#istanbul offers something

[poptheweasel]

Turkish Delight

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Cory quickly realised he’d made a mistake.

He just couldn’t help it. Cory was enjoying an evening coffee at one of those small classic neighbourhood coffeehouses in Istanbul, the kind frequented mostly by aged locals, not young tourists like him. He felt and looked out of place, sure, but it was fine. Sitting at a far corner of the cosy establishment, no one bothered him and he bothered no one. It took him a little while, but Cory was just starting to feel at ease.

And then he entered. Clearly a regular, judging by the way he swaggered in and interacted with the owner and other customers. But he stood out among the others in that he wasn’t old like the rest of them; in fact, he and Cory seemed to be the only men under 40. He sat at a table at the other end of the place, placing him on Cory’s line of sight.

Cory was immediately captivated by this stranger, not fully understanding why. Maybe it was because the guy contrasted so strongly with himself. Not that Cory wasn’t attractive — of course he was — but something about the man transfixed him. “Fuck, he’s hot,” Cory thought. Maybe it was the gleaming light brown eyes to Cory’s own icy blue, or the meticulously-groomed heavy stubble the guy sported that accentuated his sharp jawline; maybe it was his athletic physique, his well-defined body betrayed by a shirt that was clearly a size too small, or maybe it was how hairy he was, the dark hair very conspicuously thickly covering his sturdy legs and arms offering a stark contrast to Cory’s blond hairs barely visible from a distance… Whatever the case, Cory just couldn’t take his eyes off that Turkish guy. He wanted him, to feel him, to taste him, and imagined all sorts of scenarios.

That’s when Cory realised: he was shamelessly ogling the man. Snapping out of his reverie, he noticed the hairy hunk staring right back at him, completely emotionless. Shit. Flushed and embarrassed, Cory hurriedly paid for his coffee and left, all the while the man continuously and intently observed his every move. Just as he exited, the guy whom he mentally violated also got up to follow him.

His cheeks still ruddy and warm from the unfortunate encounter a while ago, Cory briskly made his way through the labyrinthine streets of the hilly city, desperate to return to his accommodation. The Turkish guy wasn’t too far behind him; Cory meanwhile sensed he was being pursued so he quickened his pace. In an attempt to throw him off the trail, Cory turned a corner into a quiet narrow alleyway flanked by an empty lot and vacant buildings.

Right then, a deep voice called out from behind Cory.

“Hey, you.”

Cory froze, his face drained of the redness. He stood in silence, not knowing whether to respond or run away. He was terrified and felt faint. Only the fresh cool evening maritime breeze kept him on his wobbly knees as he shuddered, half because of the chill, half because he feared what would happen next. Ultimately, after a tense while which felt like an eternity, Cory turned around to see the man approaching him. Although Cory still was scared, he weirdly felt an emergent sense of excitement as well.

Soon, Cory stood facing the Turk. A dimly-lit streetlight was the only source of illumination through which Cory could better appreciate the figure before him. He noticed how the guy was even more hirsute than he realised, with chest hair spilling over his too-tight shirt. Cory’s cock twitched.

“I saw you look earlier,” the guy drily said, maintaining intense eye contact with Cory.

“Ye… No! I mean, yeah, I was…” Cory stammered sheepishly. Fuck, why was he getting turned on all of a sudden?

“Like what you see?”

Cory gulped and nodded. His knees were about to give in when the hunk suddenly grabbed Cory by the shoulders with his hairy meaty hands and yanked him close to give him a forceful yet passionate sloppy kiss. Cory was taken aback and screamed internally, but at the same time, he liked what was happening. Wasn’t this what he wanted in the first place? He didn’t resist the surprising advances; he simply couldn’t resist. He reciprocated, their tongues roaming each other’s mouths. As the Turk continued to shove his tongue in him, Cory felt like putty — he’d let the guy do anything to him, he’d be happy to be used by this gorgeous hairy man in whatever way.

The man’s stubble scratched and tickled Cory’s soft skin around his lips moistened by the wet kisses. Cory felt strong itching sensations in the same area. He normally kept himself clean-shaven, mainly because he could only manage to grow some wispy hairs on his face. As the Turkish guy momentarily pulled away from the kiss though, the area around Cory’s mouth was substantially darker than it was just a minute ago, the beard growth process being accelerated. Cory ignored the itch and continued making out.

After a while of spit-heavy lip-locking, the Turk pulled down his shorts and grabbed Cory by the shoulders, pushing him down to his knees. Cory, at eye level with the guy’s cut 8-inch cock, was completely mesmerised by the sight and especially the scent; the pubes were so dense, they trapped and collected all the musky sweat and oozing precum. The smell was rather pungent but Cory didn’t mind at all. If anything, the odour had a simultaneously captivating and relaxing effect on him and he felt compelled to inhale it more.

Cory piggishly sniffed the ridiculously hairy crotch, even licking the beads of moisture off individual strands of pubes. While doing so, the hair on his temple grazed the guy’s leaking member, some of the precum sticking onto his blond hair. His hair absorbed the pre almost instantly and began to darken, the change in colour spreading from where the precum had been smeared. The hair on Cory’s scalp lost its sandy hue but retained its sheen, turning browner and darker as the pigmentation spread from the roots to the tips. His face still buried in the thick pubes, Cory felt the man jerk himself, squeezing out more pre from his throbbing cock. “Suck,” he commanded. Cory swiftly obliged.

Cory was dazed; the public setting, the man’s body and scent, his own eagerness… all that was happening was wilder than anything he’d ever dreamt of. After admiring the juicy rod bobbing up and down in front of him, Cory closed his eyes and got to work, savouring the taste of the musky cock with a faint taste of piss. He took the whole length in his mouth and down his throat, blowing to the best of his abilities. He eagerly lapped up the copious amounts of pre from the Turk’s slick pulsating member, coating his tongue.

The more he sucked and swallowed, the more hairs grew on his face. The itch intensified above and below Cory’s lips, little needle-like black hairs pushing out from his smooth skin and multiplying below his nose and on his chin. The beginnings of a luscious beard then steadily migrated outwards, short pointed hairs breaking out all over Cory’s cheeks and linking with his tapered sideburns. By now, Cory had grown a remarkable designer stubble which grew in thicker by the minute and slowly crept down his chin. At the same time, his face took on a slight tan, darkening independently of the hair growth that took over the whole lower half of his face. Cory’s jaw looked more rugged too, becoming more square and masculine.

Cory carried on blowing his new acquaintance, completely oblivious to the changes affecting him. “You like?” asked the man. “Mmhrrrgggmm,” Cory could only nod and let out a gurgled hum of approval to affirm. The Turkish guy then forcefully rammed his cock down Cory’s throat, making him gag. Just as he did, Cory’s Adam’s apple jutted out more prominently. He opened his wet eyes to look up at the hunk; as he blinked away the tears, his blue eyes lost their iciness as the colour shifted from a cold blue to a warmer mixture of green and brown with flecks of gold. With his new hazel eyes, Cory saw the guy with a smirk on his face for the first time.

Cory’s body continued to change. He felt bulkier, the clothes he wore starting to strain against the muscles growing on his formerly slim frame. He also felt so much warmer despite the breeze; he felt heat radiating all throughout his body from the pit of his stomach and was sweating profusely as a result. He also felt his whole body itching uncomfortably by now. Watching the Turk strip and bare his gloriously hairy body, Cory did the same — he certainly wasn’t as hairy as the guy. Yet. The hair growing on Cory’s face continued to travel down, prickly hairs sprouting on his neck, past his collarbones and on his chest. Cory initially only had a faint patch of barely-visible hair right at the centre of his chest, but as the hairs darkened and thickened, they fanned out towards his pits, forming whirling patterns around his nipples and covering his whole chest with stubbly black hair, like a freshly-mowed lawn. The prickly sensation migrated south to his midriff, a trail of nascent coarse hairs sprouting from his chest down to his navel and then his crotch. From there, the newly-formed treasure trail widened and began to spread outwards in all directions, hairs multiplying rapidly until Cory’s whole torso was blanketed in a field of short hair which connected his stubble and still-sparse pubes.

After a few minutes of Cory sucking, slurping and gagging on the fat Turkish cock, the guy made him stop. Cory reluctantly agreed. The guy then grabbed Cory by his wavy, shiny black hair and got him up back on his feet. Cory was in a state of utter bliss, drunk on pre and musk, drooling uncontrollably. The Turk lifted his arm, exposing his smelly pit completely covered in tangled wiry hairs. The dark hairs were so incredibly dense and tightly-spaced that Cory thought he was staring into the void. “Sniff and lick,” he told Cory. Who was Cory to say no? He stumbled forward, faceplanting right in the sweaty jungle of pit hairs. The pit musk was surely at least ten times as potent as the musk from crotch! The pungent scent was overwhelming; it burned Cory’s nostrils, and yet his cock throbbed even harder, dripping pre all over. What would have been torture felt more like heaven to Cory. He grunted as he took a deep whiff of the rank musk and licked the matted hairy mess soaking wet with sweat. It was absolutely acrid, and the sharp sourness also scalded his throat, making him cough. Cory was immobilised though, his head held in place in the Turk’s reeking hirsute pit; he let out muffled moans, struggling to breathe. Inhaling the musk and gulping down obscene quantities of rancid sweat accelerated Cory’s changes.

Cory’s body ached all over as he increased in size, growing a few inches and gaining muscle mass. His muscles pulsated and expanded; it really looked as if someone was blowing air into him. His chicken legs inflated to become sturdy trunks, with hard thighs and bulging calves. His arms too grew larger, the veins protruding, his forearms thickening along with his biceps and triceps which doubled in size. Cory’s shoulders and chest broadened, providing him with a more robust, rugged physique. His abs also became prominent, the tight muscles emerging with several popping sounds. Cory was granted a temporary reprieve from piggishly eating out the Turk’s pit, leaving him to gasp for fresh air. The guy then tugged sharply on Cory’s nipples, making him let out a simultaneous yelp and low moan. As if some mechanism had been activated, Cory’s pecs ballooned and jutted out forward, his nipples looking thicker, longer and juicier than the goose-pimple ones he had before. Along with his pecs, his ass also expanded; what was once fairly flat and sad-looking was now globular, the firm cheeks jiggling with every move.

Cory’s puppeteer shoved Cory back into his other, equally hairy and musky pit. With his face buried in the nasty armpit, Cory panted and grunted as the intoxicating scent continued to work its magic. Cory’s brows became wider and bushier. The stubble on his face grew darker and thicker, the hairs coarsening and lengthening as well as multiplying in greater numbers. Starting from under his nose, more hairs poked out to give him a moustache which covered his whole upper lip. The hairs on his chin grew out in all directions, growing unruly and tangling up as Cory rubbed his face in the Turk’s manly pit. His cheeks underwent the same treatment, thick beard hairs pushing out from the follicles and cascading down, following Cory’s rugged jawline and covering the entire area of his face below his nose, the new bushy growth connecting with the moustache and the hairs below his lips. The growth continued to give Cory an incredibly thick medium-length beard that he’d only ever dreamt of having, now coated with a layer of musky sweat and Cory’s own saliva owing to his ravenous worshipping of the Turkish man’s pits. The man held Cory firmly in place, as if to cure the scent onto him.

This second explosion of hair travelled down Cory’s heaving body. Where the first wave of hair growth resulted in hairs which looked trimmed, the wiry, curly growth this time gave him a natural look, the hirsuteness of a man who had never shaved in his life, possibly unable to, due to how densely and much the hair grew. Coarse hairs burrowed their way out of Cory’s shoulders, leaving a forest of curly fur surrounding his neck, and flowed down his swollen upper arms and to his forearms, forming whirls and wave-like patterns, the wild, dense growth of black hair obscuring the view of the skin underneath — his arms looked as if they were wrapped in steel wool. Cory’s hands cracked and popped as they grew meatier and burlier, his fingers rough and calloused and speckled with thick hairs, giving him an almost beastly appearance.

The rapid growth of hair continued unabated, Cory feeling an intense itch under his arms. Soon, dark pinpricks appeared in his shaven pits, increasing exponentially. From those black dots, long wiry hairs shot out, growing thicker and longer, seemingly watered and fed by the sweat that had accumulated in his pits all this time. Radiating from the centre of the pits, the hairs blanketed a larger area, connecting with the hairs on Cory’s chest. Much like the Turk’s pits, Cory’s pit hair grew unwieldy and matted, the strands twisted and twirled from both the growth and the dampness. The moisture trapped under the massive tufts of pit hair emanated a smell. Indeed, accompanying the growing hairs was a stink, the same kind of rank smell that Cory had been inhaling for some time now, which grew increasingly more powerful as the fur grew in. Cory’s chest hair also began to lengthen at the same time, the hairs coiling out and curling and bunching up. Any remaining empty space was filled with thick wiry hair springing out in rapid succession. The amount of hair was grotesque; the eruption of wiry black hairs created a rug of fur on Cory’s toned body, completely enveloping his torso such that his pecs and abs were hardly visible at all, only his engorged nipples barely poking out from the dense field of hair.

Together with the massive hair growth and coupled with the increased pigmentation in his hairs, the light tan which had developed on his face also migrated down. Cory’s pale complexion on his face was already completely replaced by a natural tan, a light sun-kissed brown. The colour seeped down his neck, his back, his shoulders, like someone had dumped a bucket of oil on Cory. The dim orange streetlight made his tan appear darker, what little bits of skin peeking out through the dense hair glistening with the light reflecting off the sweat. Soon, all of Cory’s skin was a luscious earthy tone, not that much of it was visible under all the fur carpeting his whole body.

Cory’s raunchy pit sweat guzzling was interrupted when the Turk made him turn around and stand facing the wall of the vacant building. “Ass out,” the guy ordered. Cory immediately obeyed, panting like a dog that’s had too much sun. He was excited by the prospect of getting railed by this hot Turkish hunk, not having realised all the changes that affected him. Beads of precum dribbled out of Cory’s aching cock, which in the meantime had also darkened to match the rest of his complexion. His balls, larger than before, also churned. Cory felt the Turk holding him from behind, grinding his wet slick cock against Cory’s ass crack filling with hair. “Ready?” asked the man. “Fuck yes,” Cory responded. The guy spat right onto Cory’s tight puckering hole. Wiry black hairs blossomed around the pink ring, spreading out alongside the hairs growing on his crack. The light dusting of hair on his bouncy glutes was swiftly overtaken by curly dark hairs.

The Turk slowly inserted his cock lubed up with Cory’s saliva and his own precum into Cory’s inviting hairy hole, making Cory emit low moans and animalistic grunts sounding deeper than the previous ones. The man thrust in and out of Cory in a rhythmic fashion, Cory’s hole wrapping around his cock, basically milking him of his pre. With every thrust and pound and depositing of the Turkish guy’s precum in him, Cory changed further. His furry mounds ballooned even more. Pound. Fuzz grew in from the area of his coccyx and crept up the entire length of his spine, connecting with the thick curly hairs on his shoulders. Pound. The same fuzz then fanned out from the backbone, coating the lower back and colonising the previously hairless area of the shoulder blades. Pound. The wispy hairs on his whole back turned darker, growing longer and thicker, thousands of individual strands unfurling as they burrowed out of Cory’s smooth skin with great strength, leaving him with an impenetrable pelt of fur on his back. Pound. The wiry hairs erupted in greater quantities on his legs and snaked down, growing all over and wrapping around his thighs and calves and shins. Pound. The midnight black hairs on Cory’s legs thickened considerably that they were now visible from a distance, in stark contrast to before when he still had barely-visible light hairs against his pale white skin.

The pounding increased in speed, the Turk’s hairy low-hanging golf ball-sized balls slamming and smacking sonorously against Cory’s voluptuous hairy ass, also making his balls increase in size to those of tennis balls. Each frenzied slap caused Cory’s bush to fill in and spread beyond its confines at the base of his penis. He had previously kept his crotch trimmed, but that was history now; his pubes more closely resembled black fur due to how dense and tightly-packed it was. It was impossible to see the skin underneath the bush which had basically spread to the navel and also around Cory’s hips, even having crawled a little bit up his shaft. The wild, unkempt matted fur on his groin, much like the coarse tufts of hair under his arms, collected both musk and moisture, rendering it damp and especially pungent. It was only this time that Cory realised how much he reeked, with his arms outstretched to prop himself against the wall as he was fucked by his dream man. He didn’t care that he stunk; no, it turned him on, even. His dick responded accordingly, pulsating painfully — as the Turkish guy continued to thrust rigorously, Cory’s leaking cock grew larger incrementally, as did his balls which were engulfed in wiry hairs, and Cory produced more and more pre which trickled down his shaft and onto his extremely tangled mess of a bush, stinking it up even more.

Very little of Cory as he once was at the coffeehouse remained. At this point, he resembled an extremely hairy, beefy Turkish man, handsome and masculine, oozing testosterone out of every pore, blessed with the perfect manly genes such that luscious fur carpeted his body front and back, head to toe. After a few more thrusts and plunging and poking, the Turk erupted with one drawn-out growl and heavy panting and flooded Cory’s insides with his hot, sticky seed, depositing load after load in him. On Cory’s part, he too was close to cumming. As his cock reached a fully erect length of at least 9 inches, his foreskin retracted down his pulsing shaft and vanished altogether, leaving him with a newly-cut slab of meat. Cory blasted — hands-free — at the same time as the other Turk, leaving a puddle of splooge on the ground and painting a fair bit of the wall he propped himself up against. As he came, so came out the last vestiges of his former whiteness, his balls now filling and churning with Turkish cum.

The guy pulled out of Cory with a shlorp, cum dribbling out of Cory’s manhandled hairy hole and clinging onto the thick curly hairs on Cory’s ass and legs. Both men were breathing heavily, completely spent. They momentarily stood in silence punctuated by the sounds of buzzing insects and the occasional evening breeze. The other Turkish man, now slightly smaller in build than Cory, pulled Cory close for a kiss, gently and tenderly this time, not minding the pre and drool that had stuck and dried onto Cory’s majestic bushy beard.

“What’s your name?” the guy asked, thumbing Cory’s still-hard protruding nipples. Cory opened his mouth to respond but he hesitated. He suddenly realised he didn’t remember his name — what was his name? What a strange thing to forget! He knew it started with a C… no! It wasn’t a C, silly him. It started with a K, of course, and there was an R in there. K… Kor…? Ker…

“Kerem,” he finally answered. Yes, Kerem; that was his name, the name that he’d obviously had all his life. He’d always lived in Istanbul, hadn’t he? He liked the sea and the hills, his native culture, and the men, especially the men — those hirsute and masculine like him, of course — how happy is he who calls himself a Turk!

“I’m Semih,” said the other man who had followed Kerem all the way from the coffeehouse in the hopes of having fun with him. He certainly did get lucky, even out in public like this. “Evimde bir kez daha?”

“Peki, kanka.” Kerem was so ready for round two with Semih.

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Hi all, decided to upload something original for a change. Kudos to @hairyjocktf for the encouragement!

[shitsndgiggs]

Hi!!

Well I have a request for Kenan.

Can you write something about the reader and him goes for Kenans cousins wedding in Turkey so she meets with his relatives for the first time and try to learn more about the culture cause she is half german and half Turkish

EMBRACING THE CULTURE - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan taking you to his cousins wedding

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The moment our plane touched down in Istanbul, I could feel the flutter of nerves in my stomach. This wasn’t just another trip—it was the first time I’d be meeting Kenan’s extended family, and it was also my first time attending a traditional Turkish wedding.

To say I was nervous would be an understatement.

Kenan’s family was hosting the wedding for one of his cousins, and while I was excited, the idea of meeting so many relatives at once was a bit overwhelming.

Though I’m half-Turkish myself, I’d grown up mostly in Germany and hadn’t had much exposure to Turkish culture. Kenan, on the other hand, was deeper connected to his roots, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place.

Kenan had been patient with me in the weeks leading up to this trip, teaching me Turkish phrases, explaining cultural customs, and walking me through what to expect at the wedding.

Still, as we stepped off the plane into the warm Istanbul air, I couldn’t shake the butterflies in my stomach.

Kenan must have sensed my anxiety because he squeezed my hand gently as we made our way through the airport. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. “My family’s going to love you.”

I nodded, offering him a small smile, even though my nerves were still bubbling beneath the surface. I knew he was right—Kenan’s family was bound to be kind and welcoming—but the thought of making a good impression weighed heavily on me.

—

As we finally approached the venue, a stunning seaside resort, I took a deep breath. The sounds of laughter, music, and celebration filled the air, and I knew there was no turning back now.

“Ready?” Kenan asked, his hand still holding mine as we stood outside the grand entrance.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied, trying to inject some confidence into my voice.

Kenan smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “You’ve got this,” he whispered.

With that, he led me inside, and I was immediately enveloped by the vibrant energy of the wedding. The room was a riot of color, with deep reds, golds, and blues adorning every surface.

Guests milled about, laughing, chatting, and dancing, and I felt a surge of excitement begin to push aside my nerves.

As we navigated through the crowd, Kenan introduced me to various family members. Each one greeted me warmly, with genuine smiles and kind words.

His aunts and uncles welcomed me with open arms, their affectionate greetings helping to put me at ease.

Kenan’s family was large and loud, in the best possible way. They were full of life, each person adding their own energy to the celebration.

One of his aunts, a petite woman with a kind smile, pulled me aside to chat. She spoke in Turkish, her words flowing quickly, and I did my best to follow along.

“I’m so happy to meet you,” she said, her smile widening when I managed to respond in Turkish, albeit a bit clumsily. “Kenan is very lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one,” I replied, smiling back at her, though I was still nervous about making a mistake.

Kenan hovered nearby, close enough to step in if I needed help but giving me the space to navigate these interactions on my own.

I appreciated that—he was always so in tune with my needs, knowing when to step in and when to let me take the lead.

Eventually, Kenan excused himself to catch up with some relatives he hadn’t seen in a while, leaving me to explore on my own.

I wandered around, taking in the details of the event. The traditional attire worn by some of the older guests was beautiful, and I admired the intricate designs and rich colors.

Later in the evening, I found myself sitting with a group of Kenan’s younger cousins.

They were excited to teach me some turkish words, sharing stories and what to expect throughout the night.

One of the girls, a bright-eyed teenager with a mischievous grin, offered to teach me a traditional dance.

I hesitated, feeling self-conscious, but her enthusiasm was contagious. “Come on, it’s easy!” she encouraged in a mix of Turkish and English.

With her guidance, I stood up and began mimicking her movements. The first few steps were awkward, but as I found my rhythm, I began to enjoy myself.

The laughter and cheers from those around us made the experience even more fun, and for the first time that night, I felt completely at ease.

Kenan spotted me from across the room and smiled, clearly proud of how I was embracing the culture.

When I eventually returned to his side, slightly out of breath, he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered, his voice full of warmth.

“I’m trying,” I replied with a laugh, resting my head on his shoulder. “And I’m having a lot of fun.”

“I told you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re a natural.”

As the night wore on, Kenan and I slipped away from the festivities for a moment of quiet. We walked along the beach, the cool sand beneath our feet and the sound of the waves providing a peaceful backdrop.

Kenan stopped and turned to face me, his hands resting gently on my hips. His eyes searched mine, filled with a depth of emotion that made my heart skip a beat.

“Thank you for doing this,” he said softly.

“For what?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

“For being here, for making an effort to connect with my family and my culture,” he replied. “It means more to me than you know.”

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me. “It’s my culture too, Kenan,” I said, placing a hand on his cheek. “I want to learn everything I can about it.”

His expression softened, and he leaned down to kiss me, his lips brushing against mine in a tender, lingering kiss.

The world around us seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us in this perfect moment.

When we finally pulled away, Kenan rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he murmured. “I can’t wait for you to meet the rest of the family tomorrow.”

I laughed softly. “There’s more?”

“Oh, yes,” he said with a chuckle. “A LOT more.”

[jokeroutsubs]

[ENG translation] Joker Out: The destinies of "the Jokers" are linked

An interview with Joker Out published in the September 2024 issue of Pil magazine. Original article written by Jelka Šutej Adamič, photos by Vita Orehek. Translation by a member of JokerOutSubs, review by @kurooscoffee, proofread by IG GBoleyn123.

The band Joker Out is at the centre of the Slovenian music scene, they're travelling from concert to concert, and they also have more and more fans. Right now, they're still on a big European tour titled 'See You Soon', on which they will have, or have had, at least 22 concerts in 13 countries¹. They've announced the release of a new album in the autumn. We caught up with them during the hot July days and chatted with Jure Maček, Kris Guštin, Jan Peteh and Nace Jordan, whilst Bojan Cvjetićanin wasn't able to join the conversation.

¹This interview was conducted in July 2024 and published in the September issue of Pil; the See You Soon tour is now already over.

A question that has probably been asked a hundred times already: how and when did you get together and form the band?

We formed the band out of two pre-existing ones, the bands Buržoazija and Apokalipsa. We met at a concert and decided that we should form a band together. That was in 2016, when we got together for rehearsals for the first time and named the newly formed band Joker Out.

Last autumn you sold out Stožice Arena, now you're preparing the new album and have been on a European tour for several months already. Did you imagine that you would rise so quickly?

Maybe not that it would be so quick, but we've always been quite ambitious, because we had hopes and dreams. It's true, however, that we didn't know exactly what it was that we wanted.

What would you suggest to beginners who have similar ambitions to you? How should they get to work?

They have to practise a lot and persist, they have to find the people around them who complete them. Our friends and family members helped us out a lot in the beginning. Jan's dad, for example, constantly drove us around for the first two years. We wouldn't have gotten anywhere without him. Our advice would be to use (in the positive sense of the word!) anyone who can offer help. But of course, you primarily have to play as much as possible, including with various musicians who show up on your path.

Aside from hard work, another important thing is probably the producer, someone who gives you direction, takes care of your sound, gives you advice?

Our producer is Žare Pak, who is admittedly a "peculiar fellow", but Joker Out probably wouldn't sound the same without him. He is the sixth ear of the band who listens critically and determines whether something is good enough to make a recording. At the end he puts everything we record into one package and that's what we then listen to.

Who are the other people who are by your side professionally?

We have Niko, our driver, security guard, the dad of the band. We have Maša and Sanjin who always make sure that we look good and make a good impression in interviews. Also very important is Mark Pirc, who started out as a video producer, but our collaboration has expanded into general visual artistic co-creation and coordination. Mark is our main visual producer. All the people who help out, who make a concert happen, are also part of our team, and that's not a small number. Right now, we wouldn't be able to put on a concert on our own anymore, without help. We also have to highlight Andraž Drobnič, who takes care of our clothes, our stage costumes.

Do you currently live in Ljubljana?

In Ljubljana, Logatec, and Vrhnika.

You performed in various venues on the tour – from Helsinki to Istanbul, where you're yet to go². Were any of the performances abroad particularly memorable?

Whenever we go to Finland, we're thrilled. It's always top-notch there. Last year we played in Turku where 2800 people came to listen to us, which was something special for us. The venue was sold out.

²The Istanbul gig the interviewer is referring to was later cancelled.

How does a festival performance differ from one in a concert hall or a club? Do you prepare a different programme for one versus the other?

A lot of people who don't know us come to a festival, and we adjust our playlist accordingly. The advantage of being at a festival is that we can hang out with other musicians who are playing at the same festival, because at solo concerts, we stay backstage. The most important thing at a festival is definitely that you also get the attention of people who don't know you, whereas at your own concerts, you primarily have to satisfy the wishes of your listeners.

And the audience? How does it differ from country to country?

They don't speak Slovenian anywhere, so it doesn't matter. (laughter) They differ in energy, since each country has its own unique energy. At some concerts, the audience is more intense and very energetic, at others, they sing very loudly or participate in clapping and singing on their own... Each country is a little different. Finns are the most like us, while Lithuanians are the best of all at waving. We do have a lot of fans who are with us at most of the concerts. They follow along...

Are you perhaps planning a tour in the USA?

No. Of course we'd like to go, but it's not the right time for a tour yet.

What else do you like to do when you're not behind your instruments or the microphone?

I spent all day yesterday fixing my moped. (Jure)

I like to cook, I made a good lasagna the other day! At home, I often take a look at what's happening on the music scene: innovations, new releases. (Jan)

I have a small puppy and I spend most of my free time trying to raise him to be a nice dog. (Nace)

I go to Rožnik³ to cool off. (Kris)

Basically, we like to use our free time for ourselves.

³Rožnik is a small wooded hill in Ljubljana, a very popular place for the locals to go for a walk and exercise.

Do you also hang out privately?

Yes. We would probably do that more if we weren't together so much for business too. We also go for drinks together or meet up at our rehearsal place to chat and hang out.

How do you react when you get recognised on the street? Are you nice to your fans?

We are nice and we take photos with people if they wish to do so. There might be a problem after concerts, when there are really a lot of people and you can't please everyone. But otherwise it's not a problem to sign an autograph, but what's best is to have a bit of a chat.

You've opened an Openstage platform, which makes it easier for your fans to access your activity. What has the response been like? Has it "stuck"?

It has stuck, but it's true that we constantly have to promote it. We've reached ten thousand fans on Openstage, which means that more than ten thousand people have access to exclusive things like, for example, hearing a pre-premiere snippet of our new single 'Šta bih ja', which was released in July. Besides that, they're always the first ones who can buy new articles, CDs, vinyls, and they will often have a chance to buy concert tickets on pre-sale, and maybe have some discounts too. We also get a lot of information out of it, which helps us going forwards. The fans tell us where they are and where they want to listen to us, so we can plan a tour based on that as well.

In 'Everybody's Waiting', a very intimate song, you highlight topics like anxiety, success, individualism ... How has success affected your lives?

Ever since Eurovision, we often get the feeling that we're not in control of our lives anymore. We are more or less dependent on a bigger goal and at least four other people. It seems like our future, our destiny is irrefutably linked now, and we often have a feeling that the individual can get lost within that.

I'm sure you're sticking with rock'n'roll. Nevertheless, are you still tempted by any other music genres?

We're staying based in rock'n'roll, but we can always add rhythms from other musical genres to our songs – from a hint of world music to jazz chords, electronic music, samba rhythms...

What do you think of Pil⁴?

We read Pil and we were always excited about the posters. We hope we will get another edition of the poster. (laughter) We're glad that Pil still exists, that it's just like the one we knew from our childhoods. The fact that we were already on a Pil poster once means a lot to us.

⁴Pil is a Slovenian magazine for pre-teens and young teens which has been published since 1948 and has been an important part of many Slovenians' childhoods and teenage years.

[mariacallous]

Bulgaria’s parliament on Wednesday adopted a law which prohibits “propaganda” for “non-traditional sexual orientations” in schools, sparking outrage and calls for protests. 

The legislation was drafted by the pro-Russian Revival party, but on its first and second readings it also gained support also from pro-Western factions as well.

The amendment to the Law for Pre-School and School Education outlaws “propaganda, popularisation and encouragement, directly or indirectly, of ideas and views connected to nontraditional sexual orientation or to gender-identifying different from the biological”.

In total, 135 out of 240 MPs voted in favour. Support from the pro-Moscow Bulgarian Socialist Party was expected, but the bill passed largely because of the surprising backing of the pro-EU centre-right GERB party.

More than half of the MP’s from the reformist opposition duo We Continue the Change/Democratic Bulgaria missed voting on the first reading for unclear reasons, but the alliance participated more fully on the second, voting against. Altogether, 57 MPs voted against and eight from GERB abstained.

The increased presence of topics related to sexual and gender identity in Bulgaria’s educational system is mentioned as a fact in the legislation’s wording, without offering specific examples. Some MPs cited the existence of brochures on sexual education for children and teenagers, or translated books that are in circulation, as problematic. 

The text does not mention sanctions and does not specify what “ideas and views” would be considered unlawful, leaving room for various interpretations. 

“The restriction on even talking about the topic in school limits chances to oppose the violence and harassment that LGBTI+ students experience,” the feminist organisation LevFem said after the passage of the amendment. 

LGBTQ+ organisation Deystvie drew direct comparisons between the draft amendment and the steady limitation of human rights and the rights of sexual minorities in Russia. “For the 30 years of democratic transition, Bulgaria’s political elite never understood that human rights are at the core of democracy,” Deystvie stated. 

“We need to be heard and understood, not rejected and attacked,” the human rights collective Feminist Mobilisations said before the vote. 

On Wednesday afternoon, a protest was announced in Sofia. 

Echoes of hate speech in debates

During the parliamentary debate, some politicians made statements bordering on hate speech. 

Socialist Party leader Kornelia Ninova said that Bulgarian families abroad had contacted her to alert about the dangers of “gender ideology” in the West and criticised those who are “one thing in the morning, a second in the afternoon, a third in the evening”.

Ninova defined “gender ideology” as something promoted “by very influential and rich people” and said it was “creeping into and taking over Bulgarian schools”.

She noted the recent Eurovision Song Contest, won by a non-binary contestant, and the aesthetics of the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games in Paris as worrying examples. Olympic controversies have been fanned by local conservative politicians, as a recent BIRN analysis explained. 

Ninova’s statements are in line with pro-Kremlin leanings of the Socialist Party, which in 2023 tried to initiate a referendum against “gender ideology” and which since 2017 has vehemently opposed the women’s rights treaty, the so-called Istanbul Convention, interpreting it as promoting LGBTQ+ rights.

“I’ll repeat what I’ve been saying for seven years now: hands off Bulgarian children,” Ninova said on Wednesday.

Zvezdelina Karavelova of Revival said that “pederasty” should be challenged and she hoped that her one-year-old son would never bring home a husband.

Atanas Tchorbanov of the There’s Such a People party compared the outcry from human rights organisations to the orchestra that famously played on during the sinking of the Titanic. 

Daniel Mitov of GERB said the measure was an opportunity to fight “leftist ideologies”.

In contrast, Eleonora Belobradova of We Continue the Change criticised the amendment as regressive and claimed that some paragraphs had been copy-pasted from Wikipedia. 

The turn of events underscores the successful politics of Revival.  Between 2020 and 2022, support for the party increased after it adopted anti-vaxx positions during the COVID-19 pandemic and stayed close to the Kremlin playbook over Ukraine. 

In 2022, Revival unsuccessfully tried to bring in a Russian-style “foreign agents” law.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Joining in with the group excited about oddduck! - maybe Bruce asking Clark’s permission to take reader to a gala that’s sponsoring something she’s interested in just as a thank you Clark it’s not a date stop looking at me like that

"Hey," Clark said, frowning at the sounds of glasses clinking and people laughing over classical music, "Lois and I were wondering if you were free tonight?"

"I'm a little busy-"

"Oh is the school doing a thing? We could-"

"I'm in Prague, actually."

"Oh with- why?" His frown deepens. Over the phone he can hear your heart kick up and you sound tense.

"I-"

"Y/N?" the deep voice calling your name made Clark freeze for just a second and he almost dropped the phone. "Everything okay?"

"I've gotta go," you tell him, putting your phone back in your bag, "I'll text you."

And when the line goes dead, Clark growls to himself. "That son of a bit-"

"Clark? Is Y/N coming or-"

"She's in Prague," Clark growled, "With Bruce Wayne."

"Oh I hope she wore the red Velvet dress- she looks so pretty in it-"

"Lois."

"Clark," she snorted. "She's a doctor. She's your age. If she wants to go to Prague with a Billionaire who probably read all of her books this week and hangs on her every word... What's it hurt?"

"It's not- he's not-"

"Jesus Christ, Smallville," Lois snorted. "You're not her dad. She doesn't even know her dad-"

"But-"

"If he breaks her heart, you can hold him while I hit him. Until then let her live. What's the worst that could happen? He pays for her to bounce around and follow rabbits down holes to her heart's content? You gotta watch them kiss sometimes? She gets to be loved like she deserves?" Lois smiled a little. "She's stronger than you think she is Clark. And Bruce won't let her get hurt."

__________

"Everything Alright?" Bruce asked, offering you his jacket against the chill.

"Fine," you answer, smiling a little, "I- Clark called and it's usually better to answer. He worries."

"Can't imagine why," Bruce chuckled, "Hard to see what trouble you could get into-"

"Depends," you answer, "I did sprain my ankle at Versailles once and gave myself an appalling cold researching at a castle in Bavaria when I got caught in the rain-"

"Harrowing ordeals indeed-"

"And then there was once where I got kidnapped in Berlin and the time I nearly got arrested in Istanbul. And the Time I did get arrested in London-"

"How?" Bruce asked incredulously, chuckling in disbelief.

"I'm very accident-prone," you tell him, nodding earnestly. "Except for the kidnapping it was mostly just a series of misunderstandings."

Bruce smiled and started to lead you back inside, snagging you a glass of champagne, "I'll have to keep an eye on you then. I'd hate for something to happen before I get to read your next book-"

"You read-"

"Of course I did," he said, cheeks darkening. "Your research and narrative flow really- I mean. I'm just ashamed I didn't read them sooner."

"I- oh- um-"

"How do you do it?" he asked, "make all that so easy to understand?"

You look down, feeling flustered. Embarrassed. And take a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't laugh. "I just tell the stories I wanted to read when I was little." And when he doesn't laugh. When a gentle hand tucks a lock of hair back behind your ear, back out of your eyes, you look up slowly.

"Beautiful and brilliant," Bruce hummed. "Lucky me."

[nkjemisin]

Hi there! I wanted to hear your opinion about this specific, and common obstacle authors might face. What do you think about writing places you've never been in or barely; and by extension, writing about its people, communities you've never really met, or not often? I'd like for my story to be set in NYC, and the people there, to feel real, but I wonder how legitimate I am with only research (can't travel there atm unfortunately). Love your work and eager to read more of Great Cities. Take care!

Well, I had to deal with this in writing the Great Cities quite a bit, so I can't tell you how to do it, but I can at least tell you how I dealt with it. Never been to São Paulo, for example, or Hong Kong or Istanbul or several of the cities that I "characterized" in the story. Some of that was because I was dealing with a lot of other stuff while working on TCWB (my mom had just died, buying my first home and moving, etc.) and didn't have time for research travel like I usually do, and for TWWM I stopped traveling due to covid. So I had to wing it.

I would say that a lot depends on how much you intend to use the location you're writing about. If it's just background, then you can do a surprising amount with remote observation and research. I used a lot of Google Street View, for example. I popped into Reddit threads for those cities and asked questions -- which is always a little fraught with Reddit, but people were mostly pleased to talk about their towns. I also picked up the Not For Tourists guides for a few cities. Basic info about any city is pretty readily available all over the place.

(Writing about communities is a different story, particularly if those are marginalized communities of some flavor. I always recommend starting with Writing the Other, if you're writing outside your own identity... and even if you're writing your own. It's helpful for reducing stereotypes and replicating exploitative traditions, period.)

If you're using a setting for a whole chapter or something, though, you need to either go there, get locals to talk to you about the place, or -- ideally -- both. In my case that meant talking to friends as well as paying several "expert readers" (like, a person born and raised in Istanbul) to read segments of my writing and offer critical advice. I even needed expert readers for NYC-related stuff -- the chapter of TWWM where Brooklyn goes to court, for example. I know nothing about the city's legal system or even which court is right for which kind of proceeding (we have A LOT of courts, both in the city and the boroughs).

You also need to be okay with making minor mistakes. Recognize that it really isn't possible for any one person to know everything, or even most things, about a city with a population of millions and which effectively sprawls across three different states. I've lived in NYC on and off all my life, and I still got several things wrong when I wrote the Great Cities. I read books and went on tours and learned things about my own city that I've never heard before. While I could and did walk right out my front door and have conversations with people who've lived here all their lives, sometimes there were mistakes in stuff they told me, and only research caught some (not all) of those. I feel like I got the stuff that mattered right, however -- the attitudes, the language, the power dynamics, the way parts of NYC absolutely love to talk shit about other parts of NYC, but will square up in solidarity the instant an outsider tries the same thing.

If your story is about the city, though? Set here? You really need to not just visit but live here for a while. There's nuance you're just not going to get from research or even talking to people. For some things, there's no substitute for experience.

Anyway, hope that helps.

[namusthetic]

The Weird Relatives at the Family Reunion

Half the rumors at the dining table involve them, but they attend family reunions just to cause drama. Their alliance still stands, and gets stronger each gathering.

No.1 - The Chaotic

Is made 70% out of anger issues and 30% out of spite

Does not care about people's opinions and judgement

Has no patience

Mom friend, scolds you first and then takes care of you anyway

Has their life organized, knows what they want

Only listens to a few selected people whom they trust

Devours sexists for breakfast

Their resistance to caffeine is the same as that of a 5-year-old to sugar

"Bold of you to assume I've reached my peak of dumbass"

Avoids physical touch

Their love language is food giving / cooking

A public danger when driving (and in general)

Eats cereals from the box

Falls completely silent when angry

Probably made a deal with the devil for clear skin

Hates the government with a passion

Listens to hard rock, metal and techno, not necessarily in this order

Helps children with mischievous plans

Ready to throw hands and chew people out if someone is getting bullied

Slapstick humor

Plots new, fun ways of causing mayhem

Catchphrase: "Improvise, attack, overcome."

Playlist:

Don't Stop Me Now by Queen

Istanbul (Not Constantinople) by They Might Be Giants

all the good girls go to hell by Billie Eilish

Cigarette Ahegao by Penelope Scott

LA ESPADA by Eternal Raijin

Scopin by Kordhell

Besos I by Bo Burnham

Supermassive Black Hole by Muse

My Ordinary Life by The Living Tombstone

Maneater by Nelly Furtado

spy? by WHOKILLEDXIX

Let's Groove by Earth, Wind & Fire

No.2 - The Neutral

Always looks half asleep or annoyed or both

Sarcasm and dark humor

Done with everyone's shit

"save the bees, punch a racist"

comes off as kind and easy-going, but would watch the world burn and not bat an eye

Is inclined to tollerate you better if you offer them coffee or cookies or if you start talking about books

Will cover for you if they like you, tell on you if they don't, you'll never know which one it is until the last second

They'll sit down in a spot away from the family chaos to either ignore or judge everyone

Has a keen eye for body language and nonverbal communication

Bad at managing anxiety and stress

"binarism is for computers, do I look like a fuckin MacBook to you?"

Says they don't like kids but carries candy in their pockets for their nephews

Commitment and trust issues

Starts yelling when they get really mad

Their love languages are acts of service and quality time

Not easy to impress, unless you start the conversation quoting Shakespeare or Dante

Passive aggressive

Listens to literally anything except country music

Hates parents who don't take their children seriously, so they're always ready to lend a ear and give advice

Helps no. 1 plotting by giving technical details and suggestions

Catchphrase: "Oh, I haven't told them good morning simply because I don't think they deserve one"

Playlist:

These Times by Far Caspian

Treehouse by Alex G, Emily Yacina

Tired by beabadoobee

Summer Child by Conan Gray

Young by Vacations

Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens

Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now by The Smiths

The Adults Are Talking by The Strokes

O Children by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

Sex, Drugs, Etc. by Beach Weather

Bitter Taste by Billy Idol

Obstacles by Syd Matters

No.3 - The Lawful

Sensitive, must protect

Love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch

Cannot cook for the life of them

Made of sunshine and rainbows

"Please, assume I have dignity"

Sweet but awkward

Wears sunglasses to hide the eye bags

Always rushing somewhere

Loves children

Takes things personally and thus gets hurt too often

Quotes cringy positivity lines

Hard working

Always brings something to eat

Is actually the most insecure about themselves and their body

No.1 and no.2 are ready to physically fight anyone who is mean to them

Cheers you up and has your back

Ready to forgive and forget, rarely blames people for stuff

Too willing to give second chances

Gives stern scoldings if they're mad

When something goes wrong they take it badly and get really sad

A cinnamon roll inside and outside

Knows how to play several instrument so they sing and play for children

Tries to keep no.1 and no.2 from achieving world domination

Catchphrase: "Even if the world is big, you're enough for it"

Playlist:

El Mismo Sol by Alvaro Soler

Brazil by Declan McKenna

OUR SUMMER by TXT

Baby I'm Yours by Arctic Monkeys

Hey Lover! by Wabie

Watermelon Sugar by Harry Styles

NIGHT DANCER by imase

HOME by BTS

Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) by Edison Lighthouse

Bossa No Sé by Cuco ft. Jean Carter

Swing Lynn by Harmless

Promise by Jimin

[mezzy-1]

Neon Headcanons (but also ~Deadlock?)

Another (modified) version of one of @eviethelesbian 's prompts.  At this point I’m like Thanos collecting Infinity Stones but I just write Valorant headcanons from a list.  One down, god knows how many more to go.

Neon

My god she has no filter when speaking Tagalog, like it's not just that she swears but the sheer volume of it

Diagnosed by Sage, confirmed by damn near everyone she knows, she has ADHD

Despite being somewhat short she is excellent a basketball and when she learned the protocol had a court, she was estatic

Phoenix warned Gekko against challenging her, to which he ignored, and was shocked when Neon dunked on him

Also insanely fast too, if she decides to steal from someone’s plate it’s so quick that most people won’t notice

Will use her radiance to speed up basic chores.  Also to charge phones, hairdryers, tablets, and most appliances 

That last one is usually what happens when she decides to cook, and she LOVES cooking.  Most of the time she will offer to help cook even it isn’t her designated night to cook

Adobo is what most of the fandom knows her for, but it isn’t the only dish she can make.  

Sinangag, tocino, and sisig are usually her go to whenever she is asked to cook, but her favorite dish to make is anything with Ube

The shock value of purple food to the protocol and getting everyone’s reaction was entertaining to her.  Plus the flavor reminds her of childhood.

Misses her parents at times and occasionally will be reminded of them from something on a mission.  Afterwards, she’ll head to her room and probably fixate on a photo of them.  It’s a routine at this point.

Does have some fear of her electricity causing a blackout, and only uses it at its maximum while training

Has flashbacks to when she couldn’t control it, and the times it got out of hand and caused a citywide blackout for about a week

The flashbacks include the time her power caused someone to go into cardiac arrest, a day that still haunts her

Reyna often tries to get her to move beyond guilt to draw out more power, which Neon is aware of but at the same time, it feels good to not be careful and let loose

Training is usually a mix of target practice and using radiance to outmaneuver training dummies.  At times, Reyna will drop in to teach her to be more decisive or give her advice

Sage is keeping an eye on this, but more out concern for Neon’s wellbeing.  When Neon is distressed, it's often Sage that talks with her about whatever troubles her

Fade is still making amends for what happened in Istanbul.  Contrary to most of the fandom, you can’t just psychologically scar someone and then become gfs

Don’t worry, they eventually found common ground after Fade apologized and the two began to realize they had some things in common

Eventually it was Neon that actually forgave her and the two began spending time together and trusting each other more on missions

They aren’t ‘inseparable’ but Fade stays close to Neon whenever she’s out of her room, and Neon visits her at times

She’s everyone’s big sister and although she is homesick, she believes she is helping the world.  Also the relationship between her and Fade is also a reason to stay…

Deadlock

Iselin is in therapy, both physical and mental.  It was a bit difficult for her to talk to anyone, but Sage managed to crack her.  It wasn’t pretty, and to keep her stable she was put on medication

Anxiety and PTSD attacks were common in the days she was still adjusting to the protocol.  Gekko’s crew were forbidden from entering after she saw them and her heart rate spiked

Eventually she managed to feel more at ease, and the medication was issued in lower amounts to compensate.  That’s when prosthetic fittings began, courtesy of KJ

Surprisingly, she was able to make a lot of progress towards dealing with her trauma.  Therapy works, also a surprisingly good support structure

Sova is her support person, and the two are usually together whenever they can be because they work together so well 

They are siblings, not by blood but by dynamic and they are competent but one is usually paying attention and the other isn’t

After Sova, her favorite person at the protocol is Skye.  The hiking the two often do is not only relaxing but strenuous so it's usually only them 

It was a bit hard for her to trust the animals Skye made at first, but they were sort of exposure therapy for her

She and Skye love doing anything together, and Skye is one of the few people Iselin lets her guard down around

Not that she’ll admit this, but she has created a private file with KAY/O for a bit of a dark reason.  It is called ANI/-/ILLATION (0)

It details precise methods on how to kill every radiant and artifact using agent and what to fight them with.  It was a drafted by KAY/O in the future and is a failsafe to prevent a Radiant War

KAY/O doesn’t want to tell her, but she was not only a general during it but died to Skye killing her in the future

Getting back to lighter topics, Iselin’s personality is organized but she will offer to help people if they want.  Mainly with gun maintenance and drills

She has a soft spot for a lot of the younger agents and despite being ‘serious’ will join in on conversations and casual life

Do not however challenge Deadlock to bets and games, she will take it seriously and always give 100%

The radianite still in her body from the Bear glows in the dark and responds to radianite and strong emotion.  She hates it but everyone says it's cool

Omen and her were on bad terms initially (trauma did cause that) but the more they worked together the kinder the two were

Now Iselin has a sweater from Omen, and she wears it around the base when she can.  She loves the material and the fact it's her favorite color, green.  It reminds her of spring.

The prosthetic arm felt alien at first but now it's like a part of her.  She doesn’t feel any shame for it anymore and she’s turned into a sign of resilience.

As a joke, Breach asked if she could do that with it.  She jabbed him in the gut and he toppled over, she yelled “what do you think now, drittsekk?” at him and left

(For the record KJ did install a function for that, but never told her.  Oh well…)

She is serious, organized, but never stern.  She may still be recovering and finding her footing after tragedy but she is surrounded by people that are moving her forwards

Fun Little Glitch

So Neon and Deadlock were in the common room and Neon being Neon she got curious about the prosthetic arm

Iselin permitted her to look it over and touch it, and gave her a rundown of what it was.  Then Neon went to check the hand size in comparison to hers

Just as she was pressing their hands together, a small spark from Neon’s hand shocked Iselin’s hand, and it went full death grip

It would not let go, and the initial panic caused them to trip over each other trying to pull the hand apart

Sova walked in after hearing the commotion, and saw the two on the floor.  He tried to help by grabbing both wrists and pulling

It did nothing and his next suggestion was to disconnect the arm and then pull.  Iselin had to explain the prosthetic arm can’t be removed and was kind of pissed he suggested it

He shrugged and said they should just go to KJ’s lab and wait, which was a problem cause A: it was on the other side of the base, and B: she was out on a mission

So Tala and Iselin had to walk through the common area, then the mess hall (Jett, Phoenix, Reyna, Harbor + Astra, and Gekko), then past the conference room (Brim and KAYO), to the medical bay (Sage, Viper, and a hurt Yoru), and finally to KJ’s lab

It was beyond embarrassing for the two and led to plenty of confusion and remarks (mainly from Jett and Yoru)

Fade poked her head out of her room and invited Tala in, but then immediately regretted it when she realized she had been stuck to Iselin.  Not wanting to be rude, she made her peace with it

From time to time people would drop by and try and see the conjoined agents only for Fade to greet them at the door and shoo them off

It was a strange situation for everyone, Tala being with Fade and Iselin while in Fade’s room was different.  It didn’t help that there wasn’t much to do aside from scroll the internet and watch Fade add to her conspiracy board

Eventually when it got late and they realized that KJ was gonna get back late, they all sort of gathered around on the floor and just hung out

Fade was prompted by Tala to read out loud what she was reading while she layed on the cushions dotting the room.  Iselin just slumped against the wall

The morning KJ arrived, she was ushered to the room by a very excited Jett and Phoenix.  Brimstone was less than enthused about the fact 3 agents were together in a room overnight

The three had all collapsed together and were laying on the floor, and yes Jett took a photo before they all woke up

KJ walked over to Iselin, put a gadget up to the wrist and the grip stopped.  Now that the two were separated, Tala and Iselin thanked KJ enthusiastically.  

Fade hated the fact everyone was looking in her room and quickly got everyone out the second she could

A few adjustments later, the arm set to work without any problems due to increased voltage

Some time later after a successful mission, Iselin went to help up Neon and extended her prosthetic arm

“Iselin you can let go now”

Iselin started to panic and then Neon began to panic, right before Iselin released her grip and smiled at her

“Ok ok, you got me Iselin… Hey, you want to try that on Fade?”

[militantinremission]

American Geopolitics: Corporations over Citizens

So 'Jim Crow Joe' Biden signed a $95.3B Foreign Aid Bill for Ukraine, Israel, & Taiwan. Most Americans think that Border Security is a higher priority, but as expected, Congressional Democrats were in lock step w/ Biden's Warmonger Agenda. Members of the CBC & Progressive Party played a major role, providing overwhelming support for this measure. $1B in Military Aid is slated to go to Ukraine WITHIN HOURS of signing this Bill, but a Military Package estimated at $300M was secretly shipped and was already being used last Week. The $61B 'Foreign Aid Package' for Ukraine includes:

$23.2B slated to replenish U.S. Defense stockpiles

$11.3B for current Ukrainian Defense operations

$13.8B for future Ukrainian Defense measures

This is on top of the $113B in American Aid already sent. The Package also includes $26B for Israeli Defense, w/ $1B set aside for 'Aid Relief' in Gaza, & $8B going to Taiwan. This sounds like a good thing for Defense Contractors, Lobbyists, & Commercial Banks (The Industrial Military Complex), but there is No Mention of funding for America's porous Southern Border.

Volodomyr Zelenskyy's Government has received over $300B in Global Aid for his War, but all he has to show for it are 500,000+ slain Ukrainian Soldiers, devasted Cities, & Tens of Millions of displaced Citizens. Accounts of WHERE these resources have gone are murky at best. Reports of American Weapons & Relief Materials appearing on the Ukrainian Black Market have persisted since shipments began. It's apparent that the situation is Critical. Ukraine has recently issued a Draft, calling ALL Ukrainian Men of fighting age to return Home to join the Theater of Battle; failure to do so, will lead to being labeled a 'Draft Dodger'. Meanwhile, rumors have circulated that 1,000- 2,000 French Infantrymen (possibly French Foreign Legionaries) have joined Ukrainian Soldiers on the Battlefield; discarding their French Uniforms & donning Ukrainian ones.

Taking ALL of these factors into account, why is The Biden Administration throwing more Money at Ukraine? Why isn't NATO trying to negotiate a Truce between Putin & Zelenskyy (i.e. Istanbul Summit Communique)? A recent Summit in Switzerland showed that Volodomyr Zelenskyy is sticking to his guns. He is demanding the Same Terms that he offered at the Beginning of the Conflict. Vladimir Putin obviously has momentum, so why is NATO & Ukraine refusing to hear his Terms? The effort by Western Powers & the WEF to humiliate Putin publicly & topple his government has been a dismal failure. The Sanctions placed on Russia have not worked; in fact, it has galvanized the Russian Public & made Vladimir Putin something of a Super Star in the Global South.

Despite U.S. imposed Sanctions, Russia continues to have robust trade w/ several Western European Nations. Germany & France alone have spent Billions on Russian Fertilizer & Timber. Billions more in Natural Resources like Coal, Cobalt, Copper, Tungsten, & Zinc are also being sold throughout Europe. China & North Korea are purchasing the Natural Gas & Oil that once flowed through the Nord Stream Pipeline, & Global South Nations are purchasing Russian Armaments. To be clear, Russia isn't starving. In fact, The Russian Ruble is stronger than it was Last Year. Julius Malema recently stated that Russia's & South Afrika's Gold & Platinum wealth will be the backbone of a BRICS Currency. Saudi Arabia has already began accepting Rubles over American Petrodollars. All of this may explain The Biden Administration's determination to press on in Ukraine.

Military Minds like Scott Ritter & Col. Douglas MacGregor have been talking about Russian dominance over NATO in Ukraine since The War began. They both point out how the diplomatic moves being made by Vladimir Putin are well thought out, & Geopolitical Minds like John Mearsheimer agree. Putin is playing a Long Game, & his actions have aroused 'Russian Patriots'. Since the 'Special Operation' in Ukraine began, the Russian Army has grown from 900,000 Soldiers to over 1.4 Million. Even Men over 40 are seeking Enlistment. Roughly 1,400 Men/Day are volunteering to join the Battle in Ukraine. Meanwhile, Ukrainian Soldiers are SERIOUSLY depleted, & American Armed Forces Enlistment numbers are down; THIS may explain the number of Young Male Illegal Immigrants being allowed into the Country. The Roman Empire also faced an Enlistment problem; They hired Visigoth Mercenaries to beef up their numbers. History shows how THAT worked out for the Romans.

The Role of Multinational Corporations in all of this has to be considered. Black Rock is buying up large tracts of land in Ukraine, while Defense Contractors rake in 10s of Billions from U.S. Military Aid Packages. The Pentagon says that We have to replenish the stocks that are being shipped to Ukraine & Israel, but neither Front has an 'End Game'. Volodomyr Zelenskyy is fighting a losing battle. He doesn't have enough Soldiers to confront a growing Russian Army; he doesn't even have enough Experienced Soldiers to operate the equipment that Biden intends to ship. As for Israel, Benjamin Netanyahu has been very successful in devastating the Gaza Strip, but he hasn't done any real damage to Hamas. Meanwhile, Hezbollah is forcing Israeli Settlers South, & the Houthis have hurt Israel economically... Now Iran has SERVED NOTICE on Israel that their vaunted Air/ Missle Defense Systems (& America's) cannot stop a [bonafide] Iranian assault.

Back in America, Detroit, Flint, & Jackson Ms. STILL need clean drinking water! The Gulf States STILL suffer from the effects of Hurricane Katrina, & Our Roads, Bridges, & Tunnels continue to deteriorate. $200B would go a long way to solving some of these Home Grown problems. Corporations can make their money HERE; improving Trade Routes & increasing the incomes of American Workers. Why isn't this a priority? 'Jim Crow Joe' likes to tout Job Growth numbers, but these are mostly 'Gig Economy' Jobs, or Jobs that offer 30hrs/ Week, w/ NO BENEFITS. Then there's the Border Crisis. Improving the Southern Border IS a National Security Issue, but it's been put on the back burner- Why is that? Why are MILLIONS of unvetted Young Men not just being allowed into America, but also being subsidized?

Why are struggling Black Communities being forced to compete w/ these Men for resources meant for Us? Why are Black Politicians ignoring their Constituents & lending their support to these people, along w/ 2 Wars that have NOTHING to do w/ Us? The 'Fix' is obviously In, but We WILL have the Last Laugh on Election Day.

-Best believe That!

[star-temeraire]

AHH! The Temeraire series is so good. Laurence and Tharkay's conversation after they get back into the palace in Istanbul is brilliant. They're both distrustful of each other and not without reason. Tharkay admits that his behaviour comes from his trauma and he takes responsibility for it and Laurence can see him with empathy and he accepts that. He can see that Tharkay's isolation sucks and describes him and it as "a waste of a man proven worthy of something better". He offers him full reciprocal loyalty and when Tharkay accepts, he acknowledges that he is not used to that (so therefore it may be difficult) and Laurence doesn't challenge this.

So much of the series is set on being historically accurate, from the type of language used to how people of that time would respond to things like women being aviators, and yet these two men having this emotionally mature and honest conversation doesn't feel out of place. Laurence takes his sweet ass time in his character arc and it feels more realistic because of that.

I first read Temeraire in high school circa 2014, then I read the whole series in late 2018/early 2019. Coming back to it now, after having done a whole creative writing degree in the meantime, it's just as good as I can remember.

[paindivinemp3]

📚Books I'd Recommend SVT To Read: Part One

a/n: i've wanted to make something like this for some time; thank you @sadkidwarexpert for allowing me to use your idea🖤; as always, excuse any typos and please, let me know if i wrote something incorrectly.

✎Jeonghan: The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov

➥Genre: fantasy, satire, magical realism?

➥The book that deserves a book about it (does it make sense?). I feel this book is like "The Matrix" movie- there are so many layers to it, so much to decipher and everytime you read it, there's always something new? I think Jeonghan's mind would enjoy the challenge.

"I don't have any special talents, just an ordinary desire to live like a human being."

Bonus: Schachnovelle by Stefan Zweig

✎Wonwoo: The Erast Fandorin Mysteries Series by Boris Akunin

➥Genre: historical detective novels

➥I think Wonwoo would have so much fun reading about the adventures of Mr. Erast Fandorin and learn so many facts from the pages of the books. These series are such a great delight and you know the movie going on inside your head while reading? brrr

"When money is the cornerstone of everything, it is the end of genuine art! You have given me this rose and, of course, it is beautiful. But you are mistaken when you say that it is alive! It died as soon as you condemned it to this golden captivity! It was transformed into the mummified corpse of a flower! It is the same with your cinematograph. The theatre is life! And like all life, it is instantaneous and unrepeatable. There will never be another moment exactly the same, it cannot be halted, and that is why it is beautiful..."

Bonus: The Cemetery of Forgotten Books Series by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

✎DK: A Strangeness in My Mind by Orhan Pamuk

➥Genre: (historical) fiction

➥A book where various themes (such as social classes and politics) cross lines in the life of an ordinary man, that had moved into the big, tumultuous city (but being a dreamer and a discoverer isn't ordinary, right?). I loved reading this book from beginning to end and it would be a lie to say that I didn't get attached to Mevlut- its main protagonist. Mevlut, who accepts his fate while trying to decipher that enigma called life (or Istanbul, or himself. maybe all); a sentimental character who never loses his child-like curiosity, whose good heart doesn't change despite (is he just a dreamer, an idealist or simply a fool? who knows. but maybe, in the end, we are the fools).A character from which a lot valuable can be learned. I think DK would truly enjoy diving into the story and maybe would bump into a few gentle reminders (does this even make sense?)

"All the happiness and beauty that life had to offer only revealed themselves when his mind drifted off into fantasies of a world far removed from his own."

Bonus: Monsieur Jean und sein Gespür für Glück by Thomas Montasser

✎Minghao: The Architect’s Apprentice by Elif Şafak

➥Genre: historical fiction

➥A beautiful story, following the journey of a boy and his loyal companion and best friend- an elephant, into the ever-changing Istanbul . Yet, this book is so much more. If architect Sinan and his apprentices build lives through architecture, so does Minghao through music. It takes time and patience to create something and only a second to destroy it, doesn't it? I think Minghao's artistic soul will connect with the characters, more or less, and will genuinely appreciate the book.

"For apprentices everywhere - no one told us that love was the hardest craft to master."

Bonus: At the Existentialist Café by Sarah Bakewell

✎Seungkwan: When God Was a Rabbit by Sarah Winman

➥Genre: coming of age, contemporary, fiction

➥A story of growing up and losing your innocence, a story of a brother and sister, of friends and families, of learning to navigate through the mess and turmoil of the world and your own life and heal, learn, grow. I believe Seungkwan is in possession of high emotional intelligence and we know how much he loves and values his family and friends, so I think this book might hit close to home, more or less.

"Nothing stays forgotten for long, Elly. Sometimes we simply have to remind the world that we're special and that we're still here."

Bonus: The Four Million by O.Henry

[shitsndgiggs]

hey can you make a story about Arda güler x danish girl.

where the danish girl goes to Turkey and meets Arda, where they spend a lot of time together and fall in love with each other

i love you story's

LOVE IN ISTANBUL - ARDA GÜLER

When you meet a guy on your vacation to Turkey, things turn for the better

Arda Güler x danish! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The sun was shining brightly as I stepped off the plane in Istanbul, the city where East meets West.

This was my first vacation in Turkey, and I was excited to immerse myself in its rich culture and history.

My plan was to start with a visit to the Basilica Cistern, before heading to the famous Hagia Sophia.

After checking into my hotel, I made my way to the Basilica Cistern. The cool, dimly lit underground space was a stark contrast to the bustling city above.

I wandered through the columns, admiring the reflections in the shallow water. As I was taking pictures, I heard a voice behind me.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

I turned around to see a tall, handsome man with a warm smile. "Yes, it's stunning," I replied.

He extended his hand. "I'm Arda."

“Y/N,” I said, shaking his hand.

"Are you here on vacation?" he asked, his english clear but tinged with a turkish accent.

"Yes, it's my first time in Turkey," I replied. "What about you?"

"I'm actually a local, but I love coming here. It's one of the quieter spots in the city," he said. "If you need any recommendations or a guide, I'd be happy to help."

"That would be great," I said, grateful for the offer.

Over the next few days, Arda and I explored Istanbul together. He showed me the city's hidden gems and shared stories about its history.

We visited the bustling Grand Bazaar, took a boat ride on the Bosphorus, and enjoyed delicious turkish food at local eateries.

One evening, we found ourselves at a cozy café near the Galata Tower. As we sipped our turkish tea, Arda looked at me with a playful glint in his eyes.

"How about I teach you some turkish?" he suggested.

"Sure, I'd love that," I replied eagerly.

"Okay, let's start with something simple. 'Merhaba' means 'hello,'" he said.

"Merhaba," I repeated, trying to mimic his pronunciation.

"Perfect! Now, 'Teşekkür ederim' means 'thank you,'" Arda continued.

"Teşekkür ederim," I said, feeling a bit more confident.

"Great job! And if you want to say 'I love you,' you say 'Seni seviyorum,'" he added, his eyes locking onto mine.

"Seni seviyorum," I whispered, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks.

Arda laughed softly. "You learn fast. How do you say ‘I love you’ in danish?”

“You say ‘Jeg elsker dig’, ” I said, looking into his eyes

"Jeg elsker dig," he echoed softly, his gaze filled with warmth.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, I realized how much I cherished these moments with Arda.

Despite knowing that my vacation would soon come to an end, I felt hopeful for our future.

On my last day in Istanbul, Arda insisted on taking me to the airport. As we stood near the departure gate, I felt a lump form in my throat.

"I can't believe my trip is already over," I said, trying to hold back tears.

"I know," Arda replied, his voice filled with emotion. "But this isn't goodbye, Y/N. We can stay in touch and visit each other."

I nodded, grateful for his words. "Thank you for everything, Arda. You've made this trip unforgettable."

He took my hands in his, his eyes serious. "Seni seviyorum, Y/N.”

"Seni seviyorum, Arda," I replied, my heart swelling with love.

As we shared a final hug, I knew this was just the beginning of our story.

[piracytheorist]

Are you a starter or desert type of person?

You mean if I prefer starters to deserts? For me, the thing about eating deserts right after the main course is that... since my stomach is full and my palate full of salty tastes, most of the time deserts don't hit as right. I prefer to have a bit more space to eat, and be able to enjoy the desert as it is. That is, if I'm served something I like, I will eat it, but with not as much excitement as if I ate it an hour or so afterwards.

Now, when it comes to starters... the thing is that Greek starters are good. The first thing that comes to mind, probably the most common starter dish in mainland Greece: French fries with tzatziki (yogurt - plain yogurt, not yogurt "sauce" - with garlic and trimmed cucumber) which is just... *chef's kiss*. Whoever thought first of that combination is a genius.

You can dip a lot of stuff in tzatziki - as you see in the pic, someone has dipped a piece of pitta bread, which is the second most common thing to dip in it, but french fries are inarguably the best choice.

Then there's stuff like zucchini "balls". Like meatballs, but made of zucchini instead of meat.

They can also be made of tomato,

mushed chickpeas (like falafel, I guess)

and then we can get a bunch of vegetables and salads in general. Aubergines, peppers (the long ones, we call them Florinis here), fried tomatoes, pretty much anything goes.

... Maybe my view of "starter" meals is very different due to our cuisine. When you go to a Greek traditional restaurant/taverna, you don't get a starter meal per person eating. You get a bunch of them, and we put them in the middle of the table and share, and it's only the main course that's separate for each. Probably the once and only time I've had an actual "starter" was when I went to a non-traditional restaurant in Istanbul and had tomato soup for starter. That one was great, lol.

So yeah, even though I love desserts, when in such a setting I prefer the starters. They're easier to digest before the main course, they come in a bigger variation (compared to what dessert options most Greek restaurants offer), and it's fun to be sharing them with the people around the table.

[mariacallous]

On April 25, 1974, a left-leaning military coup overthrew Portugal’s 48-year dictatorship. The uprising, known as the Carnation Revolution, represented the country’s pivot to democracy after decades under António Salazar’s oppressive rule and a boost for women’s rights. In 1976, a new constitution afforded equal rights to men and women. More recently, in 2011, Portugal signed the Istanbul Convention, a treaty addressing violence against women and domestic violence; it was ratified in 2013. But as is often the case with gender, Portugal’s laws and norms do not sync up. “Some things are the same as they were before the 25th of April,” journalist Fernanda Câncio said. “Machismo is one of them.”

As a Portuguese American woman, I’ve rubbed against that machismo for as long as I can remember. During a visit to Lisbon last summer, I was reminded yet again of the country’s confining gender roles as I hosted a visiting American. During lunch one day, an older friend described the ex-girlfriend of a mutual acquaintance, saying, “Ela é muito atrevida.” The American, who didn’t speak Portuguese but had a keen ear for gossip, asked what was said. Here I fumbled: The direct translation is, “She’s very sassy,” but “precocious,” “bold,” and “cheeky” were also trotted out. Though all are technically correct, they missed the point. Finally, I offered “boundary-pushing,” but even then my translation failed.

Part of the problem is that atrevida means something different when applied to a woman than a man. For a man, as with the word’s English counterparts, the gendered atrevido easily serves as a compliment. But any Portuguese speaker would have known the comment at lunch was not kindly meant. The woman we were discussing, my friend had intimated, was a troublemaker who pushed against norms, perhaps even for pleasure. As such, she is best avoided.

I asked Anália Torres, a sociologist at the University of Lisbon and the director of its Interdisciplinary Centre for Gender Studies, to articulate my misgivings. “The word atrevida for a woman is not positive,” she said. “It is different when applied to a man. For a woman, you’re implying that she is too forward, that she has a flirty personality. It means she says things that are a little provocative, in the sense that she is offering herself. It has a sexual implication.” For a man, Torres said, “it is not negative. It can mean he says things that are provocative but he is amusing. It implies he is bold, has a sense of humor, and is open.”

In considering the negative connotations of atrevida, and especially its sexual dimensions, I wondered if concern over the label might help explain why the #MeToo movement has floundered in Portugal. Since the movement took off seven years ago, very few Portuguese women have put their names on sexual harassment allegations that detail abusive acts while naming the perpetrators outright.

Perhaps because of this, few investigations have run in the Portuguese press. While one could assume there aren’t many #MeToo stories to report—as a Portuguese man suggested to me—a host of anonymous complaints have surfaced that suggest otherwise. In fact, Câncio said, she was recently investigating sexual harassment claims against a famous media personality. Despite looking into credible allegations for months, she gave up on the story when none of the five women interviewed were willing to go on the record. “If I didn’t,” she said, “I’d be at risk of defamation.” The reason for their silence? Fear.

Last spring, Câncio helped break Portugal’s most significant #MeToo story yet with an article that named Boaventura de Sousa Santos as the professor accused of sexual harassment by anonymous former students at the prestigious University of Coimbra. Santos admitted to Câncio that he had been accused but said the allegations had no merit. Days later, two other women—one from Brazil and one from Argentina—went on the record and shared their stories in detail. No Portuguese women joined them in speaking out with specifics. (This year, the university released a report on its investigation into allegations within the department where Santos served as director emeritus.)

In my own #MeToo reporting in the United States, I’ve also encountered reluctance from women when it comes time to go public. But the explanations I’ve received pertain mostly to concerns of professional blacklisting or legal jeopardy. While the process is not simple, I never felt that any woman was concerned with being thought of as atrevida in the Portuguese sense. I have spoken to well over 100 women, and societal perceptions were not raised. That is not the case for Câncio. “Of course I think women are worried about how they’re going to be perceived by society,” she said. “They don’t want to be talked about.”

She understands their reluctance. For 36 years, Câncio has reported on gender issues in Portugal, and she believes that women’s silence around #MeToo reflects their standing within the country. “The feminist movement never really took off here,” she said, “especially compared to what’s happened elsewhere in Western Europe or even right next door in Spain.”

One reason for the lag may relate to Salazarism, which, until the 1974 revolution, was enshrined in the nation’s laws. Anne Cova, who, along with António Costa Pinto, co-wrote the chapter “Women and Salazarism” in Political and Historical Encyclopedia of Women, explained that the ideology is based on the motto “Deus, pátria e família” (God, Fatherland, and Family). Women, she and Pinto wrote, had limited freedoms when Salazar was in power, and only a few—such as widows and heads of family—had suffrage. Married women, Cova wrote in an email, were especially powerless and were “prohibited from working in the judiciary, in diplomacy, and in public administration.”

According to the European Institute for Gender Equality’s 2023 Gender Equality Index, Portugal still ranks below the average European Union member state. A separate 2014 survey, conducted by the European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights, found that from the age of 15 onward, 24 percent of women in Portugal experienced physical and/or sexual violence, and 9 percent reported stalking.

In 2017, the same year #MeToo took off in the United States, a different story made headlines in Portugal. That year, a male and female judge in an appeals court in Porto, the country’s second-largest city, upheld a light sentence—15 months of suspended jail time and a fine—for an assailant who violently beat his ex-wife with a nail-spiked club. The Washington Post reported that he coordinated with the woman’s former lover, who kidnapped and held her down during the attack. In their ruling, the judges wrote, “Adultery by a woman is a very serious attack on a man’s honor and dignity,” adding that “society has always strongly condemned adultery by a woman and therefore sees the violence by a betrayed, vexed, and humiliated man with some understanding.” Reuters, which also reported on the case, provided context: “Ultra-orthodox patriarchy—one of the cornerstones of the fascist dictatorship of Antonio Salazar up until the 1974 revolution—still survives in parts of Portugal.”

Fifty years have passed since the Carnation Revolution and seven since #MeToo forced an international reckoning on the pervasiveness of sexual harassment in the workplace. To ensure that the goals of Portugal’s democratic revolution come closer to actualization, perhaps it is time for atrevida to finally serve as a compliment, just as it does for men in Portugal. After all, change requires boldness, and it won’t come for Portuguese women until the descriptor is embraced.

[hasankcskin]

 — it seems that [ hasan keskin ] has entered the scene ! he looks exactly like [ can yaman ]. this [ 35-year-old ] is the [ major shareholder ] of [ app-h inc. ]. it’s a small wonder since he is known for being [ ambitious & confident ] and [ arrogant & greedy ]. he has been involved with the company for [ 6 ] years. 

𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙨

name : hasan keskin age : thirty-five years old height : 188 cm / 6'2" gender : cis man, he/him sexual orientation : straight status : single children : two — 10 years old — 3 years old

𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙚

schooling: massachusetts institute of technology

born and raised in istanbul. older brother to feyza and their two younger siblings. during his childhood and teen years, his life revolved around football. his dream just like every young boy his age was to be a football player until one christmas he was gifted a psp. he became obsessed with video games and no longer as infatuated with football.

later his interest grew to fascination. how were these games created? what goes into making a gaming console? how long does it take to create something like this?

once finding out what it required to become a game developer, he started taking school more seriously. it was a great surprise to his parents to find him excelling in his studies even though it was due to his obsession with video games. they couldn't tell him to reduce his playing time solely due to the fact he was getting amazing grades.

after university, his career was flourishing, working under companies like ubisoft, and EA who have all created his favourite games. — but just as thing were getting good, in 2014 he gets his situationship pregnant and he had just blown most of his money on contributing to the ethereum crowdfund and bitcoin, which had horrible returns for the rest of the year. he kept his situation hidden from his family. they didn't need to know.

two years later when feyza had approached him to invest into app-h inc., he was reluctant. now that he's responsible for a child, he's convinced he needed to take less risks. it wasn't responsible living a lifestyle of big rewards or big losses. although photograpp-h is doing amazing, it didn't guarantee app-h inc., would do well.

he came clean about the child and how he would have immediately agreed if it wasn't for the child. he didn't express his other concerns since it didn't seem relevant and he didn't want to pessimistic considering he wasn't in the position to lecture or give advice to his sister who was doing better than him.

with bitcoin crashing even more significantly in 2018, he was desperate for fast cash. he was doing well for himself, but not enough to maintain the lifestyle he created for himself and the lifestyle he's grown accustomed to. he reached out to his sister and asked if the offer was still on the table. feyza suggested he buy shares now that they were more established and she would trust him in that position rather than some fancy investor in a suffocating suit.

without much of a thought, he agreed. if this went to shit, he would put everything into a high interest savings account and never invest anything until he earned the amount he desires.

in the next two years everything moved so fast. app-h inc., was turning over a high profit, catching up to comoedia and the bulletin — and bitcoin reached an all time high ending the year at around 20k per bitcoin. with the amount of money he had, he didn't need to work anymore.

he left america and moved to london to be closer with his siblings. his involvement with app-h inc. increased. his position is merely an advisory role and helps with day to day production while coming and going as he pleases.

[whispermask]

gasoline in your heart ch.2/10 | ghost/soap/könig

read on ao3 | first ~ next | ch wc: 2.5k, total: 34k | completed

tags: smut, eventual ot3, fwbs to lovers, porn with feelings, jealous!ghost

dead dove time: this fic as a whole features a brief mention of a past suicide attempt, briefly graphic past child abuse (not CSA), past abuse of alcohol and present alcohol use, and at times dubious consent (consuming alcohol and engaging in sexual activities; dubcon voyeurism; dubcon sexting)

summary: soap and ghost start hooking up; soap and könig have apparently been hooking up; ghost doesn't know how to deal with it (eventual polycule), chapter 2 is soapghost heavy

preview:  With Soap in his lap and his gorgeous thighs bracketing Ghost’s hips, an image comes to Ghost’s mind unbidden. Soap and König in a similar position, König‘s hands in the exact place where Ghost’s are now, Soap with his sinful mouth and bedroom eyes in König’s lap while he fixes his teeth in König’s skin. He imagines that somewhere König’s identical mark aches. He can’t help it, he tenses.

-

Soap finds him during the mission in Turkey. 

Ghost is re-bandaging a wound on his forearm. It’s dusk, and he’s in the back of a LAMS, obscured behind a utility shelf and crates of ammunition. His tac lies in a heap on the dusty floor, but he’s still sweating, the residual effects of a stim and the adrenaline of a hard won fight still working their way out of his system. His hands shake as he disinfects the wound with isopropyl alcohol and fumbles to unwrap the gauze. 

The wound, a bullet that just managed to graze him, has finally stopped bleeding and the crusted blood around it is starting to pull his skin and arm hair when he moves. In all honesty, he’s surprised there’s not more carnage, or that he managed to dodge just so to avoid being shot. He hadn’t even registered the pain until after he had snapped the shooter's neck and the forty cal had fallen from the man’s hand and clattered across the concrete.

They’re experiencing a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos. Downtime between ops during deployment is already unheard of, but Price and Gaz are eighteen hours outside of the next drop zone doing recon and they can’t proceed without that essential intel so there’s nothing to do but wait for them to return. 

Ghost can’t seem to get a firm wrap with the gauze. He’s close to giving up and prepares for the walk of shame to the field hospital when Soap peaks his head out from behind the wall of crates. Ghost freezes.

“I’ll help,” Soap offers. 

“Not necessary,” Ghost replies, sharp. 

“Quit being stubborn, Lt.,” Soap huffs. He approaches Ghost and takes the gauze, adjusts Ghost’s injured arm to give him better access, and sets to work.

Ghost watches Soap’s face, traces the line of his jaw down to where Soap’s hands are expertly wrapping the gauze with his eyes. Soap doesn’t know that Ghost knows about König. They haven’t had a moment alone since that night in Soap’s hotel room after Chicago, all of three weeks ago. He feels the air around them grow cloying with anticipation as Soap glances up from beneath his lashes to catch Ghost’s eyes. 

“I don’t recall you taking fire. Lucky shot?” Soap asks. 

 “Luck had nothing to do with it,” Ghost says. “This was planned. An old friend caught wind that I’d be in Istanbul. Sent a hired gun, and the bastard got the drop on me.” 

“A friend?” 

“Something like that, yeah.”

”You should get better friends,” Soap says. 

Soap finishes wrapping the gauze and fastens it together with two medical clips. “And you should really visit the field hospital, but that will do for the night, or until the next attempt on your life.”

“Here’s hoping,” Ghost says, without humor. “Thanks.”

“Any time, Lt..” Soap pauses. “Fancy a brew?” 

“Depends on your definition of ‘a brew’.” Ghost says.

-

Soap’s definition of ‘a brew’ is sitting astride Ghost while they neck like overeager teenagers, all teeth and too much spit, no finesse. The tea has long since gone cold on the coffee table in front of them. They’re in a hotel room again, Ghost’s this time. Not luxury accommodations by a long shot, but there’s a real bed and loo which is more than their used to most nights, so five stars all around. 

Ghost has his hands around Soap’s hips. He can feel Soap’s back flexing as he grinds his hard cock against Ghost through their briefs. Clothes lay strewn about the floor, forgotten in their haste to get skin on skin. Ghost had laid Soap on the couch and bracketed him in with his forearms resting on the cushion beside his head. Their frenzy had simmered for a moment, and they had exchanged almost-tender touches, Soap staring up at him with something akin to wonder. Soap had turned his head so that his cheek was resting in Ghost’s palm, pulled his thumb in between the perfect ‘O’ of his swollen lips. And then Soap craned up, leaving Ghost’s thumb cold with spit, and pressed his lips against the fabric of his still-masked face, just left of center of Ghost’s mouth. A silent request. Ghost had obliged him, the balaclava now abandoned on the coffee table next to their cold mugs. 

Soap pushes him up for a moment to fumble for his discarded pants, where he produces a bottle of lube and box of condoms, sets them on the couch next to them and manhandles Ghost until he’s sitting up and climbing into his lap to resume their frantic kissing. 

The implication is settled molten in Ghost’s gut, has made a home for itself already, uninvited but impossible to resist. He needs Soap closer so he tucks his hands under the back of Soap’s thighs and hikes him higher, sitting Soap on his clothed cock so that Soap can grind against the hard muscles of his stomach. The head of his dick has left a noticeable wet spot on his briefs and slicks where it presses against Ghost’s skin, the salt-smell of him fueling Ghost’s desire.  

Their lips come apart in the shuffle, Soap gasping at the squeeze of Ghost’s hands where ass meets thigh. They find each other again, open-mouthed, tongues swiping and spit heavy; kiss-stupid. Soap tastes like earl gray and bergamot, like cigarettes and gunpowder. Desire pitches through him like a fever, roars in his ears and rises in his throat. Soap’s move back so that he can dip his hand below the waistline of Ghost’s briefs to grasp his cock with a firm, calloused grip. Ghost groans deep in his throat.

“Yeah, fuck, that’s it,” Soap whisper. 

Ghost wraps his hand around Soap’s, jerking him together. He looks down at where his briefs have been pulled below his balls, at the wet cockhead flashing between their fists, precum slicking the way. 

“Wanna blow you,” Soap says. He slides from Ghost’s lap to his folded knees on the floor at Ghost’s feet. He places his hands on the inside of Ghost’s thighs and pushes his legs open to give him better access.  

“Fuck,” Ghost says. 

“Eventually,” Soap replies. So fucking cheeky, Ghost thinks. 

He slides his palms up Ghost’s legs to the V of his hips. Presses, testing Ghost’s resistance. Holds him down, or tries to as he mouths at the shaft of Ghost’s dick, gets it wet with his tongue, slips the drooling cockhead into his mouth and suckles. 

Soap enjoys sucking dick, Ghost figures, gets after it with the same focus he applies in his work, single minded and intense. Ghost’s cock fills his mouth and throat with inches to spare but what Soap lacks in deepthroating ability he more than makes up for in ambition. He’s got his fingers circled around the base of Ghost’s dick like a cockring, moreso to direct his movements, but the pressure sends shivers of pleasure down his spine, causing Ghost to drive his hips up into the soft, wet heat of Soap’s mouth. He feels himself leaking, fights the urge to grasp his cock and drag it over Soap’s lips and cheeks to mark him with precum. 

“That’s it,” Ghost says. He’s got a hand fisted in the back of Soap’s mohawk, grown out a bit and brushing against his neck. He uses his grip there for leverage, to bring Soap’s head down as he fucks up into his mouth. “Choke on it, you slag.” 

Soap pulls his head against Ghost’s grip and drags his mouth up the shaft until only the head of Ghost’s cock is encircled by the tight ring of his lips. His pupils are blown, black saucers that almost eclipse his irises. He moans around Ghost, his eyes rolling back a bit. He moves the hand not holding Ghost’s cock below the edge of the couch, seemingly into his own briefs. His mouth and jaw are wet with saliva and precum, a line of spit dribbling from his chin onto the cushion below. Ghost couldn’t care less about propriety, he’ll pay the damages if he has to. He has a feeling they’ll more than ruin the upholstery by the time the night is through. 

“Like that, do you?” Ghost says. 

Soap licks at the underside of his cockhead with hard flicks, massaging where the glans meet and sucking gently so that his cheeks hollow. He uses the circle of his other hand to stroke Ghost from base to just where his mouth is sealed. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Ghost says, a sharp, gruff whisper. “Pull off, fuck, Soap, fuck.” He tries to jerk Soap’s head back further, the image of painting Soap’s lips and cheeks with his come driving him closer to the white-hot edge.

But Soap (damn him, bless him) takes him as far down as he can and swallows, the muscles of his throat fluttering as he releases Ghost’s cock from the tight circle of his fingers. He reaches around to grab Ghost’s ass and pulls him even deeper. His shoulder knocks against Ghost’s knee as he strokes his own cock.

“Fuck, Johnny–I’m gonna come so hard, you’re gonna make me come, you–” 

Famous last words, Ghost thinks, as his cock pulses on Soap’s tongue and in his throat. Soap keeps swallowing, once, twice, the shock of pleasure as his throat undulates around Ghost’s cockhead bordering on pain, exultant. He can’t bear to keep his eyes open against it, has to clench them shut on a moan so loud it feels like it shakes the foundation of the building. Soap pulls off and rests his head against Ghost’s thigh as his cock dribbles out the last few pulses of come against his cheek and onto Ghost’s briefs. 

Soap’s hand is still moving on his cock and he bites the meat of Ghost’s thigh to muffle a moan. Ghost, feeling kitten-weak in the post orgasm haze, clasps the back of Soap’s head and drags him up and back into his lap, into a searing, sloppy kiss. Ghost can taste his spunk on Soap’s tongue, the salt of it eclipsing the bergamot. They smell like spit and skin and kiss with house-on-fire desperation. Ghost still feels like he’s coming, surprised to find his dick starting to go soft against the cleft of Soap’s ass. Soap still has a hand around the base of his own leaking cock now, though he’s stopped stroking it to instead focus on kissing Ghost. Always a one track mind. 

Ghost pulls away “Want help with that?” he asks, already reaching to pull Soap’s boxers down fully. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Soap says, and bites Ghost’s bottom lip. “I think you can get hard again.”

Ghost is inclined to agree if the twitch of his dick is anything to go by.

Soap pulls away to stand and remove his briefs completely. He palms his now bare cock, slick down the shaft, as he looks down on his handiwork. Ghost spreads his arms across the back of the sofa, reclines a little to give him a good view. Soap strokes his cock faster, eyes heavy lidded and lips parted and full, the blood of his arousal pumping so that every part of him stands at attention, glows pink, because of what Ghost does to him. He can definitely go again, he thinks, cock already at half mast as he watches Soap get off on watching him.

Soap settles astride him, still stroking his cock. Ghost hooks a hand around the back of his head to fist his hair and pulls Soap in so that their foreheads are pressed together, eye to eye, lips a hairbreadth apart as they share ragged breaths. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to saying I’ll give you everything you want.

Soap is the first to break eye contact, instead opting to trail spit slick kisses down his jaw and throat, until he’s biting hard at the thick chord of muscle between Ghost’s shoulder and neck. Ghost throws his head back and groans but Soap doesn’t relent, seems intent on drawing blood. Ghost can’t help but feel he’s staking his claim, and wants him to have more than a bruise long after this night is over. The thought leaves him devastated.

With Soap in his lap and his gorgeous thighs bracketing Ghost’s hips, an image comes to Ghost’s mind unbidden. Soap and König in a similar position, König‘s hands in the exact place where Ghost’s are now, Soap with his sinful mouth and bedroom eyes in König’s lap while he fixes his teeth in König’s skin. He imagines that somewhere König’s identical mark aches. He can’t help it, he tenses. 

“What’s this?” Soap asks, brow creased. He draws back from where he had moved on from mauling Ghost’s shoulder to working a hickey into the skin of Ghost’s pec. He runs his hands over the tight line of Ghost’s drawn-up shoulders. 

Ghost isn’t known for pulling punches. 

“I saw you,” he says, meeting Soap’s questioning eyes.

“Huh?” Soap says.

“With König.”

Soap laughs. Ghost dumps him off his lap and onto the adjacent couch cushion without ceremony. 

“Oi!” Soap exclaims. 

Ghost sighs angrily and reaches for his balaclava, craves the superficial protection it provides. 

Soap stays his hand with a hot palm on his bare thigh. “Hey, none of that,” he says, almost whispering. His hand starts to move up Ghost’s thigh to his now flagging erection, cups him through his briefs and shifts closer to mouth at the hinge of his jaw. 

Ghost brings his hand up to Soap’s bicep, is tempted to drop the whole thing and pull Soap back in. But he can’t ignore the sting of jealousy that sits searing in his stomach, supernova bright and demanding to be spoken. He squeezes his hand around Soap’s arm and pushes him away to try and catch his gaze again, an accusation in his eyes he didn’t even realize he was making. 

“Didn’t take you for the possessive type, Lt.,” Soap says, withdrawing further until he’s sitting entirely on the adjacent cushion. 

“I ain’t got nothing to possess,” Ghost replies. 

Soap huffs and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. Ghost is slapped with the coldness of that motion and something shutters in him, withdraws from the easy intimacy of these hurried trysts. He finishes pulling his balaclava over his face. 

“So I'm a bit of a slag, you said so yourself,” Soap says and Ghost flinches as his words are thrown back in his face. “This isn’t exactly a binding arrangement.” 

“I never said it was,” Ghost says, already rising to redress. 

“What’s the problem, then?” Soap asks.

“There isn’t one.”

“Seems like.” The stakes feel too high suddenly. 

“Well I can see that you’ve got a right strop on now. Let’s call it a night.” 

“Yeah alright. Get it right up ye, Lieutenant,” Soap mutters darkly and begins reaching for his own clothes, still hard as a rock in his briefs. Ghost doesn’t need a translation, he gets the gist. 

Soap dresses and leaves in silence, even slams the door a bit on his way out, but not before he can stare long and hard at Ghost’s back. Ghost feels his eyes on him long after he’s gone, the bite mark smarting in the cold, empty room.

The injury on Ghost’s arm throbs for the first time since Soap had bandaged it, the traitor.