#it tastes the same but more turkish

[propussyslayer]

Turkish Remus on his way to give Turkish Sirius a Bars Bar. Hope nothing bad happens!

[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!

[art-missy]

Greed (Gekko x reader x Iso)

Yeah, I know.

But I love them so much. Plus, this one shot is heavily inspired by a dream I had and I wanted to write it down.

Thousand of apologies for the grammar or any eventual error.

Fade had faced many nightmarish situations in her life: she got trapped in a nightmare when her powers first manifested, she had been tracked down by several people who wanted her dead and she was regularly put in deadly situations since she joined Valorant.

“I hate my heart.”

But there was definitely nothing worse than hearing your complaints about your love life.

It had now been thirty minutes that you were groaning and whining in her dorm room, lying down on her bed and your head hanging on the edge.

“Mom was right.” You sighed in a tone that sounded way too dramatic to Fade ears. “I’m selfish and greedy as hell.”

“Why am I even listening to your rambling ?” groaned the Turkish initiator.

“Because I made you coffee.”

Fade wondered where you got all that energy that you used just for complaining. Did your mouth ever run dry ? She should have seen it coming. Since you joined the protocol, you adopted her as your ‘cool older sister’.

Your words, not hers.

You followed her like a happy younger sibling. She wasn't complaining. You brewed the best coffee she had ever tasted and your presence wasn't overwhelming. You respected her space and often gave her those midnight snacks you prepared that she grew fond of.

She liked you a lot. You were like the younger sibling she never had. But goddamn she hated hearing you whining.

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” she threw a pillow at you when you giggled at the word ‘straight’. “You love Gekko.”

“Yes.”

“But you also love Iso.”

“Yes.”

“And there is no way you could decide between them.”

“No way.”

It wasn't that simple. You loved them differently but with the same amount of affection.

Gekko had a sunny personality. He always brought with him that calm and laid-back mood that tended to ease people around him. He was what you liked to call a light-bringer (‘Not like Lucifer’ you felt the need to precise to Fade to which she just raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes.). The atmosphere of the room could be gloomy and thick with tension, Gekko would always dissipate any negativity. He was a genuine individual and that was a trait that you adored in him.

Iso on the other hand was like the moon (‘or a Teddy bear’ and this time Fade only let out an exasperated sigh.). He looked silently over his friends like a silent protector. Despite his more discreet personality, he never hesitated to offer praises when he could. There was a certain softness in him that always managed to melt your soul.

“They each own a part of my heart.”

Which was quite ironic if one remembered correctly how you met them.

The first time you met Gekko, you almost insulted him.

Cypher was giving you a tour of the base when Gekko appeared on the corner of the hallway and accidentally spilled his boba on your new top. The glare you had thrown at him was so intense that he freezed for a second before apologizing profusely. You had huffed and ignored him and continued your tour of the base. Your top was ruined. No matter how many times you tried to wash it, the stain stubbornly remained. One could not imagine how surprised you felt when, later, you saw a yellow animal-like creature in your room, putting a box with an apology letter on your bed. Inside the box, you had found the exact same top.

As for Iso, the first time you met him, you almost stabbed him. ‘Almost’ thanks to his reflexes.

It wasn’t your fault. Well, not entirely. You were in the shooting range, focusing on your aim when he entered. Tensed and feeling a sudden presence behind you, you pulled your knife out of its sheath and threw it at him. Of course, he easily dodged it with a tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow as your knife planted in the wall behind. You apologized profusely and he had just shrugged and started to train with a sheriff. The rest of the hour had been awkward, especially when you went to retrieve your knife from the wall.

Fade hummed softly. “Okay. But that doesn’t explain why you’re avoiding them.”

A dramatic whine escaped your throat at her words. She watched you roll on her bed, hiding your face in her pillow.

“Everything is fine today, though. Right ?” said Fade. “You didn't hold any grudges against Gekko and neither did Iso against you. You’re even friends with both of them, now.”

You looked up at her with sad puppy eyes.

“Friends,” you repeated with a deflated tone. “I was fine with being friends with them both since I could not date them. There was a good balance. But now…things got complicated.”

Fade was now curious. It seemed like you weren't only being dramatic. Right now, you almost sounded desperate.

“What do you mean 'complicated' ?”

“I mean that the balance is now broken,” you groaned in the pillow. “Do you get that ?”

She definitely didn't. To her ears, your speech was as incoherent as a dream. It was the thing with your rambling : you rarely started chronologically and just blurted the first event that was nagging your mind.

“How did that ‘balance’ break ?” Fade sighed while checking her nails.

“Gekko kissed me.”

She immediately looked back at you. This was getting interesting.

“He what ?”

“On the cheek ! On the cheek ! On the cheek ! On the cheek !” you sat up quickly to precise it. “He kissed me on the cheek.”

Fade blinked. Unbeknownst to you, she already had a slight idea of what was going on between Gekko and you. Neon had been telling her about the Hispanic initiator sometimes sighing on her shoulder for two days.

“And of course you ran away,” she sighed as you let out another whine. “How did that even happen ?”

Your fingers were now fiddling with the pillowcase.

“Well, we were cooking snacks in the kitchen while dancing on his Spotify playlist. He was making crepes, I was making cookies and we were having fun valsing in each other's arms when it happened,” you made a noise between a sad whimper and a sigh of frustration. “Ambar Lucid’s voice can lead to some intense situations, I think.”

“And then you ran away.”

“The best run of my life,” you sighed sadly.

You’ve even been paying Wingman and Dizzy with sweets so they would not snitch whenever they found you.

Fade massaged her temples as she slowly processed what you said. She already knew you could be quite avoidant sometimes. And she also knew you hated being that way.

“What about Iso ?” she asked. “Is your ‘balance’ broken with him too ?”

You grimaced. “Kinda…?”

Fade raised an eyebrow. “Kinda ?”

“Kinda.”

“He kissed you too ?”

You shook your head and rubbed the back of your neck. Fade noticed how flustered you were.

“You know that sometimes Iso helps me perfectionning my aim.”

“Mmhmm,” Fade nodded.

It wasn't uncommon to see you both exiting the shooting range together. It wasn’t a secret that you two were quite close.

“Well, he was very…uhm…cuddly during our last shooting session.”

“Cuddly ?” Fade raised an eyebrow.

“Like, back-hugging me while helping correct my aim…breathing in my neck and murmuring instructions in my ear.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“The balance is definitely broken.”

You let your back fall back against the mattress in a dramatic gesture of helplessness.

“I know !”

“Then what do you plan to do ?” asked the initiator. “You’ll keep avoiding them both eternally ?”

“Well since you don’t want to put me in an artificial coma…” you trailed off, ignoring the deadpanned glare she shot at you.

Fade sometimes thought that your avoidance will bring you more problems than you reckoned. She remembered the regret in Deadlock’s eyes when she spoke about her sisters. Fade really didn’t want you to experience that.

“Talk to them.”

“To tell them what ?” you almost scoffed. “‘Hey ! I have a big fat crush on the both of you and was satisfied with our friendship but your recent actions unsettled the balance I had between your friendship and my feelings so I’m now avoiding you because I’m incapable of confronting my feelings and have a proper conversation about it with you two ?’” you said with a dramatically high-pitched voice.

Fade looked at you with so much exasperation in her eyes that you felt your body wincing in response.

“Well, yes.”

“Hazal, no !”

“Why not ?” she flicked your forehead with her finger and you winced once more. “Communicating your feelings wouldn't be harmful. Getting things off your chest with these two would help you. Don’t you think you’ll miss something if you don’t do anything ? The thing that you avoid you’re giving it power by avoiding it.”

You were about to answer with a snarky remark but the alarm of her phone cut you off. Fade looked at it, sipped the remnant of her coffee then stood up.

“I’m being called for a mission.”

You stood up too and stretched a little.

“Time for you to kick some asses and time for me to run.”

“You mean ‘to talk’ right ?”

You shook your head and walked towards the door.

“Nope !”

You were stubborn and Fade was well aware of that. It was sometimes your greatest quality but in your current situations, it was one of your biggest flaws.

“You—”

Too late, you were already gone. She could hear your quick steps echoing in the corridors. She sighed (again !) and just decided to prepare for her mission while hoping everything will be fine for you.

You kept running in the hallways, avoiding the range because Iso had the habit of training at this hour. You also avoided the corridors leading to the backyards where you knew Gekko had the habit of playing basketball with his buddies and Neon. Why weren't you walking ? Because walking made you easy to see, easy to catch. While running made you all blurry and hard to capture.

You had to survive, to run away. But running away from what ? Embarrassment ? Shame ? Your own feelings ? Whatever that was, your feet led you to the kitchen right in front of the fridge. If you had to survive, it would not be with an empty stomach. Luckily for you, there were still remnants of the cupcakes Clove made the day before. Very colorful, very sparkly, but delicious.

You were eating the cupcakes like a starved rodent when a voice suddenly called you from behind.

“Finally, we found you !”

You jumped a little, startled, then slowly turned around and met the astounded yet amused gaze of Jett and Neon. You silently stared at them for what felt like a few long and heavy seconds before you unhurriedly lifted another untouched cupcake to your mouth and slowly — very slowly chewed it.

Neon awkwardly cleared her throat then took a step forward.

“We…uhm…thought you were with Fade.”

You raised an eyebrow as you licked some icing off your fingers.

“Fade’s on a mission.”

“That explains why you’re here alone,” said Jett with a light chuckle while playfully nudging Neon’s elbow.

You hummed lowly. Were you hanging with Fade that much ? Not surprising. You literally adopted each other once you joined Valorant. You grew so close that come agents thought you actually knew each other way before you joined the protocol.

“You were looking for me,” you said, sizing the two girls. “What do you want from me ?”

The way they were staring at you reminded you of the twins in ‘Shining’. They weren't even blinking. They took a step closer, you took a step farther.

“Please speak,” you sighed. “You two are getting creepy.”

“We need your help,” said Jett.

You raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. Jett usually was too proud to admit these kinds of things.

“Why my help ?” you asked as you took another step farther.

They exchanged a quick glance before looking back at you.

“Gekko—”

“Iso—”

They interrupted each other as your brows furrowed.

“What’s up with them ?” you asked, feeling your body tensing.

They exchanged another glance when they realized they now had your attention. Jett took another step closer.

“They need help because they’re…uhm…”

“Hurt ! They’re hurt,” completed Neon.

You nodded and started speed walking to exit the kitchen.

“Okay. I’ll get Sage.”

Neon quickly stopped you.

“Sage’s on a mission.”

“Then I’ll get Skye.”

“She went back to Australia for her days off,” said Jett.

You stopped a distressed groan from escaping your mouth. Why didn't the protocol have more healers? You were just three. Were you that rare ? Plus, you thought that Sage and Skye were way better healers that you were. More effective and quicker.

“Shit…” you cursed under your breath. “Where are they ?”

“Iso’s dorm.”

You didn't think too much and just ran towards the dorm quarter. Like the worst case scenario machine that it was, your brain started imagining worrying things. Too buried in your dark thoughts, you barely realized that you knocked on Iso’s door. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow then crossed his arms.

“Can I help you with something ?”

Your eyebrows slightly furrowed when you didn’t see any visible injury on him.

“I…”

You cut yourself when you saw Gekko behind him. He looked at you with wide opened eyes, as if not expecting to see you —which was the case. You even saw Wingman, hiding in the corner of the room throwing you an apologetic look. You cleared your throat then looked back at Iso.

“Jett and Neon told me you both were hurt,” you said and you felt yourself internally cringing when Iso’s eyes squinted slightly. “Since neither Sage nor Skye is in the base at the moment, I’m here to heal you.”

“Heal us ?” repeated Gekko as he shared a glance with Iso.

The duelist let you inside the room and slid the door shut behind you.

And then it clicked. Neon and Gekko weren't playing basketball in the base backyard like usual, Jett wasn’t hanging with Yoru and Phoenix, and Iso wasn’t reading nor in the range. You were so worried that you didn't notice how orchestrated this situation felt. You didn't notice that Neon, Gekko’s best friend, did not seem worried at all.

“You’re not hurt, huh,” you clicked your tongue.

Gekko nervously rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward but sad smile.

“We kinda are, though.”

You looked at him with narrowed eyes. The poor initiator was incapable of looking at you in the eyes. Which was not the case of Iso who didn't stop staring at you.

“Are you now ?” you scoffed with sarcasm.

Gekko's eyebrows furrowed at your tone.

“You’ve been avoiding us for—”

“Sit, please ?” Iso interrupted the both of you, still looking at you.

“Why ?”

He tilted his chin in the direction of his bed.

“We have to talk,” he answered simply while taking the chair of his desk to sit on it backward.

“Do we ?” you crossed your arms.

“Please,” you heard Gekko say with a tired tone.

He was already sitting on the bed and was patting the space beside him. You rolled your eyes but reluctantly accepted to sit beside him. You kept eyeing the door and the two agents noticed it. The three of you stayed quiet for what felt like long minutes. You were looking down at your lap, unaware of the long glance the two men were sharing. Then finally, Iso spoke.

“Gekko and I are dating.”

Oh.

“Okay,” you said simply after a few seconds.

Your fists were slowly clenching.

“It’s been a few months now,” Gekko said while rubbing his neck.

You took a deep breath and nodded, still avoiding their eyes.

“Okay,” you said with a neutral tone. “And…?”

That was a plot twist you definitely did not see coming. Why did you feel so betrayed ? What were you expecting from these two ? You wanted to stay friends with them anyway. You felt your nails digging in your palms. Why did you feel so hurt ? Why did you feel so disappointed ?

“And we thought it was fair to tell you.”

You let out a breathy and mirthless laugh.

“Thanks, I guess,” you said, your eyes not leaving the door. “Why are you telling me this ?”

You wanted to walk away from this situation so bad. You needed to. This felt too heavy. You felt a lump in your throat and slowly started to have difficulties breathing but hid it the best you could. Gekko gently grabbed one of your hands and his thumbs gently caressed your palm where your nails were digging in your flesh.

“Because we both fell for you,” Iso said as his hand reached for your face.

His fingers gently brushed the corner of your lips where a few crumbs of cupcakes remained. He noticed your pupil dilating.

“We both spent time with you individually then fell for you,” he continued. “Despite the fact that we’re already dating.”

“So we talked and we wanted to ask you if you wanted to date us,” Gekko smiled nervously. “The both of us.”

You felt your breath hitching as his words slowly reached your brain. You blinked, looked at the duelist, then at the initiator, but you stayed quiet. Iso stood up from his chair to sit beside you and Gekko on the bed.

“Do you hate us ?” he suddenly asked you.

You silently shook your head.

“But you’ve been avoiding us for almost three days !” Gekko said. “We thought we did something wrong.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked where Wingman was hidden. Did he snitch ?

You turned your face back in Gekko’s direction to throw him a very pointed look. As if remembering the kiss from two days prior —which was certainly the case—, he avoided your eyes, a light blush on his cheeks.

“O-Oh.”

“Yeah ‘oh’,” you deadpanned.

“Sorry.”

Iso watched your interaction with calm but curious eyes. He observed your fist clenching and unclenching, how your body was turned towards the door of the room, how your feet fidgeted. His lover and his crush reunited in his room. It was weirdly not unwelcome.

“I suppose your answer is ‘no’”, he said with a neutral tone.

He would feel disappointed and a bit sad if your silence and your breathing wasn’t betraying your own feelings. He and Gekko exchanged a glance, the flame of hope burning in their heart. Gekko gently squeezed your hand in his and sat closer to you.

“Tell us how you feel.”

“What are you ? My therapists ?” you scoffed, not daring to look into their eyes.

“Please.”

And in just an instant, your shell broke. Your shoulders shook slightly, your hand was squeezing Gekko's with strength, and your eyes were on your lap. Exchanging another glance with the duelist, the initiator brought your wrist to his lips to kiss it. Iso, on the other hand, wrapped his arm around your shoulders to hold you against his chest, his lips pressing against your temple. Wingman even came out of his hidden spot to hug your leg. You did not need words. They were already understanding. Yet, you could not help yourself but ask in a shy murmur :

“Am I too greedy if I want you both for myself ?”

You felt Iso chuckling against you.

“Is it a bad thing if we consent ?”

You hummed. He did have a point. Gekko suddenly leaned against you, his arms wrapping around your waist and a hopeful smile on his face. You literally were sandwiched between the two agents.

“So…is it a yes ?”

Flustered by the sudden proximity of your two faces, you cleared your throat and looked away in the direction of Wingman who visibly encouraged you with silly gestures.

“I…guess it is,” you said. “If you still want me.”

“Can I kiss you ?”

You felt very dizzy by his sudden question, your heart beating at a way too fast speed. You felt Iso holding you more firmly against his chest. When you looked up at him, he was smirking down at you.

“Isn’t it my turn ?” his face got closer. “You two already kissed, no ?”

So he knew.

“It was on the cheek !” Gekko retorted. “And do you think I didn't see that kiss on the temple ?”

“What about the one on the wrist you just did ?”

You exchanged a glance with Wingman. He shrugged and you sighed.

“Guys !” you interrupted their playful banter. “Please.”

They both stopped then looked at you.

“Alright,” said Gekko while nuzzling his face against your collarbones. “How about some quality time to begin with ?”

“We have all our time,” said Iso while rocking you from side to side.

Believe it or not, I started writing this in july. Then my brain decided to throw a tantrum again.

Like I said (wrote) before, this one shot is heavily inspired of a dream.

Anecdote : I had this dream where I was an agent of the protocol and was avoiding Iso and Gekko because I felt too awkward to confess to them. I had healing abilities in this dream, and I healed them both after a mission (a pretty hardcore one) before running away in the corridors of the protocol (the exact same corridors we saw in the Neon cinematic). Fade even hid me in her room and let me play with her cat in this dream. Wingman ended up snitching on me, Iso found me and carried me on his shoulder while I was scolding Wingman. Iso then entered in his room (with me still on his shoulder) where Gekko was waiting for us, pouting. I was sat down on the bed and the two agents sat beside me and kissed my cheeks, asking me to not run away from them ever again.

And then...I had to wake up because my sister called me... ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

It's fine though, I had a lot of dreams where these two were involved... And when I say (write) a lot of dreams, I mean A LOT.

I even had a dream where Brimstone begged me to date Yoru and Deadlock and I was like 'sure why not'.

Thanks again for taking the time to read this until the end. I wish you a nice day/night.

[mymelodyisme]

Zeke and Pepper poppers (read the tags for context)

Helloooo farmer friends!! So last night my friend @pavusprince mentioned how she doesn’t understand the toothpaste mint chocolate chip ice cream comparison and that got me thinking!! Let’s talk about food!!

Does your farmer like mint chocolate ice cream? Does it taste like toothpaste? Are they neutral, or do they hate it?

During the summer does your farmer visit Alex’s ice cream stand? What flavor/treat do they buy? What’s their least favorite flavor?

What is one treat your farmer will ALWAYS have in their home? Is it healthy or unhealthy?

If your farmer was a snack item what would they be? (It cannot be a food that could be eaten like a meal, but it may be a dessert) Here’s some examples: chips, cookies, M&ms, Twinkies, crackers, bubblegum, lollipops, etc

What’s your farmer’s comfort food, favorite meal, and least favorite meal?

What’s something they will NEVER eat?

What do they cook if they know they will have a guest over?

If the town’s potluck didn’t matter so much, what ingredient would they take? And what food would they put at an event table if you had to bring something?

Finally, if your farmer was real, what would YOU give them to eat.

[xixovart]

argo2nauts music headcannons because this is too much

the misinformation some of you guys have spread regarding their music taste is insane/hj

(p.s: this is my take on this, if you disagree it’s alright!! it’s just fun and games :D)

(ps2: if any artist/band i mention is problematic please lmk!!)

percy - perseus jackson is a pretty intimidating skater kid with a resting bitch face who is covered head to toe in scars and has his ears pierced. where did the ‘high school musical/disney sitcom’ percy allegations come from. he likes led zeppelin (he canonically has a t shirt in toa if i can remember!!), childish gambino, d4vd, late night drive home, deftones, arctic monkeys, and chase atlantic.

fav song -

annabeth: this is a bit harder.. i think her music taste is either extremely varied or only listens to one album on repeat until her ears bleed. for my sanity i’m going with the former. i think she’d cry over boygenius and mitski (for obvious reasons) and i think she’d like sombr and famous 70/80s guys like queen, david bowie, ac/dc, the smiths ofc. and such. also mac demarco and phoebe bridgers!!!!”!?

fav song -

grover underwood - ADRIANNE LENKER!!!!!: THERE IS NOT A DOUBT IN MY MIND ABOUT IT. all of her songs suit him in one way or another. he needs to be seen more i love him to death. underrated man fr. also late night drive home, beach house, dream ivory, the smiths, queen, cas, WAVE TO EARTH!!!!!

fav song -

i know what youre thinking. “mali, will you ever shut up about this song?” answer is no. i will not.

piper mclean - CHAPPELL ROAN CHAPPELL ROAN IS HERRSSSS??? CASUAL? GOOD LUCK BABE???? HERS!!!! honorable mention: girl in red because don’t forget your roots. also madds buckley MAYBE? idk. also probably cas 🤷‍♀️

fav song -

nico - oh my beloved. he’d definitely listen to italian music when he misses bianca/maria but idk any italian artists so… for now we’re going with english music. and also very specific turkish song: m. by anil emre daldal because will. i’m thinking mitski, roar, mac demarco, OBVIOUSLY SUFJAN STEVENS??? cults, alex g, grimes, also very specifically: cupid by jack stauber? MAYBE conan gray… idk. and also definitely nirvana and guns n roses

fav song -

i heard this song while thinking of him and my heart SHATTERED guys do not make the same mistake i did.

hazel - i?? don’t know? really uhh… probably gracie abrams or adrianne lenker? phoebe bridgers, beach house?? soft rythm/music, deep/depressing lyrics. maybe tnbh but DEFINITELY current joys and adrianne lenker

(yes i made these first songs a rainbow on purpose (not rlly..) shut up i thought it’d be funny)

also this is her favorite song because it reminds her of nico and maybe marie, specifically the first lines!! (marceline [nico], is it just you and me in the wreckage of the world?)

frank zhang - MAC DEMARCO!! BEACH HOUSE!! TV GIRL!! CONAN GRAY!! MONTAN FISH!! GANG OF YOUTHS!! also his grandmother liked to listen to songs in mandarin and he likes remembering her so he constantly listens to 茉莉花 (Mòlìhuā) and uhh if you have any other old mandarin songs lmk :D!! and honorable mention: it almost worked by tv girl

fav song -

because it was his mother’s favorite song

jason grace - this is difficult.. like very. i don’t think he’d listen to music very much and it’s getting hard to not keep repeating artists. rmcm maybe? laufey, probably.. he listens to pretty much everything his friends to. he’s very flexible when it comes to music :)

fav song -

will solace - controversial maybe but i don’t think he’d like taylor swift very much.. no problem with her but i’d just like to see more variety in will’s music taste hcs. i think he’d love mac demarco (he’s been mentioned lke 8 times by now but he really is will’s favorite artist), tv girl, beach weather, the smiths, chappell roan, current joys, vacations, lemon demon, sufjan stevens, boygenius. conan gray, specifically summer child because it was written for him (i would know conan told me), and obviously the entirety of the mamma mia soundtrack. because it’s will.

fav song -

from the same album as nico because symbolism and that entire song is for them and tyem only (and also achicleos)

leo valdez - MY BELOVED!! very specifically the spanish part in stress relief (si puedes venir conmigo, amor, yo te enseño todo lo que hay. pq me tratas asi?? como no soy nadie ITS VALGRACE GUYS!!) uhh also chappell roan.. and your best american girl by mitski. and the smiths and queen and pavement. and lemon demon, the strokes, the cure.. maybe nirvana? and the front bottoms

fav song -

ok thats it im lagging so hard bye

[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

Aşk-ı Memnu | JJK

Pairing: non idol! Jungkook x fem! married! Reader

Summary: What is prohibited, it's desired the most. Or in which you tangle yourself in a forbidden love with Jeon Jungkook while being married to an older man. Yet it is also said that forbidden fruits taste the best.

Warnings: fluff, angst, forbidden love, food ingestion, cheating, age gap, mentions of sex, alcohol consumption (during dinner), lying, mentions of death, reader is described to be shorter than Jungkook, (let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 1.8k

~Prompt 3: Saying “I love you” for the first time

~Snowflakes divider by @samspenandsword

~Prompt list by @flightlessangelwings

A/N: This short story was highly inspired by the Turkish novel of the same name "Aşk-ı Memnu" which translates as "Forbidden Love" in English. Let me know what you thought of this controversial story in the comments!

You can listen to the series' music on Spotify to get into ambience as it helped me a lot to write this. Just search it with the same Turkish name. Happy reading everyone!

Love knows no boundaries. Love is untamable, like the sea. Like a flame. It exists, it consumes. It destroys.

It was cold outside, the night was heavy over the city. Snow was falling from the sky yet the house was warm. The clicking of the cutlery against the expensive china plates could be heard along with the flickering flames of the fireplace.

You sat next to your husband, the man clearly enjoying his dinner and you couldn't help but smile softly at his praises for the new cook.

"So, tell me Seokjin. How is your father?"

Asked your husband, a rich business man by the name of Lee Yong-su. Seokjin smiled against his glass of wine, he put it down and looked at your husband, the two men happily engaging in conversation.

"He's quite well, actually. His treatment is going smoothly and we expect a complete recovery by the end of February."

"Give him my regards when you see him, Seokjin."

The young businessman turned to look at you, bowing his head softly at you not minding at all the fact that you were younger than him.

"Of course, Mrs. Lee."

You smiled kindly at him before the conversation between Seokjin and your husband took place once more. You continued to enjoy your dinner, allowing your thoughts to wander for a bit.

The marriage with your husband had been really controversial given the age difference between you both and the fact that he already had two children with his other wife that you knew had passed away.

Nisun was the oldest. A seventeen year old girl who resented you for taking the place of her mother. Munwoo was the youngest, he was twelve and the innocent boy never ceased to claim that if you ever divorced his father, he'd marry you instead for he had always wanted to marry a beautiful woman when he was of age.

You found it cute whenever he mentioned something like that, only smiling at Munwoo before he got distracted with his videogames once more.

But those weren't the only people that lived in the mansion when you married your husband. There was someone else. A person you had met before you became Yong-su's wife.

Jeon Jungkook.

You knew that he was the only son of one of your husband's closest friends that had sadly died in a car accident when Jungkook was barely five years old. Yong-su had taken him under his wing, providing for him and taking care of him as if he were his own son.

Jungkook was also twenty-six, just like you. And that was the first motive so as to why you two clicked so easily. Yet that fact was the beginning of a web of lies and passion that you had never thought you’d be a part of. 

He was also very handsome, a sleeve of tattoos adorned his right arm, his lip and eyebrow were pierced and his hair was rebellious like his soul. Jungkook was a really attractive man and, according to his own phrasing, you were the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. 

Lust ruled your relationship with the son of your husband’s best friend. Desires of the body, flames of the heart. Feelings were never involved, or at least that was what was planned in the very beginning. 

But to be honest, nothing was ever planned. This mess you were now tangled in started with a glance, continued with a kiss and ended with you in his bed. Sentiment was never supposed to happen. Everything was dominated by a mutual carnal infatuation. 

You weren’t in love with your husband. The marriage had only been a great opportunity for you and your soft revenge on your cruel mother but Yong-su was deeply in love with you. To him, it didn’t matter the nearly twenty years age gap between you both. It didn’t matter that he had been married before. It didn’t matter he already had two children. He loved you, he cherished you, he wanted you almost in a fierceful way. 

“Darling, are you alright? You aren’t usually this quiet during dinner.”

Looking at your right, you met the concerned gaze of your husband, you smiled slightly though not fully. 

“I’m alright, I just have a headache.”

Yong-su frowned, you felt the eyes of everyone on you, even Jungkook’s gaze. It burned you to even know he was looking at you. 

“Don’t worry about me, dearest.”

Silence filled the room after those words left your lips before soft conversations began to arise once more on the table. The children started talking about a new movie that was going to come out next week while your husband and Seokjin talked about business. Jungkook was still looking at you and you were able to read the concern in his dark eyes. 

You smiled at him, ever so delicately and he nodded subtly. Taking in your silent reassurance as he resumed his dinner. 

Butterflies flew in your stomach at his concern. At what you had seen in his eyes. Those hidden emotions behind his gaze. A dark galaxy you loved getting yourself lost in. The place where you found comfort during lonely nights and a refuge when your soul tormented you. Yet the fact that your love was forbidden only made you want it more. It attracted you more. You desired it more. You needed it more. Needed him. As if you were metal and Jungkook was your magnet. Like a forbidden fruit. Prohibited yet delicious.

“Are you alright?”

You knew that voice. Its raspiness did things to you that shouldn’t happen as a married woman. His deep voice always captivated you. You turned around, facing Jungkook. He stood in the kitchen’s doorway, leaning against the frame as his gaze pierced your own with intensity that a shiver ran down your spine.

"Yes, I just took a pill for the headache. Don't worry, Jungkook."

He frowned softly at your last sentence, uncrossing his arms as he walked towards you with his large steps. Your breath hitched in your throat when he stood in front of you a little too close for it to be proper.

"I always worry about you, (y/n)."

You swallowed, not knowing what to say. Nothing came to your mind. There were no words in your mouth to express, no thoughts in your mind to keep you busy.

"You matter to me more than you could imagine."

You looked aside, trying to break free from this chain he held you in. You took a deep breath, eyes focusing on your nearly empty glass of water that rested on the counter.

"Stop it, someone could hear us."

He took another step towards you, eyes never leaving your form as he gazed down at you.

"Uncle Yong-su is in his study with Kim Seokjin,"

His fingers grabbed your chin ever so softly, turning your head so that your eyes met his before he continued in a soft murmur.

"and the children are already upstairs."

His hand cupped your face while his thumb caressed your cheek in delicate touches. His dark eyes took you in; your beauty, your personality. Your essence.

Your hand rested atop his own. Even when the feeling of his skin against your own burned you with desire and adoration, you weren't allowed to show your sentiment freely.

"I don't want to risk it, Jungkook."

He smirked at your whispered words. Daring to take another step until your chests were almost touching. His warm and minty breath fanned your face and you, once more, lost yourself in his enchanting eyes that held your whole world.

"Risk what, (y/n)? Us? Are you that scared of my love for you to be known to the world?"

Your eyes widened at his words. You took a step back in pure instinct, forcing his hand to leave your cheek as you shook your head in silent motions of hidden despair.

"Because I love you, (y/n). I have for a while. And it only keeps growing in my heart."

You took a deep breath, trying to process everything that was leaving his mouth, wrapping your head around the fact that Jungkook was in love with you. If anything, it complicated things even more yet that didn't mean you craved it any less.

"You can't. Jungkook, you can't love me."

His hands were on your shoulders the next second making a soundless gasp leave your lips. His eyes bore into yours like never before that you nearly felt his soul touch your own.

"But I do. And I do not regret it."

You stood in silence, never breaking eye contact with him. Why now? Why did he have to say such a thing now?

"If you do not love me, say it. Say it and nothing left my mouth. Say it and I'll try to stop."

But how could you say that you didn't love him when your heart beats for him and only him? How could you tell such a lie when you loved him more than your life?

"Jungkook, I-"

"Love, are you there?"

The voice of your husband was heard from around the corner. Your eyes widened in fear and Jungkook put a finger over his lips, signalling you to stay quiet as he went to hide behind a wall, opposite from the kitchen's entrance.

You turned around in time to face your husband crossing the doorway with a soft smile on his lips.

"Yes, I just took a pill for my headache."

Yong-su frowned and walked over to you, eyes searching on your own with concern.

"Are you alright? I need you to sign some documents but if you are not feeling right you can do it later."

Your eyes momentarily looked at where Jungkook was hiding before you shook your head with a smile.

"It's alright, I can do it now."

Yong-su nodded, walking out of the kitchen with you behind him. But just as you were about to leave the room, you turned to look back only to spot Jungkook peeking out from around the wall upon hearing your fading footsteps.

With your heart skipping a beat, you sent him a subtle nod. The trace of a smile over your lips before you disappeared behind the wall.

And it was in that moment that he smiled to himself, feeling his heart beating wildly in his chest upon the silent confirmation of your love for him.

It didn't matter if it was prohibited, that it was a sin. That you were betraying your husband with Jungkook. For you were his forbidden fruit he should not even gaze at but your essence was addictive he couldn't think to stop himself. Not now, not ever, because love knows no boundaries. Love is untamable, like the sea. Like a flame. It exists, it consumes. It destroys.

December/15/2023

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Since Latin and Greek culture were much more similar to and sister cultures to each other, I would thinking that the perfect adaptation to all of the Greek mythology stories would be done in the melodramatic telenovela format style, albeit set in modern times, modern urban clothing and all. All of the Homeric’s Illiad and Odyssey events had been millennia past, so now we only had the drama, conflict, gossip of the gods,.

Also I had been heard that Latinos are addicted to Turkish/ Arabic soap operas, and the same with the Middle Easterners and Mediterranean people addicted to watching old Latin soap opera series in the 90s. (that were made in Mexico, Brazil, Argentina.)

======================================

Answer by me: Okay yes, that'd be great 😂 For more serious scenarios Greeks have a similar taste to our Latin American friends. Of course when there is too much drama for our tastes telenovelas become our dirty pleasure. We even have memes for them. In fact, the gif you attached with Soraya Montenegro is THE most famous meme from a telenovela in Greece. In my head I immediately heard the "IIIIII TI ΚΑΝΕΙΣ ΕΚΕΙ, ΦΙΛΑΣ ΤΗΝ ΑΝΑΠΗΡΗ;;;;;" 😂😂😂😂😂😂 The actress who voiced Soraya in Greek also voiced Hera in Blood of Zeus! Watching BoZ in Greek was an Experience because of that history!

[ourrecipebook]

Caramelized Cauliflower Pasta with Caper Butter

Serving: 2-3

Ingredients

200 g of pasta*, I used strozzapreti (gluten-free if needed)

½ large cauliflower, divided into florets

4 baby zucchini (optional), sliced

2 garlic cloves, very finely diced

2-3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil + more to grill vegetables

3 tbsp capers, chopped finely + a few whole to decorate

3 tbsp lemon juice + zest

smoked salt, to taste

black pepper, to taste

mild-heat chilli flakes (I used Turkish pul biber)

2 tsbp of toasted breadcrumbs from crusty white bread**, seasoned with salt

a handful of fresh mint leaves

1 tbsp pine nuts, toasted on a dry pan

Directions

Heat up a griddle pan on the stove (you can also use a BBQ for this or an oven at 400° F / 200° C). Cut cauliflower florets into halves. Brush them with a bit of olive oil and season with smoked salt. Arrange cauliflower pieces cut side down on a hot pan and do not turn over until they caramelize nicely. Then pop them to the other side for a few minutes. They will end up with a bit of a crunch but won’t be raw. Do the same with your zucchini slices (if using). Set aside.

Cook pasta al dente and drain.

In a small bowl, combine chopped capers with 2 tbsp of lemon juice and 1 tbsp of olive oil. Season with salt and pepper and mix well.

Warm up the remaining tablespoon (or two if you don’t mind a bit more oil) of olive oil on a medium size pan. Once warm, add finely diced garlic and let it cook for 1-2 minutes. Make sure you stir it all the time as garlic burns easily, especially when chopped that finely. Turn off the heat and add caper ‘butter’ mixture to the sautéed garlic. Stir well.

Add drained pasta to the pan and mix it around well to coat it in the caper ‘butter’. Add grilled vegetables and mix well.

Serve with a sprinkling of toasted pine nuts, lemon zest, chili flakes, breadcrumbs and fresh mint.

Notes

As this dish isn’t one of those with a large amount of sauce, it is best to use the type of pasta which has fairly large and smooth surface area like: strozzapreti, farfelle, penne, rigatoni or pappardelle.

I made my breadcrumbs by slicing 2 day old crusty bread into very thin slices and then toasting them on a hot griddle pan brushed with a bit of olive oil. I toasted them on both sides until nicely browned, cooled them and then crushed them in a pestle and mortar.

(Source)

[loneberry]

some notes on sufism

The other day I went to the Harvard Divinity School Muslims iftar (the meal that breaks the fast during Ramadan), which was followed by a concert of Turkish music that is traditionally performed in Sufi lodges in Istambul. Before the music began, the professor I’ve been auditing Islamic literature classes with read some verses from Rumi’s Masnavi and offered a meditation on fasting through an interpretation of the lines: “If you have closed this mouth, another mouth is opened, which becomes an eater of the morsels of mysteries.” That is the nature of mystical knowledge—gnosis (or maʿrifa) is not understood intellectually, but tasted (dhawq). The closing of the bodily mouth is an opening of the spiritual mouth. He asked us to listen to the music with the inner heart.

I went with my friend S, who has been nudging me toward conversion. I’ve been allergic to religion most of my life because I’m not really much of a joiner. I distinctly remember being in (Catholic) Sunday School as a child and thinking to myself: This sounds fake to me. As in, made-up, irrational. The people who treated the fanciful stories like fact seemed like crackpots to me, even to my child-mind. I don’t think I ever believed in Santa either—I guess my disposition was innately skeptical; perhaps that contributed to my identification with anarchism from when I was 13 or 14. Yet at the same time, my feeling for the invisible, for the world of the dead, was always quite strong, even when it was unstitched from a belief system. As a kid I would wander the house alone at night, thinking I could hear my dead parakeet chirping from a shoebox in the garage.  

I hated Sunday School. While I was always good at school-school (at least when I was a child, before I became an incorrigible truant), I was terrible at Sunday School. Because it seemed like hocus-pocus to me, none of it stuck. My classmates had internalized all the stories I thought were outlandish. During mass I would think exclusively about donuts, the ones we would buy from the ladies who would sell them as a fundraiser. I’ve thought about returning to Catholicism, but sadly, after the post-1970s political realignment in the US, all the leftist Catholics (the Marxists who loathed the Vietnam War and exposed the FBI’s COINTELPRO) are gone. As much as I love reading Catholic mystics (St Teresa of Avila, St John of the Cross, Angela of Foligno, Hildegard of Bingen, Meister Eckhart, Marguerite Porete, and others), Christian mysticism is more individualist than Islamic mysticism—asceticism and separation from the group is the way to commune with God, while Islamic mysticism is rooted in communal practices like sama (singing, dancing, reciting poetry, playing/listening to music) and dhikr (communal prayer for the remembrance of God). While Christian mysticism bears the imprint of the Neoplatonist trajectory of ascent, for Sufism, the trajectory is shaped like a paisley. After fana (annihilation of the ego/union with God/dying before you die), there is baqaa or subsistence, a return of sorts. 

I also much prefer the Islamic orientation to the created world than the Christian one, for in Islam, everything in creation can be understood as the breath or speech of God. The Hadith on which Sufi cosmology is based reads, “I was a hidden Treasure and Loved to be known, so I created the world that I might be known.” All of creation is a mirror to reflect God (this is why you must polish the rust from your heart, for the human heart can manifest all the names and qualities of God). In the Islamic mystical tradition there is an affirmation of the created world even though God and creation are not the same (as is the case in Pantheism). Everything has ontology. Nothing has ontology. The Sufi metaphysicians ask us to see with two eyes. The drop is not the ocean at the same time it cannot be separated from the ocean.

7 years ago I read Reza Aslan’s God: A Human History. After sampling the platter of world religions I joked to myself, Hmmm, if I had to pick the one I vibe with most, I guess it would be Sufism (Islamic mysticism). I didn’t know anything about Sufism other than the Rumi and Hafez poetry I read as a teenager, but the way Aslan described Ibn ‘Arabi’s concept of 'wahadat al-wujud' (or Unity of Being) reminded me of Spinozism. I guess what I’m trying to say is...I just think Sufi metaphysics is...right. Or, it speaks to how I tend to think about reality. It’s not something I can prove (that I don’t exist, while at the same time I am part of the ALL that is God), but it makes the most sense to me.

In the Sufi literature class, S jokes to me: “You’re the only non-Muslim in this class.” The same was probably true at the iftar + concert. S points to someone from the class: “The Maoist is a recent convert. This is their first time fasting for Ramadan.” “Is [our professor] fasting?” “Of course. I saw him at the iftar last night and talked to him about translation. I told him it’s ghastly to try to fit Persian verse into an English rhyme scheme. He agreed with me.” (We are clearly partisans of blank verse translations… yet so much of what’s out there has been poorly translated or not translated at all.) 

Much of the lyrics sung with the gorgeous music were verses written by the great Turkish-language Sufi poet and mystic Yunus Emre ("the Dante of Turkey," I whispered to S). S was ecstatic listening to the haunting ney (a kind of flute). We just so happened to be sitting in the same row as the professor. I tapped S and whispered that it looked like he was really enjoying the music. He was smiling with his eyes closed and swaying his head from side to side. He looked like he was having...a profound experience. This prof usually has what I guess you’d call ‘resting bitch face’ (which I always found funny because it runs counter to his sweet and gentle personality). But not at the concert. Pure bliss was painted on his face. It was then that it dawned on me that Sufism, for him, was probably something more than a scholarly interest. I thought about what it must have been like to discover something so beautiful and profound, and to know, in that moment, that your life will be changed forever—you might go off to Iran and devote your entire life to studying medieval texts. 

Of course this Ramadan I am thinking continuously about the genocide in Gaza, how an entire population is being starved to death by the sadistic leaders of Israel, how terrible it must be to be bombed and shot at during the holy month, or to break your fast with boiled grass and animal feed. I feel truly ashamed to come from a country that is complicit in this violence. I hope everyone continues to apply pressure to end this war—it feels hopeless now, but it is making a difference.

[perseephoneee]

Can I order hot coco with Freya Mikaelson for ficmas 2023? -shy anon

hot cocoa time (freya mikaelson x f!reader) {ficmas 2023}

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ happy day 11 of ficmas!

warnings: my music taste

a/n: i made my friend a character in this story so i hope they enjoy that. also if you haven't listened to jagged little pill what is wrong with you?? go and do that.

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2023

Growing up in New Orleans was a vivacious experience. Unluckily, in most other cities in the United States, you had first-hand exposure to the history of jazz, voodoo magic, and other French inspirations that didn’t exist elsewhere. Things went bump in the night, and the next day, most people didn’t remember it. In one of the less crowded areas of New Orleans, though, was a small cafe, slash bookstore, and slash record store. The owner, Louis, couldn’t decide what to open, so he did it all. You could go in, get a latte, and then parooze the various vinyls and books for sale before settling down with your new entertainment. Sometimes, even local bands would play, or authors would have Q&As for their new releases. You worked at Louis’ (aptly titled) for about a year. You loved listening to the music, getting to know the regulars, and getting an employee discount on the books you loved. People also enjoyed the various specials each season, most of them named and/or paired with books or vinyl. It was just more fun that way. 

One day, as you were wiping down the counters distractedly, you were startled from your stupor by a ring of the bell on the counter. Looking up, you noticed a gorgeous blond woman in front of you. Tall, with blond waves and blue eyes the color of a raging sea. She was willowy, but when she smiled at you, it felt like you were given a gift. You realized that she asked a question. 

“Sorry, long day– can you repeat that?” you asked, throwing your rag to the side. 

“What is your hot cocoa special like?” she asked, a slight rasp to her tone. You looked at the sign she was glancing at, advertising the Narnia special with a copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. 

“It’s a traditional hot chocolate topped off with caramel and hazelnut sprinkles, kind of like some iterations of Turkish Delight,” you answer. You stuttered a bit; you were never that good at talking to attractive people. 

“Like the White Witch?” she smiles. You nod, and she goes to pull out her wallet. “I’d love to get a 12oz of that then.”

“What’s a good name for the order?” you smile as you find a stray Sharpie around. Truthfully, you didn’t take names at Louis’, but you just wanted to know hers. 

“Freya.” She helped you spell it out, and you wondered the origin of the name. You got right to her order, glancing up now and then to see her looking at the shelves of books or the bargain bin in the record portion of the store. 

She came in every day for the next two weeks. Your co-workers knew you harbored a slight crush on her, and every time she was in, they would excitedly text you, even if it were your day off. You would find ways to return to the cafe, citing forgetting something or needing to pick up a paycheck. You would strike up a conversation with her when you could. You discussed your favorite music, books, everything. She told you she’d been away for a while and was still getting used to being home with her family. On one eventful day, you showed her one of your favorite records ever (“Jagged Little Pill is a tribute to female angst, and necessary for all women to listen to,” you told her, shoving the record in her hand.) She came back the next day to say to you that she listened to all of it, switching back and forth between wanting to cry and wanting to throw furniture around her room. Every time she came in, she ordered the same hot cocoa. One time, she came in with a very handsome man in a well-pressed suit and an aura of sophistication. Your heart sank, but you relaxed when she introduced him as her brother. Freya still ordered her usual hot cocoa, but you convinced her brother (Elijah, you learn his name is) to try a London Fog if he hasn’t already. Freya tells you later that he enjoyed the tea latte and subtly went to the store the next day to get Earl Grey tea to make his own. 

“Just ask her out,” Nimm, your good friend and co-worker, chastises you one day after the morning rush. You make sure to glare at them, returning to cleaning the espresso machine. “You like her.”

“She would not go out with someone like me,” you mumble. Nimm sighs, and you can tell they’re getting ready to lecture you on the merits of self-esteem.

“You are a wonderful person, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short,” Nimm grabs the cleaning rag from you so that you’ll pay attention. “The worst that can happen is she says no. Not life or death. You’ll survive.”

You don’t have the chance to argue more with Nimm as Freya walks in at that second. Nimm vacates immediately, leaving you alone with Freya. 

“The usual?” you ask, wringing your hands nervously under the counter. 

“You read my mind,” Freya chuckles, already getting out her wallet. You can feel Nimm’s stare from the back, and you turn to see them motioning for you to get on with it. You send them an unsavory gesture before Freya can notice. Freya starts to ask a question.

“How are–”

“Do you want to get coffee sometime?” you rush, your eyes widening as you register Freya’s surprised expression. It quickly morphs into a smile, though, and you wonder if it’s possible for someone as young as you to have a heart attack. 

“I was waiting for you to ask,” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and you thought you might explode in happiness. You heard vague cheering from the backroom and saw both Nimm and Louis celebrating. You gestured for Freya to wait a second as you stormed into the back and tried to beat up both of them. After many crashes, some screaming, and a few expletives, a couple of minutes later, you returned to Freya, who was trying her hardest not to die of laughter. 

“Let me make your drink,” you sigh, scribbling on her cup before finishing the hot cocoa. Freya smiles as she notices that you put your number on the cup. “Meet me here tomorrow? I get off at 2 pm this time.”

“Sounds like a date,” Freya grins, walking out the door. You’re joined a second later by Nimm throwing an arm around you. 

“See, that wasn’t so hard!” Nimm exclaims. 

“When I murder you, I’ll make sure to make it look like an accident.”

Freya met you outside your work the next day, and despite not being dressed much differently than usual, she still took your breath away. She was like an ice princess, not because she was cold, but because she was effervescent. You walked arm in arm to a place that reminded you of her only after a couple of days of Freya coming to Louis’s. It was called ​​Sucre Rêve, a chocolatier from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. You had made a reservation for the upstairs, where they served some of the best gourmet hot chocolate you’d ever had. Freya’s eyes were wide as saucers as she took in all the bright colors of the store, the cotton ball clouds suspended from the ceiling, and the various glittery decorations that made the place like a dreamland. You both ordered their classic coco covered in sprinkles and spent the whole experience laughing over whipped cream staches and talking about your various lives. You learned Freya was the oldest of six siblings, but two of them sadly passed away. They all lived together in the French Quarter, even though sometimes they didn’t get along. You didn’t press her for what happened to her other siblings or the family dynamic; you just appreciated her opening up. In return, you talked about your home life and shared more music recommendations for her. She had since become a vast Alanis Morisette fan, and you couldn’t blame her. You recommended Tori Amos to continue her journey into becoming a 90s rock girl. 

You left the chocolatier feeling as light as a feather. The sky was dimming with the hints of a sunset, the winter months making everything go dark early. You just walked with Freya through the last remnants of the sun, enjoying the cotton candy clouds. 

“Thank you for going out with me,” you said, breaking the silence. 

“I would do it again,” she breathed softly. You stopped before Louis, hands in your jacket pockets as you searched for what to say. “Can I call you?”

“Always,” you answer, much quicker than what is considered excellent. Freya steps towards you, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Your breath catches in your throat as she kisses your cheek, her lips cold from the weather. “You missed,” you mutter, watching Freya’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. You lean forward, kissing her on her lips, enjoying the little gasp she lets out as you press further into her. You kiss her once on her cheek before pulling away. “Like I said, you missed.”

She grins, pulling you in for another kiss as the sun continues descending behind you, painting you both in a warm glow. And to think you finally found your perfect person over a cup of hot cocoa.

[alpaca-clouds]

Bread around the world

Let me be a bit cliché German today. Let me talk about bread. Because we Germans are fucking obsessed with bread, as it is so often parodied by folks from other countries. And yes, this is true. The rest of the world does not understand why sour dough is so much better than this horrible bland white bread you guys eat!

*coughs*

But... Did you know that bread is a thing that shows up throughout so many cultures and throughout human history in so many different forms?

But for that we gotta talk a moment about what even is bread. Because some folks do define it as something that needs yeast and some sort of corn within the European sense of the word.

A more general definition, though, is that bread is a food created by mixing some sort of flour with a liquid and then cooking this mixture until firm.

Which is what I will go by here. So... let me talk bread.

What little German pride I have asks me to start this off with sourdough bread. Which since the pandemic started a lot of people have learned to make. Instead of using some poor form of yeast, the yeast is won by leaving a very liquid mixture of flour and water (and at times malt) out in the open for a couple of days, so that yeast from the air can settle in the mixture. This mix is then added to more flour and water and kneaded, rested, then kneaded again, to develop it texture. It is then baked as a loaf.

Now, this way of making bread dates back forever. Because we have found old sourdough bread that is almost 6000 years old. It was probably white spread across the ancient world.

The probably most German version of sourdough bread is pumpernickel, which has been made with a very coarse rye flour. In fact the city I live in is quite famous for the pumpernickel bread here.

Funnily enough, pumpernickel was originally the bread of the poor and those, who were doing religious penance, because while it is super healthy, it is a) very cheap to make (not that you would know looking at the prices it is sold by today) and b) not that tasty, as it just has a very, very strong and rather bitter flavour.

But in the middle ages rye was the cheapest kind of corn around. So... pumpernickel was the thing they made.

Borodinsky is another rye bread - this one from Russia. Again, rye was for the longest time the cheapest kind of corn over here, so it was most often used in baking bread. The big difference to pumpernickel is, that in borodinsky the rye flour is a lot finer and the bread gets sweatened with malt, so that it does not taste quite as strongly and bitter, as the pumpernickel does.

Funnily enough the Turkish Bazlama flatbread traditionally also is a sourdough bread, as the same process was used as leavening for the bread in this case. If you have ever eaten bazlama, you will know that even though it is a flat bread it is relatively fluffy on the inside. Which comes from the sourdough levening.

Now, funnily enough: The French often do not have this big thing with sourdough, even though they, too, are quite famous for their breads. But ever since we humans figured out how to isolate yeast, the French basically went like: "Well, if we use pure yeast, the result will be a lot more predictable." Because sourdough has this aspect that it will taste a little different depending on where you created it - at times even dependent on the time of year.

So, baguette is a yeasted bread and it uses fine, white wheat flour, which is a lot nicer in taste than rye.

Now, Japan is of course not a country with a long bread tradition. Mostly because rice usually does not make for a good flour for bread and the like. But ever since bread came over and became popular, they have come up with a few of their own creations. Shokupan - milk bread - is probably the most well known example of this. This, too, is a wheat and yeast bread, but it also uses milk instead of water and is very enriched with all sorts of things, so that it is softer and also a lot sweeter than other breads.

Naan is a bread most probably know from the Indian cuisine, but it is in fact another super old kind of bread as it originates in Mesopotamia. As such it was originally also made as a sourdough, those these days it is often done just with normal yeast as leavening. And it is spread fairly far within the Arabian subcontinent and the Indian subcontinent. The interesting thing is, that it is a flatbread, but it is usually completely oven baked.

Chipati is an unlevened flat bread that is quite common in eastern Africa. It is usually really thin and is served as a side dish to all sorts of soups and stews, often used to carry those with people dipping the bread in the soup/stew or putting stew onto the bread.

And while we are on the topic of unlevened flat breads: Tortillas are among those, too. They are kinda interesting in so far that, while most tortillas sold these days are wheat based, there is a version around made from maize, too.

But yeah, usually most breads are made with wheat or rye or maybe spelt, because breads... just turn out best, when they have gluten, as gluten helps to develop those fluffy textures we associate with bread. Which is why bread tends to be most common within areas, where they had some access to gluten rich corn. xD

[shmowder]

I have some more dessert headcanons 🍰 I doubt I can explain but it's just a feeling I have. Daniil would like Turkish Delight. Lara and Artemy both like fruit pies, best is blueberry for Lara and rhubarb (it's a vegetable but whatever) for Artemy (oh god I'm stereotyping based on colors again). Candy corn for Clara. Candy corn is divisive but I actually like it. I think Grief would like candy in general, maybe those little chocolates with liquor inside, and cinnamon flavored things. Big Vlad - mincemeat pie. Rubin - bread. Just bread. Red velvet cake for Katerina, meringues for Eva. For Aspity, those dirt pies made out of oreo crumbs, pudding, and gummy worms lol. I think Grace, Notkin, Sticky, and Murky would like those too :o)

There's probably some obscure dialogue that contradicts something there but oh well~

What do you think of Victor's animal being a tiger? I keep thinking Basset Hound and yes that's almost entirely because they both have a high likelihood of being found sitting on the floor by the clock. He's some kind of scent hound to me - more calm and deliberate than sighthounds, and once they have their mind set on something, focusing on it to the extent that it's nearly impossible to pull them away. But at the same time, I can sort of see the cat thing.

🐿️ anon

Your brain is big and wrinkly all of those fit perfectly omfg. "Rubin = bread" I LOVE IT.

Here's what I think their preference in sweets would be in addition to yours.

Eva

Turkish delight, Honey soaked rose baklava, kanafeh with sweer syrups. The intensely sweet desserts are her favourite, think heavy caramel chocolate cakes. She'd sample a lot of desserts from different cultures but those would be her comfort ones.

Victor Kain

The dishes he eats are an acquired taste that wouldn't appeal to most people. Think blue cheese and something along those lines. think bitter chocolate, coffee, and pistachio flavours. Traditional creme burlee and dark chocolate mousse.

I like to think that Khan abhors these flavours and desserts out of rebellion and only demands the most sprinkle filled bubblegum bonbon cupcakes for his birthday.

Maria, however, goes for flavour-rich desserts that explode in the mouth, something with a heavy taste and an aftermath of wine.

Yulia

Cheesecake, lemon tarts. Subtle sweetness with the spin of something different sate her appetit the most. French Vanilla chiffon cake for special occasions, a blueberry muffin with her morning light cream cappuccino.

Rubin

He's absolutely not a dessert person, so when the craving strikes, he would rather go for a baked good. Almond bread, rosemary-walnut brow butter cookies and biscuits, English muffins too.

Taya

Fairy bread cookies, strawberry shortcake, and orange puddings. Fruit based desserts with cream are her favourite. Peach pie and cherry jello. Sadly, most of these would only be found in the Capital, and exporting them into the town wouldn't come easily. The kin might adjust their recipies to accommodate her sweet tooth and include more fresh fruits.

--

For Victor's animal, I was surprised to learn it's the same one as Rubin! They both have tiger in their descriptions. Especially when Khan's animal is an adorable hedgehog. Oh my god, so cute. But it fits. He really does go hide in that spiky polyhedron whenever life gets too troubling. He also has the Kains and Capella ready to protect him.

It's because of Victor's animal being a tiger that I add the "predatory" lines in the story. The sharp claws hidden in his clapsed hands.

He's a tiger in the aspect of the danger rather than the ferality. His mind is as sharp as a tiger's tooth and his focus and patience when hunting a prey or a goal is unmatched. You never expect him or hear him, how he'll as stealthy as a tiger when it comes to mind games.

For Rubin, however, I do see the symbolism centring on the ferality instead. He's like a caged tiger, one with filed down claws and broken teeth. He used to be so sharp and had so much potential. He's truly a force to be reckon with, but the cruelty of life stole away his prime. He's overcome with grief and appears as a docile, tired predetor because of it, like a circus tiger not caring anymore and just jumping through the fire hoops of whoever orders him to. Which is why he is so quick to join the army, he needs a purpose, a mentor, an end goal, a firey ring to make him feel useful because nothing is more terrifying to an imprisoned animal than absolute freedom.

[immoralimmortals]

that's fair! there isn't terribly much naruto daemon stuff, much less akatsuki

it's just fun if everyone had a companion and other people could see how you treated the "other half to your soul"

adds perspective? humanizes? or demonizes??

what are all or any of your akatsuki's favourite deserts? yes, including sasori or any of the others who are Less Than Human Now -- they used to eat them didn't they?

unless they don't like desserts, haha

itachi probably judge them a little lol

Yeah, I can see what you mean. Puts a new twist on putting your heart on your sleeve.

Desserts! I love desserts and trying new flavors of things.

Akatsuki member's take on desserts:

Pain/Nagato: Not a dessert man. I can't imagine him enjoying sweets very much, especially if he's been chronically deprived of the finer things in life due to his upbringing. He won't turn you down if you offer him a nice slice of cake, but don't take it personally if he doesn't finish it.

Konan: Same as Nagato but not as bad. She likes mild flavors for her sweets. It can't be bursting with sugar, nor can it be so fruity and tart it might make your mouth pucker. I bet she'd enjoy matcha flavored things, like mochi or taffy.

Zetsu: Frankly I do not entirely know what this man(s) thinks of regular human food. Your palette is a bit fucked up if cold bodies are your favorite taste. That being said, I think the funniest option is if he really likes ladyfingers for the pun alone.

Tobi/Obito: I know it's canon he likes dango. That probably gives a good idea of where we can take these headcanons. I think while he appreciates finer flavors, he's a sort of "I'll take what I can get" kind of guy, especially as his Tobi persona. As Obito, you'd have to catch him dead before he'll let it be known he has midnight snacks on the regular.

Hidan: Kind of hard to imagine liking sweets. I don't think he hates them, but he associates them with being childish. He'd eat out of boredom and nothing else.

Kakuzu: Earthy, tea or coffee or floral flavors. Rose turkish delight or tiramisu or dark chocolate dipped coffee beans. Maybe taro or ube flavored things. Desserts are a treat and not a necessity, and one he prefers to savor on his own. Do not invite this man to your ice cream social. He will not come.

Deidara: Fruit. Citrus and raspberries and mango and other such sharply flavored things. He'd love the shit out of watermelon or blue raspberry jolly ranchers. It has to be bold for him to enjoy it, which is a blessing if you're around overly processed American brand candy. I bet he'd like bomb pops, name not even involved in that. You KNOW he'd be obsessed with pop rocks. He'd put that shit on ice cream to make it less boring like how a dad takes out a packet of hot sauce "for more flavor".

Sasori: He doesn't eat, so I think he'd be entirely into the visual/artistic aspect of desserts. Macarons are a good example, he'd really enjoy the painstaking work involved with making them perfect. I think he'd also enjoy cake and chocolate sculptures, but much more to critique than to thoughtlessly admire. He would take no offense to using fondant, rice crispies, or wood planks to keep that art piece together. Edibility is not a factor. He and Deidara would gravely injure one another over this.

Kisame: I bet he really would like popsicles and boba tea. Strikes me as a cold dessert kind of guy, has to be something refreshing. I think honeydew would be a flavor he'd go towards, maybe coconut or lime. I'd take this man out to the boardwalk this summer for sure to split a drink or a stick.

Itachi: A gourmand. He can taste anything and know not only the ingredients but their rough (if not precise) ratio. He can analyze food like a DNA scanner can hair on an FBI tv show. You know he'd win any cooking competition involving guessing flavors. Gordon Ramsay would fall in love with this man. I know canonically it's dango, but I think the funniest favorite dessert for him would be the shitty near straight up powder sugar chocolates you can buy for Halloween.

[tododeku-or-bust]

can we see one for kairos and calix, please? i love learning about your characters!

Dawww, of course you can, boo!!! Thank you for the support!!! Let me get this down for you!

Same idea for Modern AUs!

Name: Kairos

Nickname: Kai, my inspiration, the melody of my heart, my beloved child, my beautiful baby boy

Gender: Male

Star sign: Stubborn Taurus ♉

Personality type: observant, intuitive, snarky, fretful, loving. Cold when he's upset.

Height: 5'5

Orientation: Gay, potentially aro

Nationality/Ethnicity: Afro-Greek (he's just light skinned lmao)

Favorite fruit: Plums! They fit his aesthetic and he likes the taste. He carries them in one of his many pockets.

Favorite season: Winter. He likes to wear layers!

Favorite scent: fresh paint, and the lemony smell of his parents home studio, petrichor

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: coffee; he started drinking it jet black to feel cool, and got into the habit. Part of his "artist aesthetic" vibe. Tbh he likes creamer in it too, for the days he's not feeling so hip (which is most days).

Average hours of sleep: 5-6 (sometimes when he gets caught up in a project, he gets less. Which makes the coffee come in handy)

Dogs or cats: bugs! Kai loves bugs!

Dream trip: Kai wants to play the lute in Venice, on one of the gondolas. It's an admittedly specific goal, but he's always wanted that carefree, bard traveling the streets experience. Without the starving artist portion. Alas 🤣 he also wants to visit museums around the world.

Number of blankets: he's got quite a few hand crocheted and quilted by his mother that he won't ever get rid of.

Random fact: Kairos' hair is vines and leaves in the Hades AU, but in modern AUs, lately I've been imagining his hair as locs, they're just tied back into a bun all the time. I've also pictured it as just fluffy curls, always in the ponytail. He also likes to wear very long, sturdy jean/khaki skirts with lots of additional pockets. It's his outfit of choice, to carry all the random shit he'll have on hand as inspiration.

Name: Calix

Nickname: he actually doesn't have any!

Gender: Male

Star sign: Petty Gemini ♊🤣

Personality type: bold, boisterous, charming, funny. Can be hotheaded and a little mean with his sharp tongue.

Height: 6'0

Orientation: bisexual!!

Nationality/Ethnicity: as of the other day, Turkish!

Favorite fruit: I was gonna say apples, but my phone said peaches. So you know what? Now it's peaches 🤣 Calix do love him some As- *knocked out of my chair*

Favorite season: Summer. They used to go to their horse farm in the countryside during the summer for visits, as well as seeing the rest of his very large family, so he has fond memories of the season

Favorite scent: firewood, Philia's body wash (a coconut/sweet tropical sort of scent)

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: coffee; he and Kai will share tips and brands

Average hours of sleep: 5-6

Dogs or cats: dogs!

Dream trip: to be honest, it's a petty dream of his to sweep Philia off her feet in front of her petty ass Daddy and drive off into the sunset in a convertible. He doesn't care where they go, he just wants to 1) marry Phi and make her happy and 2) see the look on Achilles' face.

Number of blankets: like 2, though he starts buying more when he realizes they make Phi more comfortable

Random fact: Calix is smitten with Phi the first time they meet in every universe. But they always get held back by the classic friends to lovers "I don't know if I can tell you yet because I don't want you to run away", as Philia is always... Well, she's not quite there yet with him. Permanent romance isn't what's most important on her plate. They flirt the entire time, with others and with each other, but Phi takes longer than he does to really come to terms with her emotions for him. He's going to wait, he's going to simp for life. Kai has to see this shit in front of his salad in every universe.

[natandacat]

کشک بادمجان ~ Kashk-e bademjoon

Since I've just made some and it's so so tasty, here's my recipe for kashk-e bademjoon (kashk & egglant dip dish)

You'll need:

1 big eggplant

1 big onion or 2 small ones

Garlic (be generous)

Ground walnuts

Kashk*

Spices: turmeric, paprika, cumin, black pepper (whatever you have)

Dried mint (optional)

*Kashk is not easy to find outside of iranian stores, and hard to substitute. It's a kind of fermented curdled milk paste and it tastes really strong. I see people online substituting it with greek yogurt and honestly, it just won't be the same taste at all. It probably makes a great dish, but it won't be kashk-e bademjoon. If you can't find kashk (which is likely, sometimes you can find dried kashk in indian/turkish stores but you really need the paste and I've never been able to rehydrate the dried balls into a paste lol), try to use a sheep or goat cheese which can melt/flake off and has a strong taste (if you can't taste the farm, if it doesn't feel like licking a sheep, it's not the right one lol).

That being said! Here are the steps:

As a forenote, do NOT add salt during the first steps, kashk is very salty and you'll need to wait until the end to add it and adjust to taste

Peel the eggplant and slice it lengthwise, cook it in a pan with oil and paprika until soft and lightly grilled

Slice the onions and cook them in a pan (use the same pan as the eggplant). When translucent, add turmeric, paprika, cumin, and hot paprika/cayenne if you want a little kick. Mince the garlic and add it to the onions. Cook until golden

Add the eggplant back into the pan and mix well

Add dried mint to taste

Add ground walnuts

Let cook until the walnuts are well roasted

Add about 3 big spoons of kashk, to taste

Let cook a bit more on low heat until everything is well incorporated

Bam! You've got kashk-e bademjoon. Eat it on some bread :)

@priestin

[staliaatreides]

I often find myself super frustrated when I try something and it isn't immediately perfect. Brush stoke out of place, seam not straight, fabric cutting job bad, shelf nailed up unevenly, DPS or healing stats not as high as it could be in a dungeon.

But--to get better, takes practice. So I thought I'd share a single brunch meal I've been trying to make over a period of time and what I've changed/done differently each time.

Take 1:

Pan toasted sourdough bread with melted swiss cheese, sauteed baby spinach, and sliced cherry tomatoes, topped with a beaten egg seasoned with salt and pepper made in a cookie cutter "form".

Verdict: delicious

Take 2:

Same as above with with these changes:

melted cheese is now swiss and parmesan

cherry tomatoes are from my garden and were thrown on with the cheese to cook a bit as the cheese melted and bread bottom toasted

instead of beating the egg, I cracked and poured into my cookie cutter mold, and just topped with salt and pepper to cook. It did unfortunately leak out of the form a bit into the spinach being cooked next to it, and you can see the little pieces in the picture, but you try, try again

Verdict: Really delicious (and satisfying to use something I'd grown). I think not scrambling the egg is not only prettier, but you get a sort of separation in the taste as you eat it--egg white goes really well with the spinach and tomato and cheese, and the bit with the yolk, very tasty biting into it.

Take 3 (a weekend day so more time to make it rather than the pre-work rush):

Same as above, but with some changes:

swapped out olive oil used in sautéing the spinach and that gets into the egg (and is used for toasting) for avocado oil

added more tomato--was previously using two cherry tomatoes, upped it to three, giving my toast more delicious tomato coverage

added in a bit more cheese (both the swiss and parmesan...I need to use it up after all)

And because it was finally the weekend I had the time to coordinate cooking this with:

making Turkish coffee

throwing in some salmon breakfast sausages (I could have done this during the week, no excuse, but I did just realize these might taste good with the half sandwich/toast)

Verdict: I want to not have to work weekday mornings so I could make this. I can't find much fault with how it all tastes and came out now. But I do have just one more idea on something to add that might improve it...

Take 4:

Same as before, but now with avocado slices added on top.

Verdict: perfectly delicious. Avocado is a nice touch on there, but, doing this again, I'd use the same amount of avocado, just instead of two slices, cut each of those in half again for four, so it can more evenly cover the toast.

Practice can make better! And cooking is one area where I'm happy to continue practicing (still end up with mostly tasty stuff on the way).