Q:eremin or jearmin?
this sort of feud must be settled in the ultimate arena.
round one is eren and jean facing off in turkish oil wrestling, judged by armin arlert. round two is eren and jean facing off in mud wrestling, judged by armin arlert. there will be a brief intermission where drinks are served, as our contestants are sprayed with water while wearing very very thin white t-shirts. this is to clean them and judge armin arlert will inspect the contestants closely afterward. round three, the final battle, will be a pillow fight. the contestants will be provided with battle lingerie and the silken canopy bed arena has been rigged with a multitude of cameras to more closely observe the fighters. bonus points will be awarded to the loudest giggler.
the winner will have the privilege of taking judge armin arlert to dinner. the loser has the consolation prize of taking judge armin arlert to dinner. all participants are invited to judge armin arlert’s chambers after the tournament for a rousing game of “Can I Fit Two Dicks In Me At Once”.
If you are not as concerned about the people handing you your food in the restaurant as you are about the pigs on the farm where it was grown, your approach is classist. … If you start telling someone all about your new trendy diet or asking them about theirs without knowing if they have an eating disorder that may be triggered by your prattle, your approach is ableist. If you tsk-tsk at people who are overweight for what they are eating and claim you’re concerned about their health, yet you’re not actively campaigning to make healthy food more accessible and affordable, your approach is sickening and I don’t want you in my activism.
The OUTSIDE Outside World [Roleplay with 50-Shades-of-Armin-Arlert]
”Hm, you’re a quiet one,” Zecorah noted, digging in a cabinet for a bowl and a wooden spoon, “Ah, but I’m just used to being around more chatty people.”
She ladled a hearty helping of boar meat stew with potatoes, parsnips, carrots, and spices; taking a knife, she easily pried apart the roasted animal’s head, carving out the tongue and slicing it up to add to the stew; she also dug in her pack and added a wedge of white goat cheese. To complete the meal, she dug out a bottle of mead, which she uncorked and brought over to Armin along with his bowl of soup.
“Let’s have a look at that cut, hm?”
Zecorah cast a spell called Magelight, producing a small ball of bright light which floated at her shoulder so she could get a better look at the blond’s injury. Gently, she brushed aside his hair, sticky with clotted blood, with her clawed fingers. Her third eyelids blinked as she carefully examined the laceration, carefully removing bits of gravel and debris before placing her hand over it. Amber-colored magic emerged from her fingers, glowing tendrils snaking into Armin’s skin. His flesh began to knit itself together with a slight tingle, and in an instant his wound had healed as if it had never been there.
"I’m just not one to speak very much is all. I hope that isn’t a bad thing." His voice was still a bit quiet, still feeling unsure about the situation he had currently been placed into. He had little to no choice but to be here given the fact that he was wounded and could barely feel his legs.
Watching from a distance as she prepared the food, it felt horribly strange to see so many ingredients which were rare where he used to be. He couldn’t remember the last time he had meat, nor cheese. It was usually bread or potatoes if they were lucky, maybe some sort of soup. It all depended on the resources they had. Taking the bowl when it was given to him, he quietly stared into the soup before realizing something strange was happening behind him.
He didn’t move at all, not wanting to break her train of thought nor cause her to stop her actions, even if they could potentially be fatal. He didn’t know. He had never been in a situation like this, and all that he could feel was happening was some sort of claw move his hair and then the pain slowly begin to stop. It was impossible to describe the feeling, however it was pleasanter than before.
"It doesn’t… hurt anymore, so… I guess. Thank you."
“Eat up,” Zecorah gently commanded, “This stuff’ll perk you right up.”
Briefly she left him to dig in a wardrobe in one of the side rooms, returning with a wool blanket, which she draped over his shoulders and wrapped around him.
“I’ll make a run to Whiterun in the morning and see if I can’t find you a cloak to keep you warm on the journey to my farm; when we get there, I have a forge and I can make you some warm armour for our journey to Winterhold….”
She realized she was getting ahead of herself, “Ah, Winterhold is home to a college of mages—they’ll be able to help us track down the source of the magic that brought you here and hopefully I’ll be able to get you back home. But it’s even further north and even colder, and I’d rather you not die from testicle-shrinking cold if I can help it.”
She smiled, showing her sharp teeth, in an attempt to cheer him up, “You could always ride with me for warmth. I promise I don’t bite… much.”
Shifting to Skyrim [Closed RP with ThErenYeager]
”Nonsense,” she chortled, “There is food in Skyrim, plenty for everyone if you’re not greedy. You just have to know where to look. Of course, mind that you don’t fall prey to sabre cats, wolves, or bears while you yourself are hunting.”
At the bottom of the waterfall, the river cut a steep path through a gorge, nestled in the roots of the mountains which were pervasive in this land. Down below, fish splashed in the pristine waters, and even from that distance fishers could be seen casting their lines and nets, hauling in their catches. A few wrestled with rather giant crabs, cracking open their carapaces to get to the meat inside.
“Perhaps I’ll take you hunting if we have time to spare. Up in Winterhold we have horkers—good meat if you cook it right. Also can find some cold-water clams as well.”
Eren thought about it. “Yeah…I guess I would like to learn that, since I was never taught.” He shifted on his horse as he looked around at the bustling fishers. It would be a useful tool to learn if they ever got rid of the titans and could hunt again for meat.
He also didn’t want to have time to spare to learn though, he wanted answers to let back and immediately return home. He sighed heavily, he would just have to hope it turned out that way, if not he got to learn hunting out of it.
Further down the road, they approached the bridge which spanned the width of the waterfall; an odd structure, juxtaposed against the wilderness surrounding them, stood at the near end. It seemed to be an altar of some sort, with offerings of coin and hides and food surrounding a small carved statue.
A stocky, muscled woman knelt in front of the altar, praying, but she turned her head up to look at the two travellers passing by. Zecorah recognized she was a hunter, halting Domino and dismounting.
“Greetings,” she announced, walking calmly up the hewn stone steps, “How goes the hunting?”
“A bit rough I’m afraid,” the woman answered, “That storm a few days ago has erased tracks and made it difficult to track. But I do have hides and flesh to sell, if you’re interested.”
She gestured to her pack, which sat leaned against the structure.
A few minutes of bartering and exchange of coin later, and Zecorah returned with a large, snow white pelt patterned with black-gray spots, the head of the animal still attached: a large, fearsome feline creature; she’d also acquired the claws and teeth of the animal.
Eren’s mare shifted beneath him, giving herself a good shake and rattling his swords in their box sheathes, along with the rest of his gear which was lashed to her back. She shifted to the side, craning her neck and trying to graze on some of the hardy grass and flowers which grew on the side of the road.
”Here. You hungry?” the woman offered him a strip of dried venison; she shifted the pelt under her arm, “Lucky find. I can make you quite the handsome warm cloak when we stop in Whiterun with this.”
Q:Do you think you could crush grown man's head like sparrow egg between pecs
It’s not our job to toughen our children up to face a cruel and heartless world. It’s our job to raise children who will make the world a little less cruel and heartless.