally eat.

Since the snake has its own stomach, is it able to stretch its body to fit large meals like real snakes? And if the snake half eats something, can the whole basilisk go long periods without eating while the snake-half digests its meal? Or does the snake have a heightened metabolism since it's part of a (presumably) warm-blooded creature? Maybe the snake half is responsible for eating large prey. Meanwhile, the chicken half supplements its diet by eating smaller prey and plant matter.

Living Armor

Okay. I was wrong. The whole body is part of their shell. They aren't just inhabiting an existing suit of armor. And this likely means the individual Living Armors treat themselves more like pieces of a whole rather than as a colony of individuals helping each other. I guess each suit of armor is a colony of siblings. Maybe a small cluster of them are specialized toward breeding purposes.

There is a non-zero chance that adventurers influenced the evolution of Living Armor. They only need to develop to the point they can move so there's no reason to develop all these elaborate art patterns like the lion-head colony had. Maybe around the same time humans began making iron armor, Living Armor started to emulate human designs because the Living Armor mistook adventurers in full plate for a large breedable colony and they wanted to mate with them. This in turn put pressure on the Living Armor to structure itself to look more like adventurer armor to compete with adventurers for mates.

...

Wait! What if the swords are the sperm-producing parts of the colony and them trying to stab people was part of their courtship rituals? Or maybe they think of adventurers as rival Living Armor colonies.

Or maybe I'm just wrong and the sword is just a sword. Maybe Living Armor already looked like that before adventurers came around and adventurer armor took inspiration from Living Armor instead.

Laios has me trapped in his rhythm. I genuinely want to know how Living Armors breed. Based on their behaviour, all of the Living Armors likely share parentage with the egg sacs. So does the egg-layer lay its eggs in the egg sac and then all the others deposit some sperm to inseminate the eggs, or do the other Living Armors impregnate the egg-layer? And does the chosen egg-layer create the shield as part of the egg-laying process? If the biggest colony lays and protects the eggs, then that means it has more Living Armors that can be converted into a shield without compromising the body structure.

I still want to know what and how they eat.

back

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

That one recent question about Amethyne RSV gave me another one; how would the event be if Lance ever met with one of the Amethynes?

Let's just say the family had something to do with the adventurers. Maybe they tried to established a new Ferngill Republic department of defense, or a private security company that specializes with monsters (it's just a prompt that I randomly came up with, I'm sorry if it sounds dumb 🥲)

They need someone they can consult with, or even better, establish collaboration. For some reason, they managed to contact Lance (either they asked Farmer, or just knew him since from one of Victor's heart event, Lance seems to be the type of adventurer who is famous and approachable due to his friendly nature)

I can imagine, since from what I heard somewhere, Lance came from a noble family. So he knew pretty well high society etiquette, but never show them to anyone because of his humble personality. But when he met the Amethyne, he unconsciously let those etiquette lesson seep out (again, this might sound dumb, but I just love a situation where Lance unknowingly let others see his nobility side, especially to other noble that doesn't know his family and known him only as an adventurer)

Thank you for reading my super long rambling

Yes yes yes yes! Y E S !

Be aware, dear anon 😅 also super long rumbling:

_________________________________________

I definitely remember discussing with someone the possibility of Lance meeting the Amethyne family (at least one of them, like Maive), as the Farmer's spouse, not on official business. But this event is entirely possible!

Because if you recall the events in SVE, civilians can hire adventurers as mercenaries and bodyguards, and it doesn't violate the rules of the Guilds themselves or the Order. How exactly this happens, and whether it is somehow documented (by contract) is unknown, and yet it is there. Gunther was able to hire a Farmer to accompany him to the Mines, so why can't other adventurers do such a thing if it means extra profit and glorification of the Guild's name?

The north of Ridgeside Village is teeming with monsters, and although ninja assassins stand guard, they don't officially show up anywhere. Also, people are realizing that monsters exist, which means that if the problem gets to be too big, it's time to call in the professionals. And since the Amethyne family are (officially or not - I can't say) patrons of Ridgeside Village, looking out for the very community, like Lenny, they will send urgent letters to verified Guilds, offering work in the "cleanup".

Maive would definitely push for an urgent meeting with the Guild heads or deputies, as she wouldn't allow a possible threat to Ridgeside Village, plus the area covered in monsters could be utilized. I came up with this "Maive want an expansion everywhere" theory, because I vividly remember meeting her at the resort on Ginger Island, and the first thing she said was about "expanding the resort and creating a tourist spot here", or something like that. That surprised me a little bit. I don't know why the hell our Madame thinks she can do whatever she wants, but apparently she has enough power and the means to do it, she feels so confident. So Maive can do the same with Ridge Forest.

Now the question: which Guilds will respond?

The famous Castle Village was the first choice, since it's all professional monster hunters (also the prices are sharp, as Morris confirms when he hired them for Spirit's Eve, but it's not a problem for wealthy noble family), but due to some personal factors, Camilla said no. Okay, whatever, Maive will complain, and starts looking for other options later. The Adventurer's Guild is the most logical option, as the headquarters is not far away, but Marlon is unlikely to agree to deal with this family of demanding aristocrats, even for a lot of money (his own nerves are more important). And The First Slash Clan comes to mind.

Jolyne could safely let Lance, as her second-in-command, negotiate such contracts if it meant a benefit to the First Slash itself. Given that our pink-haired adventurer is smart and well-mannered (we won't mention here the possibility that Lance can be a smug bitch), his charm, silver tongue and friendly nature, he will always make good deals, Jolyne trusts him to do so.

Maive will invite Lance to a meeting at her mansion for dinner because that's what the rules of hospitality in her house require (also headcanons, because idk how this things works). Madame was morally prepared for all the antics of the guest, considering adventurers rather rude in communication and ill-mannered. Anything to bargain for the work. And what was her surprise when Lance spoke to her according to all the rules, as a civilized man, knows table etiquette perfectly and in general a very pleasant and polite person. Maive's discerning eyes wouldn't miss it all. The conversation somehow touched on Lance's personal life, to which he would politely and modestly confirm his pedigree of noble adventurers.

So now the adventurer from First Slash will take care of the monster problem, because Maive is sure that at least one of their guild members can be dealt with properly.

She won't ask about Lance in more detail about his life, because with all due respect, these are rather personal matters and her upbringing doesn't allow her to go overboard. But it will be allowed if Lance also happens to be the husband of Farmer, best friend of all Amethyne members and grandchild of Maive's old friends. That's where she learns all the details.

_________________________________________

I apologize if my rumbling got a little chaotic, but I've always been in favor of the idea of Lance interacting with the Amethyne family and what would come of it. Thank you again for your interesting thoughts, I really enjoyed rereading your ask! 😊💖

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

Okay, first sorry for presuming you didn't work with children - the way you talked about them at first was really oversimplificated, easy to misunderstand.

About "using Third Wolrd countries as props", sometimes they pop in the middle of an argument out of the blue and with no nuance at all. Like "don't eat quinoa, eat meat!" - we export meat and the contidions of workers in slaughterhouses are AWFUL too. We plant too much things to export (both for animal feeding and people), and for the exchange farmers don't plant local crops anymore, prices rise, and stuff. Not to mention mineration. Almost everything produced here, specially most brute products, come from exploitaition. I don't think individual buyers interfere much, maybe organized though.

Or the parrot thing. Shelters here are full too, to the point of workers saying "please find a new home for this lost bird yourself." (Happened to a co-worker that found a lost, absolutely healthy, and clearly imprinted parrot).

And to be honesty the discourse of "undomable parrots" "the WILD!" sounds also fetishing to me. You see? It is still a open question. You say what you want about husbandry, but how *we* feel is still open. What Europeans did to parrots is fact, what we make from it? It's *our* turn to discuss and decide.

These are just random ideas. Idk how you will receive them.

Also, I'm amused by the idea that some comments threw "imagine until they know about unicorns or dragons" or "they are adad". I'm totally for imagination, and if I made understand I'm against it I'm sorry. I'm not *against* whatever dino toys, I just *wish* we had more variety than JP bootlegs, including pleasant and accurate critters.

What I will say to you is that my response to parrots is very US-centric because that is where I live and have experience and knowledge about the exotic pet trade on a first hand level and because that is what OP specified they were speaking on in the first place.

I am not speaking for your country because I have not lived there and you haven’t disclosed which country you reside in meaning I can’t give any assumption to what the situation is there.

The state of parrots in the pet trade in the US is that anyone can buy as many parrots of whatever species they want as long as they pay a lot of money to the seller. The seller very rarely does any kind of background check to ensure the buyer even knows what they’re doing or what the bird eats, they take money and they give bird. There is often no way to verify that the parrots were bred for health and good temperament, or even that they weren’t bred to parents or siblings. There is often very little transparency about what methods they were imprinted with, there are several types of imprinting and some result in a nightmare bird and others result in a very calm bird.

Because you can profit off of selling large quantities of parrots with unique patterns or colors, there are a lot of people breeding them in unethical ways to do so cheaply while selling at the highest possible price. This, much like the human labor and land exploitations you’re referring to, are just the end result of capitalism. Rich white countries like things cheap and convenient so they imperialize and leech off of countries they intentionally sabotage financially so they have to stay in line.

Because of the mindset Americans have towards convenience and instant gratification, they go to a store, see a parrot, buy a tiny cage, and bring the parrot home with a bell toy, dowel perch, and just whatever bag of generic “parrot food” they happened to grab on the way out. Then the parrot is loud or bites or never talks so they cover it with a sheet, release it into their backyard, or force it onto an already overcrowded rescue.

Every type of parrot has unique needs, but they at the very least should be able to fly, have others of their species to interact with, and bonding activities that don’t frustrate or upset the bird. So many parrots in the pet trade here have never actually felt the sunlight aside from through a window. So many parrot cages are designed in ways that lead to damaged feathers. So many parrot cages have no room for the bird to stretch their wings or even have a private place to hide.

My stance on parrots is at the bare minimum people should have to go through a similar process falconers have to go through before getting their first raptor. Falconers here must build an enclosure that meets guidelines approved by the state department of wildlife, they must pass an exam regarding the natural history, husbandry, equipment, and training of the animal. They must study under a master falconer for two years before becoming fully independent in the sport. If we held people to this standard and required it before they could buy a parrot, I would have far less complaints I’m sure. But that isn’t the case. Every parrot I’ve worked with was a rescue, and every one of their stories was heartbreaking. Yes, true, people will neglect any given animal because people can be cruel, but the vast majority of parrot owners are still keeping them in terrible caging, still keeping them all by themselves, and it’s still greatly encouraged to breed more and more which just gets parrots killed or dumped at a rescue.

[talldarkandroguesome]

30th of Hearthfire, Morndas

After so much drought in summer, now that autumn has come, we are set upon by great rains. Three and a half weeks now we have had rain. We had a reprieve of only half a day on Loredas past, but since then, the rain has resumed.

The crops are much weaker than we should like. The rain has been so heavy that, even though many farmers had been hopeful, much damage has been done. Only the saltrice has enjoyed the great flooding.

Again the price of grains have gone up. With the saltrice having done so poorly early in the season, many farmers planted more of other types of grain than saltrice.

I have also decided to add to my Nest, which has taken up much of my time not spent with House business. This has meant much planning as we approach our Prince's Summoning Day in just two weeks' time.

There is an Imperial who runs a small in by the docks who has been frequenting Tanur's parties. Apparently they have asked Tanur about various sorts of additional entertainments and even offered up their own establishment in order to tempt Tanur into it. I gave Tanur the okay to do a trial of one of these particularly debaucherous events and Tanur claims that it was a very enjoyable night.

As I am told, the Imperial had wanted to bring in someone from one of the crews that had stiffed them on payment in a previous sailing season, to entice them into the party and then use it to be rid of them. Tanur said that it was done so descreetly, that, even though he was in the room at the time, he had not noticed that the victim lay dead until hours afterwards.

Of course, this is the sort of subtly and tact we look for in new spiderlings. Tanur said that after the event had taken place, that this Imperial had asked if they could come to a sort of regular agreement, so that anyone who had caused trouble at the inn, might be able to be taken in such a way again. Tanur said that they would want to ensure that none of his regulars would wind up as collateral in these sorts of events and so the Imperial promised to allow Tanur to make use of the property regularly and that on nights with a target in mind, Tanur would be alerted.

Naturally I gave my approval. Tanur and this Imperial have been negotiating what this all might look like and Tanur set up a meeting for the Imperial and I to speak about terms. This will take place tomorrow evening, with us joining for a party on Turdas, where I shall be there to oversee how the next target will be taken care of.

I have some hope for how things may go. I just want to ensure that they are not a member of the Dark Brotherhood. If they were Morag Tong, then we could easily align, but a member of the Dark Brotherhood I will have to put down. I hope it does not come to that.

Lucky me that the new moon is Middas. I did not even need to make a special trip to Davon's Watch. And with Sildras occupied with his studies and Avon caring for him, I have few excuses that need to be made. It is just my monthly check on the crypt and the manor in Davon's Watch.

Perhaps I will drop by the Imperial's place of business tomorrow night, just to see how they conduct business. It might be fun to see what sort of security they have in place.

[creations-by-chaosfay]

A couple folks have asked about why I won't work arts and crafts fairs, sewing as they're especially popular this time of year.

Here's the list why:

Covid - Husband and I both wear masks, but most people do not. We're both high risk and have contracted this deadly disease once, and still deal with the longterm effects. Oh, covid is the leading cause of death now here the US. Getting people to use hand sanitizer before touching anything is also a major issue. It's like dealing with toddlers. Now, before covid...

Scented items - everyone seems to use horrific artifical fragrances on their holiday items. I tried working an arts and crafts holiday fair about 12 years ago. In just half an hour, I was dealing with a really bad asthma attack. The "zero refund" policy was waived so we could get refund on paying for the vendor space. Because I nearly died.

Sensory nightmare - A&CFs tend to take place in auditoriums and school gyms. Lots of echoing and no soft surfaces (like carpeting) to absorb thr noise. The lighting hurts my eyes and tends to flicker because fluorescent lights are like that. I end up needing frequent breaks. Don't get me started on the odors, namely body odor. These places smell like sweaty teenagers who refuse to wear deodorant and instead marinate in body spray (scented rubbing alcohol) by Bath & Body Works. It's bad.

Permit/license - In Oregon, I'm required have a license or permit to be a vendor. You need these for garage/yard sales too, and those are free. Street vendor permits are free, but if vendoring indoors? It's not. I'm Disabled and that can complicate things. I can't be a street vendor, like at a farmers market, because of sensory nightmare and the heat. Even with a tent to keep thr sun out, I will not be okay.

Fabric absorbs odors - all that stink will need to be washed outta the fabric. That means a trip to the laundromat immediately after an event because I cannot pack these things away before washing. That's expensive.

Exhaustion - On top of this, we will be exhausted. That's a problem we acquired from covid: we exhaust easily, especially me. I can walk nearly a mile now, but it's taken a year to recover this much. That's just walking. There's all the talking and the social masking I need to do because of my autism and adhd, and dealing with the sensory nightmare. Then setup and repacking everything.

It's simply not worth it. Especially considering folks will balk at the prices and argue that I need to lower them to what they consider "reasonable" because apparently they can find these quilts at Walmart. Dealing with them is a special kind of Hell I never wanna deal with again.

Please stop suggesting I work at these events.

[hareofhrair]

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤❣️💔💗 :>

PFpfpfpf I think that's cheating but okay! This is going to be long as hell, so buckle in!

❤️ How much does romantic love mean to you?

"H=onestly, n=ot all that much. I think it's plenty imp=ortant in general. R=omance is beautiful, and inspires beautiful things. I l=ove r=omantic gestures, and tha thrill =of r=omance as a c=oncept? But actual c=ommitted r=omantic l=ove aint all that significant ta me pers=onally. N=ot sure I can even d=o r=omantic l=ove if I'm perfectly h=onest. Aint happened s=o far. Even if I c=ould, aint really c=ompatible with my way =of life, and I can't imagine ever feelin s=o str=ongly ab=out s=omeb=ody I'd give up travelin."

🧡 How much does familial love mean to you?

💛 How much does platonic love mean to you?

"g=onna just c=ombine these tw=o, since tr=olls d=ont really d=o genetic family. I think plat=onic l=ove and ch=osen families are incredibly imp=ortant. Tha m=ost imp=ortant! N=othin m=ore beautiful than tha b=onds we f=orm with pe=ople because we decided ta care ab=out em, n=ot cause we're gettin anythin =out =of it, but just because ya need each =other. Tha l=ove =of true friends, tha l=ove =of a c=ommunity fer =one an=other, that shit gets me straight up misty in the eyes. L=ove seein f=olks c=ome t=ogether. Tha pr=oblem with r=omantic l=ove, =or at least tha way m=ost f=olks d=o it, is it cl=oses ya =off fr=om =other f=olks when it sh=ould be d=oin tha =opp=osite. But if y=ou make a friend, and they g=ot =other friends already? that just means y=ou g=ot a bundle a friends fer tha price a =one! I g=ot mad heaps a plat=onic l=ove fer tha friends i have all =over, and fer any=one what c=omes ta me reachin =out, needin a hand."

💚 Are you in love right now? With whom? (Be as specific or vague as you would like)

"Sure am. I'm in l=ove with tha w=orld. With tha c=ol=or a sunrise and tha silver wind =over tha grass and tha smell a tha forest and tha feelin a rich s=oil between my t=oes. I'm in l=ove with all tha pe=ople i meet, and all their little w=onders and idi=osyncrasies, and all tha ways they l=ove each =other. I'm in l=ove with their s=ongs and their st=ories, and h=ow they'll make art =outta any damn thing they can lay hands =on, h=ow they can't st=op makin art. I'm in love with tha way that rusty farmer calls the names =of his cluckbeasts and they c=ome runnin s=o he can tuck em in safe every night, because he l=oves them. I'm in love with tha little flowers that =olive carved inta tha handle a tha knife she uses ta gut fish, s=o even her killin is d=one with s=omethin beautiful, is d=one with l=ove in it. I'm in l=ove with tha =old mustard what let me sleep in their barn =one day when it st=ormed =out =of seas=on, and h=ow they didn't say a w=ord ta me except ta tell me n=ot ta steal anythin, but they br=ought me blankets against tha c=old, and they left a wind=ow =open s=o i c=ould hear tha music fr=om their radi=o all thr=ough tha l=ong day, even th=ough they must have had a puddle =on tha fl=oor fr=om all tha rain c=omin thr=ough. Because they l=oved me. They didn't kn=ow me fr=om adam, but they l=oved me all tha same. The way all =of us l=ove each =other, when we let =ourselves feel it. Can't d=o it all tha time. Hurts ta feel that much l=ove, specially kn=owin h=ow many are sufferin and h=ow y=ou can't d=o jack shit ta help. But ya g=otta remember it's there. L=ose that l=ove, ya l=ose everythin ab=out ya that's w=orth l=ovin."

💙 What kind of partner are you?

"Ha! Tha l=ove em and leave em kind."

💜 How do you show affection?

"I like ta take care a f=olks. Bring em what they need. If I d=on't like ya, ya just w=ont see me. If I do like ya, I'll find a reas=on ta be in tha neighb=orh=ood a little m=ore =often, and I'll never sh=ow up empty handed. I like ta bring practical gifts, but if there aint n=othin like that ya need, then it'll be little gifts and suchlike. Little things I f=ound a l=ong tha way and th=ought were beautiful and wanted ta share with ya. Everyb=ody needs beauty, always.

🖤 What is your sexuality/orientation?

"I d=on't c=ott=on much ta the idea a gender, and that makes =orientati=on a bit hard ta pin d=own. I like fellas, generally speakin, and f=olks what l=ook like fellas. Masc, I think is tha term, or butch as the case may be? Maybe? I d=on't rightly kn=ow tha terms. I =only kn=ow I like em big and beefy and hairy and r=ough ar=ound tha edges."

❣️ How do you flirt?

"=Often, and with=out a great deal a subtlety. I aint afraid ta ask fer what I'm after. I ain't im=olite =or crass and I kn=ow ta mind myself in mixed c=ompany an all, but I can assure y=ou, if I'm interested y=ou'll kn=ow, =one way =or the =other."

💕 Give a song that best describes how you see love.

There's two songs I want to put here- this one is nice and fits well and is probably what Shafan would pick.

But this one. Hoo. Okay. There's a reason this at the top of Shafan's playlist. I need you to listen to this with headphones. Get high first if possible, which makes it a borderline spiritual experience. Frankly, if you can, listen to it on spotify or somewhere the quality is better. If you're anything like me you will cry about it so be ready for that. I added this to Shafan's playlist in 2018 and it still fucks me up. It's important, okay??

💔 How do you face the end of love (breakups, being stood up, etc)?

"C=onsiderin I'm usually tha =one endin things, I feel pretty p=osatively ab=out tha end =of a relati=onship. I think pe=ople w=ould be a l=ot happier if they learned ta just end relati=onships that aint makin em happy anym=ore, =or even that are still makin em happy, but are gettin in the way =of s=omethin m=ore important. Relati=onships =ought ta be treated like experiences, I figure. M=ost =of em aint g=onna last that l=ong and n=one =of em last f=orever, s=o why d=o we act like they sh=ould? Embrace love as s=omethin fleetin, and marvel at every day that y=ou get ta experience that miracle again. Let it teach y=ou things, let it change y=ou. And then let it g=o. When it's run its c=ourse, instead a given in ta fear =of change =or fear =of l=onliness and taintin s=omethin that was beautiful with bitter feelings and anger, be grateful f=or what it gave y=ou, and h=ow lucky y=ou were ta have experienced it. And definitely d=o n=ot hunt tha pers=on d=own and set fire t=o their tent!"

💗 How much do you believe in love?

"I believe in l=ove m=ore than i believe in any =other f=orce in tha universe. I believe with en=ough l=ove y=ou can acc=omplish anything. I believe l=ove, f=or each =other and f=or tha w=orld, can save us, if we let it. And maybe that's s=ome sappy n=onsense and it aint practical, I kn=ow. If that l=ove d=ont m=otivate ya ta acti=on it's w=orse than useless. But still, I believe it. I really d=o."

[umichenginabroad]

Week 7: Der Fußbus, Unrefrigerated Milk, and other Culture Shocks

Okay, okay, despite the title of the post I do believe that “Culture Shocks” may be too strong a term to describe the following observations I’ve made over my time here in Germany. While I’m still a bit unsettled by the unrefrigerated milk thing, I think “culture surprises” or “culture differences” may better capture the content of this post. With that in mind, here are a few such differences I’ve encountered over these past 7 weeks:

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“Der Fußbus fährt immer”

I learned very early on when my UROP Buddy called us “neighbors” and then we proceeded to walk over thirty minutes with my heavy bags from his place to mine that “neighbors” is a term used very loosely here. In fact, the longer I stay, the more convinced I become that Germans would happily refer to everyone in the entire city as “neighbors” without batting an eye. This was further reinforced when another local “Buddy” shared with me the mantra “Der Fußbus fährt immer” roughly translating to “the foot-bus is always running.” Partially a dis on the inconsistencies and unpredictable cancellations of the Deutsche Bahn (the bus/train system across Germany) and partially an appreciation for the joys of walking, this quote serves to show the dedication of Germans to expanding the definition of “within walking distance”. 

Basically, if you wish to embrace the lifestyle here, be ready to walk: in the rain, into town, to work, from the bar 45 minutes away when the buses all stop running unreasonably early in the night, etc… And don’t worry, if your bus randomly gets canceled without warning everything is still “within walking distance”... at least by the German definition that is.

Unrefrigerated Produce (and the Grocery Stores in General While We’re at It)

I think if there was one notable difference that highlights the contrast of Germany and America it’d probably have something to do with the grocery stores. In America, a grocery store screams consumerism in bright colors, flashy sales, and aisles of sugary cereals. It's all about choices: deciding between 10 brands of chips only to then choose among 12 flavors of Doritos. Each product has at least three varieties and the freezer aisle(s) boasts a limitless selection of everything from waffles to loaded potato skins.

In contrast, grocery stores in Germany are much more limited. Without fail, they’ll have everything you need but maybe only half the things you want. Most products only have 1 to 2 options and everything has a sort of simple, farm-fresh farmers market feel. Though very different, it's actually a system I could happily get used to. Do I miss my Eggos waffles? Yes. But the fresh strawberries and blueberries here are to die for and the bakery section offers three forms of fresh cheesy bread so you can’t really go wrong.

 One thing that definitely threw me off though was the lack of refrigeration. Maybe the milk is that much fresher or there's some kind of special preservative I don’t want to think too hard about, but somehow, it's completely fine just sitting on the grocery shelves. The same goes for certain meats and cheeses also. As far as I know, it all tastes normal so I can’t complain.

Water (or Better Stated as the Lack Thereof)

Ok, I admit, the grocery thing I can live with. The water situation, however, definitely leaves something to be desired. Back home in America, we never really have to worry about getting some fresh, cold water whether it's from the ubiquitous water fountains or complimentary water at restaurants. In Germany, however, it's a very different story.

Thus far I’ve encountered an impressive total of exactly one public water fountain and the unspoken distaste for otherwise safe-to-drink tap water has made purchasing water at restaurants a whole investment. In fact, at most places, you can get a beer for the same price or sometimes cheaper… which is decidedly not helping the Germans break free from the beer stereotypes (see also: point 4).

No need to fear though. If you can’t find a nice glass of actually refreshing still water, you can undoubtedly find some of the evil sparkling kind. I’m not sure what it is about Europeans and their sparkling water, but whenever I travel here, they always share the same infatuation with this deceptive, horribly unsatisfying drink. Unfortunately, I don't think I'm adapting to this one anytime soon, but if for some strange reason seltzer water is your thing, then this is the place for you.

Beer - It’s Not Only a Stereotype

Where you can’t find water, a consistent selection of beers will unfailingly await you. There are a lot of stereotypes about this country that I generally disagree with or can observe numerous exceptions to after being here, but one undoubtable fact remains: Germans love their beer. At lunch, at dinner, in the streets, on public transport, you name it you’ll find someone drinking it. 

Regardless though, the culture surrounding drinking is very different here than in America. Beer is perceived as a casual drink, served everywhere from bars to cafes to random corner stores and there's generally no stigma surrounding it or expectation of actually getting drunk.

Cash Cash Cash

That about summarizes this point up. Be ready to carry cash. While I haven’t had too many problems, there are still a number of places that don’t take cards here (namely places along the lines of bars, small cafes, or ice cream shops). Depending on your credit card company, some places that do accept cards may still not accept yours so doing your research (or in my case, doing no research and just getting lucky) is probably smart before traveling.

Package Delivery - In Strangers We Trust

The package delivery system is a bit bizarre to me. To be fair, you could probably get away without ever having to use it (may recommend this ngl), but for those of us who can’t pack without forgetting some random necessity, a bit of Amazon was unavoidable. In my apartment (and I assume this goes for most others), we have letter boxes in place of a mailroom. Which is great and all… until your package isn’t a letter, and it tragically doesn’t fit. 

Now, one might think: Ok, well it doesn’t fit in the mailbox, so I’ll just leave it nearby and alert the owner to pick it up. A nice thought, sure, but apparently not as nice as giving it to some random stranger also living in the building to bring to their room and hopefully reach out saying they have it. Though I don’t get how taking a chance on a random individual not stealing your package when its already in their room is any more secure than just leaving the package out until you can grab it, I must admit I’ve gotten all of my packages safe and sound (aside from one mattress pad casualty which was randomly given to a Kiosk [aka a small liquor shop] without my knowledge…). 

As long as you stay on top of your package arrival times though, you should be able to handle the system here. Or just remember to pack thoroughly unlike me, and you're golden.

Fahrenheit ❌ Celsius ✅

Fahrenheit? Celsius? Who cares, the weather predictions are never worth trusting here anyways. Just be prepared for rain. A lot of it. 

RIP your Sunday Grocery Runs (and Sunday- Everything Else)

Germans take their “Day of Rest” very seriously. On Sundays, you may find a handful of restaurants (90% Doener) open and approximately nothing else. Reminding myself to prepare for this has definitely taken some getting used to (and some very sad, grocery-less girl dinners, but we persevere).

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Over time, we’ve all gotten used to this country's unique way of doing things, and these culture shocks/surprises/whatever you want to call them have just become an accepted way of life. Even unrefrigerated milk can’t stop us from enjoying everything this region has to offer: from gorgeous castles, incredibly scenic hikes, top tier barbeques and so much more.

Ethan and Jon representing Michigan in Switzerland (left) and our top tier July 4th BBQ (right)

Pictures of the absolutely breathtaking Castle Drachenfels

Sarah Bargfrede

Computer Science

UROP Program in Aachen

[bellshazes]

proof that bdubs and etho watch each other's episodes, spanning the better part of a decade. inspired by bdubs repeatedly addressing etho directly as if no one else would be watching, driving me slowly insane.

bdubs: you know whenever etho does something, i'm always like "Yup, that's amazing that's how I wanna do it." it's been that for years, ever since, uh, ever since I started playing minecraft, it's always been like that. if etho does it, I wanna do it.

bdubs: tango stopped by earlierand he said oh [running together, mocking] isn't this the exact same thing etho made?" I've seen etho's, but I didn't go into the guts. these are my guts. mkay?

bdubs: Etho saves the day again - I think I seen Etho do that in a video or something. um, cool, just make a little wick from some fire and, boom, off you go.

bdubs: somebody in Etho's episode said, "Hey, Etho, you should connect all of your places and have a main road, and call it a King's Road," and bladablahdah.

Etho: I was watching BdoubleO's let's play today and he gave me inspiration for this project.

Etho: How amazing would it be - you know the classic story trope where all the guys wanna get the pretty girl and they fight over her? What if all the stores on Hermticraft start fighting over me? [laughs] They all want me to get, to become their amazing customer you know? Spend all my money at their place and they start offering memberships and freebies, low prices. Oh, that would be a dream come true.

Bdubs: Oh, yes. Now that - imagine, imagine you're going shopping somewhere and they have a big sign with your face on it, and big balloons with your head on it. Wouldn't that make you feel just special? And you got all these coupons, and money that you can spend?

Bdubs: you guys know the lovely Ethoslab? Ethoslaaaaaab... dot com! He's got, you know, a single player let's play where you know he brags all the time about, "Oh, I got all these resources and [unintelligible] and the best farms," and all that stuff. Well I watch, I tune in from time to time and I watch an Ethoslab video, and he's always saying, if you aren't using TNT to do this and that, you're a sucker.

Bdubs: You should watch - Etho's got some good tips! He might be mean about it, you know, his tips and tellling you you're a sucker and whatnot, but after you obey him, you're not a sucker!

Bdubs: You know I saw an Etho video where he was riding a boat, and he was talking about how fragile boats are. And boy, is he right.

Bdubs: hey, hey, hey, hey! Fletch - farmer! ETHO! [crazed laughter] Have I had him for a long time? Etho, I got a freakin' farmer, dude! Holy crap! Etho's been wanting a farmer for ever, and I just ran - randomly snag one? They're very rare apparently, and they're very valuable. There's something good about them, I think it's the pumpkin trade or something? I don't know. Uh.. man, isn't that the worst? Etho's been wanting a farmer so bad and I just, [unintelligible noises] have a farmer no problem. Terrible. He deserves it more than me.

Bdubs: Etho if you're watching, I love the water - the water gateway.

Etho: I've been watching his episodes to see what happens with this, and I don't think anyone's made a request of him yet, so I wanna put in a request.

Etho: I'm nervous about this because I don't know if this is an actual farm, or if he's pranking me. [laughs] We'll find out very soon. Okay, I think that's it there. Are you ready guys, for the Bdubs sugarcane farm! From master redstone Bdubs. Here we go... oh, wow! Woah!

Bdubs: If everybody leaves, it'll be me and Etho over here, pranking each other back and forth.

[frenchpuppycormier]

fluff 10 and/or 11 + supercorp for the sentence starters pls 💞

"Are we on a date right now?" / "I think I'm in love with you."

—

Saturday signals the best day in Kara's book for one simple reason: the farmers market. It's the perfect place to buy fresh produce directly from the grower at a lower price than those pesky retailers. Not to mention, it's fresher and it's a great way to support local communities.

Kara enjoys it most in the early morning between 8 and 9 when the California heat hasn't bombarded its citizens yet. One of her favorite memories of going to the market was when she first arrived on earth, and Eliza and Alex took her to the one in Midvale. Eliza bought her the sweetest miniature doughnuts which practically melted in her mouth. She's been a huge (understatement of the year) fan ever since.

The farmers market is located 20 blocks from her apartment, just a short jaunt or flight for the hero.

Today she decides to walk and enjoy the nice cool breeze, and the warm sun spilling on her face. She can already hear the acoustics of a folk band covering a Fleetwood Mac song at the end of main street. The leaves are starting to change, indicating the beginning of fall, and the ones already on the ground crunch beneath her feet.

Her reusable cloth bag with the words, "Okey Dokey Artichokey" and a cartoon artichoke with a smiley face and tiny stick arms, is slung over her shoulder. Lena had given it to her as a gag gift, but Kara uses it the most out of all her bags. Any gift from Lena is special and she will always treasure it.

As she rounds the corner to the market, she sneaks another look at her list to remind herself what she needs, when she bumps into someone. Hard. Fortunately, Kara manages to grab the other person's arm before they fall.

"Oh my gosh," Kara cringes. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was—" she interrupts herself when she sees, "Lena?"

"Hey there, slick," Lena laughs and nudges the hand latched on her arm to tangle with her fingers.

Kara responds by swinging their arms back and forth, like what friends do when they haven't seen each other in months. But Kara and Lena just saw each other yesterday. This is normal, right? Kara thinks. The fluttering in my chest is completely common whenever I see my friends....Right?

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Kara speaks before her brain can catch up with her.

Lena's face lights up with a sly grin. "Can't a woman go to the market every once in a while?"

"N-no no, of course you can," Kara laughs awkwardly, "I meant, gosh I'm not sure...I guess I just didn't expect to see you here. You live all the way on the other side of town."

"Relax, love," she chuckles and squeezes her hand and releases it, Kara immediately missing the warmth. "I'm teasing you. But to answer your question, I'm in desperate need of fresh kale, and I heard this particular stand has the best in the city."

Kara feigns gagging and Lena playfully shoves her shoulder. “I still don’t understand how you can eat that stuff.”

“Who knew the green stuff that incapacitates you was kale.”

“More like your eyes,” Kara mumbles.

“What was that?”

Kara’s eyes widen. “N-nothing,” she rubs the back of her neck. “Um, so….do you care if I join you? Wandering aimlessly through the market checking out food stands with my best friend sounds like the perfect way to spend my Saturday morning.”

“I’d love nothing more,” Lena replies, smiling brightly.

—

“Oooh, look! A food truck!” Kara points.

Lena laughs at her zeal. “Let’s see what they have.”

Kara reaches for her hand and twines their fingers together before dragging her toward the truck. Lena’s stomach swoops at the action, but she calms herself down enough so Kara doesn’t notice her rapid heartbeat. Not that she would, considering food is the best distraction when it comes to the blonde.

Little does Lena know that nothing can distract Kara from Lena, especially considering 98% of the time Kara is listening to the constant thumps and quivers of Lena’s heart, but Kara doesn’t say anything.

Kara looks up at the man in the truck and politely rattles off her order, then looks at Lena and asks, “What do you want?”

“Um,” Lena quickly glances at the menu and says, “I’ll have the Avo Smash, please.” She moves to hand the man cash, but Kara stops her and insists she'll pay for it. "My treat."

Once they give their order they move to the side and wait until their names are called.

When they get their food they move to a shady spot on the sidewalk and admire how delicious it looks.

“What’s that?” Kara asks.

“Oh, it’s a piece of toast with smashed avocado, egg, and tomato,” Lena replies, noticing how Kara turns up her nose. Lena rolls her eyes and gestures at her hands, “What’d you get?”

"Uh, only the most scrumptious and melt in your mouth-watering food you can get here," she replies, eyebrows pinched, incredulously. Lena raises her eyebrows in a get-on-with-it kind of way. "French toast bites," Kara finishes, exasperated at Lena's lack of enthusiasm.

"Sweet food for a sweet girl."

Kara's cheeks grow a slight pink. Instead of replying, she dips a piece of her toast in the syrup, and shoves the whole thing in her mouth. Lena simply hums and takes a bit of her own food. Kara smiles like a chipmunk with cheeks full of goodies.

When Lena's finished with her slice of hipster toast, as Kara calls it, a small body runs into her legs from behind. She looks down and finds a small boy with sandy blonde hair and big, blue eyes looking up at her with a toothy grin.

"Hi, there," she smiles at him.

"Henry!" a woman in a flowy maxi dress and brown sandals comes running toward them. She picks him up and gives him a stern look. "I told you not to run off like that!" The woman adjusts him on her hip and shyly realizes she has an audience. "I'm so sorry! He gets too excited about their french toast."

"Oh, no worries," Lena reassures her. She carefully grabs Kara's elbow and says, "This one does too."

Kara acts hurt by placing a hand over her heart. "Well, can you blame me? They're delicious! Aren't they?" she smiles at the boy and waves. He giggles and hides his face in his mother's neck. "Someone's a little shy, huh?"

"He is, isn't he?" the mom kisses his cheek. "I think he has a little crush on you."

"Who, me?" Kara laughs. "No, I think he has eyes for Lena. As most people do." She steps forward and tickles his stomach so he looks at her. Kara holds out her hand for a high five and whispers, "Good choice." He gratefully slaps her hand.

When Kara steps back, Lena is blushing, but rather than call her out on it she ignores it out of respect. Kara smiles at her and Lena smiles back, but then she's suddenly laughing through her nose.

"Darling, you have a little," she gestures at her own face.

"What? I have something on my face?" Kara touches her cheek, but completely misses.

"Here," Lena's fingers tenderly touch the side of her jaw while her thumb swipes her lip. Lena's completely focused on what she's doing, but Kara only has eyes for Lena.

Lena pulls back her hand, thumb now sticky with syrup. Instead of wiping it on the napkin Kara knows Lena has in her bag, she sticks it between her lips and licks it clean.

Kara completely stops breathing.

"How long have you two been together?" a voice snaps her out of her reverie.

Kara gapes at her with wide eyes and stutters, "Um...we, we're uh, just friends."

"Oh," the woman almost looks upset. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to presume. Well, I'll let you get back to your morning." She smiles at them and walks away, leaving a flabbergasted Kara and quiet Lena.

They don't say anything and choose to ignore it while they continue down the street.

—

"Lena, you have to try this," Kara doesn't give her a chance to respond before shoving a spoonful of gelato in Lena's mouth.

Lena gasps and nearly chokes on the ice cold dessert enveloping her tastebuds. She hisses and nods, as she lifts her hand to hastily catch the dribbles of melted chocolate trickling down her chin. Kara winces, "I'm so sorry!"

"No," Lena shakes her head as she swallows, "I just wasn't expecting that."

"Well? How was it?"

"Y'know, I'm not gonna lie...it was pretty fucking delicious."

"Right? Marco really knows his stuff."

"Um," Lena holds her hand out, fingers spread apart to prevent more sticking, and shakes it like she doesn't know what to do.

Kara jumps to action and runs off. She's back in two seconds with a wet wipe and cleans Lena's hand. "Where'd you find that?"

"Don't ask."

"Okay?" Lena laughs breathily. "You're a mystery wrapped inside an enigma, Ms. Danvers."

"I aim to confuse," she jokes.

Lena shakes her head, and eventually says, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Kara smiles at her, their eyes locked onto each other. She's finished cleaning her hand, but rather than letting go, her hand stays curled around Lena's, not wanting to ruin the moment.

—

“Oh Rao, you didn’t,” Kara gasps.

Lena turns around and frowns at her. “What?” Kara gestures to Lena’s bag. Lena looks down and chuckles when she realizes what she’s talking about. “In my defense, I was drunk. You know how my shopping brain acts when I’m drunk; I buy things I don’t need.”

“Hmmm, well maybe your alcohol-addled brain just remembered how funny I thought it was and wanted to impress me,” Kara teases with a twitch of her eyebrow.

“I’m sure that’s exactly what happened,” Lena deadpans. She glanced at the words on her bag again and fondly shakes her head. It reads: Oh Kale Yeah, with a bunch of kale on both sides.

“I think so,” Kara steps closer and smiles.

“Oh, really?” Lena raises her eyebrows.

“Yep,” she ends with an extra pop of the ‘p’ and boops her on the nose.

Lena opens her mouth in surprise, a protest on the tip of her tongue, but a voice interrupts her from in front of them.

“You two are such a lovely couple,” the vendor gushes.

Lena and Kara startle, forgetting they’re standing right in front of a stand selling various vegetables and fruits and jars of honey. Behind the table is an older woman, most likely in her late 70s, with streaks of gray hair, crinkly eyes and facial lines as if she’s smiled her whole life.

“Oh, we’re not—”

“Thank you,” Kara answers, smiling bashfully. She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear and says, “I’ll take one bunch of radishes and one spaghetti squash.”

“Coming right up,” the woman replies.

Kara glances over at Lena and gives her a shy smile, before handing the woman a $10 bill and thanking her. She grabs the veggies and carefully drops them in her bag.

“Thank you two, have a wonderful day.”

“Of course, you too!” Kara places her hand on the small of Lena’s back and guides her forward.

As they make their way to the next stand, Kara laughs, remembering their conversation, “I can’t believe you bought that bag. You’re such a giant dork.”

Lena whips around and eyes Kara curiously. Kara’s hand shifts from her back to loosely rest on her waist. Lena’s eyes are squinting from the bright sun, but Kara can see the speckles of gold in them and thinks she’s never looked more beautiful.

“Are we on a date right now?”

Kara's heart quickens and she opens and closes her mouth a few times, until finally she clears her throat, "Did you want it to be?"

"I thought—”

"Because I do," Kara states. "Want it to be a date. But only if you do, of course. I don't want you to feel pressured or like I forced you to hang out with me," she retracts her hand. "That's the last thing I—”

Lena grabs her hand as she pulls it way, not wanting Kara to close herself off. "Hey, I want this just as much as you do."

"Really?"

Lena lightly presses her thumb into the grooves of Kara's knuckles, and absentmindedly plays with them. She smiles, fully dimpled, and says, "I do. Actually, I uh..." she lowers their connected hands and looks off into the distance, mind seemingly elsewhere.

"What is it?" Kara asks. She playfully shakes their arms back and forth to get her attention.

Lena looks at the ground before completely focusing on Kara and those baby blues she's come to know and love. She takes a deep breath and her voice shakes when she whispers, "I think I'm in love with you..." Lena stumbles and shakes her head, "No—I am in love with you."

Kara inhales sharply and Lena thinks she's made a giant mistake. She starts to turn and do something stupid, like run away, but Kara keeps her hold on her and pulls her forward.

Smiling, Kara slowly inches closer leaving the opportunity for Lena to stop her. When Kara's lips press into hers she welcomes it completely. Kara's hands come up to cup Lena's jaw until she moves one to tangle in her hair.

Kara disconnects from her lips, but stays wrapped up in her, their foreheads touching. "I'm in love with you, too," she whispers against soft lips.

"Good," Lena smiles and kisses her again.

[shannarous]

hey i've seen some people claiming it still possible for eren to be father of historia child and its making me anxious. what do you think?

Hi anon! The short answer is no, I don’t think it’s possible, has never been. There is so much speaking against it - so here’s the long answer (stating the obvious):

Let's start with looking at Historia's reasons for becoming pregnant in the first place. Usually the reason for having a child is love. It's crystal clear though that this is not the case for Historia's child, no matter who the father is. The only one who Historia showed genuine affection towards was Ymir, and ever since her death Historia didn't really seem to care about anyone except for the orphan kids of Paradis. Now, chapter 138 confirmed that Eren was/is in love with Mikasa, or - if you don't see it that way - at least that Mikasa is the most important person in his life, so important that he would even ditch his best friend Armin and send Historia through hell just to spend his last years with Mikasa and Mikasa alone. Eren never showed similar feelings towards anyone but her, and the special moments he shared with her are plenty. Her memory shards always take up the most space by far and they're almost always at the very center. So, Eren and Historia both have (or had) their special someone whom they don't want to live without, and once they're separated from them their characters become dark. This makes Eren and Historia pretty similar to each other, and it's exactly why they became allies, or "partners in crime" even. They do care for each other, but not at all in a romantical way. Rather, we know that Eren cares for all of his friends and the people of Paradis in general. He wants them to live long and happy lives, so it's only natural that he initially stood up against Zeke's plan to turn Historia into a breeding machine and have her titanized eventually. He desperately sought a way out of it because it was against every single principle he has and because Historia is one of his dearest friends, but not his lover. Historia appreciated this, but she had actually accepted her fate and was willing to go through that hell if it served a greater good. Which is why it was no surprise that she was the one to suggest the pregnancy later while Eren had despised the idea the whole time.

So, if love isn't the reason for Historia's pregnancy, what is? Actually, there are several tactical reasons for it, and none of them requires Eren to be the father.

As mentioned above, Historia was the one to suggest the pregnancy, when she was talking with Eren about his Rumbling plans. We haven't seen the whole talk (yet), but I think we've seen enough to understand what it all meant. In short, the whole purpose of her pregnancy was to avoid her being titanized and Zeke being fed to her. While Eren initially just wanted to save her from having to bear a child she clearly didn't want and to stop the cruel cycle of children having to eat their parents, he now also had something different in mind. He needed a titan of royal blood to put his plan into action, and conveniently his half-brother was just that. However, Zeke would have been fed to Historia the moment he lay a foot on Paradis if the military had their way, and that may have even been an option for Eren too, since she’s got royal blood just as well as Zeke. But Historia actually wasn't okay with Eren's plans at first and even wanted to go along with the military's. So he needed to convince her to obey, otherwise he would have had to use Founding Titan to make her cooperate - whereas he had seen in his future memories that with Zeke he would be able to achieve his goal much easier. Moreover, had he used Historia instead of Zeke, her lifespan would have been shortened drastically, and not only that: It would've put her in grave danger. We don't know exactly how much Eren knew about the future, but even if he hadn't known anything at all at that time, he must've considered the possibility of his plan failing. Maybe he even already knew he was gonna be killed, and if it had been Historia in Zeke's place during the Rumbling, she would've been killed along with him. Eren did everything he possibly could to leave his friends out of his plans, to be the only one responsible for it all, to be the only "bad guy" - that's what the Rumbling was all about in the first place. He needed Historia to play along, but quietly. Well, Historia made it pretty clear she wouldn't support him with the Rumbling, so much so that Eren offered to alter her memories if the burden of knowing was too much for her to bear. However, when he reminded her of her own words, that she was "the worst girl in the world", humanity's enemy, I guess Historia knew in that moment that she wouldn't be able to stop him, so she gave up opposing him and became his ally again. Since the only option to prevent Historia from being titanized and eating Zeke was the pregnancy, in the end, it was a choice between certain death (either in the near future or after 13 years at the latest) or a 9-month-hell for Historia, and they chose the latter as it obviously seemed like the smaller price to pay.

So now they had agreed on the pregnancy being necessary as a way to prevent Historia's certain death and to start the Rumbling. I can see why some people think it'd be logical that Eren would "help" her with executing this plan, but there is way too much speaking against that:

- As I have made clear above, Eren and Historia are not in love, have never been. In fact, they are or were both in love with someone else. It is therefore highly unlikely that Eren would just say "sure you need a baby I'll make you one" - no, both of them would never ever want this. If you think they would, you haven't understood their characters at all. Besides, Historia may have given in to Eren's plan after all, but keep in mind that she was actually wholeheartedly against his ideas. While they were allies in the end, their mindsets were quite different, if not opposing. That's why I don't see that "connection" that some fans claim exists between them. They are very similar in character, but they deal with their fates very differently.

- I've highlighted before that Eren despises the idea of putting Historia through the living hell that is forced pregnancy. Do you really think he would even be able to have sex with her like that? The only reason he agreed to her becoming pregnant is that the only other option was her certain death. If there had been another way, he sure as hell would never have agreed to put her through that.

- I haven't mentioned him until now but he's probably even the most important piece in this puzzle: Farmer-kun exists. Why would Historia even bother to approach Farmer-kun if she really already had Eren to make her a child? He wouldn't be necessary. Some say he's just a "cover-up story", but what for? Why would Eren and Historia even have to keep it a secret if Eren was the father? That one military officer said it loud and clear when talking to Nile and the others: they do not care at all who impregnated Historia. The queen is free to chose her suitors herself. All they care about is the simple fact that she's pregnant. She could've even said she didn't know who the father was, it wouldn't have changed a thing. Moreover, consider the fact that Farmer-kun seems oblivious to all of it. If he really was a cover-up, he wouldn't know, and that means Historia would still have had to sleep with him to make him believe he's the father, even if she already was pregnant from Eren. And if Eren really was in love with Historia, he would never let her have sex with someone else just for cover-up. As if the pregnancy itself wasn't enough of a burden already.

- Last but not least: Eren does not have any special genes at all. He's not of royal blood, nor is he an Ackermann or Asian or anything that would make him a tactical choice for being the father of this child. Titan powers are not inherited by shifter's children either - it was stated unmistakably in the manga that when a shifter dies without passing on their titan powers, they're transferred to a random newborn Eldian child, no matter the distance or blood relation between the two. From this perspective, Farmer-kun's genes are just as good as Eren's.

I hope this helps anon, I know how anti’s theories can cause anxiety, even knowing that it’s probably not true. Chapter 139 will clear things up for better or for worse, we’ll see. Maybe I’m completely wrong, but I consider it extremely unlikely at this point.

[qqueenofhades]

pel!ivan and fedyor went through a lot of ups and some downs from the end of pel and 2021 but they also celebrated 10 years together 🥳 i hope fedyor shoved cake into ivan’s face and also you know, im sure they were mushy like the saps they are

Ivan was supposed to be out of here ten minutes ago – actually, at this point, more like twenty – but the clients are still fucking talking, and if they keep it up much longer, he’s going to add it to the bill for “initial consultation.” Drew has a man-bun and unbearably hip black glasses, and works as a developer for some start-up app that he’s tried to convince Ivan to download at least twelve times. (What does the app actually do? Don’t know don’t care.) Mia is thin, blonde, waifish, smells like essential oils, and has been flitting around with her smartphone the entire time, getting in Ivan’s way as she snaps perfectly filtered pictures of the “developmental process” and posts them nonstop on Instagram. They both have a lot of opinions on how they want the energy of the space to feel, and a preapproved list of ethically sourced suppliers. They have paid some ludicrous price for this converted loft in Prospect Heights and chose the location for its proximity to the best farmer’s markets and hippie coffeehouses. Did Ivan die? Is this hell?

Somewhat ostentatiously, he looks at his watch. “Okay,” he announces. “I think that wraps up. You have work number, so – ”

“Oh, just one more thing!” Drew has recently read one (1) book on home design and thinks he’s an expert, so Ivan is forced to suffer his idiotic opinions about the kind of tile they want to use on the kitchen backsplash. Somehow, he manages not to roll his eyes directly out of his head, for which he should be commended. Ivan has discovered that the secret of successfully dealing with people, especially clients, is to smile and nod at everything they say, while mercilessly mocking them in your head. Amazing, the things you learn as a small-business owner in Brooklyn in the year of our lord 2021. Especially when it comes to renovating overpriced tiny gentrified apartments for insufferable techno-douchebags and their vapid influencer girlfriends. And people think Ivan might want to live like this more often? No fucking thank you.

Finally (it’s another ten minutes after that, this is definitely going on the bill), they more or less wrap up, except for the fact that Mia then wants a picture with the three of them. “It’s just so important to us that we’re supporting the immigrant community,” she explains earnestly. “After all, being open, tolerant, learning from our neighbors, people who are different from us, that’s what life is all about. We just love that you’re foreign. The energy feels so right, you know?”

Ivan wonders whether to inform her that he has lived in this country for eight years and been a full citizen (passport and voting rights and everything) for three, then decides that this would venture into sharing-personal-information territory and he is having none of it. His English has improved to the point where he can handle almost all business transactions by himself, but feigning incomprehension can sometimes get him out of them when they turn really stupid. Unfortunately, that isn’t an option here, and so he diligently leans into the frame, smiling half an inch, while Mia snaps a picture of “us and our adorable Russian contractor!!” Ivan informs her of the correct flag emoji to add to the filter, decides that he’s going to add an extra fifty bucks just for that, and finally, finally, makes his escape.

It’s rush hour, and the Q is crammed as Ivan heads into midtown. So much for social distancing and not getting too close to anyone, which is the only thing from the pandemic that he wouldn’t mind keeping. Only about half the crowd is wearing masks, including him, and so he gets off at Times Square, dodges the latest lunatic standing on a soapbox and shouting about how it is all a hoax, and walks several blocks uptown, just to get some space. He finally reaches the restaurant, where he has to flash his vaccination card to get inside (Ivan, who remains Russian to the marrow of his bones, is a little irked that he couldn’t get Sputnik here and had to settle for Pfizer) and climbs up to the open-air rooftop terrace. It is only when he spots his husband, waiting at a table that overlooks the glittering evening lights of the city, when Ivan pulls off his mask and allows himself to properly smile. “Sorry I’m late,” he says. “They are the worst.”

“I figured it was something like that.” Fedyor musters a smile in return, though his eyes look permanently tired these days and Ivan would bet that he’s been scrolling through more depressing emails on his phone. Technically Fedyor is on a two-month sabbatical from work, but he can’t stop himself, and Ivan has had to pry it from his fingers on a number of occasions. “But you’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Ivan nods stoutly, they are furnished with the drinks and appetizers list, and when the waiter asks if there’s any special occasion tonight, tell him that they are celebrating their ten-year anniversary, albeit somewhat late. This was supposed to happen last spring, but obviously, nobody in New York was going out to a restaurant in the early months of 2020, and Ivan himself had barely gotten home from the hospital and still could be knocked over in a strong breeze. They’re celebrating a lot of things tonight, in other words, even if it’s now been eleven years, not ten, since the day Ivan marched into a Red Square coffee shop and engaged in – well, Fedyor has made sure to inform him that the first date didn’t go nearly as well as Ivan always thought it did. But it worked, didn’t it? Here they are, wedding bands on their fingers, a couple of successful American urban professionals who have built a nice life for themselves and are, if anything, even more madly in love than they were when this whole nutty adventure together first began. So really, if you ask Ivan Sakharov Kaminsky, it went just fine after all.

The waiter congratulates them, gives them two drinks for the price of one, and they both relax and start to talk, fully at ease in the way they only are in each other’s company. Ivan does his Mia impression in an extremely convincing falsetto (after all, [NAME REDACTED] has practice at this) and Fedyor almost dies laughing. They hold hands on the table – no need to hold them under the table – and gaze into each other’s eyes all they want, order dinner and dessert, and take a long time about it. They raise several toasts to this, to them, to ten years, may there be many more. Ivan pays the bill, his treat, and they walk slowly back to Times Square, hand-in-hand, Fedyor’s head nestled on Ivan’s shoulder. It’s New York. Nobody cares.

They ride the Q home, in all its smelly, secondhand glory, taking an hour to bang out to Brighton Beach and descending the elevated stairs into the familiar down-at-heel comfort of their Russian-American neighborhood, neon Cyrillic signs glowing in windows and somebody shouting about how if Sergei ever shows his face here again, she is going to cut his dick off. Ivan and Fedyor look at each other and snort, resisting the urge to shout up and ask what exactly Sergei did, and walk a few more minutes to their building. They climb up three flights of stairs to their apartment, unlock the door and the deadbolt, and step inside.

The instant they are home, Rasputin shoots out of nowhere, yowling as if he has been neglected for months, and curls himself around Ivan’s ankles (he is still liable to give Fedyor evil looks when he feels that this interloper has been stealing his human too often). Ivan sighs, trudges to the kitchen, points out to Rasputin that his food bowl is still half full, gets a wounded look in return, and adds an extra scoopful. Once the cat is happily snarfing down, Fedyor pulls Ivan by the hand, into the dim living room with its blowing curtains. “Come here, my love,” he says. “Hold me.”

Ivan does as ordered, because it’s his favorite thing in the world: cuddling Fedyor close, nothing but the two of them in all of time and space, swaying slowly in the blue hour with fingers and arms and hearts entwined. Ivan kisses Fedyor’s temple, and Fedyor nestles even closer, melted into his embrace. “I love you, Vanya,” he mumbles against Ivan’s collarbone. “I love you so much. I love you more than anything in the world. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Fedya.” Ivan leans down and kisses him properly, sweet and slow and lingering, as they continue to waltz in stately time to a music that nobody except the two of them can hear. “I’m still not always sure why you married me, but I am very glad you did.”

[lailyn]

This Magical Journey Called Multiple (Chapter 2)

“Now will you let me take your blood?”

“Nothing I say will stop you." With a resigned sigh, Loki slowly straightened his arm in consent. "If it must be done." 

The incessant complaining continued, regardless. “Know that I hate this.”

“Duly noted, my dear," Stephen murmured. "You're such a great patient."

“Don’t sound so disappointed.”

“For someone so fond of knives, you sure are critical about needles.” Stephen found a juicy vein in the bend of Loki’s elbow, and pressed the tip of his syringe at the plumpest point. “Sharp prick.”

The tension in Loki's muscles did not let up even after Stephen had removed the needle. 

Handing the blood sample to one of Tony’s robots to be processed, he gently patted Loki’s arm where the needle mark was already fading as Stephen watched. "You can relax now. It's done."

Loki mustered a half-smile but something was still amiss.

Stephen narrowed his eyes. "Is your stomach hurting again?"

"Some," Loki admitted reluctantly. "It's not that bad."

"I call bullshit," Tony said darkly. "We practically had to carry you."

"Half-carry," Loki corrected, raising his head off his tiny pillow to glare at Tony, who had been standing silently in the far corner of the room ever since they returned from the farmers market. "If you hadn't freaked out and given me a moment like I asked instead of crying to Stephen, I would have recovered in time." 

But before Tony could counter-argue, Loki proved himself wrong when the pain returned in full force, cleaving him in two and leaving him panting for breath. 

That was the last straw. Tony stepped out of the shadows and grabbed the hand grasping the side of the bed in a white-knuckled grip. “Bambi.”

Stephen watched the beads of sweat form on Loki's forehead. "Pain scale of one to ten, where are you at?”

Loki shook his head in denial.

“Stephen, he’s not talking. Why isn’t he talking?”

“He’s trying to think of a number to throw us off.”

With a feverish roll of his eyes, Loki held up his right thumb and first two fingers.

Tony allowed himself to relax slightly. “A three. That’s not so bad, right?”

“It’s a seven,” Stephen said flatly. 

“Huh?”

“That’s finger abacus, the thumb represents a five,” Stephen glowered. “Thinks he’s smarter than us.”

Loki dropped his finger gun. “Sod off,” he muttered. 

“Now is not the time to be difficult, Loki,” Stephen growled. "Did you take any hits in the battle that you failed to mention?"

“No,” Loki grunted. "I had my shield up the whole time. This is new."

But Stephen was already pulling the ultrasound machine closer. "Can't hurt to take a look. Occult internal bleeding can happen long after the initial trauma, doctors miss it all the time."

"How reassuring." Loki squirmed as he tried to find the most comfortable position. The ice-cold gel Stephen was liberally squirting all over his tense abdomen did not help matters.

"Try to hold still."

Loki breathed deeply in and out of his nose, focusing on keeping the fidgeting to a minimum. As gentle as Stephen tried to be with maneuvering the transducer probe, every prod and push sent a fresh shard of pain lancing through his belly. 

"Loki, lower your shield. I need to see if there’s free fluid in your abdominal cavity.” 

"What? What are you talking about?" Loki asked.

“I can't see a thing." Stephen turned the monitor around so they both could see just what he meant. “Look.”

“It’s all black,” Tony said in rising horror. “Why the hell is it black? Are you liquidating inside? Is that what's happening?”

“Not if I can help it…” Stephen murmured distractedly, fingers flying over the knobs and dials but no amount of adjusting seemed to work. “And the word you're looking for is liquefying. Liquidating is what you do when your stock price falls and you start selling your yachts.”

Tony placed his hands on his hips. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Stephen ignored him, focusing on the quieter of his two husbands, which was a great worry in itself. “I can’t see the inside of your body, you’re not letting me.”

"It's not me. I'm not doing anything," Loki said, sounding more breathless than Stephen would like. 

Tony must have thought the same. He turned the knob controlling the supplemental oxygen supply on the wall and cajoled Loki into wearing the nasal cannula. Unsurprisingly, he succeeded. It was something Tony would always be better at doing than Stephen, getting Loki to do stuff he did not want to do, and Stephen was forever grateful for it.

“Well, something’s blocking the sonic waves."

"Blocking?" 

Stephen nodded, allowing himself a moment of relief. Loki seemed to be breathing a bit easier now. 

"It’s like your abdomen’s made of solid rock,” he said, mind racing as he pondered their next move. “You need a CT scan. Is the blood test ready? I have to see if the kidney function’s okay if we’re thinking of giving you contrast.”

Tony typed away on the console for a few seconds. “Yeah. I’m bringing the results up right now.” 

Stephen reluctantly left Loki’s side and joined Tony at the computer. “Let’s see…” 

He scrolled down quickly before something caught his eye and he stopped. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Tony peered over Stephen’s shoulder. “What is it? What do you see?”

Stephen backed away from the monitor, looking spooked all of a sudden. “Maybe it’s not acoustic impedance at all...” 

Tony frowned. The look on Stephen’s face was not sitting right with him at all. “What isn’t? If you don’t start sharing what you know, I swear I am going to kick your ass.”

“Maybe there’s nothing wrong with the ultrasound. Maybe something is cancelling it out.” Stephen turned around very, very slowly. “Loki. Is there any chance that you could be pregnant?”

“What?” Loki balked. “No!” 

“Are you sure?” Stephen asked carefully. “It’s not like you have a discernible ovarian cycle to guide you.”

“I don’t need one,” Loki retorted, but the first glimmer of doubt crept into his voice. “What makes you think I am?”

“Your hCG level’s elevated," Stephen said. 

When Loki stared at him blankly through eyes glazed with pain, Stephen figured he should elaborate.

“It’s a marker of pregnancy and testicular carcinoma, but the latter takes slightly longer to kill you and isn’t a concern for right now.”

“This is a nightmare.” Tony sank into a chair and buried his face into his hands. “A fucking nightmare.”

“Stop being so dramatic, Stark,” Loki scoffed. "Why can't it be the latter? I do have a sizable pair."

“To confirm that, we need another panel of special blood tests that I will definitely take from you later,” Stephen said, blatantly ignoring Loki's poor attempt at humor. “One thing at a time.”

"I am not pregnant. Don't you think I would know if I were?"

"It's a moot question, considering there is no precedent for the current situation."

"I have been pregnant before."

"Not by us humans."

There were many things about Stephen Loki found endearing, too many to count, but there was a smugness to his persona whenever his husband put on his doctor hat...not that it was any more authoritative than his usual self, but definitely a lot less tolerable. In things concerning magic, Loki was easily his equal if not superior. But now, struggling with this awful pain in his gut, he was at Stephen’s mercy. 

Even so, Loki was not going to back down without a fight. “My contraceptive spells are infallible.”

“Spells can fail.”

Loki was out of the bed so fast he was a blur of shadow flying across the room toward them.

"Stephen - " Tony leaped forward.

Stephen fumbled as he tried to conjure a defence against whatever was coming, but before he knew it, Tony's fast reflexes kicked in and he caught Loki in mid-collapse, “Hey, easy, easy!”

As Tony lowered him to the floor, Loki buried his face as deeply as he could in Tony’s chest in the hope that it would stifle his scream, of pain and rage alike. "Did you do this?"

“What?” Tony strained to hear him amid the alarm blaring from the monitors from which Loki had extricated himself in his frenzy. 

“Not you.” A green eye stared out accusingly from the crevice of their interlocking arms. “Him.”

Stephen's heart thundered in his chest. He knew when something was meant for Tony, and when it was meant for him. “I did not.”

Tony swivelled his head. “Stephen, what is he talking about?”

“There is only one being in this world powerful enough to counter my spells,” Loki spat. “Is this your doing?”

“I would never do that to you,” Stephen said heatedly. “How could you even think that?”

“Bambi,” Tony said anxiously when Loki’s form began trembling in his arms. “Bambi, calm down.”

Stephen braced himself once more against the onslaught of daggers or fists or magic but no threat of any kind came forth. He watched the light leave Loki’s eyes like a candle snuffed and heard Tony shout out a warning. “Loki!” 

Stephen lunged to grab their listing husband and managed to save Loki’s head from hitting the floor, only just. 

“Loki,” he called urgently. True fear gripped his heart when Loki remained motionless. “Help me, Tony.”

They wrestled with Loki’s long limbs and together, they carried him over to the bed. 

“What the hell is going on?” Tony asked frantically. “Stephen?”

Stephen ignored him, focusing instead on reattaching the wires and cables that would connect Loki once more to the vital signs monitor. He did not speak until a blood pressure reading came back; it was borderline low but satisfactory for now, given the normal pulse rate and heart rhythm. 

“He’s fine,” Stephen said gruffly. “He just passed out.”

Tony growled, “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

He picked up a limp hand and rubbed it furiously between his palms. 

“He’s freezing. Why is he freezing? It’s like ninety-degrees in here,” he rambled, “And I don’t know if I heard you right the first time, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but I swear I heard you say Loki was pregnant.”

“I did.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Tony pleaded.

Stephen sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Wish I could.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t be sure.” Stephen studied Loki’s wan face and the desire to just dip his astral fingers into his husband’s abdomen to take a look inside was overwhelming. He killed the thought before desperation could breathe it to life. “There’s one thing we haven’t tried. Another ultrasound.” 

He met Tony’s eyes across the bed. “Transvaginally.”

“What are you waiting for?” Tony demanded. 

Stephen bit the inside of his lip. “I don’t know how.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Tony’s voice shrilled. “You’re supposed to know everything!”

“About brains, not babies!” Stephen exploded. “I think I need to talk to Christine.”

Tony’s face changed. He pulled Stephen by the sleeve of his shirt to a corner, the farthest he could go while still keeping Loki in his line of sight and out of earshot. 

“Christine? As in your ex?” he hissed.

“She’s a doctor, Tony, and a damn good one too. She’s seen her fair share of strange things and ambiguous genitalia is nowhere near up there.”

“Okay, I don’t know if you can’t hear yourself or if you’re being an ass on purpose, but you’re being an ass!”

Stephen opened his mouth to protest, but Tony beat him to the punch. 

“Never mind how I feel, but you and I both know how Loki feels about her! No shade on Christine, coz I’m sure she’s great but - ” Tony’s knight’s-move thinking took him off course, “Ambiguous? Really?” 

Stephen stared. What’s so wrong with what he said? “That...is the clinical term, if you must know.”    

“I don’t give a shit. You don’t say things like that,” Tony seethed. “I’ve never been surer of what Loki is and what he has, and what he has is not a fucking cul-de-sac!”

“I know that, and that is why I’m trying to get to the bottom of this because I know what’s at stake!” Stephen’s voice rose in pitch to match Tony’s. “I am not going to argue semantics with you when Loki could be having an ectopic pregnancy that could kill him at any minute while we stand here fighting!”

Tony instantly deflated. “I’m not fighting.”

“Good!” Stephen snapped. A guilty look instantly flashed across his face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“No, I get it. You’re worried about Loki,” Tony sighed heavily. “And I’m sorry too. I just - I can't - " his voice caught in his throat, "You're probably used to it, but I can't stand seeing him like this."

"You never get used to seeing someone you love hurting," Stephen said quietly.

Tony's gaze softened. "Yeah." His thumb rubbed comforting circles on the back of Stephen's scarred hand. "I've got your back."

Stephen smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Tony."

When they turned around to return to Loki, the sight awaiting them froze them in their tracks. 

"Oh shit," Tony breathed. "No, no, no…"

Everywhere they looked they saw ice, creeping across the tiles from where the examination table was bolted to the floor and spreading toward the computers and sensitive medical equipment surrounding it.

Still deeply unconscious, Loki's Aesir glamour had fallen away, revealing his Jotun form, skin as blue as the slab of ice he was lying on.

[lihikainanea]

What are Bill and Tiger’s Valentine’s plans this year?

Ohhh baby, bullseye. Come closer, I want to tell you a secret--but you have to promise not to tell anyone else, okay?

I love Valentine’s Day.

I know, I know. It’s a stupid commercial Hallmark holiday with seemingly no other purpose other than to make single people even more alarmingly aware of their loneliness. It is silly and stupid and elitist and tacky--but I’m sorry, I just love it. I love the pink and red colour scheme. I love the cheesiness of it. I love the little Valentine’s Day cards that we used to send each other in elementary school, I love the secrecy of having a timid, anonymous Valentine, I love the chocolates, I love everything. And though I am eternally single, I have always treated Valentine’s Day as an opportunity to be incredibly sappy and to celebrate love, in all of its forms. I bake my friend small Devil’s Food chocolate cakes in the shape of a heart, I drape them in fondant and I decorate them like those tacky little candy hearts with the sayings--Be Mine, Sweetheart, etc. I overdose on cinnamon hearts. I hand deliver those tacky, heart-shaped punch out Valentine’s Day cards with sappy messages. My dad gets me a rose, every year. Sometimes I get myself a dozen roses, splurge on a little heart-shaped box of my favourite pralinés from an authentic Belgian chocolaterie. I plan an elaborate, decadent menu even though I am eternally single--I go all out. Expensive champagne. A 4-course dinner--usually lobster. A decadent dessert. And I put make up on, I put on some of my best lingerie, and I sit there with my badass self and just enjoy the euphoric feeling that an empath gets when the whole world is celebrating love.

I recognize that I am the minority.

But listen, Bill and tiger? These two sappy idiots, I swear. And maybe the thing is--the thing is, both of them are pretty gourmand, you know? I’m drunk  tired so I’m losing some of my English words, but even then I don’t think I’ve ever really found an English equivalent to “gourmand.” Foodie doesn’t quite cover it, because it’s also about the finer things. Tiger is low maintenance and not impressed by wealth, absolutely, but the way to tiger’s heart is food. And sometimes the haute gastronomie restaurants they like to try fall flat--why is everything foam? Seriously--but sometimes, it is well worth the money and both of them really love those nights. But those nights are hard to come by on Valentine’s Day. Restaurants have fixed menus, and they’re anticipating 5x the normal crowd so maybe the seating is not only crammed but it’s also timed, like you got two hours to eat and then you gotta get the fuck out. The food at even the best restaurants is mass-produced to try and save time and accommodate the unusually high rush of people, and its often 3x the price. So while both tiger and Bill love a good, extravagant meal at a restaurant--both know that Valentine’s Day is like, the WORST day to try and indulge in that. It just ain’t worth it.

So maybe they kind of do an extended Valentine’s Day. Bill will absolutely book a real nice restaurant, he’ll absolutely get his girl feeling’ herself, maybe book her a blowout and a little makeover, get her a new dress, and he’ll get dressed to the nines in his best casual suit. He’ll make sure he smells real nice, he’ll make sure the restaurant gives them a table hidden away, and he’ll make sure it lasts hours--starting with a leisurely cocktail, and then an entire tasting menu that he probably pre-arranged with the chef on special request. But he’ll do that like, WEEKS later. When it’ll really be worth it.

The night of? The night of, they do what both of them love even more: being sappy dorks, cooking together. They plan the menu ahead of time. Bill is on alcohol duty, because that way he can spend a lot on a (few) real nice bottle(s) of wine and champagne and tiger doesn’t ever have to know. Tiger is in charge of overall menu planning--a general idea of appetizers, sgroppino(god what the fuck I’m so tired that all of my first languages are coming out), a general idea of a main dish and dessert. From there, her and Bill refine it until they have actual meals--and then Bill is in charge of sourcing the ingredients. He hits up the farmer’s markets while tiger is at work. He has the lobster shipped in from PEI (Canadians--I will literally fucking fight you that PEI lobster >>>> Nova Scotia lobster, and I’m a Bluenoser. Americans--I will literally fight you that Maritime lobster >>> Maine lobster). He spends entire afternoons sniffing citrus at the stands in the market, trying to find the best blood oranges for the salad. He has the cocoa for the dessert imported from Belgium, because he’s a snob like that (he’s unapologetic--kladdkaka is nothing BUT cocoa and it needs to be the best). He somehow finds the most perfect raspberries in the dead of February. Tiger doesn’t ask questions, she just gets even more warm and fuzzy as they approach the 14th.

And tiger ain’t no bitch about it either. She gets herself a real nice second Merida-inspired lingerie set. Hell maybe she’ll even be real good to her Big Dude and don the wig the whole night too. Does Scarlet make an appearance later on that night? Maybe, but I also think maybe that is reserved for when they go out to the restaurant. Either way, Bill is treated the entire evening to his girl, cooking with him, getting giggly off good wine and champagne--all dressed in lingerie and looking like a fucking bombshell.

And that’s the night, you know? These two idiots, with some expensive champagne and wine. Some incredible food, that they cook themselves. Dessert gets abandon halfway through, because tiger is biting her bottom lip and her tatas are spilling over her corset and Bill grabs the bowl of whipped cream and slaters it on her instead of on the gooey chocolate cake. Tiger thinks that’s just a great idea, tearing his clothes off him and grabbing a handful of whipped cream, smearing it on his junk just so she can lick it off after. The dishes can wait. The actual dessert can wait. These two are drunk off of champagne and each other, and they absolutely fuck on the kitchen table, surrounded by dishes.

[thelanguageoflovers]

so you’re trying to understand sophia and i’s jatp universe

@localspacelesbian​​ and I never intended for this to get so out of hand, but then it did, so here we are. We’ve got a few wips going, so I figured it was about time to get around to one of these.

it’s okay if you’re lost, because so are we! here’s a little guide to help you out (:

CHARACTERS:

The Lacrosse Team:

Spencer Montgomery-Wright: Our pride and joy. He’s on the lacrosse team, and can be seen being bewildered with Nick when the guys show up during ‘Bright’. Some have referred to him as the guy who is called ‘Letterman Jacket Guy’ on IMDb - these people are wrong. Letterman Jacket Guy is a white blonde guy. Spencer is black. He’s in the design program at their school and designs costumes for all the ballets. 

He and Nick have been best friends since they were little, and have exchanged stuffed animals (Nick gave Spencer a stuffed penguin named Texas, and Spencer returned the favor with a stuffed elephant named Oklahoma). They’re total astronomy dorks (Spencer calls Nick ‘Tor’ after Copernicus, and Nick calls Spencer ‘Cass’ after Cassini). They’re also in love, but they’re still working through that. 

Connor Nesbitt: The aforementioned ‘Letterman Jacket Guy’. He’s the captain of the lacrosse team, the very definition of a himbo. He’s in the cinematic arts program, but, like, really likes history.

Nick Danforth-Evans: Pretty self-explanatory, but the Danforth-Evans theory is canon in the SACU (Sophia and Adalie Cinematic Universe).

Chris McMillan: Chris is a sweetheart. He’s in the theater program but wants to be a farmer and raise sheep when he grows up. He just really likes farm animals, okay?

Barry O’Hara: A good dude! He’s in the dance program, and his Special Interest is linguistics and communication.

Rasheed Bakir: Rasheed!! He’s a bit of a running joke in our work, as he constantly hurts his legs and feet. He’s been known to ride in Connor’s car with a broken ankle hanging out the window. It’s fine. He’s in the theater program, hates Shakespeare more than anything, and is dating Ari Price.

Ari Price: Just a lil visual arts program kid. Constantly so worried about Rasheed. The Ultimate mom friend; his backpack is the equivalent of Alex’s fanny pack, and he makes a very good soup when one of the guys is sick.

Leo Montgomery: He’s Spencer’s cousin! Very buff and a little bit scary but is a whole teddy bear. He’s in the music program, and is so tired of watching Nick and Spencer pine. He’s a science nerd, except for biology. Fuck biology. All his homies hate biology.

Percy Mayer: We love Percy so much. He’s a Ballet Boy, and he’s fake dating a girl in ballet named Constance Hansen. He’s probably aro, but is still a little confused about that.

Oren Summers: Oren is a freshman in the visual arts program. Kind of just one of those nice guys you meet in school who are just cool to be around.

Grayson Radcliffe: Grayson plays the french horn in the music program, and is in our token heterosexual relationship with Jennifer Brickaday.

Dirty Candi

Kayla Lavelle: Y’all know Kayla. We named her ‘Lavelle’ because we went with a color based system and, yk, lavender.

Jennifer Brickaday: Yellow Candi! Dating Grayson, and we just don’t deserve her. Brickaday is a reference to the yellow brick road.

Andrea Turkis: Miss Turquoise Candi! Probably our favorite candi - she’s a lesbian and just gives the best hugs. (Turkis means turquoise in several languages.)

Velma Williams: Orange Candi! Straight up the coolest person alive. She’s aro, and helps Percy sort out his sexuality. Just really likes dinosaurs, you know? (Williams is for William of Orange)

Mary Brooks: Not a member of Dirty Candi, but their manager. Totally not in love with Julie what are you talking about that’s bananas (Mary - marron (brown) and Brooks is just a slightly less on-the-nose version of Brown).

Those Done Dirty:

Flynn Chadwick: Chat means cat in french, but we wanted Chadwick because it sounded neat.

Willie Greenwood: He just gives us green vibes I don’t know what to tell you

The Families:

The Danforth-Evans Family: Nick, Ryan, and Chad are a given. Nick also has a little sister named Phoebe Danforth-Evans. Phoebe is a gymnast and general rascal.

The Montgomery-Wright Family: Buckle up, y’all. Spencer has seven pets. - Laura Montgomery: Mom #1. Very chill, but very protective. - Francesca ‘Franny’ Wright: Mom #2. Just the sweetest, but is willing to cause harm to a bitch if necessary. - Dog: Herbert Fitzhoover (the light of all of our lives) - Cats: Tongs, Spoon, and Spatula. They’re just like old gay men. No further comment. - Bird: Chicken the parakeet. Spencer found him at the airport and just... brought him home. - Roomba: BoBo. Very Good Boy. - Kinda Penguin: Texas (a lesbian icon, married to Oklahoma)

The Chadwick Family:  - Dad: Nico Chadwick. Just, like, a really good dad. Living the life. - Older Brother: Andrew Chadwick. Absolute nerd, away at university, drinks his respecting women juice every day. - Younger Sisters: Rachel & Eliza Chadwick. Twins - they love tormenting Flynn. - Cat: Snoopy. The love of my life.

The Wilson Family:  - Cat: Peanut!! love him

The Mercer Family: - Alex’s Younger Sister: Annabelle ‘Annie’ Mercer. Deaf, has a bright pink hearing aid. Wants to be just like her big brother (is already halfway there, being that she is wildly queer).

RUNNING AND INSIDE JOKES:

Octoslashers III: Octoslashers shows up as some form of media in every fic we write. Every single one.

Twister: Alex is a GOD at Twister, and there’s no debating this.

Rasheed’s Leg: Rasheed breaks his leg, foot, or ankle somehow in every fic. He’s trying.

The Caleb Chew-Out: Let’s just say I’m making it my mission to write a scene into every fic of ours where a character yells at Caleb, and everyone is going to get their turn. 

Oklahomas: Oklahoma and Texas are soulmates in every universe. 

questions? let me know! i’ll add the answers (:

[blogbyraj]

He is a Grandfather(Still).

It’s been three and half months since he left for an eternal peace. And I miss him. Okay I don’t actually miss him; I miss those memories of him and those moments I have had with him. I won’t say he was the greatest man on the earth but he was the greatest man I have ever known personally. He was a part of my life. But I can’t say without him my life is incomplete. It’s like t-shirt with tiny holes; you know you can wear it but still there are holes.

He was a self-made man. Growing up in a family of a farmer, getting a government job with a very less pay, suffering from paralysis, facing so many fall downs he still managed and give his children the best life any father could ever give. Just because of him today we are whatever we are. It all goes to him. That man stayed away from his family, worked really hard, never spend a rupee on him and devoted everything to his family because he never wanted his children to see the struggle he had seen in life.

He was a wise a man. I still remember once he told me, son you are going to grow up, have a great career and life, become successful, get everything but at what price? Are you willing to pay that price? Would that price be your family? At that time, I was a kid who just stepped into teenage. I couldn’t understand it vey well then. But as of now I know what he actually meant. He meant nothing matters like success, money, fame. There is only one thing that matters that when you come home from work and there is a lovely family waiting for you. Family means everything. It is above everything. And if you won’t have that everything else would be equal to zero. And today not only I know, I understand, I have experienced that everything will be left behind except your family. They will stand with you no matter what. Your friends and other people around you are like kidney, even if you lose one you still have another. But family is like a heart, how will you survive without it? And that’s what I learned from it.

He was a great man. We really loved him so much. When it came to spending money on grandchildren, believe me he was a Rockstar. We just asked for it and he got us. He was rich by his heart.

So, every Sunday he used to read me stories from the newspaper special edition. I could read those at my own but even though I always insisted on hearing them from him. Why? Even I don’t know. It’s been I think almost 10 years since he read me a story but I still remember many of those till this day just because he told me and I really loved it. I have so much to talk about him, so many stories it’s just this place is not enough.

He was a stubborn and brave man. But lions get old too. they get defeated by life. He knew his end was close and he literally told us that he’s going to leave soon to meet the almighty. He suffered in his last days but he never let anyone else get affected by it. He was a lone warrior.

Whenever I look at his picture, it feels like he’s smiling. He has that same charm on his face. One thing I will always regret in my life, I couldn’t be there with him in his last moments. I didn’t say goodbye. He just left us….

In memories of Shree Kevaldas Heeradas Patel(1943-2021)