#Traditional meals from both cultures

[drones-of-innocence]

😭

This is absolutely gorgeous, I am in love!! 💖

Based on this FANTASTIC post by the one and only @drones-of-innocence. 

Like omg. I was at work today and couldn’t access my tablet, so what did I do when I found this little gem?? I took out a blank page, fetched a colored pencil and improvised. 🤣 First trad work I posted in ages! 😅

I had to. Everything this author touches turns to GOLD. 🤩💖

[plutonianeris]

Juno in your birth chart

Juno in the Houses

Juno in the 1st House: You’re drawn to partners who exude independence and assertiveness. These people don’t hesitate to let you know their intentions, and you’ll likely meet them through personal initiatives—whether that’s hitting the gym or taking a leadership role. Conversations with this partner may revolve around ambitious goals or mutual passions. You might bond over stories about how they took charge of a situation, leaving you inspired by their sheer confidence.

Juno in the 2nd House: Security is key for you, both financial and emotional, and you’re likely to find a partner who values these just as much. You may meet them in a bank, an art gallery, or even while shopping for something luxurious. Conversations here would focus on shared visions for building a stable life. You might talk about investment strategies, or share dreams of a beautifully decorated home, with an unspoken understanding of each other’s need for stability and comfort.

Juno in the 3rd House: Intellect and communication are your sweet spots. You’ll likely encounter your future partner in a bookstore, café, or even an online chat. You’ll be drawn to how effortlessly they debate or exchange ideas. Expect conversations that veer into deep, philosophical discussions, playful intellectual banter, or conversations about the latest book you’re both reading. The attraction here is mental as much as it is physical.

Juno in the 4th House:Family and emotional depth play a major role in your relationships. Your lover may appear through family connections or in a cozy, homey setting. You might have long, heartwarming conversations over homemade meals, talking about your dreams of creating a home, or sharing personal family traditions. They make you feel comfortable and secure, and discussions often revolve around building an emotionally supportive environment.

Juno in the 5th House: Fun and creativity are what draw you to a partner. You’re likely to meet them at a party, concert, or while engaging in creative hobbies. Expect exciting, spontaneous conversations—whether it’s discussing a new art project, a recent performance, or an adventure you both want to embark on. Their passion for life is infectious, and you might bond over the joy of living in the moment, with laughter filling the air.

Juno in the 6th House: You are drawn to practical, down-to-earth partners who thrive on routine and service. You may meet them at work, the gym, or even a volunteer event. Conversations here are practical and grounded, revolving around shared daily routines or health goals. You might talk about meal prep ideas, organizational systems, or simply how you can support each other’s growth in everyday life.

Juno in the 7th House: Balance and harmony are central to your relationships. You’re attracted to partners who complement your strengths and weaknesses. You might meet them in social settings or through mutual partnerships. Conversations will flow easily as they seem to intuitively understand your needs. You’ll often discuss how to create a more harmonious life together, how you balance each other out, or even future plans for partnership—be it in love or business.

Juno in the 8th House: Relationships for you are intense and transformative. You’re likely to meet your lover in mysterious, private settings—maybe through financial dealings or in a deep, emotionally charged moment. Expect conversations that dive straight into the core of your being. You’ll talk about your deepest desires, fears, and transformative experiences, feeling a profound connection in their presence. The chemistry will be palpable.

Juno in the 9th House: You crave adventure and intellectual expansion in relationships. You’re likely to meet your partner while traveling, at a lecture, or through a shared spiritual interest. Conversations with them will feel like journeys, exploring everything from philosophy to cultural differences. You’ll bond over debates about the meaning of life, travel stories, or dreams of exploring the world together.

Juno in the 10th House: Ambition and status play a big role in your relationships. You may meet your partner in a professional setting, perhaps through a mentor or an influential figure. Conversations will often revolve around career goals, long-term ambitions, or how you can elevate each other’s status. There will be a mutual respect for each other’s drive, and you’ll feel that you’re both working toward building a life of success and recognition.

Juno in the 11th House: Friendship and shared ideals are the foundation of your partnerships. You’re likely to meet your lover in group settings, through a social cause, or via mutual friends. Your conversations will often center around your shared vision for the future—discussing humanitarian causes, social movements, or innovative ideas for making the world a better place. This relationship is grounded in a shared sense of purpose.

Juno in the 12th House: You seek deep, spiritual connections, often meeting partners in quiet, secluded places like retreats or hospitals, or even during meditative moments. Conversations here will touch on the mystical and the karmic, with both of you feeling like your meeting was destined. You’ll talk about dreams, spirituality, and past life connections, feeling an almost otherworldly bond with each other.

Juno in the Signs

Juno in Aries: You’re drawn to bold, assertive partners who take the lead. Expect conversations full of energy and excitement, talking about their latest daring project or a thrilling experience they had. They’ll likely inspire you to be more adventurous, and together you’ll plan exciting endeavors, sparking each other’s passion.

Juno in Taurus: Your ideal partner is grounded, sensual, and steady. Conversations will focus on life’s simple pleasures—discussing the best wine, the perfect meal, or dreams of a beautiful home. You’ll talk about how to cultivate a luxurious, comfortable life together, with an appreciation for the finer things.

Juno in Gemini: Intellectual compatibility is key for you. You’ll have lively, rapid-fire conversations with a partner who keeps you on your toes. Expect witty exchanges, playful debates, and shared interests in topics like books, current events, or anything that piques both your curiosity.

Juno in Cancer: You’re drawn to nurturing, emotionally available partners. Conversations with them will often feel warm and supportive, revolving around family, home life, or your emotional needs. They’ll make you feel safe, and you’ll often talk about how to create a nurturing environment together.

Juno in Leo: You’re attracted to charismatic, creative partners who light up a room. Expect lively discussions filled with stories of their latest dramatic escapades, creative projects, or how they plan to conquer the world. You’ll enjoy being their audience and cheering them on, as they bring joy and excitement into your life.

Juno in Virgo: Practicality and reliability are what draw you in. Conversations with your partner will likely be about how to improve daily routines, tackle challenges with careful planning, or focus on health and wellbeing. You’ll appreciate their analytical mind and how they pay attention to details that make life smoother.

Juno in Libra:You seek a partner who brings balance and beauty into your life. Conversations will often touch on aesthetics, relationships, or creating a peaceful life together. You’ll find yourself drawn into their graceful way of navigating the world, admiring their ability to harmonize their surroundings.

Juno in Scorpio: You desire deep, intense connections. Conversations with your partner will be passionate and probing, often diving into taboo subjects or discussing transformative life experiences. You’ll both feel the pull of emotional intensity and the magnetism that draws you closer.

Juno in Sagittarius:Your partner will excite you with their adventurous spirit and philosophical mind. Expect conversations about travel plans, cultural explorations, or big-picture philosophies. Together, you’ll explore the world and each other’s minds, always keeping things light-hearted but deeply meaningful.

Juno in Capricorn: You’re attracted to someone responsible, ambitious, and disciplined. Conversations will likely revolve around career goals, long-term plans, and strategies for achieving success. Together, you’ll plan for the future, discussing ways to build a stable, successful life.

Juno in Aquarius: You’re drawn to partners who are unique, innovative, and forward-thinking. Conversations will be about ideas for social change, futuristic visions, or technology’s role in improving life. You’ll both enjoy brainstorming ways to break the mold and create a better future.

Juno in Pisces: A compassionate, dreamy partner is what appeals to you. Conversations will often be about spirituality, creative dreams, or emotional connections. There’s a sense of otherworldly understanding between you, as if you’re both communicating on a deeper, more intuitive level.

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hiii I really love the one with the harbingers where reader calls them words of endearment from their homeland, can you do one where reader cooks for them food from their homeland? pantalone's part was so cute <33

✦ You cook them their favorite home meal, based on their homeland

(Or trying to guess what food the not-yet-playable characters might like based on their region, culture, or language. ) 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe 

✧ It is to no one’s surprise that Pierro, the Director of the Fatui, would easily drop everything to grant your needs. Just blink and the world’s spoils are at your feet, bestowed by your beloved. Expensive clothing, jewelry, art pieces, weaponry, or lavish dishes. With his money and status, plus being a connoisseur of the ancient lores of Teyvat, The Jester can easily acquire anything you require on a silver platter. 

But this time, it was you who tried to gift him something on a silver platter.

On an unsuspecting day, Pierro returned home only to be greeted with a strong scent of baked goods. The smell wafted all around the living quarters, warm and sugary. Glancing curiously, the Jester marched to the kitchen, where he found you grumbling to yourself. You stood with your oven mittens, a tray of voluptuous Kanelbullar presented in front of him; some were cut as you tried to take an analytical bite of the cinnamon rolls.

“Trying your hands at familiar recipes, my cherished?” - The man asked with a welcoming glance while you mulled and judged the taste of your cooked goods.

“Ah, Pierro, you’re right on time. Here, try this one for me. Does it resemble traditional cinnamon rolls?”

When the Jester took a bite, even his icy eye widened for a moment. A wave of nostalgia and warmth lanced his memories, ones he thought were long forgotten. The cinnamon rolls you baked were not the average confectionaries one could easily purchase, as the taste resembled traditional Khaenri’ahn Kanelbullar. A simple treat that all children and adults used to enjoy in their free time.  

“Well…? Oh no, don’t tell me it’s that bad?” - you awaited his response, but Pierro quickly shook his head.

“It’s rich and potent in taste, but not too sugary. Just like the ones in our Homeland… I didn’t think replicating such intricacies was possible. What did you add this time?”

Your eyes light up. Finally, some progress. “Really? I’ve been mulling over it for hours, I thought my taste pallet was going numb. I tried to find any local ingredients that might add the flavor of saffron and cardamon.”

“Like the golden Saffron…? They were a local specialty back in Khaenri’ah. Although some variants exist in Teyvat’s soil, they are not used as cooking ingredients here.” - Pierro pondered, amazed at your ability to combine other local spices to imitate the taste of the past.

As both of you mulled over how to achieve the most accurate results for these traditional Cinnamon Rolls, half of the tray was already gone.

“Although now that I think about it, my divine, I don’t think it would be an issue to send an expedition to obtain that rare spice for you. Especially if the result is such exquisite home pastry.”

✧ In this house, Il Capitano is the master chef. The man is proficient in the art of survival, thus, his skills in outdoor cooking are especially shown. From simple meat and vegetables, the Captain can come up with the best meat skewers you ever ate. Not to mention the topic of sustenance and growth is intertwined with a good diet. A man his size and capabilities puts immense care into outdoor survival and health.

But even a strong Captain deserves some spoiling for his hard work. 

After a wearying day spent honing the skills of his Fatui troops, a group of soldiers that will prepare for an upcoming expedition, Il Capitano was greeted with a surprise visit from you. You arrived right on time for their break, and as always, the Fatui soldiers couldn't help but eavesdrop on the Harbinger’s exchange with his beloved…

“I brought you your meal for today, Bife de chorizo. You need lots of protein.”

“Thank you.” - The Captain stood obediently, holding the lunchbox you brought.

“With Pico de Gallo and avocados. I also put some almonds and walnuts as a snack.”

“I understand.” 

“You are preparing for another important expedition. You must take care of your body after such intensive training, Cappy.”

“You are right, you are right.”

“And I don’t want to see anything left from the lunch boxes. Make sure to eat all of it, okay?”

“Understood!”

It sure was a sight. One would think the Harbinger was the student as he stood nodding vehemently while you scolded him. With one hand on your hip, you gave him an earful as you checked up on him, generously providing him a full-course meal neatly packed in a mealbox.

The Fatui soldiers were slightly jealous. Even they could easily tell that behind that pitch-black helmet, Il Capitano was absolutely joyous to have his beloved visit him and provide such mouthwatering nourishment. 

✧ Today, you were ready to tackle and kill Il Dottore. Why? Because that man barged into your kitchen and confidently announced himself as the culinarian for today’s dinner. A simple and kind gesture, right? You would rather starve than have The Doctor implode your kitchen again.

“Stop exaggerating as if I let your Serenitea Pot house crumble. It was just a little fire.” - Dottore defended himself, watching closely as you made him stand back from the stove. 

“I had to replace the whole walls, Zandik!”

The two of you stood in the kitchen, with the Harbinger peeking from behind your shoulders as you claimed dominion over the frying pan. The whole day, he was made watching you prepare Sumeru Kibbeh meatballs, since the last time he decided to dabble in the art of cooking, your house was put at stake.

He was a scholar, not a chef, unfortunately. But The Doctor is not ashamed to admit his impatience and lack of skill in the kitchen. Hence, he helped you as much as he could while you diligently taught him how Kibbeh is properly made. He remained silent but pleasantly subservient. The sight of your sleeves raised, hands tactfully molding the Kibbeh was oddly amiable. Especially when your face was so focused on the task, he couldn’t help but stare. 

Yet every time you fried the meatballs and set them aside on a pan lined with paper towels to drain, a sneaky hand would try to steal some. You’d slap his hand away.

“Nope. Hands off! Wait till dinner”

“They’ll end up being consumed anyway. I’ll just have a small tas-”

Slap!

And it continued for a long while, all the way to the end once you finished cooking. When the two of you finally sat down and began eating, Dottore would often remain silent. You were too busy relishing the dish, unaware of the Harbinger’s appreciation for your home-cooked meal. Sustenance is just a waste of time that the human body must go through to gain its energy. But it’s not the same when he is sitting with you casually, the warm afternoon sunlight wrapping the dining table, and the warm food steaming with an appetizing aroma.

For him, eating with you was different. It was simple, but it was home. 

✧ Scaramouche may huff and scoff all he wants, but when it comes to appraising your Unagi Chazuke, no master can compete with you. Perhaps because he is a puppet, but Scaramouche has a delicate pallet. He despises strong flavors and always preferred simpler dishes, to appreciate the unique flavor of a singular ingredient. He would never admit it vocally, but he would often crave your chazukes, and it was easily written on his grumbling face.

“Come on, just say it.”

The Balladeer lamented.

“Say it. My home cooking is the best, and you just want me to cook for you today.”

“...I won’t. I don’t have use in consuming any human meals.” - he mumbled in response, arms crossed. You sighed and with a wide smile, you turned away.

“Oh well. Guess you don’t want any, huh…? And here I thought I could prepare your favorite Unagi Chazuke today. But I guess it’s foolish-”

“No, Wait-!” - The Harbinger wished to bite his tongue but it was too late. He already called out to you in a moment of weakness, and your goofy grin only widened with his desperation. 

He gave up. With reluctant embarrassment, the Balladeer admitted your victory - “If you may… Can you prepare another one of your signature Chazuke? Please.”

And that’s how you two ended up by the dinner table. You couldn’t just deny him after such a heartfelt request. You prepared the unagi meat and rice diligently, showing him how to prepare green tea to add mild bitterness to the salted rice. Topping off with some dried Nori leaves, and sesame - two bows of Unagi Chazuke were ready and looking artistically grandiose.

Light and sublime, that’s what Scaramouche thought. A true definition of soul food, as he held his bowl and chopsticks close. A rare but sincere smile would always grace his features whenever he ate your cooking, but he of course would conceal it by clearing his throat.

“Hm, okay fine. Maybe your cooking is adequate after all. Especially when you don’t make it too sweet.”

You’d laugh at his reaction. At the end of the day, it was you who taught him how to cook what later would become his signature dish, even if his identity as a Harbinger was wiped away. 

✧ Being the richest man in Teyvat like Pantalone means dealing with lots of bureaucracies and business. Sometimes, after a prolonged day in the office, the sight of stacked papers becomes dreadful and negotiations with the Snezhnayan elites may go fruitless. Thus, The Regrator would often slum by his desk, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose and sigh in exhaustion.

Now what would the richest man in Teyvat do to relax after a bad day at work? Go to the most expensive five-star restaurant? Perhaps purchase a fancy drink that costs more than his subordinates' monthly salary? No. He would head straight back home, where he knows you are awaiting him with open arms.

A single look at him and you would know he is fatigued. Leaning up to embrace him, you plant a tender kiss on his cheek - “How about I make us a quick snack, hm? You can go and take a shower in the meantime.”

Pantalone would try to conjure up a faint smile and nod. As he winds down for the day, subconsciously he knows your home cooking is like a balm to his soul. No matter how many exquisite restaurants he tried, he’d easily sacrifice all of them for a bite-full of your culinary.

And here you are, merrily handing him his childhood favorite - Mora Meat Roujiamo. A simple meat sandwich, but a staple street food in Liyue’s culture. That’s all the Harbinger desires after a tough day at work, as he gobbles the sandwich wrapped with a paper towel.

“Made your favorites. I added some extra meat since I know you like it juicy.” - you gave Pantalone soothing pats on the back as he ate up.

“You’re a lifesaver, honey. You would not believe how frustrating work has been today,”

Pantalone would rant and confide in you about his work. He would rather do that than delve into the nostalgic feeling that Mora Meat sandwiches gave him. It was indeed his childhood favorite. Yet it also reminded him how in the distant past, when food or money was scarce, starvation and desperation were his only companions as a lowly child. Thus, on better days when he acquired some change just to purchase simple Mora Meat - these sandwiches felt like a king’s feast.

Such an unadorned dish, but one that brought warmth and sustenance to a starved child, telling him that everything would be okay. Today, this starved child is the richest man in Snezhnayan. Nevertheless, he still relished these sandwiches from your hands like divine wealth, telling himself once more that everything would be okay. 

✧ Tartaglia was bedbound for some while, bandaged heavily after a massive battle he faced during one of his missions. The young Harbinger would never tell his family where his scars hail from, except for you and his father maybe. But after an earful of scolding, you took care of your reckless boyfriend and sighed.

“You made me worried, you know. I don’t want to see you move a muscle around the house these days, are we clear? You must recover first.”

“Y-yes, captain.” - Childe chuckled humorously, suppressing the soreness his cuts provided around his body. “It’s just… there is only one remedy that could save a fallen soldier like me.”

“Hm? What is it? Do you need something, Ajax?” 

“Please, dear… come closer.” - he said with a pained expression. 

You did so he could whisper to you what he wanted. Your concern was only heightened, oblivious that his dramatic words were playing you - “The secret to my healing… is…”

“Yes?” - you leaned even closer.

“... Some yummy food.”

You blinked at him, and Tartaglia immediately gained a comically “passed out” expression on his face, as if your cooking were his last death wish. You let him plop to the pillow and gritted your teeth - “Why you little-...! Ugh, you’re lucky I am worried about you. You just want me to pamper you.”

“Oh, come on, is that such an unrealistic request? You told me not to move a muscle and I would receive your scolding no matter what. Please, sweetheart, just anything you would like - cook it and I would happily gobble it up!”

You crossed your arms. You hate to admit it, but his puppy eyes were working effectively and if his appetite was returning, that means he is on a good path of recovery anyway.

“Fine… I’ll make something nutritious and easy for your stomach.”

Tartaglia's eyes lightened up in an instant. He was a simple man - if you cooked him something, he would drop on his knees for you instantly. That day, you pondered whether you’d make him some Piroshki or Borscht, but he needed something light. His health was your priority, after all. Even though Childe fancied himself a master at concealing his painful whinces, you are no fool. You always notice them.

Thus, your beloved was presented with Ukha fish soup. A warm bowl with fresh herbs, imported calla lily, and nutritious fish.

“Easy now, I know you like Calla Lily Seafood Soup, since you often had it in Liyue… So I decided to go with the local version of it. Now make sure to eat all of it, or you won’t feel better.”

Like an obedient child, Ajax felt pampered and delighted. Lunch by the bed? His sweetheart feeding him? The injuries were worth it as he happily ate the Ukha fish soup.

“If getting injured makes me taste food more worthy than the gods themselves, maybe I should get wounded more often, haha- Ow!”

Your response was another fistful nudge to his shoulder.  

Kanelbullar - in Swedish, Cinnamon Rolls Bife de chorizo - in Spanish, Argentinian beef cut Pico de Gallo - in Spanish, Mexican salsa/dip Kibbeh - in Arabic, bulgur parcel stuffed with minced meat filling (in Genshin, they just called it meatballs lol) Chazuke - in Japanese, green tea poured over a rice meal (Scara's signature dish)  Mora Meat - had to look this one up, apparently Genshin is referencing RouJiaMo (肉夹馍) meaning “meat in a bun". Ukha fish soup - in Russian, also known as fisherman’s soup. Childe’s signature Calla Lily Seafood Soup is probably a variation made with Gēng found in Chinese cuisine. But there is a Slavic variation that reminded me of his signature dish. 

[girlkisser13]

elijah mikaelson being a father would include

• elijah’s protectiveness would skyrocket the moment he learns you’re pregnant. he’d constantly worry about your well-being, ensuring you’re safe and comfortable at all times. he has every supernatural precaution in place to protect both you and the baby.

• he becomes even more attentive, catering to your every need. he’s the type to anticipate your cravings before you even mention them.

• elijah would dive into researching everything about pregnancy, from ancient texts to modern-day advice, to ensure he’s fully prepared. he’d want to be informed about every possible scenario, just so he can be the best support system for you.

• his calm and composed nature would be a grounding force for you during the emotional highs and lows of pregnancy. elijah would always be there to soothe your worries, offering words of comfort and reassurance.

• elijah is incredibly affectionate with you and the baby, always placing gentle kisses on your belly and speaking softly to the baby. he loves feeling the baby kick and would often rest his hand on your stomach, finding peace in the connection with his unborn child.

• he is meticulous about ensuring you eat well and stay healthy. elijah even prepares meals himself, filled with all the nutrients you and the baby need. he encourages you to rest often, insisting on taking care of everything else so you can focus on your well-being.

• elijah is incredibly understanding of the emotional rollercoaster that comes with pregnancy. he listens to you patiently, whether you’re venting about something minor or sharing your deepest fears about motherhood. he always knows exactly what to say to make you feel better.

• despite the changes that come with pregnancy, elijah would go out of his way to keep the romance alive. candlelit dinners, slow dances, and thoughtful gifts would be his way of showing you that he’s still as madly in love with you as ever.

• elijah would be excited to plan for the future, discussing names, nurseries, and what kind of life he envisions for your family. he’d take great care in ensuring that your home is ready for the baby, overseeing every detail to make sure it’s perfect.

• elijah’s already intense protectiveness would amplify tenfold when your child is finally born. he’d ensure that no harm ever came near them, even if it meant going to extreme lengths to secure their safety.

• he is a gentle and caring father. he’d want to be someone his child could look up to, not just as a strong leader, but as someone who is compassionate and just.

• he’d take pride in passing down mikaelson family traditions, teaching your child about their rich history. despite the dark aspects of their lineage, elijah would focus on instilling a sense of honor and the importance of family loyalty.

• he would be very involved in your child’s education, wanting them to be well-read and knowledgeable. he’d share his vast knowledge of history, art, and culture, encouraging a love of learning and a deep appreciation for the world.

• while elijah has high expectations, he’d approach fatherhood with a gentle hand, guiding your child with patience and understanding. he’d encourage them to think for themselves and make their own decisions, always offering wisdom when needed.

• elijah would treasure the small, everyday moments with your child— reading to them before bed, watching them play, or simply holding them close. these quiet moments would be his escape from the chaos of his immortal life.

• he’d be very conscious of the example he sets, striving to be the epitome of integrity, grace, and honor. elijah would want your child to grow up seeing him not just as an original vampire, but as a man of principle and honor.

[atlaculture]

What food from their 'cultures' do you think the gang would like? Real life food

Oh, this will be a fun question to answer! I'll make this an ongoing series for as many characters as I can think of.

Favorite Foods: Aang

Seeing as Aang has always loved traveling the world on Appa, he strikes me as someone who prefers food he can easily carry and eat while in the air. He's more a snack guy than a meal guy, is what I'm saying. He's also shown to be very fond of egg custard tarts and fruit pies, so I assume he also really likes rich desserts. With these considerations in mind, here's Aang's food board:

Momos - Tibetan stuffed dumplings. They're easy to carry around and eat on the go. Plus, they share a name with everyone's favorite flying lemur. I think Aang's favorite momo filling would be cheese with mushrooms or veggies.

Shom-Dae - Tibetan rice pudding. It's made by mixing fresh steamed rice with yogurt and sugar. Tibetan yogurt is made from yak milk, so it's very rich in fat content. Yogurt is so beloved in Tibet that it even has its own festival there, called Sho Dun.

Bhatsa Marku - A cheesy dessert pasta from Tibet. The primary ingredients are gnocchi-like noodles, dried yak cheese, butter, and sugar. I've also seen non-dessert versions comprised of the gnocchi noodles with mushrooms and butter. I think Aang would love both.

Chhurpi - A rock-hard cheese traditional to the Himalayas. It's typically a yak cheese that has been smoked and dried to remove all the moisture content. This allows it to be easy to carry and transport, as it can remain mold-free and edible for up to 20 years. One cube of chhurpi can be chewed on for hours, as it takes quite a while for the cheese to soften in the mouth.

Ngarchur - A dried Tibetan sweet cheese made from boiled yogurt. Like chuurpi, it's keeps well and is easy to transport, although it's not hard.

Khapse - Tibetan fried dough. Depending on how you shape the dough, it can be crunchy like chips or soft like youtiao.

Sanga Balep - A crispy Tibetan pastry covered in powdered sugar. Not much to say other than it looks really satisfying to eat.

I also have a series on possible Air Nomad cuisine here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Like what I’m doing? Tips always appreciated, never expected. ^_^

https://ko-fi.com/atlaculture

[bamfkeeper]

Cooking with Kurt.

RQ: 'So, I’ve been thinking lately about cute ideas, and one of them is about cooking. Could you write a head-cannons (or a fic if you like the idea and want to be more in-depth) of Kurt and the Reader cooking? Kurt teaches the reader how to make certain German foods, and the Reader teaches Kurt some tricks too. Just the two bonding over cooking and praising and complimenting each other for their good jobs. I just find this to be adorable since cooking is a great way to share cultures and bond 🥧😋.' - @hulkingharbor

pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader | warnings: None

a/n: Stuck with headcannons because those are easy for me to write up. I have been neglecting this blog a bit I'm so sorry. I wanted to get some stuff out before I left for my trip. Unedited.

Kurt was over the moon when you expressed interest in his German heritage. Your curiosity about his roots had always been genuine, but when the topic turned to cuisine, his excitement reached new heights. The prospect of sharing his culinary traditions with you filled him with joy.

He saw cooking and baking together as a meaningful way to connect and create lasting memories, it was one of his love languages for sure.

The kitchen became a space where cultural exchange and personal bonding intertwined. Kurt's eyes would light up as he described the myriad of German dishes he was eager to introduce you to, each recipe carrying a story or a cherished memory from his past.

From hearty sauerbraten to delicate apfelstrudel, he had an extensive repertoire of flavors he couldn't wait to explore with you.

Kurt stood beside you, his lean body adorned with a whimsical apron that seemed almost comically out of place on his athletic frame.

His nimble fingers worked the dough with practiced ease, kneading it into submission. "I am beyond thrilled to be baking with you, liebe," he exclaimed, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "This is something I've been longing to do for quite some time now."

His golden eyes sparkled with joy as he spoke, his hands never ceasing their rhythmic motion on the precious dough. Meanwhile, you busied yourself with the task of slicing apples, the crisp sound of the knife against the cutting board.

"You look absolutely ridiculous," you chuckled affectionately, your eyes crinkling with mirth as you took in the sight of him in his frilly apron. The appearance of his muscular form and the dainty kitchen wear was too amusing to ignore.

Kurt was never one to back down from playful banter, he responded by sticking out his tongue at you in a childish gesture. His graceful tail swished mischievously behind him. You noticed that the tip of his tail had somehow managed to acquire a light dusting of flour.

Before you could react, his tail flicked swiftly in your direction, sending a small cloud of white powder flying towards you. It landed on your nose, a tiny puff of it exhaling as you snorted.

Kurt's laughter filled your ears, and you picked up some flour to combat him, his hands went up as he playfully begged you not to. "Nein! Nein, liebe! Flour and my fur do not mix!"

His pleading didn't deter you.

Flour collided with him and you both began a play fight of tossing the white ingredient at each other until you were covered in it.

Besides your little food fight, you both learned how to cook each others favorite meals. Kurt gladly taught you special recipes, and you baked delicious cookies and made warm meals to eat together.

You were surprised at how hearty his meals were, despite him being fairly lean. He blamed it on his metabolism.

Kurt loves to cook you food. Whenever you request a dish, he gets right on it and is so proud of the outcome. He always does his best and is very specific about the ingredients he uses. It has to be fresh and perfect for you.

Cooking and baking together became a cherished ritual, a delightful exploration of flavors and cultures. You take turns introducing each other to your respective backgrounds, eagerly sharing family recipes and cooking techniques passed down through generations.

The kitchen becomes a messy playground of creativity as you collaborate on fusion dishes, blending elements from both your culinary heritage.

Kurt's enthusiasm for cultural exchange is endearing, his natural curiosity and open-mindedness make him an eager student of diverse traditions and customs. He approaches each new experience with childlike wonder, whether it's trying an exotic spice or learning a traditional method of cooking. He's always ready to sample new dishes, no matter how unfamiliar.

Kurt's eyes always light up as he tastes your food. "Mein Gott, liebling! This food is absolutely wunderbar!" he exclaims, his voice filled with genuine awe. He affectionately nuzzles his head against yours, his tail instinctively curling around your waist to draw you closer.

The gesture of his tail is protective and intimate, a habit he formed long ago and you never broke it from him. "You must write down this recipe for me. I'd love to surprise you with it someday when you least expect it."

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm, your heart warming at his sincere appreciation. "Of course, I'll write it down for you," you assure him, your voice soft with affection. "But I expect detailed instructions for all your culinary masterpieces too."

Turning in his embrace, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tracing the unique patterns of his skin. "After all, I need something to tide me over when you're away on missions. Can't have me pining away with an empty stomach, can we?"

A mischievous grin spreads across Kurt's face, his golden eyes twinkling with a mixture of humor and desire. He leans in close, his lips barely brushing against yours as he speaks. The feather-light touch sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a familiar warmth in your core.

"Oh, liebling," he purrs, his accented voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "When have I ever left you wanting for anything? I always make sure you're well-satisfied in every possible way~"

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight | Images found on Pinterest, I did not look for the specific comic Kurt's pic is from.

[romanovthinkver]

pov: you’re scarlett johansson’s wife // sfw headcanons

scarlett knows you’re in love with New York and despite having drivers that can easily bring you to one side to another of the city, she knows you prefer taking the subway. you’re favourite is the Q train where you can see the best landscapes as it’s an open train space. your wife always makes sure to pick up a spot by the door, she always says “i want to see that beautiful smile on your face the whole ride” and as you watch the train going from Manhattan to Brooklyn, scarlett wraps an arm around your waist and looks up at you with pure love.

scarlett loves how you adore your county despite its bad sides. you’re here for work so you don’t go back home as much as you would want. the last time was at christmas two years ago with all the family. little pieces of your culture are spread in the house tho, through the food, the flag you hung in your home office, some products you buy at the authentic drug stores owned by people of your home-country. you also started to teach the kids your childhood traditions, your favourite meals, your native language even. sometimes you go out in typical restaurants, or the one that claims to be typical when they’re not, and your wife has to listen you ramble about how they couldn’t make a simple dish of your land and instead ruined it. “can you believe baby? they ruined it, look at this: chicken. why? there’s no chicken in the original recipe and yet i see chicken here, why you americans put chicken everywhere?” scarlett would laugh and sometimes record your little grumbles. the kids loves when you, their mama, cook home land dishes of a culture they’re starting to feel like theirs. your wife loves when your accent rolls off your tongue when you’re tired or pissed, sometimes even when you two fuck roughly; it send her over the edge in no time. however the thing she likes the most is when you speak in your native language giving her or the kids pet names or when you whisper “i love you.”

you’re the biggest supporter ever. the way your eyes shine when you stand beside scarlett at movies premiers, it’s unmatched. you always buzz around your wife when she’s being prepared by make-up and hair-stylists taking extra time to snap some phots of her proudly. you make sure her dress is always perfect and adjust it often during the carpet. you make sure scarlett is always hydrated, not only with alcohol but with water too!, and fed because these things are stressful and your lady has to be healthy. you step back when she poses for paparazzi photos even tho she insists to have you beside her, she would softly place her hand on your chest clothed by the black jacket and shares smiles and little whispers. “you’re so beautiful, baby” or “i can’t take my eyes off you” these are the words that you find to whisper to her in that moments when your eyes are glued to her form, your hand gently cradles her back. you in the end step back giving your wife the deserved moment in the shiny flashes of the photographer’s bulbs, she poses and you look at her, sometimes you would snap a few picture too of her beside the paparazzi. scarlett would peck your lips amidst the event, they reassure you like a warm blanket and she softly pass her slender fingers to wipe her lipstick off your lips. you watch the movie with rapt attention because despite everything, before meeting her, you were and are a fan of her movies. in the end you always hug her and pepper her lips and cheeks whispering “congratulations my love, you were brilliant!”, “i can feel the oscar baby, can i start your campaign now?”, “i’m so incredibly proud of you, you’re a movie star” or “look at that baby, they’re all clapping and cheering for you, you’re so inspiring.” at the after party you both dance, engage in conversation with people and sometimes only seat at the bar together. you make sure to drink only safe drinks and let your wife party as she deserve. you take care of her and by the end of the night she’s not much sober but you steady her holding by her waist, your suit jacket always ready to shield the woman from the cold gently rest on her shoulders and her heels accomodate your feet while she wears you’re much more comfortable shoes.

scarlett started a skin care brand line with her friend and co-founder, kate foster. you, despite not knowing a thing about skin care, started to be supportive since the first day. however you didn’t know your wife would make you be a tester. you forgot how many times you ran around the house to dodge her “c’mon baby let’s try this eye cream, i swear it will be good for your eyes!” or the times she would let you sit on the bathroom sink with a blue argyle mask on your face, a hand band with the brand logo that would definitely make your curls frizzy and messy. you would groan and grumble a lot but your wife is always quick to kiss you. in the end you fell into a routine of doing this pampering ritual every night. slowly you started to learn a lot about skin care and your wife’s work. you also would crash often at her office to just bring donuts and coffee or sneak to spend more time with your wife and the team. and much to your dismay, scarlett will never stop treating you like a tester, she’s already planning on dragging you at the offie to record some funny videos of her putting on your face brand new face creams.

talking about videos, you hate cameras and photos. oh you’re the opposite of your wife in this department. you’re a diplomat, an ambassador specifically, so you barely stand in front of cameras and address speeches, a safe way to do what you love without struggling with the media press. however since you got into a relationship with your wife and got married, you quickly became a target to paparazzi’s cameras. you awkwardly stand beside your wife when you’re taking photos at the event she has to attend, but scarlett is always there to calm you down with soft touches, whispers and little pecks. “it’s okay baby, focus on me, everything’s is alright”. when they catch you in the street you go protective over the kids and wife putting your discomfort aside. “little one it’s okay, look at mama, everything is okay. scarlett, baby, come closer to me. it’s okay”. when you’re alone, you just hide behind a hoodie hood. you rarely talk to the microphones and usually only offer politely smile and shield your anxious eyes.

scarlett never saw you crying in the years you’ve been together and probably she thought she would never. this until your wedding day arrived. oh, boy! the moment you saw her walking down the aisle you started crying for her endlessly beauty and the overwhelming love you have for her. after that you cried again, much harder, when your little girl was born. scarlett loves teasing you a lot about it. you blush rolling your eyes playfully and dismissing her with a groan.

you rarely fight but when you do, and it’s always for silly things, it doesn’t take much to crack the hard shell. one of you crawl in the arms of the other not much more than 1 hour later. you’re an ambassador so your job is to make peace, after toxic experiences in your past relationship, your communication level is high and you’re lucky enough to have found scarlett that is on the same page as yours. scarlett would hold you close and kiss the crown of your head. “i’m so sorry my love, i promise to work better on these things.” you would kiss her knuckles and whisper “i’m sorry too, baby, we’ll work on them together.”

at the end of the day it’s just you and your wife. you softly sway in the gold sunrise painting your skins. scarlett arms wrapped around your neck cradling the glass of wine between her hands while she leans to ghost your lips. your hand on her hip, the other hold your glass of wine close to the chest. you both hum the song that is putted on the background while behind you food cooks on the stove and mixes with the noises of the city. it’s peaceful, it’s a paradise, it’s you and the love of your life in a life that isn’t perfect, but has a glimpse of perfection shared together.

a/n: pt.2? nsfw part?

[emjayewrites]

fouled by fate • aurelien tchouameni (8/10)

SYNOPSIS: Aurélien Tchouaméni, one of football’s rising stars, is used to navigating the pressures of the pitch—but nothing could prepare him for an arranged marriage. With his family’s legacy and cultural traditions at stake, Aurélien reluctantly agrees to marry a woman he barely knows. But as they’re thrust into the public eye, sparks fly in unexpected ways. The two must navigate the complexities of love, duty, and fame, all while figuring out if they’re playing on the same team—or if their hearts are destined for different paths.

PAIRINGS: Aurélien Tchouaméni x Zuri Awanto Nchang (faceclaim Samira Ahmed @/iamsamiira)

WARNINGS: cursing, football b.s., dry humor/wit, slight arguing, friends to lovers, instant attraction, angst, eventual smut (18+/minors dni)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @essaysbyciara @saturnville @trentswrld @planetmimi @muglermami @shepgurl @sucredreamer @julescpu @tchouathon @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @bbgkoo @lottins-only @pepfectionary

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be removed from the tag list Thank you again for your love and appreciation!

Aurélien sat in his living room in Madrid, the familiar hum of clippers buzzing as his barber worked carefully on his taper fade. The sharp scent of aftershave filled the air, and he leaned back, trying to ease the tension that had been building since his father’s call. His foot, still recovering from the sprain, rested on an ottoman. It was healing, but the slow process frustrated him.

Zuri’s dad, meanwhile, still hadn’t returned her calls. Days had passed, and Aurélien could see the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. Her father had always been tough, but this silence? It felt like a new low.

His barber finished up, brushing off the stray hairs before stepping back to admire his work. "Looking fresh, my guy," he said with a grin, handing Aurélien a mirror.

Aurélien checked out the cut, nodding his approval. "Appreciate it, bro. Always on point."

As the barber packed up his tools, the smell of Zuri’s cooking started wafting through the house, drawing him toward the kitchen. He limped over, leaning against the counter to watch her work. She moved with a natural rhythm, dicing vegetables with ease. The scent of fried plantains and chicken filled the space, reminding him of the comforting meals his mother often cooked.

"What’s on the menu today, chef?" Aurélien asked, half-teasing, though genuinely curious.

Zuri glanced over her shoulder, smiling softly. "Poulet DG. One of my mom's quick meals—chicken, veggies, and fried plantains. Easy and satisfying."

Aurélien chuckled. "You know how much I love plantains.”

"You better behave, or I’ll eat it all myself," Zuri joked, stirring the pot.

He watched her for a moment, then stepped closer, his voice soft. “How you holding up? Your dad still hasn’t called back.”

Zuri sighed, her hand pausing on the spoon. “Yeah. It’s exhausting, waiting for him to get over himself.”

Aurélien wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. Together. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Zuri leaned into him briefly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit. “I know. Thanks, Aurél.”

"Need any help in here?" he asked, though they both knew he was a disaster in the kitchen.

Zuri laughed softly, shaking her head. “You can help by staying right where you are and letting me work.”

Aurélien raised his hands in surrender, stepping back to lean against the counter again, content to watch her. “Fine. But if I burn anything next time, it’s on you for not teaching me.”

Zuri snorted. “Trust me, I’m doing us both a favor by keeping you away from the stove.”

As the smell of the food intensified, Aurélien couldn't help but appreciate the moment—the calm before any potential storms. Zuri was here, cooking in their space, and despite everything with her dad, they had this. And that was something worth savoring.

"So, what do you think?" Zuri asked, glancing over at him. "Think your mom would approve of my cooking?"

Aurélien grinned, shaking his head. "Oh, she’s gonna love you even more. Especially with this dish." He paused for a beat, then added, "Speaking of which, she called earlier. Said she and Dad want to have dinner with us soon."

Zuri raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. "That sounds serious."

"Nothing we can’t handle," he said, his voice low and confident. "But maybe don’t tell them I almost set the kitchen on fire last time I helped you cook.”

Zuri laughed, the sound light and easy, setting the finished plate down in front of him. "Don’t worry, that’s our little secret."

He reached out to pull her closer by the waist, his eyes warm as he looked up at her. "It better be."

Zuri leaned in, brushing a kiss to his lips. "You’re a mess."

"Your mess, bébé," Aurélien murmured against her lips, his hand resting at the small of her back. He savored the moment before pulling back, eyes glancing down at the plate she’d set in front of him. “Now, let me taste this masterpiece.”

Zuri laughed, handing him a fork. “Masterpiece might be a stretch. But I’m proud of it.”

Aurélien dug in, taking a bite of the sautéed chicken and plantains. His eyes widened, and he nodded in appreciation. “Damn, Zuri. This is really good.”

“Better than your UberEats orders?” she teased, leaning against the counter as she watched him eat.

Aurélien’s grin turned mischievous as he finished chewing, his gaze flicking up to meet Zuri’s. “Way better. You’re gonna spoil me at this rate," he said, then added in a low voice, "But don’t worry, I’ll find ways to return the favor. Just like I did in Paris.”

Zuri raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smirk as she leaned against the counter. “Oh, is that so? You mean how you couldn’t keep your hands off me all weekend?”

“Exactly.” Aurélien’s eyes darkened with desire as he set down his fork, leaning back in his chair. “You know you started something, right? Ever since that weekend, I’ve been counting the days until I could have you like that again. Paris changed everything.”

Zuri’s breath caught as she remembered that weekend—how they’d explored the city by day, but as soon as the sun set, the rest of the world faded away. The way Aurélien had looked at her like he couldn’t get enough, like each touch only made him crave her more.

“Changed everything?” she asked, her voice softening, though her heartbeat quickened as his words settled in.

He stood up slowly, his foot still tender but his hunger for her more apparent than ever as he walked toward her. “Yeah. Now I can’t stop thinking about how good you feel, how perfect you are.” His hands found her waist, pulling her gently against him as he murmured into her ear, “Every time I look at you, all I want to do is have you, Zuri. Like in Paris, like every damn night since.”

Zuri’s pulse raced, and she bit her lip, trying to keep her cool, but the heat in his gaze was undeniable. “Is that right?” she asked, her tone teasing but her body already responding to the closeness between them. “You can’t get enough of me, huh?”

Aurélien’s hands slid down her sides, squeezing her hips as he leaned in, his lips grazing her neck. “Not even close. Paris was just the beginning.”

The weekend had started with stolen glances and innocent touches, but by the end, it was clear—they’d crossed a line neither of them wanted to go back from. Late nights in their hotel room, tangled in sheets, every moment only intensifying the connection between them.

Zuri laughed softly, her hands running up his chest. “You’ve been insatiable ever since,” she teased, but her voice was breathy, her body remembering how he had taken his time with her, learning every inch of her.

He kissed the side of her neck, his voice low and husky. “You bring it out of me. I’m not gonna apologize for that.”

Zuri shivered, her fingers curling into his shirt. "Good, because I don’t want you to.”

Aurélien’s hands roamed down her back, fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shorts. His touch was warm, deliberate, and full of promise. Zuri’s breath hitched when his hands found her ass, squeezing firmly as he pulled her closer to him. "Maybe I should get a little taste of dessert," he murmured against her ear, his lips barely brushing her skin.

Zuri’s heart raced at his words, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Greedy,” she shot back, her voice breathy as his hands slid further down.

His chuckle was low, vibrating against her neck as his fingertips teased the waistband of her shorts. “Can you blame me?” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “Especially when you walk around like this, knowing what it does to me.”

Before she could respond, Aurélien lifted her effortlessly, setting her down on the kitchen counter. The cool marble beneath her thighs made her shiver, contrasting sharply with the heat between them. He spread her legs with ease, positioning himself between them as his hands gripped her hips.

“You know I can’t resist you in these tiny shorts,” he murmured, his eyes dark as he slowly peeled them down, revealing the edge of her lace underwear.

Zuri felt the tension rise between them as Aurélien’s gaze raked over her body. “You wear this just to torture me,” he continued, his voice playful, but there was an edge to it—something darker, more primal.

“Maybe I did,” she whispered, her breath catching when his fingers traced the edge of her panties.

Aurélien smirked, his fingers now gliding over the fabric, brushing her inner thighs. “Is that so?” His voice was low, rough, as he leaned forward, kissing her slowly, teasingly. But he didn’t linger long on her lips. Instead, he pulled back, his hands slipping under her shirt, fingertips grazing her skin.

He lifted her shirt just enough to reveal her bra, his eyes flicking up to meet hers as he pushed the fabric aside, exposing her pierced nipples. His gaze darkened, a low groan escaping his throat as his thumb brushed over the cool metal. “These piercings… they drive me crazy,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “You know that, right?”

Zuri bit her lip, her chest rising and falling with anticipation. “You’ve mentioned it a few times,” she teased, her voice wavering as his thumb circled one of her nipples, the combination of his touch and the piercing sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through her body.

“Can’t get enough of them,” he murmured, dipping his head down, his mouth closing over her nipple, tugging lightly on the barbell with his teeth. The sensation was electric, and Zuri arched her back, her hands tangling in his hair as he lavished attention on her sensitive skin.

His other hand slid beneath her panties, fingers slipping between her folds, finding her already wet and ready for him. Aurélien groaned against her breast, his fingers moving slowly, teasingly, as his thumb pressed against her clit in slow circles. "You’re soaked for me, ma belle," he whispered against her skin, his voice hoarse.

Zuri moaned softly, her hips bucking toward his hand, but Aurélien kept his movements slow, torturous. "Patience, ZuZu."

His mouth traveled from one pierced nipple to the other, his tongue flicking over the metal and sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. At the same time, his fingers moved deeper inside her, curling in just the right spot that made her toes curl.

Zuri’s breath was coming in short, ragged gasps as her body responded to his every touch. "Aurélien," she gasped, her hands gripping the counter behind her for support. "I need you…"

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his fingers still working their magic between her legs. “Tell me what you need,” he said, his voice dark and commanding. “I want to hear you say it.”

Her head fell back as pleasure coiled tightly in her core, her body teetering on the edge. “I need you… faster,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with desperation.

Aurélien’s eyes lit up with satisfaction, a wicked smile tugging at his lips. “That’s all you had to say.” His fingers moved faster, his thumb pressing harder against her clit as he kissed her again, this time deeper, more urgent.

Zuri’s body trembled, her orgasm building as Aurélien’s fingers pushed her closer to the edge. His mouth returned to her nipples, sucking and teasing, and it was too much—her body tensed, and with one final stroke of his fingers, she came hard, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

Aurélien didn’t stop, his fingers still moving, drawing out her release as she trembled beneath him. When she finally came down from her high, he kissed her softly, his hands gently stroking her thighs as she caught her breath.

“How’s that for a little taste of dessert?” he teased, his lips brushing hers in a soft, lingering kiss.

Zuri laughed breathlessly, still tingling from his touch. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned, his eyes full of mischief. “And you love it.”

There was a sudden, sharp knock on the front door. Zuri and Aurélien froze for a moment, both of them still caught in the haze of their recent passion. A second knock came, louder this time, followed by a heavy banging that rattled the frame.

"What the…?" Zuri muttered, straightening herself on the counter. Aurélien raised an eyebrow, his hands still resting on her thighs as he glanced toward the door.

"Probably one of the guys," Aurélien shrugged casually, though his brow furrowed slightly at the intensity of the banging. "They've been wanting to check in, see how things are going since we got back from Paris."

Zuri nodded, quickly pulling her shorts back on and adjusting her shirt. She made sure her nipple piercings were covered, still feeling the warmth from Aurélien's mouth lingering on her skin. "I'll go fix myself up a bit," she said, smoothing her hair before she turned to head down the hallway.

"Yeah, better look somewhat decent if it's them," Aurélien smirked, giving her a quick wink as he stepped over to the sink to wash his hands, the water running as he scrubbed away the remnants of their intimate moment.

He limped slightly as he walked toward the door, his body still relaxed from what they'd just shared. His fingers tightened around the doorknob, twisting it open with a slight wince. He expected to see Hugo or Manuel on the other side, maybe even Julio, with some lighthearted banter.

But instead, standing there was Zuri's father, Ernest Awanto Nchang.

Aurélien blinked, his hand still gripping the doorknob, his expression quickly shifting from casual to guarded. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he instinctively straightened up, despite the slight limp in his leg.

"Monsieur Awanto Nchang?" Aurélien asked, bewildered. "Que faites-vous ici?" ("What are you doing here?")

Ernest's face was unreadable, but there was a coldness in his eyes that made Aurélien's stomach knot up. He had always felt tension with Zuri's father, but this… this was different.

"Je suis ici pour emmener Zuri," Ernest said bluntly, his voice hard as steel. ("I'm here to take Zuri.")

Aurélien's confusion deepened, his eyes narrowing as he tried to understand what was going on. "L'emmener? Que voulez-vous dire?" ("Take her? What do you mean?") His hand tightened slightly on the door, instinctively protective.

Before Ernest could respond, Zuri appeared at the end of the hallway, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of her father standing in the doorway.

"Papa?" she said, her voice filled with surprise and concern. She quickly walked over, glancing between Aurélien and Ernest. "What's going on?"

Ernest's gaze shifted from Aurélien to Zuri, his expression softening just a bit as he looked at his daughter, but the tension remained. "It's time to come home, Zuri. Enough of this arrangement." His words were clipped, authoritative, as if he had already made the decision for her.

Zuri's face fell, confusion and frustration warring in her expression. She hadn't expected this.

Aurélien, still standing in the doorway, felt his pulse quicken. His protective instincts kicked in, and his hand gently reached out to rest on the small of Zuri's back, offering silent support. "Mr. Awanto Nchang, with all due respect, Zuri's staying here."

Ernest's eyes flickered toward Aurélien's hand, and then back to his face, his expression darkening. "This isn't about you, Aurélien. This is about what's best for my daughter."

Aurélien's jaw clenched, his frustration mounting. "Monsieur, notre fiançailles est finale," he said, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. "Elle a été bénie par les anciens et nos familles." ("Sir, our engagement is final. It has been blessed by the elders and our families.")

Ernest's eyes flashed dangerously. "Jusqu'à ce que Zuri soit mariée avec toi, j'ai le droit de rompre cet arrangement. Ce que je fais maintenant." ("Until Zuri is married to you, I have the right to break this arrangement. Which I am doing now.")

Zuri, who had been following the exchange with growing alarm, suddenly burst out, "Are you fucking kidding me? Papa, are you really doing all this crazy shit?"

Ernest's face contorted with rage. He raised his hand, moving it towards Zuri's face in a threatening gesture. "How dare you speak to me like that—"

In an instant, Aurélien stepped between them, his body a solid wall protecting Zuri. His eyes blazed with fury as he stared down Ernest. "Don't you dare touch her," he growled, his accent thickening with emotion. "Step away now, or I'll call the police. You're on my property, uninvited and unwelcome."

Ernest's nostrils flared, his hand still raised. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Just then, the sound of car doors slamming broke through the standoff. Aurélien's friends - Hugo, Manuel, and Julio - were approaching, their expressions shifting from casual to concerned as they took in the scene before them.

Seeing he was now outnumbered, Ernest lowered his hand slowly, his eyes never leaving Aurélien's face. "This isn't over," he spat. "I'll be back for Zuri. You can't keep her from her family."

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed away, brushing past the bewildered group of friends.

Aurélien's body remained tense, his arm still protectively around Zuri as they watched Ernest drive away. He turned to her, his eyes softening with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked gently, his thumb brushing away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen.

Zuri nodded, her body trembling slightly as the adrenaline began to ebb. "I can't believe he… I never thought he'd…"

"Shh," Aurélien soothed, pulling her close. "It's okay."

As Hugo, Manuel, and Julio approached, their faces etched with worry and confusion, Aurélien knew that this was far from over. But as he held Zuri in his arms, feeling her heartbeat against his chest, he made a silent vow. No matter what came next, he would protect her. Their love, their engagement, their future - he would fight for it all.

Zuri found herself perched on the edge of her bed, the muffled sounds of male laughter and the soft clack of pool balls drifting up from the basement. She stared at her phone, her father's unexpected visit replaying in her mind like a bad movie on loop.

The audacity of it all made her head spin. Her father had flown all the way from New York City to Madrid on some misguided rescue mission. The same man who, just a week ago, had coldly informed her she no longer had a home in NYC. The irony wasn't lost on her.

"He's lost his damn mind," Zuri muttered to herself, her fingers hovering over her mother's contact. With a deep breath, she hit the call button.

Her mother answered on the third ring, her voice a mixture of concern and fatigue. "Zuri? Are you alright?"

"Mom, you've got to talk some sense into Papa," Zuri said, cutting straight to the chase. "He showed up here, and tried to drag me back to New York. It's insane."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, filled only by her mother's soft sigh. "Your father is... concerned, Zuri. He says Aurélien is hurting you."

Zuri's eyes widened in disbelief. "Hurting me? Mom, that's ridiculous. The only thing Aurélien's hurting is my—" She bit her tongue, the words 'vagina' dying on her lips. That's neither here nor there, she thought, shaking her head. "Look, Mom," Zuri continued, her voice taking on a pleading tone. "You can't be complacent in this. Papa's behavior is beyond strange. It's destructive."

"I understand you're upset, sweetheart, but your father—"

"No, Mom," Zuri interrupted, frustration coloring her words. "You need to call him out on this. Tell him to go back to New York."

Her mother's silence spoke volumes. Zuri could almost see her, standing in their Brooklyn home, torn between her husband's delusions and her daughter's pleas.

A beep in Zuri's ear signaled another incoming call. She glanced at the screen – it was her brother, Malik.

"Mom, I've got to go. Malik's calling," Zuri said, her voice softening slightly. "Please, talk to Papa. Make him see reason. If he doesn't go back to New York soon, I'll... I'll have to take drastic measures to handle this."

She ended the call before her mother could respond, quickly switching over to Malik's call.

"Hey, big brother," she said, trying to inject some lightness into her voice.

"Zuri," Malik's deep voice came through, laced with concern. "I just heard about Papa's little Spanish vacation. You okay?"

Zuri let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, you know, just another day in the Awanto Nchang family drama."

"Want me on the next flight out? I can be there by tomorrow."

The offer warmed Zuri's heart, reminding her that not all of her family had lost their minds. "Thanks, Malik. But I think I need to handle this one on my own. Just... keep an eye on things back home, yeah?"

After a few more minutes of reassurances and sibling banter, Zuri hung up. She sat there for a moment, letting the weight of everything settle on her shoulders. Then, with a determined set to her jaw, she stood up.

The basement beckoned, promising the comfort of Aurélien's presence and the distraction of his friends' camaraderie. As she made her way down the stairs, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses grew louder.

Zuri paused at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the scene before her. Aurélien was bent over the pool table, his brow furrowed in concentration as he lined up a shot. Hugo and Manuel stood nearby while Julio lounged on a worn leather couch, idly scrolling through his phone.

The normalcy of it all hit Zuri like a punch to the gut. Here, in this basement, life went on. Pool balls clacked, jokes were shared, and the world kept spinning. Yet upstairs, her world felt like it was teetering on the edge of chaos.

Aurélien looked up then, his eyes finding hers across the room. His face softened immediately, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Without a word, he straightened up, abandoning his shot to cross the room towards her.

As he reached her, his hand found the small of her back, a gesture so familiar now it felt like coming home. "Everything okay?" he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Zuri leaned into him, drawing strength from his solid presence. "Not really," she admitted. "But it will be."

Aurélien's arm tightened around her, a silent promise of support. Zuri felt the eyes of his friends on them, a mixture of concern and curiosity evident in their gazes.

Great, now I'm the damsel in distress. Just what I needed.

"Come on," Aurélien murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "Let's go upstairs."

They climbed the stairs, leaving the muffled sounds of pool and conversation behind. As they passed through the living room, they spotted Zeus sprawled on his back on the couch, legs akimbo, snoring softly. The sight of the massive dog looking so undignified brought a smile to Zuri's face.

Aurélien chuckled, shaking his head. "Look at that lazy bum. You'd think he was the one dealing with family drama."

"Maybe he's stress-sleeping for us," Zuri quipped, grateful for the moment of levity.

They began their ascent, Aurélien's hand never leaving the small of her back. Zuri found herself hyper-aware of his touch, of the soft grunt he made with each step as he favored his injured foot.

What now? her mind raced as they reached the loft. Do we talk about my crazy father? Pretend nothing happened? Is there a protocol for dealing with your fiancé after your dad tries to kidnap you?

But as they entered the bedroom and Aurélien turned to her, his eyes warm and understanding, some of her anxiety melted away. His gaze trailed over her, taking in the tension in her shoulders, the worry lines creasing her forehead.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked softly, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.

Zuri leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment. "Not really," she admitted. "Can we just... be normal for a bit?"

"Normal, huh? I can do normal," Aurélien nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "But hey," he said softly, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. "I just want you to know that this is about us now. You and me."

Zuri's breath caught in her throat at the intensity in his eyes. "Us," she repeated, the word feeling both foreign and right on her tongue.

"Yeah, us," Aurélien affirmed. "Whatever your father tries, whatever anyone tries, we face it together. Okay?"

Zuri nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear those words until this moment.

As Aurélien leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a soft, reassuring kiss, Zuri felt some of her worries melt away. His mouth was warm against hers, gentle yet insistent. She sighed into the kiss, her hand coming up to cup the nape of his neck.

Aurélien deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips before slipping inside. Zuri met him eagerly, tasting the faint hint of the beer he'd been drinking earlier. His hand slid down her side, coming to rest on her hip, his thumb tracing lazy circles there.

Just as Zuri was losing herself in the sensation, a loud knock on the bedroom door startled them apart.

"Yo, Aurélien!" Hugo's voice called from the other side. "There's a pot of something delicious-smelling in the kitchen. Mind if we have some?"

Aurélien groaned, dropping his forehead to Zuri's shoulder for a moment before calling back, "Sure, help yourselves!"

Zuri couldn't help but giggle at the frustration in his voice. Aurélien lifted his head, rolling his eyes, though there was no real annoyance in the gesture.

"Sorry about that," he murmured, his thumb caressing her cheek. "Where were we?"

Before Zuri could respond, he captured her lips again in a brief, searing kiss that left her breathless.

When they parted, Aurélien's eyes were dark with desire. "Are you sleeping in my bed tonight?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Zuri arched an eyebrow. "Haven't I for the past couple of days?"

"Yes," Aurélien nodded, "but I thought maybe after your father showing up, you would want to be alone."

The concern in his voice touched her. "No," Zuri said softly, running her hand down his chest. "I'll stay with you."

A slow, wicked grin spread across Aurélien's face. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Perfect. So I can finish having my dessert later?"

Zuri rolled her eyes, even as a warmth bloomed in her belly at his words. "You're horny as hell," she said, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice.

Aurélien's grin widened. "I'm always horny when you're involved," he said, his hand sliding down to squeeze her ass playfully.

Zuri yelped in surprise, then dissolved into laughter. As Aurélien joined in, his deep chuckles rumbling through his chest, Zuri felt the last of the day's tension drain away.

Later that evening, the house was much quieter. Aurélien’s friends had crashed in the guest rooms, their boisterous energy finally simmered down after a night of joking, catching up, and reminiscing about the past few weeks. But Aurélien’s mind wasn’t at ease.

He stood in the living room, staring at the security panel on the wall. After Ernest’s unexpected visit, Aurélien had immediately changed the code, his frustration still simmering beneath the surface. He wasn’t sure if Ernest had found out the old code somehow, but it didn’t sit well with him. Zuri’s father had crossed a line, and the thought of him showing up unannounced made Aurélien’s protective instincts flare. He even debated calling someone to upgrade the entire security system.

He clenched his jaw, running a hand over his face. The anger he felt toward Ernest hadn’t completely faded. But it wasn’t just anger—it was the pressure he felt to prove to Zuri that he wasn’t just another phase in her life. He wanted to show her he was serious. That he needed her, craved her in ways that he hadn't even anticipated. The deeper they got into this relationship—whatever it was—the more he found himself falling for her. And not just physically.

It was the way she made him laugh, the way she challenged him, the way she didn’t back down, even when he knew she had her own fears and uncertainties. Aurélien had never expected to feel like this, but now that he did, there was no going back. He wanted Zuri to know. Maybe he hadn’t told her outright yet, but he hoped that his actions had shown her.

His thoughts drifted to the woman waiting for him upstairs. She was all he could think about. Ernest’s sudden intrusion had shaken things, but now he needed to refocus—on her, on them.

Aurélien limped up the stairs, his foot still aching from the injury, but the dull pain did nothing to deter his desire for her. The moment he entered the bedroom, he saw Zuri sitting on the bed, her back against the headboard, flipping through her phone. She looked up as he approached, a soft smile on her lips.

"Hey," she said, her voice calm but still laced with the exhaustion of the evening’s events.

Aurélien didn’t say anything, just crossed the room to her, his eyes locked on hers. He climbed onto the bed, his movements steady and calculated, his hands finding her thighs as he gently pulled her down onto the mattress. Zuri raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest, letting him take control.

"Finishing my dessert," Aurélien murmured, his voice low, almost a growl, as he settled between her legs. His hands roamed over her body, tracing the curve of her waist, and the smoothness of her skin. His lips followed, leaving heated kisses along her neck, down to her chest. The way her breath hitched as he took his time, tasting her, only made him want her more.

Zuri gasped as his hands moved lower, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her shorts, pulling them down with ease. There was a slow, deliberate pace, a continuation of their earlier intimacy. He wanted her to feel everything.

Aurélien's gaze darkened with desire as his hands gripped the hem of Zuri’s panties, tugging them down with the same slow, deliberate motion he’d used on her shorts. She bit her lip, watching him, feeling the anticipation build as he undressed her piece by piece. He knelt back, his fingers curling around the elastic band of his basketball shorts, shimmying them down his hips in one swift motion. Without boxers beneath, his cock sprang free, hitting lightly against his lower stomach. The swollen head glistened with evidence of his arousal, the slick sheen of pre-cum catching the low light of the room. He was hard and ready, and the sight alone made Zuri’s breath catch.

He wasted no time, his shirt following the rest of his clothes as he tossed it aside. His lean, muscular body hovered over her, pressing her deeper into the mattress. His foot throbbed, but it was nothing compared to his need for her. He wanted her to feel good, to forget everything else and focus on them. On this.

Aurélien's lips found hers, kissing her deeply as he entered her, their bodies falling into an easy, familiar rhythm. Zuri moaned softly beneath him, her hands clutching at his back, her nails digging into his skin as he moved.

"Just like that, bébé," Aurélien whispered, his voice rough as he rocked into her. He loved the way she responded to him, the soft gasps, the way her hips rose to meet his thrusts. For the first time, there was no barrier, no thin layer separating their skin, and it drove Aurélien wild. He could feel everything—every tight pulse of her walls as she gripped him, every slick movement as he slid deeper. Every sensation was heightened, more raw, and he couldn’t help but groan as the pleasure washed over him in waves. “You feel so good,” he continued, his forehead pressed against hers, his eyes watching the way her face contorted in pleasure.

He talked her through it, his words a steady stream of praise and encouragement, his deep voice grounding her even as her body trembled beneath him. Zuri’s mouth fell open, but no words escaped, and her eyes fluttered shut – yet her expressive face told him everything he needed to know.

"Yeah, just like that… fuck….ma chérie," he murmured, his pace quickening slightly. The way she responded to him—so open, so uninhibited—made him want to give her everything. He could feel her tightening around him, her breaths coming faster, her fingers gripping his arms as she climbed higher and higher.

His hands roamed over her body, one sliding up to her chest, cupping her breast, his thumb brushing over the piercing that adorned her nipple. He could feel her body trembling beneath him, her moans filling the room as he continued to move inside her.

"Let go for me, bébé," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need. “I want to feel you. Come on my dick.”

And when she did, her body arching beneath his, her moans turning into cries of ecstasy, Aurélien knew without a doubt that he was falling in love with her. He hadn’t said the words yet, but he hoped she could feel it in every touch, in every kiss, in the way he held her like she was the most precious thing in his world.

Because she was.

His jaw clenched, and with a few more deep thrusts, he reached his peak, releasing a guttural moan. He pulled out just in time, his hand wrapping around his length as he spilled onto her stomach, his breath coming in harsh gasps. For a moment, they both stayed there, panting, their bodies buzzing with the aftershocks of pleasure.

Aurélien leaned down, kissing all over her face—her cheeks, her nose, her forehead—before pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "That was a one-time thing," he murmured, his tone playful, but his eyes still dark with lingering desire. "Going in raw like that."

Zuri's chest rose and fell as she caught her breath, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "It’s okay. I’m on birth control," she said, her voice soft but teasing.

Aurélien’s wicked grin returned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You should’ve never told me that," he teased, his hand gently brushing her hair from her face. "Now I’m going to want to ruin you every chance I get."

She laughed, rolling her eyes, but the warmth in her gaze told him that she didn’t mind one bit.

He kissed her again, slow and tender this time, before carefully getting up. He grabbed a towel, returning to her side to clean her up, his touches gentle and reverent. After making sure she was comfortable, he tossed the towel aside and slid back into bed, pulling her close against his chest.

"I got you, ZuZu."

She sighed contentedly, snuggling deeper into his embrace, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

_______________________________________________

The next morning, Aurélien stood outside a quiet café, his eyes scanning the street as he adjusted the collar of his Nike tracksuit. The pain in his foot was a dull throb, but he ignored it. He had something more pressing on his mind—meeting with Zuri’s father, Ernest.

Aurélien had gotten Ernest’s number from his own father, Fernand. He hadn’t told Zuri. She didn’t need the stress, not when things were already so complicated with their relationship.

His mind flashed back to the night before—how connected he’d felt to Zuri, how sure he was that he was falling for her. But Ernest? Ernest was the opposite of reassuring. He had doubts, reservations, and Aurélien was determined to put them to rest.

A sleek black car pulled up, and Ernest stepped out, his expression neutral but his eyes sharp. He was a tall man, with an air of authority that had clearly served him well in business. As he approached, his gaze dropped to Aurélien’s limp, and he raised an eyebrow.

"What happened to your foot?" Ernest asked, not bothering with a greeting, his tone cool and dismissive.

Aurélien’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, but he kept his voice calm. "Just a sprain from training. Nothing serious."

Ernest looked unimpressed, his eyes lingering on the bandage peeking out from Aurélien’s shoe. "Doesn’t look like ‘nothing serious.’ You’re limping like a man twice your age."

"It’ll heal," he said, holding back the urge to roll his eyes. "Let’s cut to the chase."

Ernest crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. “I’ve been wondering why I haven’t received what was promised during the bride price negotiation.”

Aurélien frowned, confused for a second. “What are you talking about?”

Ernest’s jaw tightened. “The car. The one that was supposed to be mine, as part of the agreement.”

Aurélien’s stomach turned. The car? That’s what this was about? Still? “You’re upset about a car? Is that why you’re acting like this? Why you're trying to take Zuri away?”

Ernest’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “That’s not the only reason. You’re young, Aurélien. What did you think this arrangement is about? Zuri was never meant for you. She’s just... a tool, a way to ensure what I wanted. A pawn.” His tone sharpened. “She couldn’t even be a good daughter and help her family, especially with all the money and access you have.”

Aurélien’s blood boiled. “That’s not her job,” he shot back, his voice rising. “She’s your daughter, not your business venture. You’re a poor excuse for a father, using her like that.”

Ernest sucked his teeth, unimpressed. “So sensitive. Just like your father.” He sneered, leaning in closer. “Fernand never knew the real reason behind this arrangement. He thought it was about family ties, but I had my own plans. And now, here you are, getting all worked up.”

Aurélien clenched his fists, anger pulsing through his veins. He wanted to knock Ernest flat, but he caught himself, aware of their surroundings. Losing his cool wouldn’t help Zuri or himself. Instead, he straightened up, forcing a cold smile. “Fuck you,” Aurélien said quietly, his voice full of contempt as he turned to limp away.

But before he could reach his car, Ernest’s hand gripped his arm tightly, yanking him back. “I want Zuri,” Ernest growled, “or what was promised to me.”

Aurélien yanked his arm free, glaring at him. “The only thing promised to you is my fist in your mouth.” He shrugged off Ernest’s hold, turning away as his pulse hammered in his ears.

He got into his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he pulled out of the parking lot. By the time he hit the first red light, the anger surged through him like a tidal wave. He slammed his fists into the steering wheel, cursing under his breath. The whole situation was a mess, and he felt trapped in it. But one thing was clear—Ernest had underestimated him, and Aurélien wasn’t going to back down. Not for Zuri, not for anyone.

Later that day, Zuri found herself walking through the bustling market with Zeus trotting beside her, his leash loosely draped around her wrist. The air was filled with the mingling scents of fresh bread, ripe produce, and street food sizzling on nearby grills. The clamor of vendors calling out to customers blended with the hum of conversations. Normally, this kind of atmosphere would excite her, giving her plenty of inspiration for her social media posts. But today, her mind was elsewhere.

Aurélien walked a few paces ahead, carrying a grocery basket. He hadn’t said much since they left the house, and his usual ease seemed replaced by a distant, brooding energy. His broad shoulders were tense, and even his usual attentive glances at Zeus seemed off. It was as if something heavy was weighing on him.

Zuri watched him out of the corner of her eye, chewing on her lip as they stopped at a stand selling fresh vegetables. She picked up a tomato and examined it absently, her mind still on him. She could tell something was wrong, but she wasn’t sure how to bring it up. Their relationship—if she could even call it that—was still too new, too strange for her to navigate easily. Sure, they'd shared moments here and there, but she hadn’t figured out how to deal with the emotional side of him yet. And from the look of things, he wasn't making it easy.

“You okay?” she asked, trying to sound casual as she placed the tomato in the basket.

Aurélien gave a slight shrug, his eyes scanning the rows of produce. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

Zuri frowned. He wasn’t fine. She’d been around enough people trying to hide their feelings to know when someone was lying, and right now, Aurélien was practically broadcasting it. His jaw was clenched, and there was a certain stiffness to his movements, like he was holding something back.

"You sure?" she pressed, her voice soft but firm.

This time, Aurélien sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before meeting her gaze. “It’s nothing for you to worry about,” he said, his tone gentler, though still guarded.

Zuri wasn’t buying it, but she didn’t push. Instead, she picked up a bunch of cilantro, handing it to him. "Alright," she said, trying to keep things light. "But you know, bottling things up isn’t healthy. Trust me, I’ve tried."

Aurélien huffed a small laugh but said nothing, taking the cilantro and placing it in the basket. They moved to the next stall, and Zuri fell into step beside him, Zeus trotting happily along. She was trying to think of something else to say, anything to break through the thick cloud of tension that seemed to hang over them.

When they reached a stall filled with various fish, Aurélien finally spoke, his voice low and heavy. "Your dad and I met."

Zuri blinked, taken aback. She hadn’t expected him to bring up Ernest, especially not like this. "When?" she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Earlier today," he said, his gaze trained on a bunch of bananas he pretended to consider. "He wanted to talk. About you. About the marriage."

Zuri's stomach dropped. "What did he say?"

"Merde," Aurélien let out a slow breath, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "For real, ZuZu, he sees you as a pawn in a bigger game—something to help build the family up. And he’s still fixated on that fucking car."

Zuri felt a wave of anger wash over her. "What the hell? He told you that?"

"Not in so many words, but it was clear," Aurélien replied, shifting his weight.

Zuri’s heart raced. Hearing that her father had confronted Aurélien made her chest tighten. "And what did you tell him?"

Aurélien turned to face her fully now, his expression serious. "I told him to fuck off. And that I wasn’t planning on backing out of this."

Zuri searched his face, trying to gauge his sincerity. "Is that what’s bothering you? What my dad said?"

Aurélien shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the ground. "It’s not just that," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "This whole situation—it’s a lot. I’m trying to figure it out, just like you are. But having your dad show up… it put more pressure on me. Made everything feel more real."

Zuri swallowed, feeling a mix of emotions swirl in her chest. She understood his frustration; it wasn’t like either of them had asked for this situation. "I didn’t know he was going to do that," she said softly. "I’m sorry if it made things worse."

"It didn’t make things worse," Aurélien said, shaking his head. "It just put things in perspective, like I really have to punch your dad in the mouth."

A small giggle escaped her despite the threat. "We don’t have to have all the answers right now," she said after a moment, her voice gentle. "I’m still figuring this out too, you know? It’s okay if we take it one step at a time."

Aurélien gave her a small, appreciative smile. "I know," he said quietly. "I just don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this."

Zuri's heart softened at that. "And I thank you for that."

"Y'know what would be better?"

She immediately rolled her eyes at him. Of course, his mind was always focused on one thing. "What?"

"A kiss," he replied smoothly, puckering up his full lips into an exaggerated duck face that was both charming and ridiculous.

She scoffed, her annoyance instantly melting away, and stood on her tiptoes to place a teasingly brief kiss on his lips. But when they pulled apart, Aurélien wore a slight frown, and her brows knitted together in confusion. "Are you ever satisfied?"

Kissing his teeth, he shook his head disapprovingly. "No, seriously, what was that? Next time, you have to really lay one on me."

"Aurélien!" she chastised, swatting his chest playfully, though her heart raced at his boldness.

"I’m serious," he insisted, his voice dropping an octave, "especially after my tongue has been all up inside—"

Before he could finish that thought, Zuri surged forward, capturing his lips with hers once more. This time, it was anything but chaste. Their mouths melded together with heat and desire, perfectly in sync as Aurélien's hands tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. He growled softly, deepening their kiss, his teeth grazing her bottom lip as they parted.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and playful as he leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. "Now we can have make-up sex at home."

Zuri laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You’re truly a mess."

"Your mess," he countered with a playful wink, squeezing her waist affectionately, the mischief in his eyes igniting something thrilling within her.

TO BE CONTINUED....Read Chapter 9

[room-surprise]

WHITE RICE IS YOUR FAVORITE FOOD, RIGHT? 

Rice has historically been the staple food of the Japanese people, and a fundamental part of most meals. Its importance is evident from the fact that the word for cooked rice, gohan or meshi, is synonymous with "meal" in Japanese, much like how the word “meal” in English comes from the milled grain (meal/flour) that used to be the foundation of every meal European people ate. 

Since Japan is an island nation, both spices and meat were rare commodities in the past. Rice, vegetables and fish with minimal seasoning are the main components of the traditional Japanese diet. 

This is why when Maizuru begins to prepare food for Toshiro, she immediately starts cooking rice, since it's the part of the meal that will take the longest to cook, and no matter what else they eat, rice will always be the foundation and the bulk of the food they consume. This is also why she's protective of the rice, and doesn't allow Izutsumi to help prepare it: no matter how good any other ingredient might be, if the rice isn’t good, it could ruin the rest of the meal, and IIzutsumi might ruin the rice by tainting it with her presence, or bad behavior.

(Or so Maizuru probably thinks.)

The ubiquity of white rice in Japanese cuisine is the basis for a subtle joke in Chapter 40, where Laios assumes white rice is Toshiro’s favorite food.

While on the one hand, this joke has racist overtones (European man thinks Asian man's favorite food is white rice), it's very likely also based on the fact that Laios has probably seen Toshiro try to eat white rice every time he possibly can, so he must really like it, right? The idea of eating white rice with every meal would be alien to Laios, so he'd never think that someone who eats it so frequently might not love it.

In actuality, Toshiro’s favorite food is soba… Which is funny because “soba” is the word Japanese people often use to refer to any kind of noodle, so while he doesn’t like cheese, Toshiro might be enjoying Mediterranean-style noodle dishes while he’s on Merini Island! They have so many foreign types of soba! How exciting!

(Excerpt from my Dungeon Meshi essay about cultural references.)

[caorann8]

Grief in Dawntrail

Alrighty, here are my thoughts as a funeral director having finished Dawntrail. Obviously spoilers under the cut.

When someone says a game feels like work, that’s normally a bad thing. In this case it’s not. Two of Dawntrail’s themes are community/their different cultures and grief and while they’re explored more separately in the two halves of the story they are intrinsically linked. Funerals at their core are about remembering the person who’s died and coming together to support each other and remember the person. Even with the decline of “traditional” funerals, people who are just having a cremation and nothing else from the funeral home often say they’ll have something at home with their friends and family.

This is why Sphene pissed me off from the start. With the Yok Huy we see a beautiful funeral tradition. The body may return to the mountains but their legacy will always remain for their community to read and remember over and over again, even for future generations. Meanwhile Sphene echo’s the same message, “You will never die so long as you’re remembered” but then removes the memories as a misguided attempt to protect her people. They aren’t remembered, they’re actively forgotten by their entire community until those people die too.

Death and grief are complicated things. Something we learn in school is there are no stages as most people think. It’s a roller coaster that goes forward and back, has good days and bad days, and will sometimes crop up years later. What lessens it is allowing yourself to process it, and support from friends/family/community helps immensely. By denying them these memories, Sphene denies them growth and stronger bonds. A friend of mine said the people of Alexandria wouldn’t survive the Final Days and I agree. We even see this in the WoL! How many times are we able to quote Haurchefant or other characters who have died but made an impact on our journey? Even Emet-Selch asks us to remember them. The ancient’s love, their follies, the good and bad. While grief hurts in so many different ways, we often come out on the other side better, whether that be with new tools, new outlooks, or even just relief that the person isn’t suffering.

And this doesn’t just apply to people we care for. Look at the death of Zoraal Ja. Wuk Lamat hated him and he’d abandoned Gulool Ja. Regret or joy that it’s over are valid feelings . Both grieved in their own ways and had support to work through it. The fact that they were actively told to take a break to process everything, both after his death and after the attack on Tullioyal, was a beautiful touch. Grief is exhausting after all.

Finally, I want to talk about my experience going through Living Memory. That’s the part that truly felt like my work. Just sitting and listening to people say their final goodbyes to their loved ones. Some crying, some laughing at good memories, some angry, but all taking that moment. I didn’t cry really (except Cahcuia, that one got me), I got choked up and there was a heaviness for a lot of it, but there’s a joy in knowing nothing’s left unsaid. Even deleting the areas didn’t affect me much. They each got their last hurrah, like a eulogy at a service or stories shared over a meal. Plus the knowledge that reincarnation exists in FFXIV means they’ll be able to enjoy life again.

At the end of the day grief, in all its forms from the end of relationships, to what could’ve been, to death of a loved one, shouldn’t be swept under a rug. When people find out I’m a funeral director I often get asked if it’s “depressing with all the crying” and I always reply that I hear laughter coming from visitation rooms more often than tears.

[romanticinlove]

So American

Summary: celebrating the 4th of July with Jude for the first time

Jude Bellingham x American!Reader

a/n: Happy 4th of July! (RAHHHH)

Word Count: 1.2K

_________________________________________

Living in the UK for the past couple of years had proven to be an amazing decision. Not only because you were able to take your dream job, but also because you met Jude Bellingham. You and him had been dating since you originally met his mother, who set the two of you up. You loved spending time with him and you loved getting to know him. He also loved everything about you. He loved your sense of humor, your smile, your beauty but most importantly he loved your accent. Because you came from the US, you had an American accent. He loved hearing you talk and hearing how you would say things so differently. Usually, people would describe him as a talkative guy, but with you, he was all ears.

He would often ask you things like:

"Are the portion sizes really that big in America?"

or

"What's your guys' obsession with ice in drinks"

or your personal favorite

"Why do you guys do a British accent for no reason?"

You had no problem answering all his questions because you loved how curious he was. You also asked your fair share of questions, but Jude seemed to have a never-ending list of questions for you. Since moving to the UK, you had only been back to visit your family in the US a couple of times. You were feeling homesick again and decided to try and plan a trip to go back home. In fact, you decided that you would go home for the upcoming holiday. You originally thought to go alone, but you had an amazing idea. It would be great for Jude to see American culture up close, since he was always so curious. And what better day to bring him, than the 4th of July. You decided to buy the tickets and surprise him later that night.

When Jude arrived to your apartment that night for dinner, you both ate and then you decided to share your surprise.

"Ok, I may have bought something for us" You stated when you were both cleaning up after your meal.

"Oh? sounds awfully suspicious. Did you get a dog?" Jude asked excitedly. You tilted your head in confusion

"what? No, I did not get a dog, this surprise is a little bit bigger"

"hmm, ok what is it then?"

"Ok I got us plane tickets to go on a trip to the US!" You told him. His eyes lit up with excitement again and you were happy that it made him happy.

The next couple of weeks leading up to your trip, you were secretly planning everything you guys would do together. You didn't want him to know anything just yet. The flight went smoothly and you both got the US safe and sound. You decided to stay in a hotel to further keep things a secret. Your first two days were spent going out to eat at new places, sight seeing and seeing around. On the 4th, You met up with your family and spent the day at the lake, it was a tradition. You and Jude got in the water and were playing volleyball with some of your family and friends from home. The plan was to spend all day at the lake, have a barbecue back at your parents house and watch the fireworks at a nearby park.

"Wow I can tell that you guys take this holiday very seriously" Jude said. You had both seen a guy on a jetski wearing swim trunks with the American flag on them while also being surrounded by more flags that were attached to the jetski.

"Oh yeah, this is the biggest day of the year around these parts" You told him as you both decided to go back and eat some snacks and relax for a bit. Since you got the US, Jude was non-stop. If you thought he asked a lot of questions before, now it was every second.

"Should I even be celebrating this holiday with you? I feel like i'm the enemy on this day" Jude told you when you were explaining more about the holiday to him.

"no you're not the enemy, you are not the British monarchy. You just have that adorable accent" You said to him. He smiled and continued to ask more questions.

Later than night when you were all back at your parents house, you had had enough food to feed a village and you were completely full, well you thought. When your mom turned on the fire pit in your backyard, and brought out things for s'mores, you forgot all about your full stomach.

"Oh Jude c'mon, you have to get a s'more" You said while dragging him to the fire.

"More? more what? I think I've tried everything" Jude stated confused.

"No a s'more, it's a dessert"

"Oh ok, where is it?" Jude asked

"You have to make your own silly, I'll teach you" You spoke too soon. Jude ended up burning all his marshmallows and you ended up having to make one for him. At first we was questioning this particular food. He thought it would be too sweet and that he wouldn't like it. He was right in that it was very sweet, but he did really like it. He had one more, but no matter how many more he wanted to get, his stomach wouldn't let him. The sun was going to be setting soon so your family decided it was time to head over to the nearby park.

"Where is everyone going? I thought there were fireworks" Jude asked very confused and a bit disappointed that maybe he wouldn't be able to see them.

"There are! we are going to go see the right now." You explained as you and him got up, picked up one of the many outdoor blankets in your house and began to walk. There was a park near your house that would always display such a nice firework show. When you arrived at the park, you sat on your blankets in the grass and waited for the show to start. When the sun was down, and the sky was officially dark, the show started. the first firework went off suddenly and it startled Jude. He went to grab your arm and you rubbed his arm in comfort. As the rest of the fireworks went off, you looked over at Jude. He was looking at all the fireworks in complete awe, he had seen fireworks before, but they were smaller ones. He was very happy that he was able to experience this with you. As you were watching the fireworks, he kissed your forehead and continued watching them.

Later that night when you both got back to the hotel and were ready for bed, you began to ask him about his day.

"So, final thoughts on today?" You asked him as you got into bed next to him.

"I now understand why Americans are so proud. I mean that was crazy. All of today was insane, I had so much fun, Thank you for bringing me here today." Jude told you.

"of course, I love sharing things with you, besides, you love American culture, how could I not bring you?"

"Well I wouldn't say I love American culture"

"what are you talking about? You're always asking me about it?"

"yeah, because I love you, and you just so happen to be American. And because I love your accent"

"aww, I love you too"

When you went to bed that night, you were happy that you went to visit your family and your home again, but you were even happier that Jude was there with you.

_______________________________________

[inky-duchess]

Etiquette of the Edwardian Era and La Belle Époque: Tea

This is a new set of posts focusing on the period of time stretching from the late 19th century to the early 20th Century right up to the start of WWI. I'll be going through different aspects of life. This series can be linked to my Great House series as well as my Season post and Debutant post.

Today will be focusing on the rules of tea with this time period.

Tea was a staple in society, not only as a comforting beverage but as a social gathering beset by strict rules. Etiquette at tea is not only important for guests but is a sign of respect to one's host.

High Tea vs Afternoon Tea

You're reading both terms and you're thinking high tea is the formal version and afternoon is informal. In fact, no. It is the opposite. High tea was actually served far later, about 6pm/7pm and focused on more savoury, substantial dishes. High tea was more of a lower class tradition, designed to fill the stomachs of hungry workers. The word "high" is derived from the tall tables used. Afternoon tea is served at 4pm, designed to fill the gap between lunch and dinner. Afternoon tea is served at low tables with all the guests seated and involve a lighter meal, more nibbles than anything.

Hosting and Attending Tea

Tea is an event that happens every day, it's not an excuse for a snack, it's a ritual. One can have tea served in one's own home or at the home of a friend. One must be invited to tea, one can't just show up and expect to get fed. Tea was typically served in libraries or drawing rooms and done times outside in the gardens if weather permits. One had to dress for tea usually in comfortable but appropriate clothing. Men would wear suits, women would wear tea gowns or a simple gown - keeping their hats upon their head, if they are visiting. Tea was not poured by the footman but by the host or if it is a large party, by one assigned guest. The hostess or designated tea pourer would serve themselves last.

The Tea Set

Tea sets are highly coveted and much remarked upon at tea. One would usually inherit a service (that's what the collection was called) or be gifted it at one's wedding. Services would all match and most households had different kinds, the best usually reserved for important guests.

Teapot: the tea pot held the hot water and tea leaves was was usually made of china and decorated.

Cups: the cups were generally low, shallow.

Saucer: a small plate for the cup to rest on

Tea cannister: where dried tea leaves would rest until needed.

Sugar bowl: was a small container made of china with a cover to protect the sugar from moisture.

Milk jug: a container for the milk

Slop basin: was a porcelain dish used for disposing tea leaves left behind with the dregs of tea.

Tea spoon: small spoon used to stir tea

Side Plate: small serving plate used for food.

As you might have noticed, other than a tea spoon, cutlery is not listed. There would be a spoon for jam and a knife for a scone, most food was designed to be eaten with one's hands.

There is also one instrument not listed here and it's the most recognisable thing at afternoon tea.

The Tiered Tray

The tiered tray is a set of trays stacked upon one another holding on each one, a different course. Sandwiches and savouries were served on the bottom (Favourites include smoked salmon, cucumber, cress, egg salad sandwiches), scones on the second and sweeter delights served on the top (sponge cake, macaroons, pastries etc). One would begin ay the bottom and work one's way upward.

Making the Perfect Cup of Tea in the Edwardian Era/Belle Epoque/Gilded Age

Disclaimers: Let's make one thing clear. Tea is not prepared one way for all. Tea is culturally important across the world and every culture has their own rules about how tea is consumed and served. There's no one right way.

I will be discussing the English way of brewing tea in this post.

As mentioned before, tea is held in a cannister before use. Tea leaves were added to the hot water and lightly stirred.

Controversially for most people, milk was commonly added first.

One would then set a strainer in one's cup, tilting the pot. The strainer will catch the leaves and leave your cup almost tea-pulp free.

With the tea added, one could add in sugar. The trick is not to make a show about it or be too loud. One simply should gently turn your spoon from the 6 o'clock position to the 12 o'clock position. Also, the spoon rests on the saucer when not in use and doesn't stay in your cup.

When drinking your tea, put your pinky down. That's an American myth. Simply lift your cup to you, lifting the cup to your mouth by the handle. Saucers are not lifted unless your cup is far away. Don't slurp it, there's plenty more where that came from.

Etiquette at Tea

Afternoon tea is for light conversation, do avoid heavy topics.

Listen attentively when being spoken to.

Don't talk with your mouth full or stuff your mouth. Typically everything should be polished off with 2-3 bites.

Gloves should be removed at tea because one is eating with their fingers.

If one is leaving the table to go to the bathroom or a breath of air, simply turn to your neighbours and excuse yourself. No explanation needed.

Napkins should be removed from the table and set across one's lap when one is sitting down. When finished with tea, set it beside your plate before you rise.

Also you daub, not smear.

Don't cut your scone but break it.

Don't lick your fingers.

Don't bang the spoon on the side of the cup.

Also there's no dunking biscuits into your tea. It's just not done at afternoon tea.

Never thank the staff for fetching anything - or at very least, don't be overhead doing so.

Always say your goodbyes to the hostess and compliment the tea, even if you had a rubbish time.

Also most importantly, never criticise somebody else's manners. That's the height of rudeness.

[dianneking]

The Affair - Chapter 2 (Larissa/Reader)

Hello everyone, here's the second installment to this little fic. Writing has been slow-going but the kind comments I got on chapter 1 both here and on AO3 were a great motivation to put in the work when I had the time and brainpower to do so. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Larissa Weems/You Rating: Mature Tags: Alcohol consumption, Morally Ambiguous Character, Swearing, Boss/Employee Relationship, Seduction, Second-person POV, Teacher Reader, Power Imbalance.

AO3 link in title below

< Previous Chapter - Next Chapter (tbc)

Chapter 2 - Private Booth

“I must admit this is highly unprofessional of me, but I cannot help but find you incredibly alluring, darling.” She murmured in your ear and you heard a breathy laugh exiting your mouth, feeling as if it came from miles away. 

You weren’t sure how the evening had evolved to this point, if you had to be perfectly honest. You were sure you both had been the picture of professionality at the start of your dinner together, sitting primly at the table in the private booth, ordering a light meal and talking about lesson plans and your previous work experiences.

You had been nervous, but except for the unusual setting, it hadn’t been that different from countless other meetings you’d had with principals. And, you mused as you took a bite of your salad, to be honest you appreciated having this conversation over food for once instead than in a stuffy office. 

Was it some sort of cultural difference that outcasts had? Or was it a peculiarity of the woman sitting in front of you? She seemed like someone who was more than able to disregard rules if she wanted to. 

You found yourself liking that, despite your usual aversion for rule breaking.

Then…then Larissa (she had asked you to call her Larissa at some point, you were sure of that) Larissa had offered to share a bottle of wine “to toast together at a fruitful collaboration” and you had had half a mind to turn the offer down, but found yourself agreeing. Why the hell not? It had been ages since you drank some good wine, and your principal looked like the kind of woman who’d only choose good alcohol. 

“You have great taste,” you had commented, sipping on your first glass, and it had been at that moment that you had felt the energy in the booth starting to shift. She had dabbed her mouth on her napkin, and let her eyes roam over your figure for a handful of seconds more than it was polite to do before replying, “Oh of course. I very rarely lose my time when it’s not worth it.” Her lips had curved up in a smirk and you had had to take another sip of that wine to give time to your suddenly galloping heart to slow down a bit. Surely she was still talking about the wine, wasn’t she?

But then the conversation had moved on and you thought you had imagined the flirty undertone. Surely she wouldn’t be the type to do something like that, would she? Even if you hadn’t actively sought out gossip, surely you would have heard if Nevermore’s principal was a serial seducer, right? 

Larissa had been an extremely pleasant conversationalist, and often you found yourself invested in the latest anecdote from one of her travels, or her opinion on one subject or another. You laughed at her recounting of the antics of her students, and were amazed at the lavish traditions of Nevermore that she insisted on educating you on. 

You could have listened to her talk all night long, looking at how her face danced with emotions, how the passion she had for her job and her loyalty to her school shone in her voice as well as her eyes. And the way she ran her tongue against her teeth every now and then had you completely mesmerized. You were hanging on her lips and had given up feeling self conscious about it. You wanted to know more about this mysterious lady. You wanted to know all that she’d be willing to tell you.

And you were acutely aware that you still hadn’t discovered what exactly had happened that had left her for several months on sick leave. The students talked of an attack of undead  to the school but you were sure those were exaggerations, and that there was a less…fanciful explanation. Teenagers are known for making a big deal out of small mundanities. Even taking that into account, it seemed like mysteries surrounded this woman, wrapping around her like the subtle yet lingering scent of her perfume. 

“You smell amazing.” You had blurted out, and almost clapped a hand over your own mouth, horrified at your sudden boldness. That was not something to say to your boss who apparently still had the power to fire you if she somehow found you lacking! 

But she hadn’t bristled, nor had she seemed in any way angry or offended. She had simply chuckled lightly, and busied herself with swirling wine inside her glass with slow, hypnotic movements.

“Thank you, dear. It’s Ambre Nuit, by Dior, obviously.”

“...Obviously.” You had parroted back, even though you knew nothing about perfumes and even less about Dior. Your eyes were glued to her hand, still cradling the bowl of the wine glass. You had not noticed until now just how long and tapered and beautiful her fingers were. How effortlessly they curled on the glass shoulder to loosely swirl its contents. A part of you wondered how those hands would feel on your body.

“You know? You could smell it even better if you came to sit beside me…there’s plenty of space on this bench…” her voice had trailed off, and it might have been the wine coursing in your system, but this time you felt like you could almost taste the promises in her voice. 

And that’s how you had found yourself squeezed besides her on the bench, your thigh pressed against hers, the fabric of her dress and of your trousers the only thing separating your skin from making contact with hers. You were acutely aware of how dimmed the lights had been in the private booth, and how the waiters had stopped coming around after they had delivered your desserts. 

A perfect setup, suggested the romantic part of your brain, a part that was often overlooked and laid dormant in the day to day routine.

A perfect trap, countered the more cynical part, who couldn't help but wonder how many times had the beautiful woman beside you put on this show for her latest prey. 

It just all seemed so effortless for her. She mixed her flirting (it had to be flirting by now, right?) with more easygoing topics, she kept topping your glass off with that lovely wine, as well as drinking just as much herself. One part red flag, one part irresistible temptation.  

And it was at that point that she had leaned over, and you had felt her breath hot on your ear, and you were sure you had drank way too much wine because just that little puff of air made your skin erupt in goosebumps and your head spin. 

“I must admit this is highly unprofessional of me, but I cannot help but find you incredibly alluring, darling.”

“I must be dreaming” you said before your common sense could stop you, the tingling of your giggle still in your throat.

But not even in your wildest dreams could you have imagined how her hand felt as it fell on your thigh, light as a feather, but making your skin burn white hot even through the fabric.. 

“Well I suppose I’ll have to pinch you then.”

---------------

Want more? Here's my fanfiction masterlist

Taglist: @barbarasstar @peggycarter3 @aemilia19

[this-is-a-name-dont-worry]

things that seemed reoccurring this update:

- Meat

- peas

- jelly

- Hibernation

- Eddie's absence

- Acting out a script (Sally mumbling asking if it's her cue and Howdy changing the script of the narrator in Homewarming storybook, characters general interactions with the narrator, different moments in the video, like the Sally and Frank ad break or the song a barely silent night, where the two literally fight over who get to sing, Sally mentions she wrote the lyrics, and Frank says she already has a song. yeah all of these are easy to see as meta goofs in the original material, but it's the fact there's so much of it this update) (of course all this wrap up with the end of the video where Eddie and Frank are obviously acting off script)

- Being alone (Eddie not having any news of anyone and not even seeing anyone outside (which is interesting as the story says that Sally was up in a tree near his home and saw him fret over having nothing to do), Wally saying it's so quiet during Homewarming and it's just he and Home for a while (potentially the show putting out a christmas special and then being on break? can a show do that?), and in the normal website material, the end of "An ode to hibernation", Frank saying "Where all that's left is me", the "me" being a "...me?")

- Welcome Home being used to sell stuff (cigarettes, medicine, eggnog, cereals, and the cookbook lists ingredients that are a specific brand)

(I'm putting under read more my rambling thoughts so you can just reblog the list without having to see them)

so I can't really make sense yet of all the food stuff. Maybe there are cultural elements/expressions I don't know that explains it? But I still find it very interesting how fucking unhinged that cookbook is yet the commercial and the website treat it normally. The cookbook is overall extremely interesting, because some of the recipes seem to actually be written by the characters; Barnaby who only presents you weird hot dog dressings with pictures but no recipe (and all jokes), Frank who lists not just the ingredients but also the material, and overexplain each steps (at least overexplain compared to the other recipes. it's actually interesting to know why you do x or y), and Julie who turns her recipe into a game at the end, and felt a bit harder to follow? anyway.

The cookbook, the Homewarming tradition of hanging a ham in the tree, Santy Claus being said sometimes instead of Santa, the ham for Santa? Once again, the christmas commercials being so casual about some of the weird stuff it says and presents? This almost feels like an alien who only has a blurry grasp of Christmas and what humans enjoy made the cookbook and the live commercial.

Sometimes, Welcome Home feels like it never actually aired and produced things, but we're making it retroactively exist. Something is making it exist. Like a retcon of the universe, "What do you mean you never heard of Welcome Home? No, of course it always existed and was very popular, look at all this old material we find!"

So maybe whatever is making it exist doesn't fully get humans and accidentally creates things that are weird to prove its existence. Like a cookbook that tells you a single pea in a buttered plate is a classic meal, or that of course you give Santa ham on Homewarming! (tbh almost getting an AI weirdness feel)

But in total contrary, in its story, Welcome Home also feels like it always existed, but got somehow completely wiped from people's mind, as something caused its sudden stop, and its characters gained consciousness of what they are and their world. As an existential dread fell on them one after the other, slowly realizing something isn't right. As Eddie felt anxiety and nervousness over no one being there or contacting him, to then having the story acts lightheartedly about it, the narrator saying things have been solved but he doesn't feel it, and suddenly Home is staring at him.

Both "It never existed but the universe is being retcon into it existing" and "it existed but something terrible happened that erased it from peoples mind" seem plausible. If two theories contradict each other, that means there's a third one that needs to be found.

Maybe it existed. Maybe it truly was popular, but something corrupted it, leading to its disappearance. A disappearance so big it stopped to exist. And now the thing that corrupted it is trying to crawl back, make it exist again, but it's making it come back completely off.

Anyway.

Also, I think the show may have been on hold during the Holiday season, "hibernating", and the character who got some self awareness realized that something was off. They're alone because there's nothing new, so no one is there bringing life to the neighborhood.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for bringing dahl to a compagny potluck ?🍩🍜🍝🍱🍛

Everyone had to bring "their speciality" at work for lunch. I didn't really paid attention to the wording and brought a Dahl.

Dahl is easy to make for a lot of people and very accommodating for people with food restrictions (I am vegetarian with various allergies and used to only rely on the food I bring myself in shared meal events). Emma, a colleague, was mad at me because she interpreted "speciality" as "cultural food" (no one was bringing specific traditional food, just the usual potluck food). She thinks I am committing cultural appropriation.

Emma is a Black American woman, while I am white. We both live in a white European country, however my patents were immigrants in this country, and European "racism" can see 1000 flavors of "white" and are quite xenophobic (if not plainly racist), so I have been victim of racism/xenophobia here.

Emma is well versed in a lot of woke stuff, anti racism, feminist and stuff and I usually look up to her on those subjects but here… I don't think there is cultural appropriation ? Maybe it's an American/European difference?

From what I understand, cultural appropriation is when a dominant culture (usually white) benefits from doing cultural stuff of someone else, while the minority who the stuff comes from is oppressed and forbidden of doing the stuff.

But I am not saying Dahl is a dish I invented. Everyone is well aware it's Indian. I didn't published "my" receive or anything. I have no social media influence and don't posted about the food I cook anyway. People at work were unphased by the dish.

In my country, Indian people don't face discrimination (that I know of) for cooking their traditional food. There is a ton of Indian restaurants in my city and they are managed by Indian people. I go to those Indian restaurant quite often. So I don't think there is a financial or systemic problem.

I have cooked Dahl for myself for decades as it works really well with my vegetarian diet (as lentils are great plant based protein source) and MY cultural dishes are way too meat based. A lot of foreigner friends taught me their cultural vegetarian dish, as I taught then mine. I have seen a lot of white an POC (but non Indian) people cook Dahl. It's really a go to dish in the vegetarian circle I frequent.

My Indian friends think Emma is dumb but they are biased. The only Indian person at work didn't care and is usually pretty racist himself so I wouldn't trust his judgment if he told me something was "safe to do".

Was I culturally insensitive or was her anger misguided ?

[atlaculture]

Just a thought I had when seeing your building culture posts

I feel like Jalebi is such an air nomad style food. With the bright orange and swirled patterns, you can't tell me Aang wouldn't love it.

Additionally barfi feels like another air nomad dish. Perhaps it could be made with bison milk?

I know the air nomads are inspired by Tibetan monks, but as theres sprinkles of Hinduism and Indian culture in the show. So this is my thoughts as an Indian person

I agree, I think these foods would work well for the Air Nomads. In fact, barfi and other Indian dairy desserts have been happily embraced by the Tibetan communities in India. Truthfully, the reason I limited my Air Nomad cuisine posts to mostly Tibetan food was to narrow the scope of my research. Really, any vegetarian dish from any culture could integrate well into the Air Nomad culture established by the show's canon.

The way I see it, there would realistically be two types of Air Nomad cuisine:

"Temple" Air Nomad Cuisine: This would be the cuisine that the Air Nomads developed within their temples, high up in the mountains. Like the Himalayas, this climate is good for growing barley, root vegetables (droma, potatoes, daikon, etc.), mushrooms, and certain strains of peppers. These would be the ingredients, along with sky bison dairy, that young Air Nomads would grow up enjoying.

"Local" Air Nomad Cuisine: My conception of the Air Nomads is that they were mostly sky bison herders with strong spiritual beliefs and ascetic practices. Their culture was viewed as quite mysterious by the other nations, but the average person (before Sozin's reign) regarded an Air Nomad's presence as bringing good luck to those around them. This was due to the commonly held belief that the Air Nomads were on good terms with the spirits, which was generally true--- Yangchen notwithstanding.

I establish all this worldbuilding to give context to the once flourishing vegetarian cuisines of the Avatar world. When an Air Nomad would stop by a town to purchase or trade for supplies, many villagers would rush to invite the monk over to their home for a meal--- some hoping for a blessing, others desiring spiritual guidance, and a clever few knowing that a well-traveled nomad is the best source for world news.

Although Air Nomads would humbly accept whatever food was offered to them, most villagers would go out of their way to prepare vegetarian dishes out of respect and hospitality. Thus, prior to the Hundred Year War, all nations had a thriving vegetarian culinary tradition that utilized their local ingredients. This came to be known colloquially as "local" Air Nomad food. Sometimes these dishes would become so popular with the nomads that temple elders would bemoan their people becoming too attached to these earthly pleasures.

I think both the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom would have Indian-inspired vegetarian dishes that they would serve to an Air Nomad guest. The Water Tribe's vegetarian dishes were especially unique and labor-intensive, considered a special treat for any one of any nation. @mostly-mundane-atla has a great post on what WT vegetarian dishes would look like.

Just another Air Nomad headcanon that lives in rent-free in my brain. ^_^