#which unfortunately means helping you too'

[runawaycarouselhorse]

I remembered the children of Israel complaining to Musa [Moses] that they miss the garlic [or perhaps grains] onions fuul/fava beans and lentils they ate in Egypt in the Quran...

The ancient Arabs, too, just basically ate milk, dates, and wheat. You get all the nutrients you need from those three (dates are highly nutritious, but they're fruits, so they lack nutrients like B12 which you can only get from animal sources--hence the milk!), meat was traditionally very, very, very rare. People only had meat for big celebrations, to present to guests as a sign of hospitality, the Prophet Muhammad would go for months without a fire being lit to cook anything in his home...

Don't forget issues like famines, 'Umar bin Al-Khattab found it excessive if anyone should eat meat more than once a month!

For most of human history, we didn't have food in abundance and people lived off pretty simple food... in the west, hummus gets treated like a fancy rich people food, but in the east (Middle East, really), bean paste and flat bread is what my grandfather was used to having for breakfast every day... I love fava beans and chickpeas with a little lemon juice (my dad prefers putting olive oil on top)... labnah on the side is heavenly! If you like spicy food, add a dash of the brine from some jalapenos (or, if you really love spicy food, put some jalapenos in there!) for a fun twist. Whatever isn't eaten, pack it up, reheat portions of it for days... it's fun! You can buy canned bean pastes for your base (just heat them up the first time in a pan, with a little olive oil, preferably.) ^^

(Note: boycott the Sabra brand of hummus, though, if you're avoiding Israeli products.)

So, eat your bread and cheese and water (and treat yourself to some cured meats or eggs!), be happy if you can afford fresh fruits and vegetables to munch on, jams and preserves help so much to keep them for longer... simple foods have kept people alive for a long, long time.

There have been some changes, unfortunately, to how nutritious fruits and vegetables are, to make the plants produce fruit for longer or even year-round, packaging fruits often means they're taken down not fully ripened yet, so they didn't have enough time to get as much nutrition as they need from the soil, but hey, you can have a multi-vitamin on the side of your breakfast to help. Take care of yourself.

For those who have overactive guilt complexes like me…

[max-the-many]

Hello, I need your help. My best friend got cheated by her boyfriend, an homophobic douchebag that is in love with himself. He always makes fun of me when she is not looking and now he cheated on her.Can you give him his money back? Trapping him inside a gay bottom twink or something? Your pice will be mine. He deserves the worst for what he did!

When I read this I was hooked immediately. Not that I really cared to be honest. I mean, it is bad what he did, but for me, it was mostly an excuse. There's something really satisfying dealing with such a guy.

So I got on the road the same night. Luckily it wasn't that far. Antony even gave me the name of a bar where that guy frequently hung out so as it was friday, the urge to get there was even stronger.

When I got in, I couldn't see him based on the pictures Anthony provided. So I sat down to have a drink. The bar was moderately busy and I looked around, wondering if anyone could maybe help as there surely would be several knowing Lyle.

So eventually I started chatting to a guy sitting next to me. He actually knew Lyle, but just barely from the bar. He showed me another dude, though, that should be closer to Lyle.

It probably was a bit weird to ask about him like that even though I pretended to wait for him. But that guy didn't seem to care.

So I didn't care either, especially when that friend of Lyle went to the restrooms.

‘Why not’ I thought, going after him.

When I got in, he stood infront of a pissoir, his body nicely framed, a bit leaner than Lyle but easily some kind of gymbuddy.

‘Classic’ I thought when I saw him there, the room otherwise empty besides a closed stall.

But this wouldn't be the first time I acted in such a situation so I stepped to the urinal besides him, prepared to hit him with a shot as soon as he was finished, dragging him into the next stall, making sure not to be too rampant.

As he was sitting on the toilet seat infront of me I really got excited. He really wasn't the worst to slip in. Short hair, stumbled face, sporty, wearing a casual T and rather tight jeans which I was happy to get off now.

Seeing him naked, getting flatter and flatter only added to the appeal while I got naked myself.

As I eventually stepped out in my new persona the guy from the other stall was washing his hands, watching me suspiciously.

“What is it?" I hit him, getting quite the kick on speaking with my new voice the first time, but the other guy didn't reply.

Back in the bar nothing much had changed. So I went to the guys I saw my new persona with. Turned out to be a pretty good source of information, giving me quite some insight of Lyle though they probably exaggerated as he probably did to them as well. But after that I was pretty sure that he wasn't cheating just that one time. Unfortunately it turned out that he wouldn't be in the bar tonight. But this shouldn't be a problem at all as I got his address, making a bit of a fool of myself as the guy I was in probably would have known it already.

After another drink I eventually heading out, searching for the car the keys in my pocket belonged to. Took quite a while to be honest.

10 minutes later I stood in front of a small bungalo. Light was on. So I stopped onto the porch.

“Lyle?” I knocked. But nothing happened. When I listened at the door I could clearly hear voices, movement. So I knocked again louder. “Lyle, common! It's Keith!” I added.

Another moment passed until I heard footsteps. Then the door opened.

“What the fuck!” was passed along while a topless Lyle appeared, having his belt open, clearly coming from some business he wasn't keen on being disturbed from.

“You got company?” I asked cheekily which he answered with an annoyed nod.

And I don't know what really crossed my mind, but more on instinct than on a clear plan I quickly reached into my pocket, pulled out a syringe and stuck it into his waist before he could even begin to wonder.

I smiled, pushed my way in and looked around.

“What just…Keith?”

A girl was sitting on a couch separating the entrance to a living area, turning her head at the scene I was providing, just wearing a bra and clearly not being his girlfriend.

“Ah! I'm sorry. He seemed to have forgotten our plans” I said, taking the steps towards her to give her another shot as she was frozen in irritation.

“Caught in the act” I smiled, walking around the couch to get a good look. She was quite cute with long, dark blonde hair and good equipment under her bra.

As I saw them both, now on their way to be good suits, an idea came to mind. Something I haven't done or even thought of so far. But when it got to my mind I had no other chance than to do it. It was just the perfect opportunity.

So I got to Lyle dragged him to the couch before getting him naked, doing the same to his date. Then came the tricky part, but I really was determined.

A good half an hour, it was ready. Sitting on the couch, just wearing her tight slip was that girl. Or should I say, both of them, neatly tied up on hand and feet.

“What…” she got out, clearly still busy. But as she let out her first words a certain look came on to her eyes.

“Where…” again she froze, looking around and finally down at herself.

“What is this! What…” she let out again, not able to process the situation, finally looking at me.

“Keith, what is this! And why am I… my voice… my…” she said looking down at herself. Or should I say, himself.

“Isn't it nice to see the world from a new perspective for once?” I said, looking at her with a devious smile before coming closer.

“She got quite the bod” I said “Isn't she?” while my hand slid over her voluminous breasts.

“Don't!” he stuttered.

“Or what? You seemed to liked her pretty much” I replied “and I can't complain. That face, those tits, and not to miss what awaits down there” I said, stroking along her body before diving between her legs.

“What… ahh” he let out in a mixture of anger and discontent.

“Don't you wonder what pleasures all those chicks get with your manly work?”

His eyes widened. “You…” was all he was able to get out before I pulled up the cloth around his neck, limiting him to nothing more than muffled sounds when I took his hand to lead it towards my crotch.

“We will have a lot of fun”...

---

Whomever sent this request. Feel free to reach out.

[strawberriesinbloom]

Fairy Light Flurries

Zayne/Gender-Neutral Reader

Summary: You pick Zayne up from work and relax in your apartment together. Unfortunately for Zayne, your mischievous tendencies can be a bit distracting.

Word Count: 4,098

A/N: Hello, @ticklygiggles!! I was your @squealing-santa this year. :) I hope you enjoy this silly little fic.

This is a tickle fic btw!

~🍓~

As you stood near the front entrance of Akso Hospital, you stared at your phone, spamming your favorite doctor with several text messages to announce your presence. You knew Zayne wouldn’t answer your messages for a while, even though his shift ended a few minutes ago. He was a hard worker, which you admired about him.

A cold breeze cut through the air, and you shivered, drawing your coat closer to your body. Tiny snow flurries scattered throughout the air, dusting your wool hat with white snowflakes. Some of them caught onto your eyelashes. You blinked them away.

Downtown was quite pretty during this time of year. Fairy lights were strung along the buildings, emitting a warm, yellow glow. Some were multi-colored, and others had lights that changed color each second. Red, green, and white banners and garlands wrapped around the light poles.

It was quiet out here save for the occasional sound of a car passing through. You supposed most people didn’t want to be outside when it was so cold. Another breeze passed through. You didn’t blame them.

Your phone buzzed.

You didn’t even get to read the notification before a soft, deep voice sighed behind you.

“You could have waited inside of the lobby, you know?” Zayne shook his head as he stepped closer to you. Snow crunched under his shoes. “Or my office.” He wore a large, brown jacket over his outfit. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets.

You laughed. “Yeah, but this is more romantic, isn’t it?” You held out your arms to your sides. “The snow. The lights. It’s so pretty out here. I couldn’t help it.”

Zayne puckered his lips. If you didn’t know better, you would have said it almost looked like he was pouting. “I don’t want you to catch a cold.” He readjusted your hat, making sure it covered your ears. “I can’t believe the Hunters Association is forcing you to work during the holidays.”

“I could say the same thing for you,” you said, pulling at his scarf. Not expecting you to do that, Zayne took an awkward step forward. You evened out the ends before forming a loop and tying it up, so it held closer against his neck. You smiled at his surprised expression and pinched his cheek.

“I chose to work this week,” he said quietly.

“Me too.”

Zayne shot you a quiet smile. You both were workaholics, practically married to your respective jobs. Despite the surface-level differences, you and Zayne were very much alike–at least in that regard.

“Come,” he said, jerking his head to the side. “I’ll drive you home.”

You took his hand as he led you to his car. Zayne always parked in the same spot, so you didn’t need him to lead you, but you just wanted an excuse to hold his hand. He wasn’t wearing gloves, but his hands were still surprisingly warm. How did he manage that?

“Home?” you repeated with a snort. “Do you mean yours or mine?”

Zayne hummed as he opened the passenger side of the door. You sat inside, shivering when your body came in contact with the leather seats. “Your choice,” he said. He closed the door and entered the driver’s side, swiftly starting the car.

You tapped your index finger against your lip. “Mine,” you answered after a while. “I want you to stay the night.”

“Sounds good,” Zayne said as he drove out of the parking lot.

A few minutes into the drive, you rested your chin against your palm. The colorful lights seemed to blur into one as you passed by. You were tempted to press your cheek against the window, but you knew it would be freezing, so you held yourself back.

“How was work?” you asked, simply wanting to fill the air with something. It didn’t matter what you and Zayne talked about. You just liked being with him.

Zayne took a moment to respond, as though he was recalling what happened today. “It was fine,” he finally said.

You waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. “That’s it?”

Zayne shrugged. “Not every day can be as interesting as yours.” The hint of a laugh tinged the end of his sentence. “How was work for you?”

“Oh, you know, nothing much,” you said while straightening your posture. “I just saved a mother and daughter from a Wanderer attack.” You flexed your muscles. “No biggie.”

“My hero,” Zayne said. For a second, you thought he was being sarcastic, but his tone sounded strangely sincere.

Unsure what to do with this change in atmosphere, you stared at your lap. “I like waiting for you when you’re done with work,” you said quietly, changing the subject. You knew it was a sudden shift, but you didn’t know what else to say. “It’s the favorite part of my day.”

“Mine too,” Zayne answered.

“Really?” you asked with a slight chuckle.

Zayne spared you a singular glance. Your heart skipped a beat. “Yes, really,” he said. You smiled warmly. You were about to say something else when Zayne interrupted. “We’re here.”

You perked up. “We are?” You looked around and, indeed, you and Zayne were in the parking lot of your apartment complex. “Wow, that was fast.”

Zayne laughed in response. “How time flies.” He stepped out of the car.

Before he could open the passenger door for you, you stepped out and slammed the door shut. Zayne didn’t respond but you did catch him frowning slightly. You stopped his chance to be a gentleman. Hopefully, he didn’t mind too much. You skipped over to him and grabbed his arm as you walked over to your apartment.

There wasn’t any snow or ice on the pavement. The road crew must have come earlier to salt the streets and parking lots. That was good. You wouldn’t have to worry about Zayne slipping and falling. You knew his fancy dress shoes weren’t built for this weather unlike your sturdy boots.

The heat hit you at full blast the second you entered the lobby. It felt comforting–like someone wrapping a large, fluffy blanket around your body.

“I have some spare pajamas in the guest room,” you explained, making your way over to the elevator. “You can take those.” The doors opened with a ding and you stepped inside.

Zayne smiled as he pressed the button to your floor. “They’re my size?”

“Of course,” you said. “It’s always good to be prepared.” You shook your shoulders. “I learned that from a certain doctor.” When the elevator opened, you stepped out and walked over to your room.

The moment you unlocked it and stepped inside, Zayne leaned over and hugged you. You nestled your nose into the crook of his neck, taking in his scent. He smelled like peppermint, and his skin felt smooth to the touch. You kissed his jaw, and Zayne pressed his lips against your cheek. While you wouldn’t call Zayne shy per se, he was definitely the type to be reserved when it came to public displays of affection. It was cute.

“I missed you,” he muttered against your skin.

You giggled and tried to pull away. He pulled you back into his embrace for a few more seconds until he finally let you go. His hands lingered on your upper arms as his thumbs softly caressed you.

“Me too,” you said. With a split second of hesitation, Zayne pulled back to start unbuttoning his jacket. You tugged his sleeve. “Wait, let me get that for you.” He stilled, and you helped him peel off his jacket. You hung it on the coat rack next to the front door with a short flourish.

Taking a quick peek in his pockets, you noticed he had one of those hand-warming packets in there. That sneaky doctor. No wonder his hands were so warm earlier. You wondered if he did that on purpose, knowing you would try to hold his hand. Zayne’s thoughtfulness always made your lips curve into a small, appreciative grin. He tried to be subtle with these things, but you knew how much he truly cared for you.

“Thank you,” Zayne said as he untied his scarf and placed it next to his jacket on the rack.

“Go get changed,” you said. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

Zayne nodded and went to the guest room. You stepped into your bedroom to change into your nightwear before heading to the kitchen and opening the last cabinet on the right. Way in the back was the matching snowman mugs you got for the both of you last year. They were meant to be used for special occasions, and sharing a warm drink in your abode counted, at least, in your opinion.

A part of you wanted to make hot chocolate from scratch, but after the long day of work you had, the mere thought of it made you want to pass out. You had to settle for the instant packet stuff instead.

It didn’t take long for you to prepare the mugs of hot chocolate considering how all you had to do was microwave some milk and stir in the powder. Zayne came up from behind you while you were in the middle of stirring. He had changed fairly quickly. The light blue pajama set suited him. He placed his hands on your shoulders, squeezing them.

“You should add a pinch of sugar in mine,” Zayne said. He pressed the side of his head against your ear. You could hear him swallow at the end of his sentence.

“Sugar?” you repeated. “This is the powder stuff. It’s already sweet,” you clarified, thinking that Zayne would see the error in his ways.

Zayne glanced at the open box of instant hot chocolate on the counter. “I know,” he said. “It’s just a pinch.”

You should have known. Zayne’s proclivity for sweets had no bounds. Just as he asked, you added a spoonful of sugar to his mug (and then another when he gave you puppy dog eyes). He would have denied it if asked directly, but you knew what he was like.

With your mugs of hot chocolate, you and Zayne sat in the living room. “Do you have any preferences?” you asked as you picked up the remote. You turned on the television and scrolled through the wide array of movies.

“Not particularly,” he said, sipping on his drink.

“Alright.”

You played a random holiday movie that was featured on the front page of the streaming platform. From its summary, it seemed like a decent watch: a meet-cute romance between a hunter and a businessman. Apparently, the hunter teaches the businessman about the magic of the holidays. You settled next to Zayne once the music began to play. He lazily laid his arm around your back.

The beginning of the movie was cute, but your mind began to wander halfway through. As the movie droned on, your eyelids started to droop down. All your hours spent awake working and saving the day were beginning to catch up to you. You were almost finished with your drink by now.

Placing your mug on the coffee table, you leaned into Zayne’s side. He hummed and set down his mug next to yours before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and lying down, dragging you down with him.

“What?” you asked as you awkwardly fell over him. You shuffled around until you were lying down on his side, pressed against him and the back pillow of the couch.

Zayne kissed the top of your head. “You’re feeling tired, are you not?” The gentle drum of his heartbeat almost lulled you directly to sleep. He lowered his voice, so it was barely above a whisper. “You can sleep. Don’t worry.”

You turned your head to the side, nuzzling your nose against his chest. “Okay,” you said with a yawn. “Tell me how the movie ends.”

You hugged his side, your arm worming underneath the small of his back. You sighed as the movie became nothing more than background noise. The rise and fall of Zayne’s chest kept you steady. Every so often, his breath tickled your cheeks. You smiled, your fingers flexing against his back.

Zayne stiffened, and you raised your head slightly. “What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Nothing,” Zayne said, petting the top of your head. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered into your ear.

“Are you sure?” you asked. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. You tried to pull your arm from underneath him, but it was stuck–pinned against the couch by his weight.

Zayne squirmed, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s just…” Zayne stopped when he saw your expression. You weren’t going to let this go, and he knew it. Zayne bit his lip, his ears suddenly flushing red. “It just tickles. A bit.”

You propped yourself up on your other arm. “Does it?” Experimentally, you curled your fingers, watching in awe as Zayne arched his back. That allowed you to pry your arm from under him. He gave you a pleading expression–like he was begging you to drop your discovery, but how could you?

“Please–” Zayne said, cutting himself off when you clasped his side and squeezed it. “I’m not th–that ticklish…” He bit his bottom lip as you dragged your nails over his stomach. His abs tensed under your feather-light touch. “…so you caha–!!”

Zayne gasped as you suddenly launched your attack across his stomach just above his belly button. He scrunched up his nose, refusing to laugh. He was always so stubborn. You moved over, so you were now sitting on his lap.

“I think you’re more than ‘a bit’ ticklish,” you said.

His lips were caught in an awkward half-smile that he was desperately trying to keep at bay. Zayne grabbed your wrists, temporarily stopping your pursuits. “Don’t you want to finish the movie?” he asked with the tiniest bit of desperation at the edge of his voice. His fingertips quivered against your skin. Even though you weren’t tickling him anymore, he was still trembling.

“This is much more interesting than some movie.” You pulled your hands out of his grip and latched onto his hips. Zayne bucked up on instinct, and you laughed as he almost bounced you into the air. “Wouldn’t you agree?” You massaged the skin, taking care to dig deeper at the spots that made him jerk especially hard.

His eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to stop himself from succumbing to your touch, but you were far, far too powerful. “I–ehehehmhm…” Zayne giggled breathily. It was satisfying to see him break albeit a little. He seemed to be at a loss for words, his cheeks dusting a light pink. His smile, now much wider, wobbled slightly.

Zayne was still trying to half-heartedly stop your devious hands, but it felt more like a kitten pawing at your arms than anything else. You wondered if that was his way of allowing you to keep going. Surely if he genuinely wanted you to stop, he would have put his foot down by now. Alas, Zayne was putty in your hands. You were one of his few weaknesses.

Your fingers slowly wandered up his torso as they made their way to his ribs. Zayne jumped, clamping his arms to his sides. This seemed to be a much more sensitive area, which you took to your full advantage. “Is this a bad spot, Dr. Zayne?” you asked in a light-hearted tone. “Are you too ticklish for your own good?” You clawed at the soft skin in between the grooves of his ribs.

If you were particularly evil, you might have even tried to tickle him underneath his shirt, but you were feeling a little merciful today.

Zayne squeezed his eyes shut, seemingly no longer able to look at you. “Behehe quiehehet!” he suddenly cackled. “Dohohon’t tickle me there! Eheheh!” He grabbed at your upper arms but didn’t try too much to stop you. Even though you were nowhere near his hips, they still jerked and flinched with every new spot you explored.

“So I can tickle you somewhere else, then?” you teased.

“Nohoho!” he gasped out. Zayne turned his head from side to side as he attempted to wiggle out from underneath you. It was no use, however. You were simply too determined. “Stahahap!”

His laughter was deep and almost husky, peppered with the occasional gasp or winded yelp. It was beautiful. Zayne twitched and jumped with each poke and prod. He was so sensitive. It enamored you. You wished Zayne would laugh like this more often. The sound needed to be captured in a bottle and tossed out to the sea for everyone to have a chance to hear.

“You’re so beautiful, Zayne,” you said softly.

You wondered what Zayne would have said if you weren’t tickling the life out of him. He tossed his head back and cackled when you started digging your fingers deep into the soft fleshy parts of his sides. “Ahahahaha! I–I cahahan’t–!” He squealed, squirming from side to side. “I cahan’t tahahahahake it anymore!” Zayne tried to curl up into a ball, but he couldn’t do that with you sitting on his legs.

“Do that again!” you said, trying to elicit that same squeaky squeal. You dragged your nails up and down his sides, but you weren’t as lucky this time. Oh well.

“This ihihihis too muhuhuch!” Zayne managed to giggle out. He kicked his legs out from underneath you, but you held yourself steady. “Hhh…ehehey!” His shirt rode up a bit, revealing a sliver of rosy pale skin. A slight sheen of sweat glistened against his toned stomach, and you realized that you were, indeed, evil. Very evil.

You targeted his exposed skin. Your fingertips immediately latched onto his bare stomach, tickling him there. His muscles flexed instinctively underneath your touch. You dug your thumbs into his soft warm skin, and he jumped. The way his stomach shuddered with each gasp of breath in between wild laughter made you want him more. You could simply devour him.

Not wanting to go too far, you slowed down. Now, you were lightly dragging your fingers up and down the sides of his stomach. “I like hearing your laughter,” you said quietly, “It’s lovely.” You were barely speaking above a murmur, so you weren’t sure if he could hear you much less understand your words.

“Hehehmmhmm…” Tiny droplets of tears clung to Zayne’s eyelashes, sparkling under the soft overhead light. It took him a moment to realize what you just said, but when he did, Zayne flushed a nice shade of red. His cheeks twitched as residual snickers spilled past his lips. “Thank you,” he mumbled awkwardly. You didn’t blame him. It was an odd compliment considering the circumstances. It was nice seeing him all embarrassed. Zayne shifted slightly, staring off to the side. “I uhahahAHAHA!”

Unfortunately, that little moment of peace had to come to an end because you were once again overcome with the same ruthless mood that started this mess. You began tickling his armpits. He flinched–hard. It didn’t take long for you to find a spot at the very center of his underarms that made him cackle. Your thumbs drilled directly into his armpits, and you snickered at the way he jolted.

“Whoa,” you said in between your own giggles.

“WAHAHAIT!” he practically screamed. “Not thehehehere! Nohot thehereee…!” Zayne managed to flip himself over on his side even though you had been sitting on his legs. Huh. You sat on your knees, hovering over his lower body. He crossed his arms to his chest, effectively blocking you from tickling him. “Ehehehe,” he giggled.

“Come on, please, Zayne?” you asked. “Just five more minutes?” You tried to lift his arm, but he wouldn’t budge.

“No,” Zayne said, slightly out of breath.

You puckered your lips. “What? You can’t handle a little bit of tickling?” You poked down the length of his arm with each word. “Are you too ticklish?”

He shivered. “I’m not–” Zayne began to protest before he thought better of it. He puffed out his cheeks and corrected himself. “I’m not that ticklish.”

You pressed your index finger into his cheek. “I beg to differ.”

“Be quiet.”

You chuckled lightly. “Don’t worry. I think it’s cute.”

“Cute,” Zayne repeated under his breath. “That isn’t a word most people would use to describe me.”

“Well, most people don’t know you the way I do.”

Brushing his bangs out of the way, you leaned down and kissed his temple. His forehead was a bit damp. Probably from sweat. Oops.

Zayne closed his eyes and nodded. Then, to your surprise, he lifted his arm. “Five more minutes,” he said quietly. He glanced at you for a brief second before diverting his attention elsewhere. His ears were redder than you had ever seen them.

You blinked. You blinked again. You were tempted to scoop Zayne in a hug and kiss him repeatedly, but you couldn’t waste this opportunity. Your heart pounded in your chest. Who knew when you would get this chance again?

You reached over and–

Zayne flinched, bringing his arm down before you got close to his underarm. “Sorry, sorry,” he muttered under his breath. He repositioned himself, so he was lying down on his back, again.

“I’m surprised most people don’t call you cute,” you said, pinning his arm above his head. “They’re really missing out on this side of you.”

You lightly dragged the tips of your nails around his underarm, and Zayne’s body went rigid. He bit the inside of his cheek to probably stop himself from breaking into laughter right away, but the way he puckered his lips and scrunched up his face told you everything you needed to know.

Zayne let out an odd, strangled hum, and you knew he was done for. “Aha–ahAHAhaha!” He hiccuped before his laughter softened into sweet giggles.

“Aw, you’re so–”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence because of Zayne’s abrupt cackle when you started clawing at his armpit. “Eeehehahh…HAHA!”

“That was a weird noise,” you said. You prodded at his sensitive skin, wiggling and swirling your thumbs against it as much as you could.

“Shhhehehahaha…shut uhuhuhp!” His free arm lightly batted away at you, but you didn’t let that deter you.

You puckered your lips into a fake pout. “Seriously, Zayne? How rude.” You dug your fingers into his armpit.

You loosened your grip on Zayne’s arm, and it immediately came crashing down, pressing it up against himself. You took this as an opportunity to tickle his other underarm, as well. You quickly spidered your fingers, targeting any spot you could manage.

“AHAHA! Wahahait! Wahait!” The corners of Zayne’s eyes crinkled as he tossed his head to the side, filling the room with the melodious sound of his laughter. “St-stahaHAHAP! I cahahan’t take it! I’m seriOUS! Hahaha!”

Zayne grabbed your hands, prying you off of him. Deciding to be nice, you stopped. You stole a quick kiss from his lips, which was still quirked up in a wide, sappy grin. He sighed as his chest heaved up and down. His chest trembled while he tried to catch his breath.

“You good?” you asked.

Zayne nodded breathlessly. His fingers twitched at his sides. For a moment, you thought he was going to exact his revenge before he grabbed your shoulders. He pulled you down, and you clumsily fell on him with a soft gasp. He liked doing this to you, didn’t he?

“Don’t tease me anymore,” he said into your ear. His voice was slightly weak with just a hint of a pant. He pulled you into a hug, embracing you with two strong arms. “I don’t think I will be able to handle it tonight.” His warm breath brushed against the shell of your ear. You shivered.

You smiled against his collarbone. “I’ll try not to,” you said, cuddling him. “No promises, though.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Hmm…love you, Zayne,” you whispered into his shirt.

“I love you, too.” He kissed your forehead.

You closed your eyes with a small, content sigh. Zayne’s warmth and peppermint fragrance soothed you. His steady breathing slowed down into long, deep exhales. His chest rose and fell against you, bringing your head up and down with him. You hummed. The witty reply in the back of your mind soon dissipated into nothing but flurries and fairy lights.

Somewhere in the background, the movie finished with the two romantic leads caught in a passionate kiss outside in the snow.

[crwbannwen]

I was writing this in the tags but I have too much to say.

So this absolutely. Don’t unwelsh my Mari Lwyd please and thank you

BUT I’d like to add some more:

As someone completely guilty of using the phrase ‘Welsh rap battle’ over pwnco. It’s because it’s one, a joke phrase I used to use even before it became more widely recognised, and two a more understandable concept I can explain to people without boring them with rhyme and meter.

I love my rhyme and meters, so trust me I knew how the pwnco worked when I use this phrase. I like saying ‘Welsh Rap Battle’ because I think it’s funny and emphasises how cool and charming I find my own cultural tradition to an English speaking person who wouldn’t know the tradition. It’s good to alter your language for people’s ease of understanding, it’s unfortunate that the joke caught on to people who don’t understand the pwnco. (And there is a limit to changing your language: it eventually does become altering something important too much for someone’s benefit).

I will also note here, while I use the phrase ‘Welsh rap battle’ to reinforce that I like the tradition, I also know people who were ashamed of the culture and tradition and used that phrase to make fun of the dead singing horse (same issue with Scots being called a dialect: cultural shame is a big issue in Wales even if we don’t think it is). Now the tradition is being reclaimed I doubt those people still see it as something to be ashamed of. But it’s something to keep in mind when using that phrase. Intentions do vary.

But my main point I wanted to adress:

Dysgais i Cymraeg fel iaith yn ail felly dw i ddim yn siarad cymraeg yn digon rhugl i fyrfyfyrio pwnco. Dw i’n gallu creu cerdd gydag amser ond beth am y bobl (cymreig) sydd ddim yn gallu siarad cymraeg o gwbl?

So while we don’t want to remove the Welsh from our tradition, we definitely don’t want to make the tradition inaccessible to our own people.

Learning a language is difficult. The education system sucks. Welsh second language a level is torture (I’d know, I did it. Average AS result in my class was a U, it was that awful). And not everyone has the means or the opportunity to learn Welsh so we should take care never to ostracise our own people. It’s more than unfortunate that we don’t all have a good grasp on the language. So having a set Cân-y-Fari that non-speakers or dysgwyr can learn and recite helps to both immerse them in Welsh and includes them in their own culture. Same with having art or an aesthetic. Maybe you can’t speak Welsh: but you can draw. That gives you a way to celebrate your culture still and I think that’s awesome. Even in English I couldn’t improvise a poem with a strict meter. The actual tradition of the Mari Lwyd is a seemingly unattainable level of fluency to most dysgwyr.

Obviously this still needs to coexist with the original Welsh tradition (not necessarily art though, if it’s a drawing of a Mari Lwyd then it’s a drawing of a Mari Lwyd. In my opinion art doesn’t need words unless the artist wants to add words). Traditions do change and that isn’t always a bad thing. In this case it’s not something we want to do, but it’s something we need to consider doing in order to help the non-Welsh speakers and dysgwyr be included in their culture.

There is an even larger issue here to be addressed with how we treat our own people as not ‘Welsh’ enough. Especially people who have mixed heritage. There’s a big racism issue that I could unpack here as well where non-white welsh students are made not to feel Welsh enough to deserve to be involved in welsh culture. Which should not happen. Similarly with half English Welshies. We need to stop treating ourselves like we aren’t Welsh enough; it only hurts us to be denied by our own people.

And as for Krampus comparisons, I bonded with a German friend over our different but similarly unique cultural Christmas traditions so I think that’s good too. I guess it’s the simplification of it that’s the problem

So I hate how the Mari Lwyd has been ‘de-welshed’. But personally, the ability for all of Welsh people to have access to it also needs to be considered in this discourse.

Still if the tradition completely shifted to English I would be so livid.

Edit: forgot to say, while I know the Mari Lwyd isn’t a cryptid, it is a cultural creature and I see no issue with people using that aspect of the tradition as a way to connect to it. The tradition isn’t only changing, it’s expanding. We just have to make sure it doesn’t drown out the original tradition

The thing with the Mari Lwyd, though, is that it's being... I don't know, 'appropriated' is the wrong word, but certainly turned into something it isn't.

Thing is, this is a folk tradition in the Welsh language, and that's the most important aspect of it. I feel partly responsible for this, because I accidentally became a bit of an expert on the topic of the Mari Lwyd in a post that escaped Tumblr containment, and I clearly didn't stress it strongly enough there (in my defence, I wrote that post for ten likes and some attention); but this is a Welsh language tradition, conducted in Welsh, using Welsh language poetic forms that are older than the entire English language, and also a very specific sung melody (with a very specific first verse; that's Cân y Fari). It is not actually a 'rap battle'. It's not a recited poem. It is not any old rhyme scheme however you want.

It is not in English.

Given the extensive and frankly ongoing attempts by England to wipe out Welsh, and its attendant cultural traditions, the Mari is being revived across Wales as an act of linguistic-cultural defiance. She's a symbol of Welsh language culture, specifically; an icon to remind that we are a distinct people, with our own culture and traditions, and in spite of everyone and everything, we're still here. Separating her from that by removing the Welsh is, to put it mildly, wildly disrespectful.

...but it IS what I'm increasingly seeing, both online and in real world Mari Lwyd festivals. She's gained enormous pop-culture popularity in recent years, which is fantastic; but she's also been reduced from the tradition to just an aesthetic now.

So many people are talking/drawing about her as though she's a cryptid or a mythological figure, rather than the folk practice of shoving a skull on a stick and pretending to be a naughty horse for cheese and drunken larks. And I get it! It's an intriguing visual! Some of the artwork is great! But this is not what she is. She's not a Krampus equivalent for your Dark Christmas aesthetic.

I see people writing their own version of the pwnco (though never called the pwnco; almost always called some variant on 'Mari Lwyd rap battle'), and as fun as these are, they are never even written in the meter and poetic rules of Cân y Fari, much less in Welsh, and they never conclude with the promise to behave before letting the Mari into the house. The pwnco is the central part to the tradition; this is the Welsh language part, the bit that's important and matters.

Mari Lwyd festivals are increasingly just English wassail festivals with a Mari or two present. The Swansea one last weekend didn't even include a Mari trying to break into a building (insert Shrek meme); there was no pwnco at all. Even in the Chepstow ones, they didn't do actual Cân y Fari; just a couple of recited verses. Instead, the Maris are just an aesthetic, a way to make it look a bit more Welsh, without having to commit to the unfashionable inconvenience of actually including Welsh.

And I don't really know what the answers are to these. I can tell you what I'd like - I'd like art to include the Welsh somewhere, maybe incorporating the first line of Cân y Fari like this one did, to keep it connected to the actual Welsh tradition (or other Welsh, if other phrases are preferred). I'd like people who want to write their version of the pwnco to respect the actual tradition of it by using Cân y Fari's meter and rhyme scheme, finishing with the promise to behave, and actually calling it the pwnco rather than a rap battle (and preferably in Welsh, though I do understand that's not always possible lol). I'd like to see the festivals actually observe the tradition, and include a link on the booking website to an audio clip of Cân y Fari and the words to the first verse, so attendees who want to can learn it ahead of time. I don't know how feasible any of that is, of course! But that's what I'd like to see.

I don't know. This is rambly. But it's something I've been thinking about - and increasingly nettled by - for a while. There's was something so affirming and wonderful at first about seeing the Mari's climb into international recognition, but it's very much turned to dismay by now, because she's important to my endangered culture and yet that's the part that everyone apparently wants to drop for being too awkward and ruining the aesthetic. It's very frustrating.

[bellesmadeofsilk]

Surprise M.M x fem!Reader

Overture- Matt spooks you while you're trying to bake, completely ruining your hard work

CWs-breaking and entering but in a cutesy fun way, and Matt's kind of a slut but what else is new!

A/N- Divider courtesy of @anitalenia

Matt had finally set aside some time for the two of you tomorrow. He had a case all week, and because of the freezing temperatures he has been able to get away with going out at night even more often– the ice on the streets makes his increase in bruises plausible, and gives him more hours of darkness to work under. Unfortunately the main sacrifice has been your quality time together, which was finally going to turn around. 

Matt said that he wanted to watch christmas movies with you, which considering he can’t see–realistically just meant that he wanted to make out on your couch with a movie (that he couldn’t even see) on in the background– but you made cookies anyway. 

After about 15 minutes in the oven the cookies were just about ready to come out, and when you opened the oven door, you heard something. You wrote it off as a squeak of the oven door but still moved closer to the knife block, ever so slightly more ready than you would’ve been. Nevertheless you bent down to grab the cookie sheet, pot holder in hand. 

Just as you were closing the oven door someone was right behind you. You were startled, and naturally dropped the entire tray. Just to turn around and see your boyfriend, clearly just having come in through your window. 

“Matt! You scared me!” You shoved his chest– kind of hard, actually– but he didn’t budge. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He went in for a kiss, and as much as the ‘sweetheart’ made you want to give in, you’d just dropped over an hour's worth of work because he couldn’t knock. So you turned your cheek.

“I still don’t understand why you insist on coming through the window.” 

“Would you rather me come down the chimney, honey?” Now he was laughing at you, and putting his hands on your arms reassuringly, and yet again going in for a kiss, even giving you a bit of a kicked puppy look when you turned your head again. 

“Ha ha. I have a door.” 

“That kind of defeats the whole inconspicuous thing I’m going for.” You were still mad at him for startling you— too mad to give him a kiss— but you let him pull you towards him. 

“You weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.” It was spoken into the fabric of his shirt, slightly muffled by his chest. 

“I didn’t want to wait to see you.” He leaned his head down to you, giving you enough wiggle room to meet him in the middle and you couldn’t deny him a kiss for a third time. No one has that much willpower. So you gave him a quick peck, and his pout turned into a devastating smile. But he wasn’t getting away with sneaking up on you like that. 

“You’re sweet. And you’re helping me remake those.” You patted him on the arm when you pulled away from him.

“You’re going to let a blind man in the kitchen?” He feigned shock, as if him in the kitchen was any more dangerous than you were. 

“Yes. And I prefer to think of it as making my boyfriend help remake the cookies he spooked me into dropping.” He followed you to the kitchen, but didn’t come in to help, just leaned against the entryway. 

“What are those for anyway?”

“They’re for you for tomorrow. They were supposed to be a surprise.” You tossed him a small glare, but couldn’t quite hide the smile pulling at your lips. You handed him a bowl and three eggs to crack, and he got started, gently cracking them against the counter. 

“Well I was very surprised, if that helps” “It does not but thank you anyway.”

[cynicalclairvoyantcadaver]

Have you noticed how both Percy Jackson and Cardan are often characterised as dumb and Cardan weak because they love their significant others? I think this is some weird sort of misogyny because 'only weak men will love these women' when that's simply not true!

Tell me if I'm crazy lol

You're not crazy. This is a real phenomenon that needs to stop.

The PJO fandom tends to dumb down Percy a lot and hype up Annabeth, when in reality it is Percy who comes up with brilliant strategies and fights very well. It seems to me that people think Percy is foolish and/or impulsive because he doesn't communicate his plans very well.

It's frustrating to read canon PJO and then go to the fandom PJO and see how much Percy is dumbed down. Even canonically, Percy is put down a lot-unfortunately, I think this is because Rick is influenced by the fandom, which he should stop.

In fact, Annabeth would have died without Percy. LOTS of people would have died without Percy.

Thankfully, there are many people who DON'T dumb Percy down, like @cynthiav06, @hermesmyplatonicbeloved and other people-I forgot the blogs, tell me if you want to be tagged.

Check out the blogs I mentioned above if you want Real Percy, not dumb Percy who's not even real.

And this happens with Cardan too.

All right-I will say it again and again.

REAL CARDAN IS NOT A DUMB, HELPLESS UWU POOKIE!

HE IS POWERFUL. HE IS SMART. HE IS CUNNING AND CAN RUN AN ENTIRE KINGDOM WITHOUT JUDE OR MADOC.

I think most of the TFOTA fandom forget that Cardan did, in fact, run the kingdom without Jude or Madoc between and at the beginning of The Queen of Nothing!

And he's no helpless pookie. Does ANYONE remember the scene in TWK where the sea mermaids and their retinue come and read the poem that's a threat in disguise?

Does anyone remember how Cardan reacted? I DON'T THINK THEY DO!

He did NOT whimper or look to Jude for help. Jude DID NOT step up and deal with things directly.

Cardan dealt with it. He gave a clever response and effectively dealt with it while remaining powerful in the eyes of his subjects. Jude herself notes how powerful he looks in that scene.

And his meeting with Orlagh? He looks and feels regal and intimidating, like a true ruler. He saves his kingdom from war, literally threatens to encase Nicasia in a tree to keep Orlagh in check like a true boss, is prepared to fulfil his theat and calls up AN ENTIRE ISLAND. AN ENTIRE NEW ISLAND, LIKE THE THREE ISLES, EXCEPT NOW IT'S THE FOUR ISLES.

And he also comes up with a smart plan for Jude's safety, thus ensuring that she can come back when she wants to. It's not his fault that she interpreted it differently and chose to ignore the real meaning when she finally found it.

And in The Prisoner's Throne when he saves Jude from the knives? 100 percent amazing scene. He really has a heavy regal ruler aura there. My favorite scene of Cardan.

Yet fandoms need must girlbossify the females and woobify the males to make us see that the females are oh so powerful and the males need them for everything apparently.

The fandoms make the males characters that are entirely dependent on the females and don't exist without them. And I can't emphasize how frustrated this makes some of us.

Annabeth is smart on her own without Percy and vice versa.

Same goes for Jude and Cardan. They deal with threats in their own effective ways, though said ways are different-but those ways still work for both of them.

This is a reverse form of misogyny that is still sexism to both males and females and this really needs to stop. Whenever a couple get together, people tend to not see them as equals-either the male or the female is dominant, and if it's the female, she has to be oh so strong and muscular and dark and serious while the male has to be soft and submissive to her at all times, oh noooooooooo.

Not to say that muscular and masculine women CAN'T be dominant, but please remember that this is not always the case. Submissive partners are not always soft and feminine, and dominant partners don't always need to be commanding and aggressive.

Being equals in a relationship is a big charm, and that's why Percabeth worked so well for a lot of people. That's a huge part of their charm. To take that away would be to push what made Percabeth good into an abyss and watch it disintegrate.

TFOTA fandom members, please remember that Cardan is a person on his own without Jude. Same goes for Percy and Annabeth, PJO fandom members.

[mettywiththenotes]

It's weird how Hawks went straight from "Dabi" to "Touya", like they are on a first name basis or something. Like I know the whole analysis of it is probably that using his real name is to show that he sees him as more than a villain now because of Dabi's ties with Endeavor

But I'm just thinking, specifically, what does this mean for if Dabi and Hawks ever interact again? Is Hawks just going to call him Touya now?

[theotherrookie]

"It's the struggle of being a work in progress." Rook replied with a slight shrug, "At least wearing shades lets me hide the bags under my eyes. You make sure to take care in the meantime. Both of you. I mean it."

"Don't worry, dear. I'll be around to enforce that." Veronica reassured.

"Sounds good!" Erica grinned, once again a bit too widely for comfort, at Travis' approval. "Thanks! It's a trick I learned while fighting a guy with robo tentacles on his back!"

And before that, while hunting for survivors. That one might have been a bit too morning to bring up, though.

"Let's put it this way. You let me have this and I promise I will not set foot on a stage." Lucien said, before heading off to go serve the soup. He nodded at Russell to quietly thank him for getting some bowls ready while he grabbed the ladle.

Erica's ears perked up and immediately reached to poke one of Antonio's ears, before she proceeded to gently scratch them.

Willow was going to be so jealous.

Veronica waited patiently, figuring it would be pointless to point out to Bill that he could have just offered instructions and rest. "Thank you. Come on, Chick."

"Yeah, yeah..." Rook moved to sit as she was handled the bottle. She wrinkled her nose at the smell. "Really? The solution is stronger Spitfire."

"Fire purifies. Now, drink."

"It better taste the same." It did, which made Rook more willing to try this strange cure. She took a couple more sips, unsure of what to expect while a bit of smoke escaped from the corner of her mouth.

Then it hit and Rook all but threw herself at the bucket just in time before she threw up. Veronica hovered closer to gently pull her hair back while she gasped for air and stared down at the vile black liquid that unfortunately still infested her body even after all this. Unfortunately, they would have to repeat the treatment a few times.

Rook stared at it for a moment, before she fell back, somehow looking even paler than before. "Help..."

"I'm glad you guys are looking after each other." Rook said, nodding slightly, "And I hope your eyes get better soon, Leofric. I kinda know what it's like to be stuck looking at blurry shapes and it sucks."

At least she was too drained to be bothered by the light at the moment.

"It sounds like you two could be the secret weapon against that guy, then!" Erica replied, "As long as he can't put you to sleep, that is. His weird sword also needs a lot of space to be used. Maybe next time you should make sure to fight him in an enclosed space."

Erica stood up and waited for the shadows to disappear, before making her way over. The soup smelled amazing and she had decided she was going to have some before Lucien even offered.

Though she'd get that in a minute. There was still another matter waiting to be settled. She moved to stand by Antonio's side, looking up expectantly.

Lucien smirked, "While I recognize your talent and experience in the field, I have been in the anti hero business for longer. Therefore, I will allow you to be my sidekick for now."

"Yay, cat practice!" Erica cheered.

Lucien chuckled as he stepped back in the kitchen, "Thank you, Russell. Let's get to it."

Veronica watched for a moment, before she pulled out what very much looked like a bottle of rum. "Edmund was busy cursing the French, but he let me have a bottle of this. Between this and the angel's tears, should be strong enough to purge the toxins."

Rook's eyes widened when the ghost lady uncorked the bottle and smoke started pouring out of it. "De, mamma. I don't want to burn Bill's house down."

"I doubt that'll happen, but you might need a bucket."

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what is your favorite thing about charles and your favorite thing about erik? separately, as in what you like most about their characters :]

a devious question this one is, my friend!!! it's hard enough for me to explain my thoughts cohesively, but having to pick ONE thing i particularly love is difficult. with characters like charles and erik, theres been so much done with their characters over the decades and so they have so many components to them that make them so interesting and fun to observe. BUT I TRY FOR YOU TODAY. under the cut i kinda ramble and the size of this text box makin me anxious

i think if i were to be simple and broad, what i enjoy most about charles is his determination to help others, even if he isn't really thanked and/or if people don't even like him. ofc, this isn't to say he hasn't done wrong- to be honest, the fact he does wrong/questionable things at times is another aspect of him i really enjoy, maybe because- broadly speaking- he's meant to be altruistic (intent vs outcome and all that). i don't know if that's super exciting to most people, but it is for me

as for erik, my reason for liking him is easier to explain tbh. To Be Simple And Broad, his progression from villain to antihero over the decades has been fun to observe (as much as i have so far anyhow) and analyze. i think to be a bit more specific, him using his rage and pain as justifications for his villainous actions is definitely what compels me the most: hurt people hurt and the sort, an idea i've always found interesting (something something vicious cycles and the like). yet now, he recognizes this wasn't really. A Just Thing To Do and is beginning to change that, which i enjoy

[thedisablednaturalist]

If you need insurance anytime within the next year and are thinking about applying for medicaid, open enrollment on healthcare.gov went live Nov 1st! I would heavily recommend applying asap instead of procrastinating like I did. Your state may also have specific health insurance coverage plans. If you are losing your insurance after December 15th, you will probably apply for special enrollment and can apply if you are within a month of losing your insurance (I applied through special enrollment bc my insurance grace period ends on Nov 16th). Medicaid can take as long as 90 days to approve/deny you. Because I procrastinated I'll probably have to get interim insurance which can be expensive especially if you have high medical costs like me.

[more-than-a-princess]

"Wait, you have been to Egypt!?" Sonia exclaimed. It was presumably the first time Wylan had seen Paris' historical monuments from such heights and yet her attention was now elsewhere. "Goodness, what was it like? What are the pyramids like? Is it as beastly hot inside them as they appear to be outside? Did they have any of the treasures on display that they either kept or stole back from the British? Did you go into any pyramids that are haunted-"

At that point she needed to take a breath and give a much-needed pause. She hadn't intended to bombard him with questions and had kept herself from doing so, such as what made him decide to find her again, what he'd done in the meantime, and how he'd been able to contend with leaving her behind all those months ago. But he'd visited the pyramids: she couldn't just ignore that.

"I didn't mean to fire so many questions at you like that," About anything, she knew as her cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment. "It is just that I have never been and am never allowed to go. It is too great of a security risk, or so my father tells me. Novoselic and Egypt are not on the best of terms so if anything were to happen to me, it would likely be an international incident." That didn't mean she hadn't dreamt of going, though. Movies certainly helped fuel her interest, but mummies and a polytheistic ancient society were more than enough to capture her attention.

But her awkwardness melted away with his warmth, and Sonia huddled against him too. "Maybe that was why we're drawn to one another. Two similar people with two different upbringings, and those differences will never be enough to separate us." At least not for long, she thought as she turned to look up at him with a smile. "Oh, I think you might be the wonder. Think of all the risks you have taken by coming back to me: it is an incredible feat and one I shall never forget."

She thought she'd made an excellent suggestion in scaling the department store, whether in broad daylight in the dead of night. One would garner far more attention than the other, but how many people could say they scaled a Parisian landmark and not get arrested doing so? Or rather, Sonia would ensure he wouldn't be arrested: international immunity had its uses, though sidestepping pranks and urban exploration were not the intended ones. "I haven't embarked upon learning free climbing, unfortunately, it is rather frowned upon due to the safety hazard," She admitted, though she smiled all the same. "I just have enjoyed your creativity and physical prowess doing so in the past. And besides, your inexperience with romance means it can only be improved upon."

With the final sip of her tea, Sonia got to her feet. The view was beautiful, but it would remain there for whenever they wished to see it again. Wylan, however, had more immediate needs. "The first of which is shopping with your significant other, I think. You need clothes."

And she wasn't taking no for an answer. She'd help him if he asked, but Sonia figured that provided the family either approved or had no choice but to welcome him in, Wylan's closet would soon be filled with more bespoke pieces, or at least off-the-rack that was altered to fit him perfectly. "Come on, let's go: we can do something less devoted to consumerism after!"

The days of his 'Sketchers' were numbered, though there were some things she'd put her foot down on. The plastic watch he wore, for example: she found it too charming to fully discard.

"There's always something funny about seeing these wonders in person, though. When you like... realize you can place them in the middle of ordinary life." Wylan observes, making an angle with his thumb and pointer. The half a box frames the ubiquitous tower, then drops it lower- as if placing it even deeper into the city. "Looking at it on magazines or photos, you think these places are kept in their own unique world. Then it's like. Nope. There's a McDonalds right there. Or some other joint. Same thing when I was in Egypt and first saw the pyramids."

Wylan huddles close to Sonia, as if for the first time embracing his special status and the magnamity of it along with Sonia, giddy grin on his features.

"Aren't we basically the same thing, you and I, if you think about it?" Eyes flash about them, not that there was any chance of them being discovered far as he could tell. Not that it mattered if they were. As much as he knew he could circumvent the security detail, he also trusted them to do their job. "Look at us- international assassin and crown princess. Sipping some fucking counter drinks on top of a mall." Then Wylan smiles. "Aren't you the real wonder?"

If his confidence and ego bubbled up any more, it'd be apt to spill over his hands. And that would be somehow even more disastrous if the hot beverage had done the same. Fortunately, they weren't actually running about and being reckless in action. Just in word. Just in promise. Just in heart.

"Y'know, an urban trek did cross my mind. But this is a date, isn't it?" Wylan raises the question, lolling his head to the side and fixing her with a discerning expression. "And what kind of guy takes a girl on a date and runs off to do something by himself? I know I'm bad with romance and the whole ordeal. But I like to think I know at least that much." The huff comes across as so self-assured you'd think he believes he deserves brownie points for making the observation. Like the winning answer to a quiz show.

Then his brow flickers, lifts after taking a sip of the coffee.

"Unless- oh, don't tell me you've gotten into free climbing since we've split up?? Huu~ maybe if we climbed it together that'd make for a heck of a date~" He smiles around his tongue, observing this, a happy bob of his shoulders at the unfortunately unlikely outcome of their lunch hour.

Besides. If he was going to live this life, one that kept him around these big cities most of the time, if not multiple times- there would be ample opportunity to slip away and indulge those more dubious curiosities of his.

[hermitsdump]

I wish all jujutsu kaisen fans a very media literacy and manga reread

[bisexualmaedhros]

transfem furries hornyposting online about the relatively niche/"out there" things they're into have inadvertently helped me accept myself more than the body positivity movement of the 2010s ever did

[hkevisvlsvso]

Okay finally got something done :')

This may be kinda shit but posted it anyway cause i want to send here that better part of story(where they kiss :3)

The '~~~~' -things are just something what goes like the same in the series and i was too lazy to write them but you all know what happended there so..

And it ends on a really random point of the episode but ... . . ..

And I didn't know what to call die Wilden Kerle so just called it Wilden Kerle🥲

-yea so enjoy:

-----------------------☆☆☆-------------------------

I sit on my bed and stare at the math book resting in front of me, even though the numbers have been blurred in my eyes for ages into an unrecognizable background mass, thanks to which I can only see my thoughts very clearly. I should be doing homework, but my mind is wandering. Unfortunately, they somehow always find their way to Leon.

I have already declared to myself that I officially hate Leon, and I will never forgive him. He's a complete asshole full of himself and left me- I mean, us, for fame, even though he was the one who insisted that anyone who leaves the Wilden Kerle is a shameful traitor. He's a self-righteous jerk. And I hate him. I really, really hate him. Just because I can't stop thinking about him doesn't mean I don't hate him.

I throw the book at the wall and stand up, because sitting isn't going to help anything. I decide to go for a bike ride somewhere just to get my thoughts elsewhere.

After I've been cycling for a while, Vanessa comes up to meet me. Slowed down my pace so she can turn to cycle in the same direction as me.

Vanessa looks happy. As if nothing happened yesterday. At least she doesn't seem to miss Leon at all. I hope I don't look like that myself, although I literally couldn't sleep last night thinking about Leon and his last look all night. In other words, nothing is normal, not without Leon, and if it bothers Vanessa at all, she hides it really well.

So Vanessa smiles as if it wasn't just yesterday that Leon left our team, waves her hand after getting next to me, and says:

"Marlon called. Hadschi has finally found the owner of the last skull!"

I smile, even genuinely this time.

"Let's go."

~~~~~

Of course Markus's father was not in the bank. It's Sunday now. But where did he go?

Suddenly Vanessa notices his car in front of the museum. What the hell is he doing there?

"Let's go see."

We crouched behind Markus' father's car. I hope Vanessa listens to what he and the mayor are talking about, because I only listen with half an ear. "It would be better if you take it, Mr. Mayor. It's not safe in my house."

I loved Leon. He was actually a complete asshole, but maybe that's why I liked him. He didn't really try to please me, on the contrary, he almost always seemed to be arguing or outright begging to be fucked, but that's why he's so funny and natural, himself. He is also honest and speaks his mind directly, so when he compliments me, I know he really means it. He wouldn't just say that so I wouldn't feel bad, because he doesn't care if I get hurt by his words.

In my previous schools, many girls have wanted to date me. I agreed to the first request because I was stupid. I had never spoken to that girl, and one day her friends snubbed her giggling in front of me.

If I were to think about such things, I would say that it was quite unnerving to stand in front of some random person while she squealed and giggled and her friends stared at us, amused by the awkward situation. Finally, the girl mumbled that she had a crush on me. I didn't know what to answer so I said "okay".

It wasn't an affirmative answer as far as I know because she didn't actually ask anything, but still her friends started squealing in love and clearly this girl was now my girlfriend.

At first I thought that it could be quite nice, and that at least the girl liked me. I was naive. It started to dawn on me at the latest when I realized she was only talking about my dad or how "handsome" I was. Her real compliments were flat, and she probably didn't believe even her own tone of voice when she said I was funny. Instead, I was too quiet and too cold and sarcastic and short and my favorite dark green hoodie at the time was unfashionable. She threw it in the trash can. On the other hand, I'm quite grateful for that, because in hindsight it was really quite horrible, and my father had never liked it either.

The girl left me after two months of dating, because she said I was too quiet and distant, and I didn't care about anything but football.

Which was indeed true.

Through me, the girl had gotten to know the members of my soccer team at the time, and because of that I saw her many times a week when she came to the team's practices to see her new boyfriend. She kept winking at me when I was sitting on the bench, but never said anything. Except for one time when she came to sit next to me and twirl her blonde hair around her fingers. He greeted me in a voice I had heard too many times before, and I felt a dark satisfaction when I said nothing and moved two seats away from her. The girl stared at me shocked for a moment, as if she couldn't understand how I could not like her, and she was very annoyed when I allowed myself a satisfied smile just to show that I didn't care, and then she went to approach her new boyfriend.

A similar thing happened a couple of times until I learned to say no, and to leave people before they leave me, when I turned out to be a completely normal person, even though I have a perfect father.

Leon is honest. If he says I'm good, he really thinks I'm good.

However, he really cares about us more than he admits. He would never say it out loud, maybe he wouldn't even fully admit it to himself, but I know. He could go to any length for the things that are important to him. He is wild, in the sense that he himself wrote it in Wilden Kerle's rule list.

It's just a shame that this time he chose to care about fame more than his team, and will go as far as he needs to for it.

I wish he cares about me more than he admits.

Or: I wished he cared about me more than he would admit.

Nowadays, I don't give a damn what, or who, he cares about. Not after what he did.

Markus' father and the mayor leave the car back towards the museum, and I remember that I had to eavesdrop on their conversation. Well, I hope Vanessa was listening..

"Let's follow!" I say as if I am fully aware of the whole situation.

We walk into the museum hall when the doorman stops us.

"Is there an invitation?" he asks in the most strained tone anyone has ever spoken in. I stare at him, and then at Vanessa, as if to signal that he needs to come up with something.

"um, we just wanted to-"

"I can't let you in without an invitation", the doorman interrupts. Then, suddenly, Leon appears out of nowhere.

Okay, I admit to staring at him, and even though I hate him, it doesn't stop me from thinking about how I like his hair, or how I'm so happy to see him that I just want to hug him and have him hug me and feel his warmth against me.

I still hate him.

Leon finally seems to understand that we want to get inside.

"They came to see the new superstar. Me."

Superstar. I don't know if I should be amused or outraged. For some reason, I still missed his voice, even though I last heard it only yesterday.

Still I smile. I want him back and he's clearly helping us.

"Uh... Don't you read magazines?" I ask to reinforce Leon's words.

"Ah, I understand. In that case."

I'm not sure if Leon is just smiling in general, or if he's smiling at me.

I hope he's smiling at me.

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Guys I think I just wrote a really short part of some Deon fanfic...

It's like in s2 e12 the scene when Leon comes to the landfill(I have no idea what is it called really in the english dub version so..) and... u know.

Because i just realised that Deniz looks so sad when Leon comes while everyone else looked just angry 😭

The way how Deniz stares at that book like he knows Leon is going to leave him and the whole team but thinks that if he doesn't see it and just focuses on the book, mabye it won't really happen....

BUT, here it is. I'm really bad at english so i hope you understand it😅😅

[(Almost) all the lines were from the finnish dub, idk if it's the same in other languages but mabye it's okay....]

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I look up from the book when I hear footsteps approaching. Leon walks to the landfill looking far too casual. Traitor. A little hope flutters inside me. However, it slows down as soon as Vanessa says:

- Well, who's that? Came to tell us about your big ad campaign?

If Leon was going to apologize, he wouldn't do it after that. I press my gaze to the book and try to focus on the ancient Greek numerical codes. I want to shut out everything around me. I just want to squeeze my eyes shut, and when I open them, Leon comes beside me on the rusty roof of the car and wraps his arms around my neck and gives me something else to think about and figures out a way to get Teufelstopf back and all is well again.

No.

When I open my eyes, I'm still staring at the much too small and monotonous text of the book. Leon snorts.

- actually, I came to apologize for being so busy these days, but if you're like that, I guess it's better that I don't come at all anymore. Ever.

He doesn't know how much his cold voice breaks my heart. But I can be cold too. And I have that right. He is leaving the bunch. I stand up on the roof of the car. Leon has already turned to leave when I say:

- That's what I said too. We can do without a captain like that.

My words feel like a heavy lump on my chest, and a few more pounds are added to that lump when I realize I'm right. Leon was always the one who insisted that no one should ever leave the team. He loved football and the team more than anything in this world, as did I, and that was probably part of the reason I fell for him. But now he is leaving Teufelstopf, the Wild Soccer Bunch, us, me, for fame. I didn't think that he would be the one who leaves the team.

When Leon hears my words, something disappears in his eyes, something inexplicable. At least I think I see it. Or I hope. Or at least I want to.

He doesn't even say anything. Anger and disappointment bubble up inside me. I jumped down from the car. The thump of my feet againstthe ground makes Leon quickly turn towards me. I look at him. At the moment, I would like to just hug him on the one hand, and hit him on the other hand. I clench my hands into fists.

- I fucking koved you, I say way more toxic than i meant to. Though mabye it's just a good thing. I don't know.

I let all the pent-up sadness and frustration come out of my voice because I want him to know I'm serious. I say it so quietly that no one else can hear it, even though I want to scream it into his ear. On the other hand, I probably couldn't make a louder sound than this, almost a whisper, from the stranglehold of grief. Leon looks me in the eyes and for a few moments I may notice sadness in his eyes. Almost as crushing as my grief. Then he just closes his eyes, turns around and leaves. Up until now, I have felt that everything will be alright. But now I know that I don't have Leon anymore, everything is lost.

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It was kinda google translator english but hope you liked it.. I'm not sure if i do?

[aeide-thea]

thinking abt (1) that post abt how most censorship is preemptive self-censorship¹ (2) bras²

⸻ ¹ wow, tumblr search actually worked for once??? ² i do understand and respect that for many people bras serve an actual structural function wrt support/comfort! however, for many other people (hi!) they do not, at least in everyday non-sports contexts, and that's the set of concerns i'm speaking to here.

[dadbots]

cold as shit & freezing my ass off in this winter (But at least we made it to December.)