#moroccan accent

[departmentofinteriors]

morocco

[jesterlaughingstock]

Just started watching the algerian version of my favourite show Les Switchers and so far the accent is throwing me off but im gonna be honest it does have its moments lmfaoo

[clayne-stanbridge-2002]

How awesome is this electric boho hippie room? It’s stuffed with varied, bohemian pizazz like shaggy pads over a bed, hanging wall unit, and Moroccan-propelled accents. The multi-color dancing tapestry at the wall, crocheted plant wall painting, and bright tapestry over a bed, are all the highlights of this plan.

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[despite-everything]

i think i can confidently say my architectural style is the intersection of hacienda, morroccan, and mid-century.

[eagleflieswiththedove]

Eclectic Living Room New York Large eclectic formal and loft-style living room design example with white walls, a standard fireplace, a stone fireplace, and no television.

[fostersgifs]

Mediterranean Bedroom - Master Inspiration for a massive Mediterranean master bedroom remodel with white walls and a dark wood floor

[volatile-vertex]

Boston Eclectic Bedroom Bedroom - medium-sized eclectic guest bedroom idea with brown floors and purple walls but no fireplace

[sobbingscripter]

DAY 2: Two Turtle Doves

☃️A Holly Jolly Wayne Gala☃️

Tags: [aged up!][semi-public][mommy kink][subby Tim Drake][m4f][handjob][fem!reader][whiny][twink][he's 19][mdni?]

❄️☃️❄️

Tinsel strung along each wall of the ridiculously lavish venue.

But that's exactly what to expect from a Wayne gala. Extravagance and luxurious.

A plethora of waiters carry different trays, with festive treats and holiday-themed cocktails. You remain near the bar, nursing a Shirley Santa, which is just a regular, rosy Shirley Temple, with salt around the rim to represent the fluff on Santa Clause's hat.

The live band continues to play music, low and festive that seems to drown out in the presence of the chatter between social elites, various red dresses, tailored suits and expensive scents seem to blend together.

At least when compared to that smell of strong, Moroccan coffee that seems to cling to one of Bruce Wayne's wards, particularly the twink one.

Inky hair in an undercut, unsually shaky hands and the ghosts of eyebags below cerulean pools. An almost girlishly pretty face, as he grabs what looks like his third mug of coffee for the evening.

"You know, coffee's not good for a growing boy."

Tim glances at you, maybe an inch or two taller, not by much, and from this distance, you can see glimpses of his lean physique.

Top. Tier. Twink.

"I'm 19." Tim speaks softly, his voice a refreshing, boyish timbre in the cacophony of nasally, and the occasional faux British accent tossed in to imitate class and decorum.

"Men stop growing at like... 21." You chide him gently, before taking the mug from his hand and setting it down beside him, on the table he's leaning against.

He simply stares up at you, big blue eyes locked on your face.

He's not entirely unfamiliar to you, especially since he has a penchant of staring at you whenever he's in the same room as you. Which, seeing as you're interning at Wayne Enterprises, is surprisingly a lot.

In the cafeteria, in the elevator. Almost everywhere. Except the women's bathroom.

Which... now, is kind of crossed out.

"Oh.... shit, please...please... please.... mommy.."

Tim's whines are muffled by your palm, your other hand wrapped around his pretty cock, leaky pink tip occasionally peeking out from your fisted hand with each tentative stroke you give him.

His eyes are half-lidded, hands fisting the fabric of your dress as you press and feather numerous kisses to the curve of his neck, the collar of his shirt untidy and unbuttoned.

"Faster...—please, go faster."

Tim begs, lashes fluttering as your palm glides against the sensitive skin of his shaft, his muscular hips rocking into your hand in a poor attempt to gain more friction, more feeling.

Desperate for that release, that pace you've been denying him.

"You're asking me to go faster but your knees are buckling." You tease him, teeth nipping at his pierced lobe before you pull away, looking down at his slumped form, back pressed against the door of the bathroom stall.

"So pretty." You croon quietly, before capturing his lips in a deep, somewhat sloppy kiss which he immediately returns. Messy, uncoordinated and his hands grasp at your waist,

One of Tim's hands shakily grip the back of your thigh, raising your leg to bracket his hip and he ruts against your hand, eyes fluttered shut as he imagines himself fucking you, rather than your hand.

Your dress rides up, a generous sliver of thigh and a glimpse of your panties visible, a sight that has him moaning into the kiss.

God, he's so pretty.

Fluttering lashes, tears brimming in his pretty blue eyes, a messy undercut and biting his bottm lip each time you pull away to kiss along his jaw.

"Please..." Tim whines softly, the crown of his head falling back against the stall door and he feels his pretty cock twitch needily, beads of precum running down his shaft and dropping down from his tightly drawn balls. "Oh... fuck.."

Your hand clamps tighter over his mouth when the bathroom door opens, and two sets of heels collide with the marble tiles and Tim stares at you, wide-eyed and nervous.

And you can't help it, as your fist slowly continues to move, pumping him and watching the way his face gets warmer and his eyes roll back in his head.

A muffled whimper slips out from behind your hand, stifled by the sound of a tap being opened and Tim jets onto the soft, cottony fabric of your panties, hot cum soaking through the already sodden material and he whines.

"That's it, baby..." You croon sweetly, pressing soft kisses to the side of his face and his neck, his tie a limp ghost of his decency, his knees buckling and his body limp, and lax against the door.

You can feel the way your cum drips from your inner thighs, and Tim's eyes lower to the sight, running his pink tongue along his bottom lip.

"You...— can I clean you up..?" He breathes out. "Please mommy?"

His voice is hoarse, and before you can even answer, he drops to his knees, his hands bracketing your thighs and his nose brushes against your clothed clit, before his tongue darts tentatively.

Licking and smearing his tongue in the cum that coats your panties, dragging his tongue along your soaked folds, cleaning it up and sucking on your folds through the panties.

With each pass of his tongue, dragging up your plush thighs, a shaky breath leaves him.

"You taste so good..." Looking up at you through bleary eyes, his soft cock still twitching, dribbles of cum staining his already inky suit pants and you card your fingers through his silky strands.

And he shudders at the sensation, eyes nearly rolling back in his head when he feels your thigh rest on one of his lean shoulders, watching with wide eyes as you slowly peel your panties to the side, slippery folds just in front of him.

And God, does it feel like dangling a carrot in front of a donkey.

"I think you missed a spot, honey."

[rafesgurl]

Thieves and Fabrics

Summary: In which a random girl helps Rafe out of trouble with the police in Morocco after the pogues left him to fend for himself.

Warnings: none

A/N: hey guys!l This is my first fic i hope i did okay. Don't mind the writing like I said it's my first one i hope to get better at it. Also English is not my first language!!! And ignore any spelling mistakes. Enjoy!

The moroccan sun was shining bright and sweat beads were dripping down all of their faces. The pogues and Rafe had just arrived in the city of Essaouira with different intentions. While the pogues were looking for the blue crown Rafe had no interest in it and was just looking to find Groff, or so he said.

And in usual 'pogue fashion' they haven't even been in the city for 10 minutes and already caused problems with the police. They were running away from the cart owner and the police, as they, or JJ, had stolen some apples for Sarah to eat.

And when the police finally caught up to them, they instantly attacked Rafe who was innocently standing in the corner watching this unfold. The cart owner described the thief as 'american' so the police just grabbed the first person that looked 'american' to them. Rafe's tall frame obviously attracting unwanted attention.

The Pogues watched from afar and hesitantly decided to leave Rafe deal either this on his own. He would be fine, they thought. And while he was trying to fight off the cops, them not hearing him out for obvious reasons, Rafe felt a pair of eyes on him.

And before he could even try and figure out whose intense eyes were watching him he heard a voice. A female voice. "Hey! 5iliou lwild 3la 7alo. Ra houa m3aya." (Hey! Leave the boy alone. He's with me.)

A woman with a voice of honey, maybe even the prettiest voice he has ever heard. He watched as she talked to the police officers in the foreign language and took a good look at her. She was wearing a long garment he had seen lots of women, and even men, wear and a matching headscarf. She was beautiful.

Her hazel colored eyes shined in the sun which made them seem honey colored. Her plump pink lips moved so beautifully while she was talking him out of the situation. And her skin was flawless. And before he could even notice the police pushed him away and left, not without giving the girl and him a last glance.

Rafe turned to the unknown girl. "T-thank you so much for helping me out. What'd you even say to them?" He asked and she just waved her hand "Don't worry about it. Come." She said with a thick accent and mentioned for him to follow to the stall on the side where she apparently worked. She and an older man sold fabrics in all different colors which made the stall look vibrant.

The older man looked Rafe up and down and then to the girl "Malo hada?" (What's wrong with him?)

She just shrugged and mentioned for Rafe to sit and the man doing whatever he was doing before. "So why did you help me?" Rafe asked her and she just smiled at him "I saw you with your little friends. Causing trouble. Or not friends since they just left you with the police." There was a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Not my friends" Rafe just mumbled and looked around the shop. She nodded and kept her eyes on him. "So what brings you guys here? All the way from America."

Now Rafe knew he had to tell her something. I mean she just saved him from getting arrested. But the question is, what would he tell her. Explaining everything would be way too difficult, and he couldn't trust a random girl anyway.

"A man. He screwed me over. And now I'm looking for him." he said voice full of anger as only the mention of Groff made him angry. "Screwed..." he heard her mutter. Her English sounded pretty good and advanced so he wondered if she didn't understand the word or if she was just registering what he said.

"And the others? Your not-friends?" She asked curiously. "I don't know what they're up to. And I honestly don't care." The girl, which was still nameless to him, just raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows at him and nodded.

"This man you're looking for. Do you know where to find him?"

Why was she asking so many questions? Rafe narrowed his eyes at her and slowly answered "No..." He wanted to see where she was getting with this.

"Well I could help you."

He stops moving for a second and just stares at her "Help me with what?" And before she can respond the man in the shop yells out for her "Y/N, nodi t5idmi!" (Y/N get to work) "Eh baba bilati." She answers and he just shakes his head and keeps on working. (Yes dad, wait.)

Y/N. So that was her name. A name he hasn't heard before since there weren't any moroccans on the island or as far as he knew. It fit her.

"Help you find him. I mean you don't know you don't know your way around the city, do you?" She knew what his answer would be so, obviously. There was a smirk on her face, which Rafe thought made her look even cuter.

He just kept staring at her and eventually a smirk started to form on his lips too.

Part 2?

Let me know how yall liked this one. I would really be happy about some comments and feedback even if it's negative! Thank you 💋💋

[ghostsprobably]

Winx Rewrite Character Nationalities!

Here's my winx redesigns and the earth equivalent nationalities/ethnicities I envision them as!

(featuring lots of random people from google images)

Bloom: Self Insert lol (white person from long island, earth)

-----

Stella: Moroccan! She is very tan because she spends so much time soaking up the sun, but if she went a long time indoors her skin would lighten a bit.

-----

Flora: Mexican Indigenous! She also spends quite a lot of time outside tending to the Garden

-----

Tecna: Irish, and she does not get any sun lol (i like the idea that she has an accent bc Faragonda has one and she's spent so much time with her)

-----

Musa: Chinese of course

-----

Aisha: Barbadian! She's from an island nation, so I always imagined her being from somewhere in the Caribbean. rn I have her voice claim as Ayo Edebiri so Barbados felt right!

-----

Icy: Russian, it's cold there

-----

Darcy: Her family moved around a lot to get away from their connection to Liliss so her ancestry is quite diverse, but I think she would identify as Pakistani, as that is where her more recent family is from.

-----

Stormy: South African, Zulu! Her family has a very strong appreciation for their ancestry and wikipedia says "Zulu" means heaven or weather, which I think is fun.

-----

I'll be back later with the guys!

[eliasgold20]

Shukran Emir, the birth of Elias

Life was going perfectly for Elijah. After his dorm mate got him invested in the golden army he seemed perfect. Every day he was dressed in his bright gold jersey, pulled together by a dapper button up and tie underneath, as well as a nice pair of khakis. Still the stellar student and preppy man as always, he had a new passion for fitness and sports, always being turned into games when they happened. He was always put together and after his semester abroad concluded, he decided to get a flat and stay in London as his home. All was going well for the lad.

Elijah was a bit of a brat, typucal of an honor student with a family of money. He often dismissed the needs of others and closed himself off to his team. His beauty and proper upkeep made him attractive to all on the team, but many couldn't help but feel he could be better. Often the subject of hazing and teasing from his teammates, Elijah could only ponder what would be coming for him next. As he walked the streets of London, constantly tuned into his game, he felt at peace, never minding the men who would stop and stare or harass his preppy attitude.

Suddenly when walking, Elijah got an urge. His eyes became fixated on a suspicious dark alley. Something inside of him was telling him to visit. The alley was typically the host of a few destinations of interest, a thrift store, an international market, and a delicious Moroccan restaurant him and the lads occasionally stopped at before games. As he entered the alley, he would be surprised by the hands of a stranger.

Before he could tell what happened, Elijah found his arm pinned behind his back. A strong cologne could be sensed from the man, overtaking Elijah's senses. He didn't feel fear, he didn't feel much of anything, just... Susceptibility. Slowly he felt a presence lean to his side. The man had a thick accent, likely from some random Arabian country. He strokes Elijah Ms Pail smooth arms before murmuring.

"you've done so good for the team boy. Too bad you're not perfect... Yet" the face of the man rubbed against Elijah's cheek, the course stubble working his way into his skin. "Just breathe Akhi, I'm only here to help. You like the smell of this cologne? The feeling of my skin? I knew you would." Elijah Blacked out the next moments. As the hands of the stranger moved about Elijah's body, helping him relax, he couldn't help but be peaceful, he felt something inside him change.

"good boy, you'll be perfect," The man kisses Elijah's cheek before giving him a nice slap on his khaki behind. "I'll be by later akhi, be ready for me."

The interaction was soon over and Elijah turned around to nothing. If it wasn't for the man's smell lingering on him he would be convinced he was day dreaming. He finished up his business and returned to his flat.

Elijah got ready for bed as he always did, in his shiny gold silk pajama set and watching his local football team. After the game, and enjoying a healthy amount of bourbon, the boy made his way to his mirror to finish his nightly routine... When he got a shock.

Staring at his reflection, Elijah was shocked by his dirty blonde pin-straight hair now becoming curled and darker. He has curls and waves, a new fade, and his hair growing wilder. The boy tried a mixture of clays and gels to tame the hair but nothing worked. Then he got a thought,

"the argan oil!" The boy remembered one of his brothers brought him Moroccan argan oil hair products though he never needed them, his hair was perfect and didn't take much maintenance. After applying a liberal amount of the oils, the smell lingering on his scalp, his hair began to calm.

"what is happening?" The boy thought

The next surprise would come while washing his face. The boys face, typically smooth after many sessions of laser hair removal, became rugged and stubbly. He looked up at the mirror to find a thick black shadow growing on his chin. He could never grow facial hair let alone anything as perfect as this. What could possibly be happening. It was at this time he got a knock at the door.

As Elijah opens the door he sees before him a large Algerian man, he recognized him from the team.

"E-ezan?" Elijah muttered. He and Ezan were never in the same circles, though it was known that Ezan was always one of Elijah's earliest crushes from the team. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I said I'd be by earlier Akhi, don't you remember?" Ezan says entering the apartment. He takes note of Elijah's pj's, "men shouldn't wear silk akhi. Don't worry I'll fix it. Great how your hair is coming along isn't it? The beard is also growing in, with time of course young akhi." Ezan chuckles.

"That was you?!" Elijah inquired "I have no clue what is happening. And lay off my choices." Ezan laughs, first heading to the kitchen to pour out the rest of Elijah's bourbon before staring back at him.

"Akhi, no more drinking, you're letting down the team." Ezan stood assertively. Elijah didn't drink very much, what could Ezan possibly be on about? Never the less, Elijah couldn't help but listen. Something about the way Ezan's jersey fit him, the way his cologne filled the room, and the hypnotic spiral of his eyes pulled him in. "Do you understand Akhi?"

"yes Emir," the words flew out of Elijahs mouth. He doesn't know where he even learned that word, he had no knowledge of Arabic but he knew it was the right response. He just kept staring.

"Good Akhi, it will all be done soon, just keep staring." Ezan pulled Elijah into his arms, undressing him from his silk PJ set. While he was getting undressed and seemingly with every touch of Ezan's hands, Elijahs pale skin became a dark olive. His hair continued to grow falling onto his eyes, leading to Ezan pushing it back and holding it with a hairband. The stubble continued to grow filling out Elijah's face. Memories for Elijah began to change too. He didn't study abroad in London, his family immigrated from Jordan. Ezan recruited him for the team at a meeting after masjid. They did everything together.

"There seems to be a mix up Akhi, you had on the wrong jersey this morning," Ezan cooed while playing with Elijah's chest. "It's alright though, I brought a new one. I'll always take care of you." Elijah remained entranced by Ezan. Placed in his hand was a new golden jersey. Still number 20, but now with the name إلياس written on it, as well as the English version, Elias.

"Shukran Emir! I don't know how it got mixed up!" Elijah, now Elias said throwing the jersey over his new curly mop of hair. Ezan retreated to the closet, bringing out Adidas track pants and slides for Elias, as well as an easy to remove pair of slides.

"Here akhi, put these on, we have a bit of shopping to do for you. Don't worry about your closet. I will handle it later." Elias could only nod to his emir's commands, obedient and respectful, as he has been taught to live his life. After getting changed he appeared differently. No longer the American teen Londoner brat he was, but now a respectful, disciplined Arab man.

"Now before we go by your new thobe I must say," Ezan starts, "This will be your schedule

Mondays and Tuesdays: You are Elijah, the good preppy boy

Wednesday and Thursdays: You are Eli, the London chav

And on Fridays and the weekend: You are Elias, the proper Arab man.

Is this clear akhi?"

"Yes Emir, Shukran" Elias said nodding to his commands. Ezan was always the perfect Emir to him, making sure he remained disciplined and proper. He would always love and cherish his emir. With that, Elias and Ezan were off for their nightly trips around London, beginning of course at the masjid. The same line becoming as prominent as Elias's own name when speaking:

Shukran Emir

If you want to join the golden army and transform your life for the better, contact our recruiters @polo-drone-001 and @goldenherc9 as well as our captain @brodygold

[joaosnovia]

4th times the charm (atp i’m js saying anything) gavi gets transported to morocco for a game, BUT while he’s there thru the shops he sees this BEAUTIFUL moroccan princess and they fall in love 😻🙏

❦ - stadium lights in casablancan nights

summary: gavi is called for international duty against morocco and finds love in the stands.

warnings: none!! however there’s a slight plot chance that was dmed to me afterwards xx

writers note: i love this idea and don’t ‘4th times the charm’ me mate your last 3 requests were diabolical?? who would read culpa mia but w gavi and snow white but gavis the princess?? 😭😭 also did someone say overwriting 😱

word count: 2k

The overwhelming roar of the crowd in Casablanca’s Mohammed V Stadium was quite deafening, but that made gavis pulse raise even more. His heart raced not because of nerves, but for the fact that he wants to prove himself. Back in the world cup 2022 he scored a goal against costa rica that showed that he wasn’t just another kid from la masia, he was truly a star. However, a few matches later his first world cup dream came to a crash. Round of 16 vs morocco.

As the anthems faded to an end and the refs whistle blew, he jogged into place and let the game get into its usual rhythm, clear chances, passes, tackles and fouls. And there it was. a goal! Perfect goal may i add by lamine yamal. The stadium erupted into cheers as gavi made his way to the corner flag to celebrate with his teammate, not only internationally but from his club that’s always been by his side.

However, this wasn’t just a normal celebration, something pulled his gaze upwards, and that’s when he saw it, her. Throughout the wave of opposing fans, one face stood out to him, a gorgeous girl, hands gripping the railing with her jaw dropped. It was obvious she wasn’t cheering for spain though, her kit and flag proved that inference. Yet her gaze found his, holding it for longer than it should’ve.

Eventually, half time pulled around as gavi made his way to the locker room. But that didn’t stop him from looking for her though. She hadn’t moved from that spot, instead she was stood up, laughing with her friends leaning against that very same railing, but her focus wasn’t on her friends. Her gaze was on the pitch, as if she was looking for something, making gavi wonder if it’s him that she’s looking for.

Pedri, who was standing right next to him, nudged him and said, ‘Focus hermano, she’s way out of your league.’, in a teasing tone, making gavi smirk but no response came out of him. He knew this wasn’t the last time their paths would cross.

The final whistle blew, the score ending in a 2-1 narrow victory to Spain, with players exchanging handshakes and shirts. Even though they had a successful match, that didn’t shift his mind from the mystery girl, his eyes shifting to her every couple of minutes.

After plucking up the courage to approach her, he noticed her still laughing with her friends, her smile lighting him up.

Without giving it a second thought, he jumped over the barrier, passing security and approached her. Some may call him cocky for the confidence but she noticed and found it amusing that he tried to get her attention. Although security refused to let him get any closer, he ushered her to come closer, and she complied, with her friends teasing her.

‘Hola, did you enjoy the match?’, he asked in almost a whisper to avoid attention from others.

She tilted her head, and her lips formed into a smile, laughing to herself and replied with, ‘Even though Spain won? I guess so’ she said in a playful tone, with her soft accent coming out.

They exchanged names however it caught Gavi off guard.

‘Wait you don’t know my name?’ asked Gavi in an almost concerned tone.

‘No, I know your name.. I just wanted to hear you say it.’ she said, her soft smile widening.

‘Gavi’ he said, chuckling, in a quiet voice.

Her friends called her from behind and she glanced back, reluctant to leave. ‘Looks like I have to go..’ she said.

‘Wait.’ Gavi said quickly, removing his shirt, and handed it to her, the faint smell of grass clinging to it. ‘Something to remember this match by.’

She took the shirt, her fingers brushing his for a small second, ‘Gracias, Gavira.’ she said, making his heart race.

There was one thing he knew for certain, he had to see her again.

The next few days in Casablanca was an absolute blur for him, media videos, training sessions and team meeting, but she couldn’t get out of his mind. Her smile, her laugh and how her gaze lasted for longer than even she wanted it to.

That’s when he realised, it wasn’t the match, it was her.

After hours of practice, the team had some downtime before their flight back to Madrid. Gavi found himself roaming the streets with Pedri, just so he didn’t seem like a loner.

‘So you’re really attached to this girl, hermano?’, asked Pedri almost with genuine concern.

Gavi sighed and yet again, didn’t have a reply for that and continued walking.

That’s when he saw her, for the second time, except she was alone in a small cafe.

He hesitated for a moment, Pedri staying outside, as Gavi made his way over.

‘Mind if i join?’ he asked, grabbing a chair from a nearby table.

She looked up, surprised as a smile was spread across her face. ‘Gavi’ she said ‘How come you’re not with your team?’

‘I mean, I was..’ he said, taking a seat opposite her. ‘But I figured i’d explore some more. Seems like I found the right place’

She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. ‘So you spend your free time chasing random girls that you see during matches?’

He smirked, leaning back into the chair, ‘Only the interesting ones.’

She laughed softly, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of her teacup. ‘Not sure if that’s flattering or too forward’

Gavi’s smile softened, ‘A bit of both, cariño.’

‘Well i’ve seen you play, you’re good. But i’m sure you know that by now.’

He chuckled, ‘I don’t need compliments, but i’ll take them’

She smiled again, ‘So what’s a footballer like you doing in this small cafe in Casablanca?’

He looked out the window for a second, and then back at her, ‘I guess i’m looking for things that matter besides football’

Her gaze softened, ‘And have you found that yet?’

‘I’m getting closer.’ he paused, ‘Listen, I don’t know how long i’m gonna be here, but I want to see you again’

Unsure of how to really respond to that, she said ‘Maybe. If you’re lucky.’ in a mysterious tone.

And that’s when he knew he wouldn’t be leaving this city any time soon.

Due to the weather in Spain, their trip extended a few more days, but she didn’t need to know that.

On the last night of their stay, Gavi slipped away from the hotel and didn’t tell anyone, not even Pedri that he was going back to that very same cafe.

The night air was cooler than he expected but the night life still stayed active.

It wasn’t that long until he saw the cafe again, although it was late, it was still open and a few people were still in there.

He hesitated for a moment before entering again and the owner looked up at him and said,

‘Gavi, right? You’re here for someone I figured, and if so you’re in the right place, habibi.’

Gavi, uncertain by her words, followed her over to the table, where he saw here for the third time.

He sat opposite her, letting his eyes linger on her for a second before she broke the silence.

‘Gavi, I thought you wouldn’t turn up.’, she said, following with the familiar smile that Gavi loved.

‘I couldn’t stay away.’ he replied

And to that she chuckled and said, ‘You’re a lot more complicated than i thought Pablo.’

He grinned, trying to hide his emotions, leaning back into his chair, ‘I’ve been told.’

She stood up and said, ‘Listen Gavi, it’s getting late, I need to get going, and you should too.’

‘Wait,’ Gavi said ‘Can you please see me play again.’, he asked in an almost pleading tone.

She looked back, with an unreadable expression and said, ‘And you think i’ll say yes?’

‘I was hoping that you’ll surprise me.’

‘Maybe.’

And with that, she left.

A few weeks passed by, and the memory of you lingered in his brain. He hadn’t seen her since that night in the cafe, but your time together was the only thing on his mind.

Now he was in the Montjuïc, at a home game for laliga, as the stadium was packed with culers from all over the world as usual. But this match felt different.

As the game kicked off, Gavi instantly fell into the usual match rhythm yet his thought remained on her.

There was a small pause in play, as he re adjusted his socks, someone caught his eye. It was her.

There she was, in the VIP section, her barca scarf tucked around her shoulders.

He froze for a second, his heart hammering in his chest. She was no longer a memory, she was there in real time. Eventually, he snapped back into focus.

The scoreline was 1-1 and he knew that he needed to be the change that he wanted to see, so he took a risk and shot it in the direction of the net, bracing himself for the result. And there it was, a goal to put barca in the lead.

Pablo sprinted to the corner to celebrate and he looked up to see her in the stands with her hands over her mouth in shock. Then she smiled, her face full of pride. He noticed that, and made a small gesture, pointing towards her.

After the match was over, he saw her waiting with security by the players exit.

‘You made that goal look easy’ she said, her voice with a teasing tilt.

Before he could answer that, he had a question in his head.

‘You came all this way, why?’ He said, his eyes searching for hers.

‘I wanted to see if you’d keep your promise’

‘And did I?’

‘Yes.’ she replied with a subtle smile.

It had gotten to the point where they finally exchanged numbers, making his heart flutter.

The next laliga match was against sociedad which was quite a big match if you think about it. He had just completed his pre game superstitions until he received a message

‘i heard you’re not as bad as they say, wanna prove it? 😉’

He grinned, feeling a rush of excitement.

‘i thought i already did that’ he typed back.

‘okay, meet me at the cafe tomorrow.’

He arrived at the cafe as soon as the match was over and he was lost in thought. What were they? He knew they weren’t a fling but he didn’t know what to label it.

‘You’re early’ she said as she walked in.

‘Came as soon as the match ended’ he replied.

‘Okay Pablo, i’m gonna start off with why i asked you to come here. You’re the first guy who’s come into my life with a smile and a promise. But i’m not interested in that.’ she started.

He leaned in, ‘What’re you interested in then.’

‘Something real.’

‘So am I, and i’m not going anywhere.’

‘So prove it.’

And with those three words, the barrier between them was broken.

They went for a walk on the quiet streets of Barcelona, the night air brushing their faces. Neither of them spoke but the silence was enough for the both of them.

He turned to face her, ‘Listen. I don’t want you to go, just stay.’

She looked back at him and said, ‘Gavi.’

He didn’t let her continue because he felt like he already knew the answer to that and closed the gap between them.

Eventually, she found her way into extending her stay and renting an apartment in Barcelona to stay wiyh Gavi

Months past until they decided to make it official to the public, they both figured it out, the fame and distance.

One evening, they both sat on the balcony until he turned to face her.

‘So this is what i’ve been looking for. I’ve finally found what matters besides football.’ Gavi said.

She smiled back at him, realising that this is all she wanted too.

[give-me-a-minute-to-think]

In a poetry club I attend a friend of mine wrote this poem in light of the current situation, and I wanted to share it on her behalf (translated to english with the original hebrew).

A POEM IN HEBREW / Efrat M. And the Lord shall scatter you among the nations He who shut the heavens that there be no rain And you were left forever dead and forever alone to eat by the sweat of your brow The fruit of knowledge has been bitten and you can never go back home My grandmother was born in Iraq. My family was expelled from Iran. My mother was nine months old when they fled Baghdad. My father is from Libya, his uncle was murdered in the streets. My grandfather had to leave everything he knew behind. My grandfather is from Morocco. My grandfather is from Italy. My grandfather is from Romania. My father is from France, his parents are from Morocco. Both my parents are from Syria. Both my parents are from Russia. My family is Moroccan. My family is from Egypt. My family had to live in a tent for two years. My grandmother is from Austria and Czechoslovakia. My grandparents are from Uruguay and Chile. My grandfather was born in Israel. My grandfather is from France. My great grandmother is from Poland. My great grandfather is from Yemen. My grandmother was born in Israel, but the family is originally from Libya. My grandfather is from Iraq, but the family is originally from Iran. Both my parents are Greek. Both my grandparents are Romanian. My grandfather was in a Libyan prison for five years after attempting to flee. My father is from Iraq, my mother is from Tunisia. My grandmother is from Tel Aviv, but before that from Galicia. My grandfather is from Poland. My grandmother is from Libya. My grandmother is from France. Grandfather from Tunisia. My grandfather is from Tel Aviv, but originally from Poland and Lithuania. My grandmother is from the United States, but before that from Hungary. My great grandfather is from Poland. My great grandmother is from Russia. My mother was born in Israel, her mother was born in Israel, and her parents are from Romania. My grandmother was born in Mexico, her father is from Lithuania, her mother is from Hungary. My father’s parents are from Poland. My mother's parents are from Germany and Ukraine. My mother's mother is from Hungary, my mother's father is from Romania. My father's parents are from Argentina. My great grandfather is from France, or maybe from Germany. My grandfather and his seven children fled Morocco. My father was attacked, and they decided they could not stay. My family was forced to start a life elsewhere. My grandmother fled Yemen. The date of her birth is lost to time. They arrived in Israel with nothing, everything was taken and looted and left behind. My mother tells me of Moldova When the youth movement was still called the Young Communist With her homeland spoken russian half understandable to my ears or With fluent hebrew marked by an indelible accent Even after all those years Her distasteful tone graying with age, she told me of a childhood grudge that no longer mattered No more than words, simple quiet violence Simply a teacher before a room of young students and my mother simply a child Return from whence you came Where Iscariot first betrayed with a yellow kiss To the Jewish country that was made so that We need not carry the burden of abominable life Our parents, brothers, and sisters were torn from us before our eyes Cast from yourself all delusion The rage you feel now will be with you for the rest of your life The sorrow you feel now will not fade once the rest of the world marches on This grief must be spoken We are no longer weak and defenseless And they told us go like lamb to slaughter And we didn't go Return from whence you came To your mansions in New York or New Jersey Where we can comfortably break your glass windows And spray marks of Cain onto your front doors My people Who came from nowhere and belong to no one

'שיר בעברית / אפרת מ והפיץ אלוהים אותך בעמים הוא אשר עצר את השמיים ואת המטר ונשארת לעולם מת ולעולם יחיד לאכול בזיעת אפך פרי הדעת ננגס ולעולם לא תוכל לשוב הביתה סבתי נולדה בעיראק. המשפחה שלי גורשה מאיראן. אימא שלי הייתה בת תשעה חודשים כאשר ברחו מבגדד. אבא שלי מלוב, דודו נרצח ברחובות העיר. סבי נאלץ לעזוב את כל שהוא מכיר. סבא שלי מרוקאי. סבא שלי מאיטליה. סבא שלי מרומניה. אבא שלי מצרפת, הוריו ממרוקו. שני הורי מסוריה. שני הורי מרוסיה. המשפחה שלי מרוקאית. המשפחה שלי ממצרים. המשפחה שלי חיה באוהל במשך שנתיים. סבתי מאוסטריה וצ'כיה. סבא וסבתא מאורוגוואי וצ'ילה. סבא נולד בארץ. סבא מצרפת. סבתא רבא מפולין. סבא רבא מתימן. סבתא נולדה בארץ, המשפחה במקור מלוב. סבא שלי מעיראק, המשפחה במקור מאיראן. שני הורי יוונים. סבא וסבתא רומנים. סבי היה בכלא לוב חמש שנים. אבי מעיראק, אמי מתוניסיה. סבתא מתל אביב, אך לפני זה מגליציה. סבא מפולין. סבתא מלוביה. סבתא מצרפת. סבא מתוניסיה. סבא מתל אביב, אך במקור פולין וליטא. סבתא מארצות הברית, אך לפני זה הונגריה. סבא רבא מפולין. סבתא רבא מרוסיה. אמי נולדה בארץ, אימא שלה נולדה בארץ, וההורים שלה מרומניה. סבתא שלי נולדה במקסיקו, אביה מליטא, אמה מהונגריה. ההורים של אבא מפולין. ההורים של אמא מגרמניה ואוקראינה. אמה של אמי מהונגריה, אביה של אמי מרומניה. הוריו של אבי מארגנטינה. סבא רבא מצרפת, או אולי מגרמניה. סבי ושבע ילדיו ברחו ממרוקו. אבי הותקף, והם החליטו שהם אינם יכולים להישאר. משפחתי הוכרחה להתחיל חיים במקום אחר. סבתי ברחה מתימן. תאריך יום הולדתה נאבד לזמן. הם הגיעו לישראל עם כלום, הכל נלקח ונשדד והושאר מאחור. ההקרבות והקורבנות רבים מספור. אמי מספרת לי על מולדובה כאשר תנועת הנוער עוד נקראה הקומוניסט הצעיר ברוסית מולדת החצי מובנת לאוזניי או בעברית שוטפת אך עם מבטא בלתי נמחק אפילו אחרי כל השנים בטון סלידה מזוקן משיבה היא דיברה על טינה מהילדות שכבר לא משנה לא יותר ממילים, רק אלימות שקטה רק מורה מול קהל הילדים ואמי רק תלמידה. חזרו למקום ממנו הגעתם היכן איש קריות בראשית בגד בנשיקה צהובה למדינת היהודים שנוצרה בכדי שלא נצטרך לשאת בנטל חיי תועבה לעינינו קרעו מאיתנו את הורינו, אחינו, ואחיותינו. השליכו מעליכם כל אשליה. הזעם שאתם מרגישים כעת יהיה אתכם לכל חייכם היגון שאתכם כעת לא יתפוגג אחרי ששארית העולם יצעד הלאה. התוגה הזאת אינה אילמת. כבר איננו חלשים ואיננו חסרי מגן. ויאמרו לנו לכו כצאן לטבח ולא הלכנו. חזרו למקום ממנו הגעתם לביתי התפארת בניו יורק או ניו ג'רזי שם נוכל בנוחיות לנפץ זכוכיותכם לרסס אותות קין על פתח ביתכם העם שלי הבאו מאין מקום ושייכים לאין אדם

[sprunkimortality]

Hmm.. Do any of the Sprunki's have accents? Other than Tunner who has a Western accent (canon in fandom)

Oren - American accent (New York) Raddy - American accent (Old Southern) Clukr - mild German accent Fun Bot - American accent (Florida) Vineria - American accent (California)

Gray - mild Korean accent Brud - British accent (Cockney) Garnold - American accent (Florida) OWAKCX - American accent (Old Southern) Sky - American accent (Texas) ← much milder than Tunner's, but he definitely got it from him

Mr. Sun - Canadian accent Durple - usually speaks in an exaggerated British accent, shifts into a Filipino accent when upset Mr. Tree - Moroccan accent Simon - American accent (Midwestern) Tunner - American accent (Texas)

Mr. Fun Computer - strange mix of American and German, chopped up to sound like an UTAUloid Wenda - American accent (Michigan) Pinki - very mild American accent (Midwestern) Jevin - mild Punjabi accent Black - British accent (Birmingham)

Saves - Filipino accent Ciqu - American accent (New Orleans) with extra pressure and rigidness Sprinkles - British accent Calvin - mild Indian accent

[dustorange]

This is very petty and like rehashing it im aware makes me seem very small but omg an extra girl got invited to our movie night last night and she was Egyptian and the very first thing she said before anything else literally before sitting down was like “NO ONE EVER GETS MY NAME RIGHT“ and on & on & on & on & on for a like 5min monologue b4 introing herself to the other 4 she didn’t know and of course of my personal feeling about that mispronunciation is totally fine as long as its in earnest especially if u have a foreign name with phonemes not present in the new lang but ESPECIALLY if its a subtle mispron like there are accents and other factors so like unless u r capable of pron every single word in the NEW lang u rly can’t throw stones. but anyway so she zeroed in on me bc im ethn ambig & everyone else was white she was like what r u, where r u from meaning like which country and the answer ur trying to get when u ask is Moroccan but the actual true answer is literally im american im from the South and asking it like that is very rude in MY OPINION but so anyway i told her well my name which is leila literally as in jokingly leila beila like layla bayla and she LAUGHED and she was like actually that should be LILA u should be saying it LILA thats how its pronounced its an arabic name like do u want to practice it with me it’s lila and i was no actually its leila. and she was like no but it isn’t. And i was like ok well my family is Moroccan we all say Leila. Like Layla. And she was like “but in Arabic the proper way to say it is Lila and its an arabic name so u should say it the proper way” And it was like the craziest night of my life never have i ever experienced that ever and I used to work at a middle eastern think tank where everyone was from a different country and everyone prounxonqed things differently but all of them had met a leila before i never have EVER gotten lila from a middle easterner. Like Lila for Leila is literally not true. That literally isn’t true. That isnt true in persian or hebrew and she just like continued to fight me on it AND TO DO THAT AGTER YOU SPENT WHOLE MINUYES OF MY LIFE COMPLAINING TO ME ANOUT HOW PEOPLE MISPRONOUNCE YOUR NAME AND U TAKE IT AS SOME GREAT OFFENSE it was actually surreal it was like something that doesn’t happen in real life it was like omg i think I know how to say my name