exotic dishes

A spread of traditional mezes photograph by Peden & Munk

  • “Meze, which is a selection of small dishes served to accompany alcoholic drinks as a course or as appetizers before a main dish.  A big part of the dining experience in Eastern Mediterranean, Middle Eastern, and Arab countries. The word “meze” means “taste” and/or “snack.” The concept is very similar to the tapas of Spain,”

me appropriating white culture: oh ho Ho sweetie! love this délicieuxcious foreign casserole you prepared us! although i noticed with my little eye you forgot to add some mayo on my rice haha! classic poc of color mistake. makakyleigheen ! makakyleigheen my daughter ! come taste this superlicious ethnic exotic of color dish! haha! open yourself to other cultures! hmmmmoooooooooh a little SpiceEeyy too i see hihi did you add some of that salt? some of that pepper? some of that seasoning? haha! LOL! my pallet is on fire honey! oh my gosssh let me grasp my water casserole hoho i left it in my tricycle basket oh no oopsy doopsy daisy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!; ooohoooh sweeeeEEt sWweeEeeT jEsus oooOOOOhHhhOoooHhhh

The Storm That Was Promised

“I hope I deserve it.”

“You do.”


When he reached the door to Daenerys’ cabin, the last thing Jon expected was to find an argument inside.

“Please, not that again…” Dany’s voice rang muffled. “All this talk of love is ruining everything… What is it you want from me?”

“Daenerys, please,” Jorah insisted, quieter than her. “Allow me to prove-“

“You’ve proven enough to me, Ser Jorah… Now, if you please forgive me, I must ask you to leave. I am expecting someone.”

“… it’s Jon Snow, isn’t it?”

“You object?”

Before Jorah could say any more, Jon was compelled to finally knock on the door - dangerously on cue.

There was incoherent muttering inside the cabin, and then Jorah’s footsteps grew nearer to greet him at the door.

“Mormont.” Jon feigned surprise, but the friendly gesture was not returned in kind. Jorah coldly stared him down, gave his queen a last fleeting look, and briskly brushed past him.

Cautiously, Jon came into Dany’s cabin, closing the door behind him as gently as he could.

He stood rooted to the spot for a moment, nervously searching the room with his eyes and looking around at anything but at Dany.

“Why are you still standing back there?” She smiled curiously. “Come into the light.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, Your Grace.” Said Jon. “I’m afraid I’m still a little achy from the Eastwatch incident.”

His body groaned like an old man’s, but with every step he took closer to her, he found himself growing younger and younger again.

She stood leaning ever so slightly against the side of a table, hands neatly clasped, and wore dark blue robes and fur draped over her shoulders - it was unlike anything Jon had seen her wear before. The winter is truly here if even the mother of dragons must wrap herself in furs to keep warm. It beautifully complimented her snow-white locks of hair, he thought, but brushed the thought aside after he realized his smile grew a little too wide for comfort. Stop gawking at her like a complete idiot, he mentally scolded himself, disgusted by his awkwardness.

Meanwhile, Daenerys was quite obviously grazing her eyes up and down his body as he emerged from the shadows. “You look stronger than you did yesterday, my lord.” She sighed softly. “It appears you heal faster than most men, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well- yeah. I suppose I am. I mean, I do… I, uh…” Jon fumbled over his words, swallowing back something that was making it increasingly harder for him to breathe. “Listen, Dany - all this - this curtsying crap – what say you we move on from that already? You don’t have to call me ‘my lord’ anymore. I owe you my life. I think that makes us a little better acquainted by now.”

Now it was Dany’s turn to look away.

She focused on her fingers, fiddling them shyly, the thoughts in her mind having seemed to lose their graceful flow.

Dany. Only one man has ever called her that - a man whose very name haunts her like last meal’s bile. But when Jon said it… it was as though all those memories were never real afterall. She felt comforted – so much so that she wanted to hear this gruff, northern boy to say it to her again and again.

Please, say it again, she returned her eyes to his. But the pause between them was too unbearable for her to stretch it any longer.

“You’re right.” She smiled at him. “There are no strangers left between us.”

There was something in the glance they shared at that moment that reminded them both of dragons. Regal. Entrancing. Searching… And above all, mysteriously familiar. Jon cleared his throat.

“Remember at Dragonstone - after you came back from The Reach?” He began.

“What about it?” Daenerys frowned at him, unsure as to where this was going.

“I remember standing up there next to you, just as I am now… I remember watching you, watching the dragons.” He stepped a little closer to her as he said this, and his words grew quieter as the air left him. “And I felt like… All of my fears and responsibilities were somehow lifted from my shoulders, light as a feather. There was nothing else in the world that I wanted more than to…” Jon’s voice caught in his throat, afraid to end that sentence, afraid of her reaction.

“Jon? To what?”

Oh, fuck it. He gulped. “…To kiss you.”

He looked at her like a frozen deer would - wide-eyed and ready to run. Jon recalled her earlier conversation with Jorah – a man who knew her since the beginning, who has been through hell with her, has made her happy in a way Jon’s brooding could never hope to. A man who is always ready to lay down his life for her, the same man she turned away a moment ago. Jon could not bear the thought of going through the same dismissal, after only months of having met her. But winter is coming, and he had to take risks.

Daenerys couldn’t believe her ears. I summoned you to my cabin to discuss our plans against the Night King, not to hear another confession of love. She was almost angry with him. She wasted all this time trying to persuade him to bend the knee for her, but had he made it known to her earlier about his intentions, she would have accepted a marriage proposal without a second thought.

But she couldn’t be angry with him. She wanted to, but instead her heart was enveloped with his sweetness and it made her feel vulnerable, which frightened her. She felt her cheeks blush against her will, and could only hope that the dim glow of the lanterns could conceal it at least a little.

“Forgive me, Dany.” Jon said finally, sounding tired and flustered. “I know it’s unexpected…”

There he said that name again. Daenerys shook her head, unable to look at him. “No, don’t apologize.”

She thought for a moment how much of her feelings for him she kept repressed. Love both the venom and the antidote, she knew. If she had never come to feel anything for Jon, perhaps Viserion might still be roaming the skies with his brothers. But just like she dismissed the legend of the White Walkers, Dany was skeptical of the subtle efforts Jon had made to hint at his feelings towards her. She needed to see the Army of the Dead first to know they were real, and she needed Jon Snow to prove her he really did love her. She trusted him before, she wanted to trust him with this too. Everyone wants to fuck the queen, but how many would care for her naked heart?

She looked back up at Jon to read his expression, but his eyes were lost beneath the shadows of his brows. He sensed she didn’t believe how much this meant to him – how much she meant to him. I cannot leave this room the way Jorah did. He clenched his fists.

To his surprise, Daenerys made a move to approach him. Although she looked rather serious, her eyes were glistening with emotion.

What is she thinking? Jon wondered, parting his lips absent-mindedly. She was now so close to him he could almost feel the heat of her glowing, silver-gold image. She seemed like something out of a heavenly vision, her long hair was styled in a loose Westerosi fashion, and her gentle face was as perplexing and graceful as the moon.

Daenerys took his hand. He’s so cold… She took it in both of her hands, warming it up before lifting it to her face and holding it there. She closed her eyes for a moment and deeply inhaled the small of his wrist. He smells of leather and cold steel and pinewood, she smiled fondly.

Jon could only stare at her in disbelief, for his heart was so incredibly moved. As she pressed his hand closer to her cheek, intertwining her fingers with his, he realized just how warm she really was. She reminded him of summers at Winterfell so many years ago.

His thumb moved lightly over Dany’s lips, as she parted them to speak.

“Are you sure you want this?” Daenerys spoke so sadly, so quietly, Jon almost thought he imagined it, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I am a monster, Jon Snow. My children are monsters - and they’re all I could ever offer you… You deserve better than this - you deserve a future - a happy, peaceful future…”

“No, don’t you say that.” Jon shook his head, upset over the mere suggestion. He took her face in both hands, steadying her gaze into his. “Listen to me - I don’t care about that. I never have. And just because they call me the King in the North, it doesn’t make me any less of a bastard… I am a bastard, my love.” He sighed after he failed to stop himself from calling her that, but he continued, hoping she’d forgive him. “You know the dead are coming – you’ve seen them, and that means none of us can have the future we want… But you know what I believe?” He inched closer to her, closing any space that was left between them. “I believe that together, you and I, we can create history.”

Daenerys could only gaze at him in wonder, then at his lips as she watched him lean into her. And like a moth to a flame, his lips found hers, and she felt all of her fears and worries melt into nothing but pleasure. In fact, their mutual hunger was so fierce that it startled them, and they had to tear eachother’s lips apart just to gasp for air. Both believed the other was a dream, and that kissing too hard might frighten them awake.

And yet, they kissed again anyway, a little bolder this time. And kissed again, and bolder again, and with each kiss they grew surer and surer that this was indeed real and it was happening.

Daenerys Targaryen did not kiss the way Wildlings or teenage girls kiss, according to Jon’s experience. She did not bite him until he bled, nor leak her drool all over his beard. She did not stink of manure or sweat or blood. No… this creature was delicate, clean and perfumed with warm and sweet spices from lands of eternal summer. Her lips were softer than the ripest peaches he ever ate. And when his tongue pierced into the contents within her mouth, he found more juice than could ever quench his thirst.

But her mouth wasn’t enough.

She was an entire royal feast of exotic dishes, that much Jon Snow knew. He yearned to taste all of her - to burn her into himself until he no longer was himself.

But no sooner had his lips set forth to the nape of her neck that he had already lost his senses in its depths. He pulled the furs away in search of that warm, pulsing curve, suckled hard on her skin and then bit her rather sharply, playful as a wolf.

But the dragon, instead of growling in kind, gasped with pleasure, and buried her fingers in his lush, black hair.

Jon couldn’t believe his ears and snapped out of it, looking back at her to make sure he didn’t just imagine it.

Dany, however, was equally as senseless now, and wouldn’t stand for pointless pauses like these. She tugged at his hair, and kissed him with a hunger that pushed him back. Surprised and intoxicated by her sudden show of force on him, he reacted by pushing her right back and then seated her up on the table. He squeezed her even harder against his body, and moved to kiss her neck again, where her perfumes plunged him even deeper into what was already a sensuous overload.

She felt his hand wrap around her neck and direct her back into his dark gaze - a gaze that was now burning with a strange, hypnotic defiance.

“You will be mine Daenerys Targaryen - even if your dragons burn me to a crisp.”

Daenerys felt something else burn between her legs, and her breath was heavy and irregular between their hungry kisses, and her voice was rendered delicate as gossamer. “I am all yours Jon Snow…” She promised.

Perhaps Dany had wanted to add something more, but the thought evaporated when she felt Jon’s cold hands sliding up her thighs, lifting the fabric of her dress along.

Why does his touch make me tremble like this? She clung to him helplessly as they kissed.

Dany’s own hands restlessly moved about him – squeezing his arms, pulling his hair, caressing his face, his neck, his back… She yearned to feel his naked skin - to dig her nails and teeth in him – to prove that she is a dragon not just in name.

But Jon Snow was not like the others. Not like her late Khal Drogo, not like Daario Naharis. He was nothing like the self-assured slave girl who taught her the ways of seduction, and he sure as hell was not like her critical, psychotic brother had been.

She has never made love like this.

Ever since she learned how to mountDrogo, she has never been the submissive one - she was always the one in control with all of her partners. She didn’t know any other way, and yet here she was - ghostly and drunk with the desire to be used in any which way to please Jon Snow.

But her pride protested, and old habits nudged her to take control.

She was torn between wanting to untie Jon’s breeches or his shirt.

She wanted to see those scars of his up close - she wanted to kiss them all - to feel the bumps and the ridges, the hills and the valleys of his lean chest.

But her old self would have only cared for the cock in her grip, at her mercy, where she was comfortable and powerful and knew what to do. Where she could set out to prove again and again that she was not a little girl, that not even a mighty Khal could be above her.

She had to make the decision and fast - but she couldn’t do it. She was utterly disarmed when underneath her dress she felt Jon’s hands cup around her buttocks and squeeze her so deliciously, that she couldn’t help but curve her back like a cat stretching in the sun.

“Dany…” Jon pulled away nervously. “The scars… ”

“Show them to me.” Dany almost begged him.

Jon took a deep breath before he withdrew his hands away from her to undo the buttons of his black shirt. Dany could only watch in anticipation as he parted his shirt to reveal his chest. Wordlessly, she moved her hands over to inspect the scars up close. Endless questions began swirling in her head.

“Who..?” Her voice trembled with pain and shock, as if she could still see the blood.

“Doesn’t matter now.” Jon assured her, gently stroking her hair.

The small, affectionate pause they shared was enough to encourage Daenerys to act; she seized his shirt and made him take it off entirely. Hungrily, her hands climbed up his strong, veiny arms and he stroke her thighs again, and her desire for him became unbearable.

The ship began swaying more violently, but neither of them were really aware of it until things started falling and shattering to the floor. The lanterns on the ceiling swung wildly, the ship groaned, but that didn’t stop the bastard from tearing off the queen’s dress.

There were men yelling and running around somewhere on the deck, but that didn’t frighten the Southern Invader from luring the Northern Fool to her bed, which she knew was nailed into the floor.

The sky flashed and rumbled outside the small windows, but Jon Snow has seen and heard it all before, but not what he’d see between the legs of Daenerys Targaryen, or what sound she would make if he were to enter in.

The wind howled, flapped the sails and banged the doors, but Dany only heard his voice, his breath, his force banging against her body.

The sea raged and sprayed and licked the boat’s paint until it was raw. But it wasn’t the rain the storm brought down that night – it was snow. 

This was written by the lovely @aeliyen and subbmited here. Y’all are free to submit, just like this gorgerous piece right here. Enjoy!

Amor Vincit Omnia

Pairing :  Yoongi/ OC.

Chapter count : 20

Genre : Violence , Romance, Drama ( like a lot of drama)

Warnings : Abuse. Violence.  

Description :  Arranged Marriage Gang! AU . BTS Suga/Min Yoongi and OC . The worst thing you can do to a guy? Marry him when he begs you not to. Worst thing you can do to yourself? Fall in love with him afterwards.

Chapter 1


In life, I never got second chances. If the first time didn’t work out, I wasn’t given a second time to try to improve. Instead I would be hit , tossed into the basement and denied food for three days, till I agreed to never ask for anything ever again. Till I promised to never try to embarrass my father like that again.

It happened after my debutante ball when I accidently addressed someone wrong.

It happened after my graduation, when i didn’t make valedictorian.

Afterwards, when I stayed at home, waiting for my parents to send me to college, it happened everyday till I just stopped asking or trying or…just living.

I would wake up, eat my breakfast and set out to explore the woods that surrounded our estate in Busan. I had till twelve in the morning when my mom would wake up, to indulge in all my fantasies , live a make-believe life in which I was loved by a handsome young man who adored me and spoiled me to distraction.

After lunch, I stayed perfectly still while my mom taught me everything I needed to know to be the perfect society wife. I learnt pottery, needlework and hosting. I learned table placements and ranks, learnt complicated waltzes and learned to wear my waist length hair in three dozen different ways. I learned to wear make up in a way that made my eyes look bigger, brighter. I learned how to smile in just the perfect way. How to apply lipstick in a way that would drive any man mad with desire ( Or so my mom told me.)

I learned exotic dishes from around the world. I learned to speak English and French. I learned everything that would turn me into the perfect princess for my Prince Charming.

I also learned to swallow all the screams that threatened to bubble up inside me.

In the evenings I tried to disappear into the upholstery. My father was a psychopath. One wrong word and he would grab me by the roots of my hair and drag me to the out of the room and toss me into the basement. Or worse, he’s take a belt to my calves or my thighs ( Never my arms or face ). I learned to literally stop breathing when my father was in the vicinity. But then, how did I not go to pieces, you may wonder.

Well, you see I knew that it was temporary.

When I turned twenty one my parents would have to marry me off. In our society when a girl reaches twenty one, if she stays unmarried it’s a sign of ill breeding. My parents would be disgraced if I wasn’t married off. It was my get out of jail card, marriage. I knew that every day I got closer to my marriage. When I would officially be out of my father’s protection. It would mean escape.

But what was I escaping into?

I never considered.

I always thought it would be paradise.

My prince charming would be everything I had ever dreamed of.

I believed it completely.

Until the day I actually met him.

Min Yoongi was no Prince Charming.

He was the devil in the flesh.


“You!! Fix your hair!” My father barked so loudly , I jumped. Bowing quickly and quietly and I rose up and disappeared into the restroom on the left wing of the lobby we were waiting in. I found the mirror and swallowed drily. Three simple curls had come undone from my elaborate up do . My father was a stickler for perfection which would explain my outfit. A pale pink georgette dress that fit me to perfection. Paired with pumps of the exact same shade , the dress made me look a little tall. I was rather woefully short and my father was forever cursing my lack of height.

I quickly fixed my hair and glanced at the expensive diamond studded Cartier on my wrist. It was a little past six thirty in the evening. We weren’t due to meet Min Yoongi , the young CEO of Bangtan Inc., for at least half an hour. I fidgeted a bit and reapplied my lipstick.

I’d spent three hours for make up and four hours getting ready. Literally every single feature on my face had been emphasized and perfected till I practically glowed. I had gone over a billion hair-styles to pick the perfect one. It would help highlight my slim figure and also the pretty pink and grey make-up on my eyes. I tried not to tremble as I stepped out of the room and walked back to the lounge.

I couldn’t screw this up. Min Yoongi had  to like me. Or else my father would kill me. He would literally strangle me. Trying not to think about that, I sat down demurely in front of my father who gave me another look of impatience.

“Yoongi called me. He wants to meet you alone. Apparently he thinks you can actually have some sort of a useful opinion which, really doesn’t make any sense to me. anyway, go meet him and you better keep your mouth shut, girl. Agree to everything he says and tell him you’ll be an obedient wife.” He growled at me.

As if I wouldn’t.

As if I would actually risk spending the rest of my life in hell.

I followed a suited man who looked less like an assistant and more like a hired mercenary. My hells made no noise on the plush grey velvet beneath my feet as he led me down a few flights of corridors before stopping in front of a oak-paneled door in the middle of a dimly lit corridor. I took a deep breath and when the mad held the door open, I stepped in. My heart began pounding steadily as I noticed the figure leaning casually against the heavy desk at the center of the room. The room was dimly lit and I couldn’t make out his face. On the contrary, a light hung directly ahead of me, throwing my face into sharp relief against the darkness.

“You look younger than twenty one.”

His voice surprised me. It wasn’t that of a twenty six year old. It sounded strong and masculine with a hint of Daegu accent. I felt a sudden dryness in my throat.

“I’m…I’m twenty one.” I said carefully. I couldn’t screw this up. I couldn’t screw this up.

He stayed silent for a few more seconds and then the room flooded with light. I blinked to adjust to the brightness and then almost fainted.

Min Yoongi was a work of art.

His hair was a blinding shade of blonde and his skin so pale he looked almost bloodless. His lips were pink, perfect against his bright black eyes and he had a smile that made my knees go weak. I’d never seen a more handsome man in my life and I was starstruck. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, with a pale blue tie and shoes that practically shined. He wasn’t abnormally tall. His shoulders were broad and strong, his body tapering into a slim waist and nice long legs.

Suddenly , I didn’t feel so beautiful anymore.

“Let’s make this quick. ” He said briskly before turning around and moving to sit behind the desk. I stood still, not sure what to do. There was a chair in front of the desk but I didn’t want to offend him by sitting down before he offered it to me.

He gave me an impatient look.

“Well, sit down fast , will you?” He snapped.

I scrambled to obey,  hitting my knee against the desk. I swallowed the cry of pain and bit my lip in mortification when he gave me an amused smile.

“Anyways….what i wanted to say was, I would like for you to release me from this engagement.” He said casually. I felt my breath leave my body in a single second.

“I…what? Why?” I blinked in confusion. There was a roaring sound inside my head. What did I do wrong??!!

“I’m in love with someone else.” He said almost apologetically.


Oh, God.

I stared sightlessly as he explained how he was in love with a childhood friend. He wanted to marry her when he was ready, maybe in a couple of years. His parents however were adamant about him marrying me, so he’d agreed to meet me. He couldn’t openly defy his parents , so he hoped that I would do him the favor of saying that I wasn’t interested.

I almost started laughing.

If I told my father what he asked me to say, I would be flayed alive. My father would shoot me dead.

I hesitated and then slowly stood.

“I’m sorry you don’t want to marry me.” I said softly. He gave me a sympathetic smile and held a hand out for me to shake.

“Thank you for understanding, Ji Soo ssi…” He began but I held a hand up.

“I’m sorry….because I want to marry you.” I said firmly. I felt his eyes widen in shock and I felt like the worst human being on the planet. He loved someone else. He wanted to marry someone else. What the hell was I doing??! Then I thought of my father. Of the years of being bruised and battered. The years of going without food and light, cowering in the darkness while he raged at me. If I didn’t get married my father would kill me. I didn’t want to die.

I didn’t want to die.

“Ji Soo ssi…I don’t think you understand what I’m telling you. I’m in love with Hye Mi. That’s her name. She’s the same age as you. she loves art and she’s just in her second year of college. She loves me very much. Please…Please don’t destroy our lives.” He said, his voice hardening a bit. He looked deadly serious and even a little disappointed. Like he’d thought better of me.

I hesitated. I could imagine the kind of love he shared with this girl, this Hye Mi. Some sweet and serious romance with lots of love and happiness. The kind I’d only ever dreamed of. Funny, how in the million different scenarios I’d played in my head , I’d never once considered that my prince would be in love with someone else.  I stared at him now.

He was so beautiful. Like straight out of a fairytale beautiful.

“Like I said, I want to marry you. Nothing else matters to me.” I said shakily. He looked stunned.


“What kind of a bitch are you?” He growled out furiously and I bit my lips.

“You can call me names. You can even hit me. I’m not changing my mind.” I said firmly.

He looked at me in disbelief, shaking his head. Like he couldn’t believe the nerve of me.

“Get the fuck out of my office.”

Shaking, I stepped out of the office. When ?i met my father he beamed and gave me a one armed hug that made me sick to the stomach. I’d done something right as far as he was concerned.

Two weeks later , My father received news from the Min Family that Min Yoongi had agreed to the marriage as well. As I sat across from him while the elders discussed the details of the wedding, he stared straight into my eyes, wrath written large in every feature on his handsome face. He hated me. I could feel the fury radiating from him in waves. He wanted me dead. But i couldn’t bring myself to even apologize or tell him the truth. For the first time twenty one years, my parents treated me like a human being. They didn’t yell or hit me. They thought I’d done something right. For the first time, I could leave that house and never worry about being thrown into a basement. Or being thrashed by a belt.

Min Yoongi looked dangerous but not violent.

Whatever he may yell or scream at me , I doubted he would hit me.

Finally the date for our marriage was fixed.

In two months we would be wed.

With shaky fingers I signed the prenup and the dowry. He gave me a look of calculating revenge.

“Say your prayers, you little witch. You’re in for some serious trouble ” He whispered, before stalking out of the room.

On December 7th , we were married in a small private ceremony held in the private ballroom of the Bangtan Hotel. It was attended by just the family and six of his closest friends and business associates. I was told to memorize their names. Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jung Kook.

Because Yoongi was busy with a deal, we wouldn’t be leaving on a honeymoon. All my clothes, jewelry and everything else was packed and moved to the huge penthouse on the top floor of Bangtan Inc.,

On the wedding night, I sat on the small uncomfortable couch of the foyer. The penthouse was locked and no one else was there. I was supposed to meet my husband there but he was nowhere to be found. Deep down I knew he wasn’t coming. But I couldn’t really go back downstairs and tell someone that my husband had abandoned me. So I  stayed sitting there .

After about three hours, my body started going numb. The heat in the building was slowly dying down and I was still dressed in the strapless wedding gown from the evening. I curled into a ball on the small couch, suddenly thankful for my short stature. After a few more minutes I started drifting off to sleep. And then I heard voices.

From inside the penthouse.

Surprised and still a bit groggy, I made my way to the door. I gave it a slight push and to my complete surprise, the door swung open. I had tried openeing it for a long time. Had it been closed on the inside then? If so, who had opened it now?

I followed the voices to the end of the exquisitely decorated living space and stopped short in surprise.

It wasn’t just voices.

It was moaning. Panting.

“Oh, babe, I love you so much….”

It was Yoongi’s voice. And some other woman.

I stayed frozen on the carpet, mind finally processing what was going on in the other side of the door. On our bed. On the bed that had probably been decorated for our first night as husband and wife.

My husband was having sex with another woman.

Sudden blinding pain shot through me. It was completely unwarranted. It wasn’t like he had promised me love and a happily ever after. He’d warned me that he was in love with another woman. So why did it hurt so damn much??

Maybe because I’d hoped he’d at least wait till after our first night was over, to cheat on me.

The last phrase made me laugh.

Cheat on me?

Who was I for him to cheat on me?

He didn’t love me.

He didn’t even care if I froze to death in the cold hallway.

He wasn’t a friend or a companion. The sooner I got that into my head the happier I could be.

Swallowing the pain I quickly crept to the couch in the corner of the living space. It was warm inside the penthouse. I slipped out of my gown with ease. I stood still in just the shift and my inner wear, savoring the warm air on my frozen skin. I used the skirt of my wedding dress as a sort of blanket and went to sleep on the couch. I fell asleep quickly.

like-waves-on-the-beach  asked:

Sorry you are feeling shitty and uninspired. Hope this helps. Emma explains Netflix to Killian from season four, and possibly she explains Netflix and Chill. Have fun

“You wanna go home and see what’s on Netflix?”

“I don’t know what that is, but sure.” Her pirate – it still feels weird to think of him as her’s, but, well, he is – grins back. And it’s a perfect little moment, the freaking birds chirping all around them like her life is a fairytale, but of course she ruins it.

Emma turns away, frustrated with herself, frustrated with all of it, but Killian’s disappointment radiates off him, and it isn’t so much a decision she makes as a need to kiss him in that moment. It changes the mood between them, a measure of tension leaving him, and when she finally does turn away, he’s only a few steps behind.

“Swan, I know we’ve some frosty beasty to track down, but I’ve got to ask. You mentioned Netflix just now, aye?”

She’s so confounded by what the two could possibly have to do with each other she stops in her tracks, turning to face him with a raised brow. It’s a struggle not to laugh at the way he says Netflix like it’s an exotic dish instead of a way to waste an entire day, but she manages to contain herself. “Yeah, but I was kidding. Right now anyway. Don’t really have time for Netflix.”

“So is Netflix and chill something to do with the ice creature?”

Emma nearly chokes, slapping her hand over her mouth and doubling over in the effort to contain herself. But it doesn’t work, and so help her, she can’t stop laughing at his perfectly innocent question, despite her cheeks flushing scarlet.

“Swan, do be serious. The creature is no laughing–”

She cuts him off with a kiss, Killian’s continued battle with modern technology and phrases as endearing as ever. Her amusement fades as he picks up on the change in her mood, arms tightening around her as his hook settles against the small of her back.

But as things become too intense for her, she backs off slightly, breathing deeply. “Netflix and chill is not about monsters,” she tells him, her smile creeping back. He looks more confused than ever, an ever so slight frown drawing his brows down, and Emma can’t help the small laugh. “It’s…an expression.”

“An amusing one, by your reaction,” he huffs, but he doesn’t let her go. “Share the bloody joke, Swan. Is this something I should ask Dave about?”

“Oh my god, no, don’t ever ask my father anything about Netflix and chill, please.” Emma blushes brightly all over again, and this time, Killian picks up on it, his usual leer beginning to form.

“So…this Netflix and chill…this is something we might do together?” he asks, his hips pressing suggestively into hers, and Emma has to swallow her groan. “Perhaps alone?”

“I so need to move out,” she mutters against his chest, the heat in her veins quickly chased by the disappointing fact that any chance of Netflix and chilling is slim to none given her current living situation. There is the option of Killian’s room at Granny’s – if she wants the whole town to know about it. “I really, really need my own place.”


Gina spending ten full minutes talking about herself and how she always knew she’d get her own reality tv show and that she’s the world’s greatest and people that don’t already know that are going to find out

“Oh right you wanted me to talk about the bus accident. I was run over by a bus. But I am no mere mortal so here I sit, perfect as always. Also today we’re setting the bus on fire so there’s that.”

Jake gets so so excited about being on tv but when he sits down with the cameras for the first time he acts all cool and tells his best cop stories. but the camera crew actually arrived earlier than expected and caught Jake celebrating in the precinct

“Wooooooooooooo! Guys! We’re gonna be on tv! On tv! Amy do you think we’ll become famous? Oh my god, what if we became famous cops?!! We’d get to be in Die Hard 6! Which is gonna be better than Die Hard 5 because we’ll be in it!”

He’s whooping and cheering a lot and freaking out to Amy who listens patiently and holds his hands when he gets extra excited and the thing goes on for like, ten minutes probably

Amy doesn’t want Jake and her relationship to be featured on the show in case people think that they aren’t doing their jobs bc they’re too busy dating which could harm the image of the NYPD in the eyes of the public, so Jake and Amy keep their relationship under wraps when the cameras are around in the precinct

but then the cameras catch on and one day they’re following the suspicious detectives that keep flirting with each other in the precinct and Jake and Amy are holding hands on the way to the car and chatting

“Man this pretending not to date thing is so hard, Ames. I mean, I thought we were holding back a lot in the precinct already when there weren’t cameras before, but now that there’re actual cameras recording our every move I can’t do anything but act like how we used before we started dating. I hate not openly dating you. How the hell did I do it before?”

They discuss dinner plans then the camera pans and shows them driving off together in the same car

Terry talks about yoghurt and the importance of a healthy diet and exercise in one’s life. He talks about his wife and beautiful children and his section on the show is always very healthy and pure. He even paints once

Charles has a cooking segment where he teaches how to cook certain… exotic dishes. And also a children’s cooking segment where he teaches Nickolaj simple dishes that the kids at home too, can master

Captain Holt tries to talk about important cop stuff to improve the public’s perspective of the NYPD. But when he’s asked to discuss some of his hobbies he gets going about his antique globe collection and that’s all he discusses for the rest of his time on the show

Hitchcock and Scully are just eating all the time and the camera occasionally pans to their newest meal and gross eating habits

Rosa almost never appears on the show. Its been reported that she’s punched about five cameras already that tried filming her, until she ran out of money to pay for the damages. She now tries to avoid the cameras.

The longest footage the camera crew gets of Rosa is when she’s visiting Gina at the hospital. She has a very tender look on her face as she makes sure Gina’s okay and does simple little things to help her out. The camera only stops filming when Rosa’s grabbed by Gina’s hands and they start kissing

They name the show “Linetti, Set, Go”

Discover Captain Jack’s - Restaurant des Pirates

Located in the Pirates of the Caribbean fort, this Caribbean-inspired restaurant (formerly known as Blue Lagoon) has been reimagined and now offers a new, original and tasty menu.

A new concept, inspired by the attraction, new “signature” dishes cooked onsite and a wide selection of wines that complement the creole specialties on offer.  This is the winning recipe of Captain’s Jack - Restaurant des Pirates, which reopened on 24th July, along with Pirates of the Caribbean.

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Because I struggle with bad eye sight I thought I would save others the eye strain and type up what is actually written on the back of this Hannibal prop for those interested. Apparently this sold for $1000 at the Hannibal auction but all for a good cause.

And yes this is what I am doing with my valuable time instead of working on my lab report for uni. Procrastination at it’s finest XD

Hannibal The Cannibal:

The trial of Dr. Hannibal Lecter revealed to the public another side of a man who was a respected member of proper society in Baltimore. A man who was respected as one of the most brilliant psychiatric minds among his peers. A man who was a gourmand and often entertained societies elite and soirees where they wined and dined on expertly prepared exotic dishes prepared by the host himself. A man who worked a psychological profiler for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. A man who was in fact the notorious Chesapeake Ripper. An infamous serial killer with a murderous career as shocking as it is prolific. The trial of Dr. Lecter - shocking as it was, was only the beginning of the disturbing story of the man who became known as Hannibal the Cannibal.This book is a deep psychiatric assessment from the very Doctor who worked with Dr. Lecter as well as knew him once as a friend. A revealing study of what caused Lecter to torture and kill the people around him. What caused him to even eat his victims and feed them to unknowing house guests. A perfect storm of brilliance, violence and psychotic behaviour that resulted in one of the worst serial killers in history.

About The Author:

Dr Frederick Chilton is a doctor of psychiatry and author having written several papers that have been published in prestigious publications such as the American Journal of Psychiatry and Psychiatric Medicine Today. He began his career soon after graduating from Harvard University by starting his own practice where he was able to treat people with a great measure of success. He soon became a fellow at the Harvard School of Psychiatric Medicine where he continued to study and publish in his field. Dr. Chilton soon became a specialist in criminal psychology and was a consultant and advisor in the Criminal Court of Maryland. He most recently has been working at the Hospital Director of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane where he worked directly with and studied Dr. Lecter himself.

An excerpt from the zoological text The Hunter’s Encyclopedia of Animals (First Edition).

CHAPTER I: An overview of the common rath

The rath (Mandibulaformia terribilis) is one of three extant species in the genus Mandibulaformia and a member of the family Caelincolidae. The widely-used term common rath collectively denotes the genetic variations and phenotypic discrepancies documented between “Old World” and “New World” raths found on the five major continents. With some males exceeding 4.1 metric tons and a length of over 17 meters, it’s one of the largest flying wyverns after the gravios, diablos, and gureadomosu. The rath is one of the most widely-dispersed land species following humans and wyverians. Their range encompasses most tropical, subtropical, and temperate biomes at max elevations of 2000 meters, with average rainfall in certain climates oscillating between 21 to 170 inches annually. The rath is a least concerned species, due to extensive management from the International Hunters’ Guild in regulating the number of individuals that can be killed or captured per year.

In the wild, females (rathians) have an average lifespan of 39 to 47 years, their longevity greater than the males’ (rathalos) at a range of 35 to 42 years. They’re typically seen in forested midland ecosystems, although habitation has been observed in deserts, highlands, and volcanoes. Raths are typically solitary wyverns when unmated, and only shift their lifestyle to cooperative hunting during and after the mating season. These prenuptial hunts—much like the ruts seen in even-toed ungulates (such as the kelbi)—are a part of the sexual selection process by which a rathian chooses a potential mate amongst various candidates (barring other selection factors). Raths are apex and keystone predators, although scavenging on carrion is estimated to contribute up to 35% of their diet. Direct attacks on human, wyverian, and lynian settlements are rare, and raths will seldom prey upon and consume them should they encroach their territory. Raths are predominantly diurnal, although nocturnal behavior is not unheard of.

Due to its widespread presence on nearly every continent, the rath is an easily-recognized animal symbol in many cultures. Depictions of raths date back to the earliest traces of civilization, with paintings of them seen on cave walls, masonry, and pottery. More telling is the presence of primitive weapons constructed from talons, claws, and spines, and armor fashioned from rath scales and plates, found on archeological digs. In ancient societies it was hailed as an omen of destruction, and in certain cultures its portentous reputation is alive and flourishing today. In many countries raths are hunted not only for equipment, but as parts of exotic dishes, with their ribs and loins in high demand in markets worldwide. Raths have been kept in menageries since before the formation of the Guild. Domestication and selective breeding of a related rath ancestor 40,000 years ago gave rise to the halk (Raptor domesticus).

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anonymous asked:

But imagine if Rhys takes the entire Inner circle + Feyre's sisters to Ryta's before Nessian's mating bond snaps into place and before them actually confessing that they can't live without each other, and some Night Court lady starts flirting with our beloved bat. Nesta is not happy with the situation at all, like that's simply not acceptable, nobody can touch his chest or whatever, so she finds the most sinful dress ever (with some help from Mor of course) and steals all the spotlight :D


ii think nesta would be so conflicted: on one hand oly seeing another woman touching him makes her see red and on the other her damned pride telling her that it isn’t her bussiness and she shouldn’t care, even if she does, she does all sorts of caring.

I think, that since the thing between them aren’t out in the open yet and they’d be drowning in unresolved sexual tension cassian would take the opportunity to be a little shit and flirt(harmless flirt because his brain is like NESTANESTANESTA) with everything that has a pulse because he wants a freaking reaction from nesta (the reaction is that when a woman touches his chest and he grins the glass in nesta’s hand shatters and everyone is like “r u ok” “I AM FINE I AM MORE THAN FINE WHY SHOULDN’T I BE FINE”) but she’s fuming. But we’re talking about evil mastermind nesta archeron and two can play this game.



But nesta goes at Rita’s with her chin high and her shoulders straight like she owns the fucking place and the world itself and it doen’t take much before heads start to turn in her direction and she smirks but the first person who touches her without her consent is going to get thrown out from the window.

Cassian, who thought he had the upper hand in this little game is speechless and a little breathless and  can’t take his eyes off of her(like half the males in the room) and doesn’t know what to do with himself and mor is like “cassian you’re not breathing” BUT HE’S BUSY WACTHING HER AND ALL THE MALES THAT ARE GIVING HER TOO INTERESTED GLANCES AND SHE HAS THAT FUCKING INFURIATING SMIRK AND HE’S GOING TO COMBUST he’s brain is an utter mess “what do i do? do i bring her a drink? I DON’T WANT TO BRING HER A DRINK i want to bring her home with me so bad oh my gods that dress i need to calm down before i start to scream BUT THAT DRESS AND HER IN GENERAL BUT HER IN THAT DRESS IN PARTICULAR”.

This is basically torture for him because HE HAS FEELINGS FOR THAT WOMAN like big and heart crashing feelings and he wants her in basically everyway possible so things dont go on too long because cassian is an impulsive bat motherfucker and he goes to her and he is willing his blood to go in the direction of his brain and not in other parts and he’s like MMH SO NICE DRESS and he’s trying so hard not to burst or to take her up in his arms and run off but she’s calm as you please, sipping her drink “oh thank you, you’re not the first to tell me that” AND HE’S SO INCREDIBLY RILED UP BY THAT he takes deep breaths and counts to 3 something like 100 times while nesta’s mind is I WON I WON I WON but cassian can read nesta archeron like it’s no biggie so he takes a step back “are you trying to make me jelaous, nesta?” she nearly chokes on her drink “what i don’t speak your language” AND SHE WANTS TO TURN AND HIDE WHY CAN’T SHE LIE TO HIM WHY WHY WHY but he’s near her in a second and grazes his hand on her back and all up her spine an her back is exposed thanks to the dress and her body, who is in her opinion a big massive traitor when it comes to him, leanes into the touch AND HE’S SO PLEASED BUT IT’S TIME FOR HIM TO KEEP HIS COOL BECAUSE HE FEELS LIKE THIS IS MAKE OR BREAK so he gets closer and says with a very low sex infused voice “if you’re trying or not, i am, i am jelaous, nesta” and it’s all breathy and she’s near and there’s her scent and he’s hard and he doesn’t want to play games, not with her so he says the truth to her, like he always do. And he knows she’s thinking about the ups and downs of EVERYTHING an he can feels his own heart beating furiously. “good” she says, “good”. 

He gives her his hand to take, giving her a choice to go with him, which he hopes with every inch of his being, or to stay here.

She takes his hand.

The Baron’s table is lavish, with a smorgasbord of gourmet dishes, exotic ingredients, and even an entire rosted pig.  The Baron does not even sample anything, instead only sipping his glass of wine.  After a long and satisfying dinner, you cannot help but question your benefactor on this.  His face splits into a smile, revealing his unnaturally long canines-

“Oh, child, my feast is about to begin!”

sittingquietly  asked:

Regarding the post about rising quinoa prices, can explain the racism and appropriation? I understand the issues surrounding a growing demand for any type of food but what makes this more than just another food fad? (Don't take this as argumentative. I just want to be informed and you are always spot on with your posts). Thanks!

i’m going to open this with a story.

when i first moved into on campus housing at Hampshire college i had a Peruvian roommate. upon learning that i’m a vegan she one day said to me “at least you’re not the kind to eat quinoia”. she then went on to explain to me that quinoa is a staple in the diets of peruvian peoples because of its nutritional benefits, such as high protein, high fiber, low calories, ect. but because the demand for quinoa in the united states has skyrocketed, people in Peru and other places where quinoa is an indigenous crop are no longer able to afford it. this means they have to shift their diets to what’s immediately available in order to survive the quinoa outsourcing boom, such as an increase in meat consumption to supplement the protein they would have gotten from quinoa in order to survive. this shift in how peruvians and other people access food in order to survive is causing a spike in diabetes, obesity, and other health problems that weren’t as significant before the quinoa boom. from a health and food justice standpoint, the quinoa boom is causing health disparities in people who had otherwise been able to survive for years. 

interestingly enough, she was telling this to someone who had never eaten quinoa in her life, and quite honestly didn’t know what the fuck it was until she explained it. 

there’s a lot of issues with what i’m going to call white supremacist food culture, the ways in which U.S commits food imperialism when we imports good as part of the “supply and demand model” in order to satisfy the dietary needs of a few at the expense of many

like lets be real about something 

the U.S isn’t buying quinoa in bulk and then distributing it in the hood for free. its not hitting the shelves of grocery stores located in food deserts in droves. 

its going into whole foods, small boutique health food stores, stores where the assumed consumer is white, upper class, and labelled “health conscious”. stores that are not located in places populated by people of color, whether its urban, suburban, or rural. its going into the stores where white people live and white people shop. 

there’s actually a really good essay in the anthology cultivating food justice about how one of the problems with food justice and health consumer culture is that the “conscious consumer” is assumed to be white and the “unconscious consumer” is assumed to be a person of color. and when food justice operates under the assumption that “unconscious consumers” are merely people who don’t know what’s good for them and have to be told what’s good for them then its located in white saviourism. it doesn’t address the issue of access as it relates to class, race, mobility, proximity and continues to perpetuate a power imbalance where white people are posited as the authoritative source on health  

now why is it racism and appropriation? 

the lack of tangible fair trade agreements that benefit the producer moreso than the consumer- i personally believe that fair trade can never exist within the context of a capitalist framework. current fair trade rhetorics, to be frank, are an emotional remedy for the guilt ridden conscious consumer moreso then they are a real solution to transnational trade and consumption. no matter how much people in the U.S pay for something labelled “fair trade” you are still getting it for relatively cheap in comparison to what its actually worth, because you’re importing from places that don’t have the same philosophy about labor that we do, where labor is thought to be theoretically “cheaper”. and chances are you are probably paying more for the luxury of a brand to say its “fair trade” than you are an actual, equitable exchange. in order for fair trade to truly exist there has to be complete autonomy over the means of production so that producers can play a larger role in their own economic development. essentially, the people who produce quinoa are probably not profiting off it as much as U.S companies who import it are

long term environmental consequences- the U.S has a nasty habit of overconsuming/over-importing foods labelled “exotic” by virtue of not being indigenous to Eurocentric agricultures or food cultures. this places pressure on countries of production to deplete their own natural resources in order to keep up with with the demand, such as destroying rainforests in order to make more room for more crops. especially since its not advisable to crop the same crops in the same patch of dirt over and over again. so we are playing a role in the destruction of the environment abroad, especially in countries of color who have already gone through the environmental destruction associated with European imperialism. U.S import culture fosters another form of environmental racism all on its own 

the “its not healthy or worth eating until white people eat it” gotcha of food appropriation. at the same time white supremacy loves to tell people of color that our foods are not healthy, nasty, smell bad, ect it also loves to appropriate our foods and take credit for making them more palatable to the taste buds of white people. and out of this a repackaged food culture arrives, where the representations of that food culture make whiteness the referent, the default. and where the profiteers are white. white people probably make more money off selling non-white recipes, cookbooks, ingredients/food staples ect than the actual people of color from that cultural context ever will 

the best way to see this illustrated is to go to a book store and pick up a cookbook that advertises a non-western, non-white food culture written by a white person. the emphasis will often be on rehashing recipes from that culture to make them “healthier”, i.e fat free, low in sugar, carbs, high in protein, whatever is the hot new stay healthy/stay lean diet tip of the day. this assumes that prior to white adaption and appropriation, these foods are “unhealthy” relating the health of a food culture to Eurocentric values of what it means to consume “healthy” food/”unhealthy” foods. 

yet what is considered “healthy” or necessary for a culture to survive is not going to be the same across the board. “health” is relative concept influenced by a lot of shit. and white supremacy functions to set the proverbial standard of concepts that are relative 

additionally this framing conveniently ignores the impact of European colonialism & white supremacy have on POC food cultures. a few days ago i reblogged a post where whole foods was selling collard greens, a staple vegetable in many blackamerican soul food traditions. the advertisement stated “it doesn’t take bacon to make these greens taste great”. 

well whole foods is right, you don’t have to add bacon to collard greens in order to make it taste great. especially if its not your preference

but that conveniently ignores the context by which collard greens arose as a coveted dish in the first place. they’re part of blackamerican soul food cultures, which originate out of slavery. slaves didn’t have access to what some might think of as “healthy” food. being fed during slavery was a luxury that came few and far in between. and when slaves were fed they were fed what was left of the masters meal, the throwaways. so emerges a food culture as of a method of survival, a food culture that suited the needs of people who were being physically exploited for labor and unsure of when they were going to see their next meal. dietary preference or selectivity doesn’t exist when you’re fighting to survive. 

food appropriation by white supremacist food cultures is nothing new. people who benefit from white supremacy have been either taking by force or underpaying for their “exotic” dishes, ingredients, recipes. neither is the dialogue about the appropriation of food from marginalized peoples is. the only thing that’s quite new about is in the academic discourse and scholarship that has risen out of food justice. but then to me that narrows the scope as to what is considered scholarship, who is an authoritative source, who defines such limitations

i mean whether i’ve read about it in an article or my grandma calls me on the phone one day to tell me she can no longer afford collard greens because their in high demand at the whole foods clear across town

either way i’ve learned the same lesson 

Ashton’s sexual traits based on his zodiac sign

Originally posted by 5secondsofthemboys

The best way to turn on a Cancer is make your partner feel needed. In case of women especially make time for a prolonged foreplay and focusing on sharing your deepest romantic emotions as you snuggle with her in front of the fire or share deep kisses out on the porch. The most erogenous zones for Cancer men and women are the breasts, chest and tummy. So, while caressing your girlfriend, use a gentle touch and when she begins to get aroused, lightly suck on her nipples and run over her stomach with the tips of your fingers. Women of this zodiac sign are more likely than others to cry after making love, primarily because for them the experience is an intensely emotional one. So if you want to keep your girlfriend, be there to hold her hand amidst her sniffles and don’t simply turn over and start snoring. Female Cancerians are incredibly sweet and graceful and the perfect find if you like your women to be soft and feminine.

In order to seduce a Cancer man, Begin with tender loving romance that goes on all night long. He will love the feeling of your hands and fingers on his skin. Let your hands roam all over his body, brush gently along his cheeks, nibble, nip and lightly kiss him all over his face. Oral sex is another way you can be sure of pleasing your Cancer mate. Alternatively invest in some super soft, stretchy c­rings to bring you both some wild vibrations that will help make sure you enter the gates of paradise at the same time. There are few things a Sensual Cancer man enjoys more than crossing the finish line together ­ with the woman he loves.

Sexual fantasies for Cancer lovers are usually intensely private and romantic. Most of them are in fact related to water which is why a long bubble-bath with your partner can turn into a truly amorous experience for you both. Other erotic scenarios include moonlight, dreamy landscapes and the soft gurgling of streams nearby. For a special night with your Cancer man, turn out in a long flowing gossamer gown preferably in aquatic shades. Or if you are keen to arouse your Cancer girlfriend, treat her to a dinner by the beach and feast on exotic sea-food dishes, avocado or grapes. Finally, make sure that your lovemaking is gentle, unhurried and focused as much on giving as on receiving pleasure.

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