#something like 'women not being able to cook meat like men do' etc. which sounds. very homoerotic now that i think abt it sdhjgfvghs

[snekdood]

are you

FUCKING

KIDDING ME!??!!???!?!W

[kailedger]

for all the YOI fanfic author, p.2

Oh wow, let me tell you, I really didn't expect the previous post on Russian culture to blow up ahaha (Here’s the link to it, in case you’re wondering: https://kailedger.tumblr.com/post/621351027189350400/for-all-the-yoi-fanfic-authors) But since it did, I decided to make a part two, sort of? It's not gonna be about mistakes in fanfiction, but more about things English-speaking authors don't mention simply because they don't know they exist.

I’ll give you the general info and then maybe throw some thoughts about how specific YOI characters would relate to that info in my personal opinion.

HOLIDAYS. We have a lot of those TBH, but I'll mention the most important ones - the ones for which we have official days off. I mean, yeah, you can find a list of those in Wikipedia, if you want, but it doesn't actually tell you the reality of things. I've already mentioned the New Year in the previous post, so let’s skip it.

23rd of February is the Defender of the Fatherland Day. It's actually for those who served in the army, but the tradition is to congratulate everyone who's male. Must have something to do with the fact that on 8th of March we have an International Women's Day, when we congratulate everyone who's female. Doesn't really make sense to me, since, you know, there are women in the army too. And a lot of men haven't served a day in their life, what the hell do I have to thank them for? (Here's an example: my dad used to be in the navy, submarine's captain actually, and every year when I congratulate him, he says something along the lines of "Why? There was no war conflict when I served". That's him being humble, but still, the point is there).

ANYWAY! We're not very big on celebrations of these two holidays, most of the time you just give a call to your respective male/female friends and relatives, give flowers to the ladies and just... enjoy your day off?

 Next one is the May holidays. Those are usually on the 1-3 of May, the official name (as Wiki states) is "The Day of Spring and Labour". Honestly, no one uses it lol We just say "the first May holidays" (since we also have the second, that's how much we don't wanna work in May; kinda ironic the holiday is called "the day of labour").

You don't congratulate anyone on this day, usually you just have a couple of days off. If we're lucky, the weather would be nice and then people go to the countryside to have a (oh my god, this is gonna be a mouthful) SHASHLYKI. We'll get back to this thing, and you know why? Since if you want someone to embrace the real Russian culture, you would make them go to shashlyki, trust me.

 The second May holiday is the Victory Day, and it's kinda... controversial in a way. It is a big celebration for the victory in World War II. Soviet Union suffered a lot during the war with the Nazi Germany, St. Petersburg was under the siege for more than TWO YEARS. And this holiday is both somber and happy since thanks to our ancestors we survived this hell and are now able to live in peace. The celebration is pretty big on official levels - there are military parades everywhere, concerts, people thank the war veterans (there are precious few of them left by now). When I was still in school, they made us visit those parades every year. Guess what? I've never been to a single parade since I graduated. It's not that I don't value the heroism of people who fought in WWII, it's that I think our government uses this holiday to brag how great we are (or, rather, THEY are), 'cause they haven't done anything worth of praise since 1945, which is... depressing, when you think of it. The ridiculous thing is the parade was canceled this year due to coronavirus, but GUESS WHAT? They've used BILLIONS OF DOLLARS to still have it on 24th of June. While the rate of people getting sick is still abnormally high. All because on the 1st of July we're having a vote on the constitution amendments and our government needs an extra boost in patriotism from our people (should I mention some of the amendments are homophobic? Yeah, it sucks).

Well... that was a rant completely offtopic lol. But, you know, this is the opinion of the most people below the age of 35. Also a huge problem here in Russia. Anyway, as I was saying. Used to be a really great holiday where we thanked the veterans and were reminded of the price they paid. Now it's just a sad excuse for the government to waste money sigh

So, a day off. Some fireworks, a hell lot of traffic problems due to parades. Not much else, if you're from the younger generation.

 Same thing goes to the 12th of June. Officially a "Russia Day", but since up until the point I graduated from the uni I had summer holidays, I barely even acknowledged the holiday, cause I didn't have to study/work anyway. So like... I lived my whole life here in Russia, and I have no idea why we celebrate this holiday on the 12th of June. I can google it right now, but that kind of would contradict my point here lol.

The last one is on the 3-4 of November. I think it's called something like "Unity Day", but, again, no idea why. Most of the time we just call it "the November holidays" or even "fall holidays". Honestly, most of the time we just care about the days off, especially if the holiday is supposed to be "patriotic". (When I put it like this, we kinda sound like assholes. Probably cause we are lol).

Birthdays mainly depend on the specific person. I used to love my birthdays and it was a big holiday for me when I was a kid, but then I turned 18 and it kinda lost its charm. You still celebrate it, especially if the date is something like 30, 35, 40, 45 and so on. But it gets less and less exciting over the years. I gather my friends at home and just have drinks, my fiance goes to a bar on his birthday. Not very... celebratory, ya know?

So. YOI characters. ALL OF THEM would definitely celebrate New Year. They would probably send some congratulations on 23rd of February and 8th of March. It you think of the Russian rinkmates as friends, they can go the countryside together on the first May holidays, but not actually do anything on the Victory Day (Yakov may attend the parade since he’s from the older generation). Nothing specific to do on 12th of June or November holidays, most likely the rink would be closed, so, like, just a day off.

  And now to the important stuff. SHASHLYKI. Oh my god guys, I’m so excited, cause this is one of those things that is AWESOME in Russian culture. And also makes most of the foreigners really confused. But it has some similarities with the American barbeque gatherings, I think.

First of all, many of us live in big cities (like I live in St. Petersburg for example), but we still have countryside houses. Sometimes it’s where our grandparents live, sometimes we buy it specifically. The thing is – we usually go to these places we call “dacha” to have some rest from the noise of the big city and enjoy the fresh air. Usually dachas have gardens, my mom is crazy about all this greenery stuff (I personally don’t see what’s the big deal with taking care of the plants, but I was told it comes with age ;D).

And to enjoy the experience even more we have shashlyki. It’s usually grilled meat (chicken, pork, whichever you prefer) and vegetables, but the process is what makes it really fun. Most families have their own recipes for marinated meat, you prepare it beforehand. Then, on the day, you make some snacks (salted pickles and fresh vegetables come to my mind immediately; pickles are like a must-have, it’s almost an obligatory food since it goes really well with vodka lol). While some of the people sit around the table, have drinks and catch up, there’s usually one person responsible for grilling meat. And this process is very important – it’s gotta be cooked on the brazier with actual flame (or, more like, coals). You put pieces of meat on a metallic skewer and then grill it (I think there’s the word “kebab”, but we usually use it to describe an entirely different meal, so, shashlyk it is). And let me tell you – having a freshly grilled shashlyk with some vegetables and a drink like wine (or vodka if you’re into it) is the best feeling in the world.

So you’re enjoying the fresh air, really tasty meal, have some drinks with family or/and friends. A pretty common thing (not for everyone, but I personally love it) is having someone play the guitar and sing songs around the campfire. The songs we sing are usually either stupid or old, and you would never just casually listen to those on your own, but when the time comes and you sit with the guitar, somehow EVERYONE knows the lyrics. The point is to have fun, not make a concert out of it :)

I actually think that Victor and the rest of the gang would at least try to give Yuuri (and other non-Russians, who knows) this kind of experience. I also headcanon someone (Otabek or maybe Victor himself) knowing how to play the guitar. But I wouldn’t trust Victor with the grilling, honestly, it requires a lot of attention, and… well… you all know what Victor is like ;D

  And since we’re on the topic of music, let’s discuss it. Me and a dear friend of mine @clarie-foster, who also happens to be both Russian and a YOI fan, had a lot of headcanons on this.

What you need to know, is when it comes to music, here in Russia we’re pretty flexible. The popular music is the one you can here everywhere, it’s on European and American charts, like, I dunno, Beyonce, Ed Sheeran, Gaga etc. There’s Russian pop-music and, honestly, it sucks lol. Most of the time I listen to it cause it’s dumb and catchy. There are some good artists, of course, I can throw you a couple of name bands like “Ночные Снайперы”, “Сплин”, “Би-2”, but the songs are in Russian, and although the lyrics are pretty damn good, they’re kinda hard to understand if you don’t know the language (I mean, just reading the translation won’t give you the whole experience). And those bands are… depressing? In a way? Not that the songs are extremely dark or something, but you kind of listen to those in a melancholic mood. Me and one of my best friends used to go out on the balcony in summer, sit wrapped in a blanket and listen to those songs. Great experience, if a little sad.

BUT. There’s the old pop-music. We have some of those artists, who were really popular when my parents were young and somehow still popular these days. Their music is honestly average – the tunes might be catchy, the lyrics are mediocre at best, but… when you have a little bit to drink, you get in that mood, where you start singing those old pop-songs. And it’s not like listening to ABBA or, I don’t know, A-ha, since those are classic and still good these days. Russian pop-songs SUCK, they’re horrible, but somehow that is the best kind of music when you’re drunk.

I personally think Victor is one of those people who would totally jam to the old Russian pop. It’s funny, since most of it is from female singers (There’s literally a song from a Russian singer Irina Allegrova called “Go crazy, wild empress”, no kidding). I just can picture him so clearly being drunk and singing those old songs with abandon lol.

Mila would probably join him while laughing hysterically. Georgi too, since he’s a drama queen. And Yuri would make all kinds of disgusted faces.

 Two facts which I have never seen being mentioned in fanfiction, which is really weird. So Victor lives in St. Petersburg, as we all saw from those last scenes in the anime (in the background you can see actual places from St. P like our sports stadium). And St. Petersburg is mostly known for two things: bridges and white nights.

WHITE NIGHTS OH MY GOD. I don’t want to go to deep into the details since I don’t really understand the nature of this thing (something to do with sun not really going down? I dunno), but in summer, especially in June and July it basically doesn’t get dark in St. Petersburg. I mean, the sun does go down, you can see the sunset and everything, but the sky stays like… white-grey, almost as though it’s midday, just cloudy. Like we’re in the middle of white nights right now, and the darkest hour is around 1 am, but even then it doesn’t really get dark at all. A lot of people from other cities and countries get confused by it, like, there was this time when Stephen Colbert was a guest on a Russian talk-show and he had a hilarious convo with the host. It was something like this: “So I’ve been in St. Petersburg for one day. It has lasted for 46 hours. Please tell me if the sun will ever go down, ‘cause I’m going crazy”.

For us common people white nights can get really annoying, if your curtains are not black-out, you can have a hard time falling asleep (since, you know, it’s too freaking bright outside). But it’s actually really great for late-night walks and is considered really romantic.

And, speaking of romantic, the bridges! What’s so special about those, you’d think. So St. Petersburg is built on the river Neva – it’s like really big, has a lot of tributaries and distributaries and flows through the whole city. Hence why we have tons of bridges.

And those bridges are drawing bridges, meaning they are separated in the middle by a special mechanism and are being lifted in the air so that the trade ships can pass underneath them. The most impressive one is the Palace Bridge – it’s one of the main sightseeing spots in the city. For most tourists it’s obligatory to visit St. Petersburg and see the drawing of the Palace Bridge. It happens at night, around the time of 1 am or 2 am. It’s really pretty, cause there are lights everywhere, you can see the ships passing by and the view of this huge structure being lifted in the air is really magnificent. Combine it with the white nights and you’ll have one of the most romantic dates you can have here in Russia.

(On the more realistic and depressing note: despite the drawing of the bridges being really beautiful, it’s SUCH a pain in the ass for the regular people. Like, because of the drawing you can’t really get from one side of the city to another. For example, I live in the northern part and if for some reason I couldn’t get to it from the center of the city before the drawing of the bridges, I’m stuck till like 4 or 5 am. Subway only opens at 6 am, and although we have a couple of bridges which never draw, those are on the outskirts of the city, so taking an uber and driving there would cost you a lot of money and also would take like and extra hour or so. Thankfully, the drawing of the bridges lasts only from April to October-November, while the ship navigation on the Neva river is possible).

Last, but not least, SOCIAL MEDIA.

So, like, Instagram is pretty popular in Russia and so is Twitter. But what people rarely mention is our own social media site – Vkontakte (www.vk.com, if you’re interested). It started to become popular in like… 2008, I think? Basically it used to be and knock-off from Facebook, even the color scheme is the same. It became more and more popular over the years, since Facebook was never really a thing in Russia (like, I had a profile there, but I’ve never used it). Now it’s like… if you don’t have a VK profile, it’s super weird lol. I communicate with most of my friends through it, since it has a lot of really cool features: chats, group chats, communities, music, videos and photos. It’s gotten so big that VK even hosts its own music festival each year with a lot of popular Russian artists.

Victor is a social butterfly, so he would definitely have a VK profile. So would Mila, Yuri and Georgi, I personally think most of their communication would be through it. Maybe they would even force Yuuri to create a profile, but he’s not really into social media much, so he wouldn’t really use it.

 I think that’s it for now. Like I said, if you have any questions, feel free to ask, I would be happy to answer! ;)

[random-imagines-blog]

Feral Roots {M Shadows One Shot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 3387 Summary: The Full Moon is coming up, and the leader of your wolf pack needs some stress relief. Notes: Smut, Breeding kink.

The full moon was only three days away, and all of the pack were beginning to get antsy. Tension was brewing beneath the surface, and even a hint of sarcasm was enough to send the men biting at each others necks. Your own body felt like it was starting to betray you, giving into urges that were not all that convenient. It didn’t help that the Alpha of the pack, M, had his dark eyes on you most of the time these days. It was those eyes that made you feel detached from your own will, and want to submit fully to his. However, you didn’t like to give in too easily. He liked a challenge, and you enjoyed giving him one.

You were one of the young women who worked mostly on cooking duty. Roasting big pieces of meat, and adding in some vegetables because you were all still partly human, took up a big portion of the day. Wolves needed their protein - especially with the stressful change coming up. You had a full pig roasting on a spit, and you were making sure that it was being turned properly. “What’s cookin, good lookin?” One of the main pack came over to you, the smell tempting his nostrils.

“Don’t you know a pig when you see one, Syn?” You asked the long haired man. He snorted with laughter and took a seat on the grass to really take in the view. “You never come out here while we’re cooking, what’s up?”

“Shads is in a mood,” He rolled his eyes. “You know what he’s like this time around. He needs to get fucking laid. Why don’t you go help him out, you are his favorite.”

“Cooking duty,” You said, smiling slightly at being called the favorite. It gave you certain advantages - like you could get away with more things. As a woman in the pack, you were pretty respected. You could carry on the line. You protected. You took care of everyone. But you still liked to get up to some mischief at times. “Why don’t you give it a try? You’re rather pretty yourself with those cheekbones. Most of them women here envy you.”

You normally wouldn’t have been able to get away with saying something like that.

Syn, or Brian as was his true name, glared at you, then went back to looking at the meat. You could almost see the drool coming out of his mouth. “It’s going to be another couple of hours,” You told him. “I mean, if you’re willing to help out with peeling the potatoes, I can make sure that you get a prime piece.”

“I’m in,” He said. You got him situated with a bucket of potatoes and a knife to peel them with, then went back to your post of turning meat. It was the slow roast that helped the meat taste so good - perfectly juicy, just the way that the werewolves liked it.

-

Being part of a pack meant living in a very communal sort of place. It was more like a trailer park than anything else that you  could describe, just inside a large privately-owned forest. There was a rather large house on the property, which the strongest of the pack shared, while the rest lived in rather luxurious trailers dotted around the land. It helped you all to feel closer to nature. And it made it easier for the nights when you were doomed to shift.

This meant that all of you ate together.

Picnic tables were strewn around, some with umbrellas to stay in the shade, but most without. The strongest of the pack, the main five, sat together at the biggest one, and their plates were often piled high. Syn seemed to be relishing this meal more than usual, probably because he had a hand in making it. You sat with some of the other women at a shaded table, your plate still full of food but not nearly as much as the men’s. You ate what you needed and left what you didn’t for the others, such as the kids who were running around playing after eating. People were talking, it was a wonderful day until...

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” M yelled, throwing his plate on the ground, half eaten chunks of food flying across the grass.

“M!” You shouted, getting to your feet. The whole pack went quiet, staring at the large man who had stood up and was glaring at Zacky, who was one of his best friends. You left the picnic table behind to go to his, and pick up the plate which had surprisingly not shattered. “Go and take a shower and cool off,” You said, looking up at him, setting the plate on the table.

“Don’t think you can tell me what to do-” M started, but you growled at him before he could call you a name.

“You’re scaring the pups,” You said, motioning your head to one of the younger kids who ran to hide behind his mom at the yelling. Tempers may fly but swearing wasn’t something that happened around the young ones. “Now go inside while I clean your mess up.”

“Fine,” M said, slamming his hand on top of the table, sending all of the cutlery flying up into the air. He stepped out from the picnic table and stormed towards the house, clearly in a bad mood. Were this a cartoon, you’d be seeing steam coming from his ears, or a black swirl atop his head.

“Now why did you have to go and antagonize him like that?” You snapped at the raven-haired man.

“What, I’m not allowed to speak?” Zacky asked, his anger still bubbling beneath the surface.

“You knew what you said was going to get a reaction,” Syn chimed in, wiping his mouth with his napkin as if the tantrum hadn’t happened. “It’s your own fault, dumbass.”

“Let’s go take a swim, cool you down,” Johnny said, getting onto his feet, pulling the dark haired man towards the lake that was in the forest that you all often used for bathing and exercise. You got back down to the ground and started to pick up the bits of food so you could properly dispose of it in the compost, shaking your head and muttering about what idiots men were.

“You shouldn’t have to clean up after him,” Brooks said, bending down to help you out.

“You’re right, it should be Zacky cleaning this,” You sighed, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand once everything was back on the table. “But we all  know he won’t lift a finger.”

“You should go see M,” Syn said, back to eating the meat off the bone. “He’s pissed.”

“Well now I am too. I hate when you guys scare the pups. Seriously, it’s a hard time for everyone right now. No need to act like children.”

“I hate to say it but he has a good reason to be mad this time,” Syn told you, making your curiosity peak.

“I don’t care if he gets mad or not, he has to keep his temper in front of the kids,” You said, not backing down. Syn put up his hands in innocence, throwing in the towel on the conversation. “I am going to go check on him though, and make sure that he’s alright.”

You didn’t miss the sexual motion that Syn made to Brooks, but you decided to say nothing about it this time. The last thing that pack needed was another argument during dinner. You just gave him the finger, then walked up to the house, slipping in through the back door. Other than M, it should be empty.

You followed the sounds of grunting to the built-in gym. Most of the pack just used the woods - strong branches for pull-ups, balance training, logs for strength etc - but M seemed to like punching bags over bark. He was working up a sweat, clad only in his shorts, hands not wrapped or anything, going to town on the bag.

“Do you want me to get you a picture of Zacky’s face? I have one on my dartboard,” You joked, coming up behind and held the bag steady. He kept hitting it, but his eyes averted to you and he was a little more careful. “You should at least put something on your hands, you’re going to make them raw.”

One good punch sent the bag out of your hands and it flew a dozen feet and landed on the mats. “He’s an asshole.”

“I know - but why in particular today, hmm?” You took an ice pack out of the freezer that was above a fridge that held energy drinks and water bottles, and lightly pressed it onto M’s knuckles. The discarded bag could wait.

“He says that it’s about time that you get bred,” M said, anger coming through in his voice. You were a bit surprised by how defensive he had gotten over that topic. You bit down on your lower lip in thought as you nursed M’s hand, attempting to stop the swelling before it started.

“I mean, he has a point,” You said, gingerly. “I would love to have a pup or two of my own by now. And you’re the reason that I don’t, M. I know we have our thing going on but you gotta drop me as a favorite eventually and let me find a mate.”

“Don’t you fucking start,” M said, tearing his hand away from you. “I’m not going to let you go and be some stupid mutt’s mate. You’re too good for everyone here.”

“As true as that is,” You started, attempting to lighten the mood, “-that’s my fate here. And the sooner you realize that, the sooner I can get on with it. And I think the only reason you’re mad is because Zacky wants to be the one to do it.”

“He’ll never have you, y/n. We both know that you could never love him.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t someone else in the pack who could be good to me. I deserve a mate, M.”

“And you never stopped to fucking consider me, did you?” M said, his voice going softer than it had before. You squeezed your hand around the ice pack in an attempt to keep you grounded. You never had this conversation with him before although you had always hoped... He never gave any sort of indication that he wanted you for anything other than sex.

“You’re just feeling the full moon coming, that’s what is making you say that,” You said, your voice going just as soft as his had. You tossed the pack onto the table, then approached the muscular man, putting your cold hands on his chest. He hissed slightly at the sensation but didn’t back away. “But if that’s how you really feel, we’ll talk about it after, okay?”

“It’s not the moon fever,” He insisted, grabbing you roughly around your waist before you could depart. “I may be jealous because of what that shithead said, but you’re both right. You need a mate and it’s time that you’re bred.”

“Are you asking me, or are you telling me?”

“I’m saying that I want you as my mate, for the rest of my life, and I want to put my baby in your stomach.”

“You can’t take that back, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Matt said, smirking, his bad mood seemingly to have dissipated. Roughly, he dragged you to bench where he often lifted weights, got you onto your knees and bent you over it. His hand went through your hair, then grabbed it and held it at the base of your neck. “I can smell you,” He said, sighing happily.

And it was probably true. He had very keen senses and from the moment he hinted at wanting to be your mate, you had felt yourself becoming aroused. He lifted up the skirt of your dress, resting it on your back, and pulled your panties down to be around your knees. The cool air conditioning hit your skin and caused goosebumps up and down your thighs.

“Are you going to keep it slow or are you going to make me scream?” You asked, smiling though he couldn’t see your face. It was pressed against the bench, cheek down. He pulled at your hair harder, causing your head to jerk up.

You don’t know when he had the time to push his sweatpants down and get onto his own knees, but he had - and he started to thrust into you roughly from behind. His one hand was still tangled up in your hair while the other was holding your dress onto your back, keeping you steady. Your mouth opened unwillingly at the sheer force and suddenness of it all, but it certainly wasn’t to complain. You moaned loud enough to feel the bench rumble beneath you. He kept pushing your head up so that he could hear you louder. He loved the sounds that you made. He craved them. He yanked your arms behind your back for more leverage, went quicker and quicker - and then began to slow down. This wasn’t supposed to be just some quick fuck. Five minutes isn’t enough for stress release.

You took in deep breaths of air as he slowed, all of the jostling around had made all of your breath leave your lungs. He let go of your hair so you rested back down against the cool bench. Beadlets of sweat were already resting on top of the leather from your forehead.  He left you for a moment, and you felt bare. Empty. Cold. But when he came back after only thirty seconds, he had a jump rope and started to tie it around your wrists. You trusted him entirely. You were still in euphoria from being asked to be his mate. That combined with the knowledge that he was going to give you a child made you entirely pliable in his hands.

He grabbed hold of your shoulders and entered himself again, making you cry out. There was never any foreplay with M. It was a lucky thing that you were always aroused while around him. He lightly slapped your cheek, then shoved his index and middle fingers into your mouth. You started to suck on them immediately, knowing what he wanted. You relaxed against him, feeling safe, feeling loved.

“Oh my God,”  You cried out, raising your ass as high as it could go.

“Yes,” M hissed. “You’re mine. I’m going to breed you like the bitch you are.”

After another couple minutes of rough thrusting on the bench, he pulled out again, and helped you up to your feet, holding onto your binded wrists as if they were handcuffs. He paraded - yes, paraded - you in front of the windows and over to the sofa. You weren’t ashamed at all. Nudity was perfectly normal among the pack, since it was a natural way of being. You were nude when you transformed into a wolf, and nude when you came back. It was rarely considered to be a sexual thing, though it felt like it now, with the way that M was holding onto you. The way that he threw you down onto the couch. He didn’t go straight back into you, but rather, rubbed your ass and took in the sight of your pussy on display. He spanked each cheek, then grabbed them roughly.

You were on your stomach once again, a position that you were finding yourself in quite a bit today. M spread your legs then went back in with a satisfied groan. You were whimpering into the couch cushions as he entered you at a slight angle, riding you hard. He lowered himself, his weight on you, his hand covering your mouth making it a bit harder for you to breathe. He liked that. He enjoyed the struggle. It was rough, it was crushing. It was enough to take you out of your head.

M was groaning and moaning, as his face was turning red from the exertion. He wanted to make sure to give you the best and the strongest seed. He slid off, the sweat between your bodies turning it into a slip and slide, and flipped you around so you were on your back. Your hands were still tied up behind you and it was extremely uncomfortable, but the strain just added more to the experience. You gasped as you saw M’s face looming over you, his body between your spread legs. Goddamn, he was so fucking beautiful.

There was no doubt about the fact that there would be evidence on your body of this for days to come. His fingertips pressed into your neck, the binding on your wrists causing chafing. You might not be able to cross your legs for a few days with how hard he was going on you. But oh, how blissful it was in this moment.

“Cum in me, M, give me a baby,” You moaned, wishing you could run your hands through his hair. Or even over his muscles. The sheen of sweat over his muscles gave him an otherworldly glow. There was a reason why he was the Alpha and why everyone put their complete trust in him. He had a silent power hidden behind those eyes that were staring into yours right now. This wasn’t just a rough fuck, though he was squeezing your neck tighter than before.

Your head was hanging off of the side of the sofa as he continued to plunge in and then pull out. You saw love and respect in his eyes. You were his mate now - the bond was formed, and it would be cemented once his sperm was inside of you.

“Take it, make our baby strong,” M said, throwing his hand back. He let go of your throat, which brought color back to your vision, to play with your clit as he got closer to his climax. As your own came, overpowering you with white waves from head to toe, M’s hit him. He shuddered, releasing himself inside of you with a beastial growl worthy of a bear rather than a wolf.

You struggled to get your breath back, laying limp against the sofa. You would have to disinfect it before the rest of the guys came in, but th sex was worth it. Your chest was heaving when M slowly pulled out, taking his time to make sure that his cum didn’t seep out of you. “Do you feel better now?” You asked, bringing your head up onto the couch to be a little more comfortable. Your eyes caught onto the sight of his cock, still mostly stiff but starting to soften. He was still so big, it was no wonder why you were so sore and unable to move. “Enough stress release?”

“I meant what I said,” M said, finally moving and helped you adjust so your whole body was on the couch, and untied your hands. He knew modesty wasn’t an issue, but he draped a throw blanket over top of you. “I want you to be my mate.”

You snuggled into the couch, taking your arms out from beneath the blanket to hold his hand. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

M chuckled, looking away from you to the windows, seeing the cleaning going on outside. It was an after dinner ritual. “Both.”

“Silly man,” You shook your head. “Go get something to eat. You’re going to need your strength back after that.”

“Taking care of me already?” M asked, getting to his feet.

“Uhh - I’ve been doing it for ages, thanks for noticing.”

“That’s my girl.”

[hollanderin]

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[touristguidebuzz]

9 Years of Legal Nomads

Ever since I left my job as a lawyer on April 1, 2008, I’ve shared my plans and my thoughts about the prior 12 months at the beginning of April. These annual review posts serve the same purpose as a new year self-reflection, tracing my sabbatical that eventually and accidentally turned into a new career.

During the last 9 years, I learned how to sail. I climbed a volcano while it was erupting. I sat with spiders for 10 days. I figured out how to speak in front of crowds, at first following a vomit session spurred by nervousness, and eventually a keynote without barfing. I stumbled into a lot of stupid mistakes and shared some of the more embarrassing ones.  I made friends, the kind of friends where you pick up after months and months of not seeing each other as if it were yesterday. I feel grateful for these experiences and people, and for the ability to earn a living by being as curious as I can.

Last April, I wrote about the most frequently asked question I received: when will I settle down? My reply dismissively suggested that the question itself was faulty. That what I’ve chosen to do is not temporary, but simply a lifestyle change. “My roots are there,” I wrote, “they just splay out sideways, reaching farther but not quite as deep.”

The joke’s on me, because this year marked the end of my nomadic wanderings – at least for now.

The lesson for Year 8? Acceptance.

At Least There are Tacos

“Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional. Say you’re running and you think, ‘Man, this hurts, I can’t take it anymore. The ‘hurt’ part is an unavoidable reality, but whether or not you can stand anymore is up to the runner himself.”

― Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

In October I took a deep breath and poured out a piece about my struggles with chronic pain during the last few years. Having a public site is difficult in this respect, because there’s always a line between sharing-to-help, and over sharing. I’ve had no problems writing about the challenges of my life choices, mostly to counterbalance the many “it’s all ponies and rainbows” pieces out there. But I didn’t want to complain.

Eventually, my pain levels and shitty immune system interfered with my ability to live the life I had built. Friends and family had not realized the extent of what had changed until I wrote the post. The Guardian picked up the piece, and the hundreds of emails from readers sharing their own stories with invisible illness were remarkable. Some people chastised me for “giving up,” but there is a distinction between passivity and acceptance. The latter involves more wallowing; the former channels Murakami’s decision to keep standing up to your present.

I’ve written about how travel helps us keep perspective, but it’s more than that. Travel doesn’t change you by itself; it shows you how un-special you are by giving you a spectrum of living to go by. Writing about my experiences with invisible illness did the same thing. Out of the woodwork came men and women who made me feel less alone in the experience of pain, and less invisible.

I knew I wasn’t unique in what I was going through. No one is. But it was very comforting to share with a few people who have similar issues, where we are each other’s sounding boards from afar.

To be clear, my day-to-day is not miserable. The problem is that in addition to the joint pain, my immune system is not very strong. I wrote about some coping mechanisms in the pain piece — yoga, eating healthily, probiotics, meditation, etc — but they haven’t stopped me from getting sick often. If there’s a bug going around, it’s bound to find me. I seem to have developed seasonal allergies that I never had before. I’ve been really frustrated by starting to feel ok, only to find myself felled by something totally different.

I had a very long, low-grade temper tantrum earlier this year about what felt like a loss of identity. And then I sat down and wrote that piece on chronic pain. The acceptance of Year 8 came in the form of stopping – literally and figuratively – and saying it’s enough.

I told my landlord I’d be renewing my lease in Oaxaca, bought a few rugs, and settled in for the winter. I still do get sick often here, but at least there are tacos.

Goat tacos at the Friday tanguis in Llano park.

Friday rituals, FTW.

A More Stable Life of In Betweens

In March of 2012, I wrote a piece about my “life of in betweens” and homesickness while traveling. I was 3 years into my wanderings, starting to realize that I might not head ‘home,’ and a bit concerned about what the constant movement would do.

“On my end, I certainly do think we leave a part of us in each of the places we visit. There are repercussions to doing this with frequency, too – if you keep leaving parts of yourself around the world, what’s left to leave? And is there a way to go back eventually and collect all the pieces?”

As anyone who has moved then not moved knows, I was over thinking things. But then again, I still have a lawyer brain, and I always over think things.

The truth is far more straightforward. You are the aggregate of your experiences and the people who teach you to live in this world. What your personality absorbs as you travel, what you “leave” of yourself in the places you love isn’t a lacuna. It’s an exchange. It makes room for all of the new wonder and recipes and memories. That’s simply life.

It’s also simply life to undergo big shifts in who you are, often because of circumstances that are out of your control. What this year taught me was that fighting my state of being was making things worse. Wanting to feel healthy again and being able to move around whenever I wanted to was not possible. Pushing myself to the point of exhaustion simply made me more exhausted.

And what made me exhausted was a lot less than most of my friends or family. That was probably the hardest part, because I felt anxious and foolish for being so tired or in pain. Ultimately, anxiety can lead to self-absorption because you fixate on what you’re experiencing instead of the wider picture.

In situations of traditional grief and loss, professionals recommend shifting from a more passive process of suffering to one of actively constructing new meaning from what now is. The advice remains sound, even if my preoccupations the last few months aren’t grief per se. Once I swallowed the dissonance and got over feeling sorry for myself, I looked at my business and started to build something new.

Business Projects for the Coming Year

In the fall, my 6-year partnership with G Adventures came to an end when they shuttered their Wanderers in Residence programme with the bloggers that served as brand ambassadors. I will still be writing for them once per month, mostly about food. In addition, as any of you with affiliates on Amazon know, Amazon halved their affiliate percentage payouts for many categories.

I wanted to work on my own projects, but I worried about focusing on them when my income came primarily off-site. These changes spurred me to turn back to Legal Nomads and redirect my energy to the projects below that excite me.

It wasn’t just the income levels that felt a bit scary, but also confidence. I didn’t believe I had the authority to offer a class on storytelling. I was not a formally trained writer, and while I could draft a mean indemnity clause, that didn’t make me an expert on narrative structure. I didn’t think I had the right to share my tips for public speaking, because I landed my first keynote by accident – and then threw up for an entire year before each of my talks.

It’s thanks to readers that I feel more comfortable putting out these projects. You were the ones to ask me for the storytelling course, for the speaking post, for more food maps. You’ve sent me your own stories, your soups, your tacos, and most recently – and a bit jarringly – your pictures of dogs wearing raincoats. (For the record, I’ll accept all animal photos, no questions asked.)

My focus for the 9th year of Legal Nomads is to offer products and services that are different, hopefully valuable, and boosted by the cumulative output of this site.

1. Gluten Free Translation Cards for Celiacs

As I mentioned last year, I’m building out what I’ve called the Gluten Free Cards Project, a database of celiac translation cards for purchase alongside free guides listing foods that are safe and unsafe to eat. Yes, there are translation cards out there, both for free and for purchase. The problem is I still get sick when I use them.

Why? Because they don’t account for things like cross-contamination, or use local dish names, or list ingredients that may have hidden wheat. I’ve found that in many countries, especially developing countries, saying you can’t eat wheat or gluten isn’t sufficient. You need to use local names, as well as listing out the sauces or additives that contain wheat.

An example from this week: I wrote a draft of this post from San Cristobal de las Casas. I went to a taco spot and made sure the tortillas were pure corn. The meat wasn’t marinated. There was no flour in the sauces on the table. Despite this, and communicating in Spanish that I can’t eat anything with wheat, I saw the chef add “salsa Ingles” to the meat she was cooking. Salsa Ingles is basically Worcestershire Sauce – which has wheat. It’s barely used in Oaxaca, but is common in other parts of Mexico. And as most people don’t realize it’s unsafe, of course the waiter didn’t think to check or mention it. This is also why I try to eat in food stalls or places with open kitchens, so I can pay attention.

All this to say: the cards are different because people like me get very sick and need something to make sure they don’t.

You may recall that last year I was planning to offer these gluten free translation cards for free, hoping readers bought from the shop.

I’ve learned that no one buys from the shop. (Sigh.)

So now these cards sell for $8.99, with the longer guides still offered for free.

I’ve completed Italy, Japan, Portugal, Vietnam, and Greece. Next up is Spain, with cards for Spanish, Catalan, and Galician. And then Germany.

I’ve redirected a chunk of the earnings from this project to hire another food-obsessed celiac who is helping research future cards. Once these go through two translators for accuracy, I convert them into branded versions (below) using Canva.

The project has felt overwhelming at times, but it is all worthwhile when I get an email thanking me for a reader not getting sick. A celiac acquaintance in Oaxaca was planning a trip to Japan and her tour company suggested she buy the “Legal Nomads Japan Card” – it’s taken on a life of its own! I’m excited to get more of these guides and cards out in the coming year.

Mock up of my Japan card.

2. Public Speaking.

I plan to write a piece about how I got over my fear of public speaking. For the last talk I gave, for example, I read that overclocking my brain may help me memorize my speech – so I practiced reciting it from memory whilst listening to heavy metal music.

It’s all about experimenting with what your brain needs and wants, and then remembering that you are there for a reason, and the audience wants you to succeed. Usually. I mean there are certainly times where they want you to fail miserably and epically, but thankfully I’ve never had to face that kind of crowd.

Me at my first talk, WDS 2011.

My public speaking goals are to focus on opportunities outside the travels sphere, and as with last year I will aim for education and food.

3. Typographic Food Maps.

Portugal is complete, new and cheaper black tote bags are in the store, and I’ve sent out the Japan list of foods for approval so we can get that one inked too. These did very well around Christmastime, and I have so appreciated the photos of my maps on your apartment or home walls, and in restaurants.

After Japan, readers have asked for Spain, France, and Canada. Since you guys vote on the next country, I’m all ears for what you’d like to see.

4. Writing Course.

I quietly put up a link in my monthly newsletter about a course I planned to lead that focused on storytelling in a digital world. I have yet to put the full outline and costs online, but the gist of it is to learn how to tell better stories in a crowded digital world.

Instead of a massive online class, I wanted a more intimate group that could benefit from each other’s energy. I also wanted to personally edit each assignment, so I will limit the class to 10 people each time it runs.

Unfortunately, due to the aforementioned issues I’ve not been able to focus on this as much as I want – sitting and writing has not done wonders for my nerve pain. But I will build out the workbook this season and hope to start the inaugural class later this year.

You can learn more here.

5. Oaxaca Street Food Walks.

1st Oaxaca food walk! This stall isn’t on the food walk itself, but loved this family so much we just kept going.

THESE HAVE BEEN SO FUN. While Oaxaca city does not have a density of street food like Saigon or Bangkok, I’ve formed relationships with vendors who make incredible food. It’s been great to share them with readers who pass through.

The family above was my 1st food walk in town, and they were happy to beta test all of my delicious eats. Alexandra is a reader who, like me, can’t have gluten — so all the better that my first walk was a celiac-friendly one. Her family was so lovely that we kept on going and ended with mezcal and long conversations.

I’ve been asked to scale these out further and partner with other companies, but I want to keep them for readers as combo meetup plus eat-up.

Readers coming through Oaxaca can learn more here.

6. More Writing on Legal Nomads.

As these other projects have taken shape I haven’t had the time to write on the blog as much as I would like. More histories of food ingredients and herbs and spices, more profiles of local vendors, and more photoessays. I also have a food guide to Oaxaca coming up, as well as what to do and see in the surrounding area.

* * *

That’s a wrap for my 9th anniversary of Legal Nomads.

Thank you for reading, sharing, and following along. Here’s to another year of stories, tacos, and learning through food.

Comments to this post are closed, but if you’d like to comment please do via my post on the LN Facebook page.

-Jodi

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