#like a tourist in istanbul

[sevgiemektir]

Like a tourist in Istanbul - 31: hidden church in istanbul ⛪️

[poptheweasel]

Turkish Delight

——————————————

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!

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part twelve] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (18+ mdni)

word count: 3.5k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

The flight from Naples to Tokyo took fourteen hours, not including the two-and-a-half-hour layover in Istanbul, meaning you had sixteen and a half hours to sit in awkward tension-filled silence next to Jisung. The tension was one-sided, of course, but it was still agonizing to endure.

You had been able to push your anxiety aside during your last day in Italy because it had been so busy. There had been a power outage in the middle of the night, causing everyone to oversleep and miss the ferry for one of your tours that morning. It had been a scramble to get back on schedule and do as much as possible with the time you had left. The boys had been hungover and their parents were tired of wrangling them. You had dozens of photos on your camera roll of Jisung and Felix bickering when they were supposed to be posing for a nice picture, and even more of Minho flicking them off. 

But now you were stuck alone with your thoughts, unable to use distraction as a means to escape. You tried reading your book, but found yourself unable to concentrate on the words on the page. After staring at the same paragraph for over fifteen minutes Jisung noticed and asked if you were okay and you finally decided to call it quits. 

You almost wished the Hans hadn’t scheduled in a day and a half to adjust to the time zone change. You’d rather exhaust yourself with the nonstop tourist bullshit than have to cope with the reality that you had gotten off to thoughts about your best friend’s brother. Not to mention living with the secret that the same best friend’s brother had kissed you not long before that. 

If Jisung noticed anything was off, he didn’t mention it. He probably chalked it up to lack of sleep, or perhaps was too tired himself to care. 

“Which one of us do you think will be randomly selected in customs today?” Felix asked, stretching his arms above his head. 

You were standing in the aisle waiting to deplane, placing bets on who’d get searched by border agents this time. Somehow each time you traveled to a new place one of you was always chosen to get pat down or have your carry-on searched. Minho had yet to be the lucky winner, and you suspected it had something to do with his celebrity status. 

“Y/n,” Minho answered easily. “She has the U.S. passport.”

You rolled your eyes. “Like Korea has a squeaky clean record with Japan.”

“Okay, but it’s the other way around for us. At least we didn’t-”

“Bro, you can’t say the b word on a plane,” Felix interrupted.

“Even when the plane’s on the ground?”

Jisung shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Whatever,” Minho continued. “It’s definitely going to be y/n.”

-

“Would you mind stepping out of line, ma’am?” 

You sighed, not even bothering to look back at the boys. You already knew they were grinning like idiots and you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. The agent ushered you to the side behind a glass partition, but not before you heard another agent repeat the same question to one of the Hans. You smiled to yourself, happy not to be the only one singled out.

Behind the privacy screen another agent greeted you and asked you to take your sweatshirt off, explaining that it was too baggy and needed to be checked. You saw other people in baggy clothes who weren’t getting pulled out of line, but assumed they didn’t have the red flag of “U.S. Citizen” printed on their identification that would be cause for any additional suspicion. You complied with the agent’s request and pulled your sweatshirt off for them to further inspect.

You were glad you’d worn a sports bra beneath your sweatshirt because you usually didn’t wear anything underneath them. As soon as your head was out of the pullover you immediately met by Minho’s polite smile. 

He averted his eyes as soon as he saw you, pausing his conversation with the official to mumble a quiet ‘sorry’ to you as he was shown to the spot next to yours. 

You zoned out as they spoke, only aware of him again when he started unbuckling his belt. You caught his eye this time. 

“Forgot to take it off,” he explained.

“Sweatshirt’s too loose.”

You both faced forward as the customs officials proceeded through the motions. You were stuck standing there half-naked with your arms wrapped around your chest self-consciously while an agent pat Minho’s legs down. 

“Dad said we can meet them at baggage claim,” Minho said after a few moments of silence between the two of you. “They went on without us.”

“Okay,” you squeaked back in response. 

You knew it wouldn’t take long, but it still made you nervous to be alone with Minho. Jisung was like a safety blanket, or a buffer between you and him and without him you were afraid it would be painfully awkward. 

The woman handed you your sweatshirt back and you had to wait for Minho outside of the screening area. He joined you a minute or so later.

“They find any dirt on you?” you asked from where you were leaning against the wall across from the exit. 

“Nope, you?”

“Yeah, actually I’m in custody right now. Can’t believe you missed the handcuffs.”

“Man, what’d they get you for?” 

“Identity theft,” you sighed. 

“Damn, that’s a bummer,” Minho replied, false sympathy rolling off his words. 

He cocked his head in the direction the rest of his family had went, indicating that you should get going, and held out a hand to pull you upright. You took it hesitantly and let him help you. 

“I was actually hoping you could bail me out?” you went on, continuing with the bit. 

Minho made a sound through his teeth and grimaced. “I’m kinda broke right now.”

“Aren’t you a famous dancer?”

“Sorry, but I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“No, you’re definitely the guy!”

“You’re thinking of Choi Minho,” he insisted.

“Remember that IOU you gave me? I’m cashing it in now.”

“That’s not how it works!” 

You laughed. “No, but if I ever actually get arrested I’m using my IOU to get you to bail me out of jail.”

“I don’t think that a kiss and getting bailed out of prison are comparable, but I didn’t put any conditions on that postcard, did I?”

“Nope!” You smiled happily.

“Well that’s on me, so…”

You took the shuttle together to the other side of the airport where the rest of the Hans were waiting and finally found them with all of your luggage at the furthest carousel from the entrance. 

“It’s about time!” Felix yelled over the crowd as soon as he saw you. 

Jisung grinned when he saw you and you couldn’t help but grin back. He wrapped an arm around you instinctively and you relaxed into his shoulder, relieved to be with him again. It hadn’t dawned on you until that moment just how attached you were, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it because the other Hans were all looking at you expectantly.

“Did everything go okay?” Nikki asked. 

Minho nodded. “They made y/n strip, but it was uneventful otherwise.”

You pursed your lips, cheeks burning. “It was just my sweatshirt!” you hissed to Jisung. 

“Yeah, but you never wear anything under your sweatshirts!” Jisung hissed back.

“I had a bra on this time.”

“Oh, so it was just another night at the bar for you?” You wrestled yourself out of Jisung’s grasp at that and glared. “Am I wrong?”

Jisung’s dad cut in before you could respond. He had a habit of calling “family meetings” in the middle of public spaces to finalize plans and get everybody on the same page, which was always an experience. 

“Alright, gather up, gang!” he said, beckoning you all closer. “So we’ll be staying at… this hotel,” he explained and turned his phone around to show you the name of it. “And the thing is, we have two rooms to share between the six of us. One for your mother and I, and another for you four.”

“What?” Jisung asked. “You’re going to make us stay with them?”

“I thought we were getting three rooms like every other time,” Minho chimed in.

“We were meant to, but I made a mistake when booking it,” Dom clarified.

“How?”

“The entire website was in Japanese, Jisung. I don’t know Japanese!”

“Dad, Google has a translate webpage option!” Felix groaned.

“Well no one told me that while I was booking this entire trip by myself!”

You traded a look with Minho, who looked just as panicked as you felt. But it would only be for a week. You would find a way to manage. You didn’t really have any other option.

“I’m sure it’ll be fun,” Jisung tried, forcing a smile.

“That’s the spirit!” Dom cheered. “We’ll make it work.”

-

“Ji and I will take the bunk beds.”

The room was a decent size. It was definitely bigger than Jisung’s dad had made it sound. A large window on the back wall flooded the space with natural light and offered a view of the city below. By the door was a small fridge and a countertop with a sink and a couple of burners built in so that guests could cook their own meals. There was a queen sized bed jutting out from the western-facing wall and built into the adjacent wall were two twin-sized bunks, one on top of the other, making the room feel… cozy.

Felix and Minho traded looks with each other.

“Kidding.”

The boys visibly relaxed and chuckled awkwardly.

“If I ever have to share a bed with Minho again it’ll be too soon,” Felix sighed.

“Is that any way to treat your big brother?” Minho scoffed.

“I’m taller than you.”

“That’s only because you’re wearing boots.”

“Whatever,” Felix grumbled, kicking off his shoes by the door.

Minho slung his backpack onto the top bunk and pulled his sweatshirt off over his head, exposing a strip of his stomach in the process. You looked away instinctively, hoping that you hadn’t drawn any attention to yourself while doing so.

“You always get the top bunk,” Felix whined.

“Yeah, because I’m older.”

“That’s not fair!”

“My brothers are actually ten years old,” Jisung explained to you, raising his voice so that you could hear him over the bickering.

“No, I think ten-year-olds know how to take turns,” you said dismissively, not missing the glares from the other two Hans.

“You’re right,” Jisung agreed. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and sighed. “Reminds me of the family vacations we used to take. We used to share one hotel room when we traveled.”

“All boys… I don’t know how your mom did it.”

“None of us do.”

“I thought we were going to sleep,” Felix muttered from where he was already laying down on the bottom bunk, clearly irritated.

“Give us a minute to settle in, dude,” Jisung shot back before dropping into a whisper. “It’s going to be a long week.”

You shook your head, putting your hands on his shoulders. “Everyone’s just cranky because they’re tired,” you reasoned. “We’ll get some sleep and then grab some food and then maybe they’ll be in a better mood.”

“You don’t know them like I do,” Jisung warned.

“That’s true, but won’t they tone it down since I’m here?”

Jisung snorted. “Wishful thinking.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever, I’m going to hop in the shower. I feel gross after being on a plane for so long.”

“I’ll go after you,” Jisung replied with a nod. “Let me know if you need anything.”

You thanked him with a kiss under the watchful eyes of his brothers who both groaned in protest.

“Oh, fuck off,” Jisung growled against your lips.

“By the way, sharing a bed doesn’t mean you get to mess around because I don’t want to hear that shit.”

“Felix!” Jisung and Minho shouted, Minho going as far as throwing a pillow at his younger brother from the top bunk.

“Just being honest! We heard you going at it like rabbits when you had your own room, and I didn’t say anything about it then-”

“Felix.” To your surprise, it was Minho who cut him off, raising another pillow in warning. Thankfully, Felix took the hint that time and shut up, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance.

You smiled to yourself with the knowledge that your little Easy A stunt had worked, and looked over to see that Jisung was wearing a matching smirk. He winked at you before turning to glare at his brothers.

“On that note, I’m going to shower,” you said, mostly to Jisung, and made your way over to where you had dropped your suitcase by the door.

You gathered a set of pajamas to change into and then wandered into the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind you. It was one of those rolling doors so you had to be extra careful not to knock it off its hinges or the track and cause even more noise than necessary. You set your change of clothes on the counter next to the sink and began to undress, leaving your worn clothes on the floor.

The shower was kept in a room separate from the room with the sink and vanity, something you had read was common for Japanese washrooms. Inside the second room was a bathtub with a complicated looking panel next to it. With a closer inspection you determined it was used to fill the bath with water and customize the temperature. The showerhead was secured to the wall just to the side of the tub which meant you would have to hold it while you showered, but you didn’t mind. You were used to holding the showerhead for… other reasons.

Your shower was quick. You didn’t want to take too long when you knew other people were waiting for it. You were drained too. Even as you dried yourself off with a towel you could feel your arms start to get heavier.

You wrapped your hair in your towel and put on your pajamas shortly after, trying not to cringe at the way the fabric clung to your still-damp body. Usually you wouldn’t get dressed in the bathroom right after taking a shower because it was always so humid and sticky, you’d go out in the bedroom to do it, but as Jisung’s girlfriend the latter wasn’t an option. So you dealt with the discomfort and ventured back into the main room.

It was dark now. Someone, you assumed Jisung, had pulled the blackout curtains shut so that the daylight could no longer stream through the window. Felix was already fast asleep, but Minho and Jisung were still awake, scrolling through their phones on their respective sides of the room.

Jisung was perched on top of your bed, resting comfortably. He wasn’t underneath the covers, probably because he knew you didn’t like to share a bed with someone who hadn’t showered.

He smiled when he saw you and pushed himself up onto his elbows.

“Shower’s all yours,” you said.

“Thanks.”

You watched him rifle through his suitcase for pajamas and then eventually disappear into the bathroom before finally flinging yourself onto the bed. You still needed to take your hair out of the towel and brush your teeth, but you took a moment to just. Lay there.

Minho didn’t acknowledge you, hadn’t so much as looked at you since you came out of the bathroom, but you still found yourself looking over to him.

At the airport he had seemed at least a little concerned that he would have to share a room with you. Even in the cab to the hotel he kept sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. But now he looked completely relaxed and you were second guessing yourself. Maybe you’d been projecting. Maybe he hadn’t been anxious at all.

You, on the other hand, felt like you hadn’t been able to exhale since Dom had announced that you’d be sharing a room with Jisung’s brothers.

It had dawned on you as soon as you stepped into the hotel room that you’d never be able to let your guard down. Before this point you had at least been able to take breaks, retreat to your hotel room with Jisung and be yourselves without worrying that one of his family members was around. You hadn’t needed to keep up the act 24/7, but now you had no other choice. It was only for a week, but you knew it was going to be exhausting. You weren’t even sure that your current performance was believable, and that was without all of the more intimate interactions couples had in private. The good night kisses, the cuddling in bed together, falling asleep in each other’s arms, the good morning kisses, all things you’d have to take into consideration. Most couples you knew moved in harmony, like they were one person, half of a whole. You and Jisung were more like the hands on a clock. You were always moving in the same direction, and once in a while you’d overlap, but more often than not you were facing each other on completely opposite sides of the clock. It was what made you such good friends. Best friends. But what would make you terrible lovers.

To be fair, a lot of people misunderstood your dynamic, which you had been using to your advantage. They assumed that since you were always together you were basically the same person- and they weren’t necessarily wrong. You and Jisung spent a majority of your time together. You knew each other well enough to finish each other’s sentences, to voice aloud what the other was thinking before they even said it.

The vibration of your phone next to you disrupted your train of thought. It was a text from Jisung.

Can you come here rq? I need help lol.

Confused, you pushed back the covers and stood up. You dropped your phone back on the bed and walked over to the bathroom, keenly aware of the way Minho stiffened in his bed.

You rolled back the door and found Jisung standing in his boxers next to the tub.

“What is it?” you asked, shutting the door behind you.

“How did you figure out the shower? I can’t get the water to be hot.”

“This is what you called me in here for?” you said, exasperation dripping from your voice.

“Yes! I don’t want to take a cold shower.” He said it like it should’ve been obvious.

“Did you try messing with the knobs? That’s how I figured it out.”

Jisung’s cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as he pursed his lips, thinking about how to answer.

“Not all of them,” he admitted.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Sorry?”

“It’s the one on the left, dumbass,” you said and twisted the knob for him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled sheepishly. “I just didn’t want to fuck up the shower or anything.”

Men, you thought to yourself shaking your head.

“I’m going to bed,” you told him. “Before your brothers think I’m in here giving you head or something.”

“Let them think what they want,” he said, shrugging it off.

“I want to preserve what little amount of respect they have for me, thanks.”

Jisung just chuckled and thanked you again as you let yourself out into the room with the sink. While you were there you hung up your wet towel and brushed your teeth with your finger and the toothpaste the hotel provided. You were too lazy to go get your toothbrush out of your bag.

“That was fast.”

You jumped, hand racing to your heart when you realized it was just Minho. He was still in his bed, but had rolled onto one side so that he could talk to you.

“You scared the shit out of me!” you hissed.

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound very sorry. “What did my brother want?”

God damn it, Jisung.

“Why do you ask?”

Minho shrugged. “Just wondering.”

“He needed help figuring out the shower,” you explained.

“Glad he has you for that.”

You narrowed your eyes at the boy in the top bunk. He was trying to get under your skin. Why?

The ball was in your court. You could be the bigger person and let it go, or-

“He has me for a lot of things.” You pushed your tongue against your cheek so that there was a visible outline and brought your fist up to your mouth, moving it back and forth subtly so that he’d get the idea without being too obscene. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

iou tags: @sluttywoozi @gimmeurtmi @phobia0325 @fwess @hipsdofafangirl @galaxleeknow @urmomma0324 @bangmechanpls @102598s @farfromsugafanfic @ritzy-roo @dimpledsatan-recs @bvselines @wonderfulshinee @imwithurmother @smollquokka @rosexjimin @skizzel @endzii23 @lady-lena @kwanisms @ch4nniebang @lilramennoodle @babyphotos0325 @dearalice @sojohns @mistlitmoonlight @yoontaethings @babebatter @mal-lunar-28 @shy-kisu @zerefdragn33l @downbadreading @sana-within-you @saquso @bunnispaces @reianagarcia @hyunehans @imtoooyoungforthisshit @i8rsie @honeslykindahorny @214racha @hgema @chillllllli @vixensss @smhlino @feiyaa @borahae-reads @bigbearenergy @hoodiesandicedcoffee @darkacademic2512 @y00nzin0 @bunnispaces @i8yul @shinypieceofgarbage @woozarts @just-a-little-delulu @djeniryuu @hbzzzbork000 @mimzibee @sofiaslayed

add yourself to my taglist here!!

[fredwkong]

Looks like a few people have booked on FKW Vacations - are you still taking bookings? I'd love to organise a trip to the Middle East.

Thanks for your booking with FWK Vacations. We’re connecting you to your Middle Eastern destination right now! Please get comfortable and prepare.

You wake up to the sound of the call to prayer outside your open window. You roll out of bed and stumble to your prayer mat on autopilot, unthinking.

After prayers, you make yourself presentable for the day. You put on loose linen pants that do nothing to hide your half-hard, insatiable cock, and a tight black tank top over your thick muscles. Your kufi goes over your hair, the medium length strands greasy because you haven’t had time to wash it in a few days. You take a moment to admire your light green eyes in your olive-skinned face, and flex a few times in your small mirror. Your cock chubs further, visible right through your pants.

It’s hot in Istanbul this time of year, and you’re soon sweating as you walk the streets. You can smell yourself, fresh, sweaty musk that makes you even hornier. You don’t have a photoshoot today, so you’re planning to spend the day in the gay district near Taksim square. Hopefully you’ll find plenty of queer tourists who want a Turkish alpha to hold them down and facefuck them with his huge cheesy dick.

Enjoy your vacation!

Want to go on vacation? Drop me an ask!

[nkjemisin]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway, hope that helps.

[citrusses]

July 2023: AO3 Wrapped 🎁🍊

A monthly roundup of *some* of my favorite fics of the year.

January | February | March | April, May, June | July | August | September | October | November | December

A Saviour’s Guide to Manners and Decorum by @wolfpants (E, 13K)

Honorary Minister Harry Potter (yes, he's fully aware his job title is meaningless, and he quite likes it that way) is a disaster at public events.

Listen, if there's two things I will never, ever, ever get enough of it is etiquette lessons and longing. This fic is perfect to me.

Everybody Hates a Tourist by @wolfpants (E, 51K)

On a stag do in sunny Brighton with the Gryffindor lads, the last person Harry expects to run into is Draco Malfoy.

Started reading this at night and went, sorry, sleep, you aren't happening. Could not rest until I finished it. The most beautiful discovery of love and oneself.

Fledgling by @tackytigerfic (G, 3K) 

Two young dads meet at a farmers market. They exchange parenting tips, longing looks, and root vegetables.

This is so very, very lovely in a chaotic (newborns!!), achingly sweet way. In my head this is "*The* Drarry dads fic."

heaven to gaudy day by @maesterchill (M, 809)

Istanbul. The morning after the night before. And Malfoy's in a mood.

Under 1000 words of pure gorgeousness.

I only want the ones I envy (I envy) by @porcelainheart3 (E, 13K)

Despite this arrangement he has with Draco, conducted entirely in the privacy of a dusty stationery cabinet, Harry is definitely not gay. But to appease his friends, he agrees to go on one (1) date with a man. Just to be sure.

ABSOLUTE TREAT, SUPREME BANGER. A confection of a fic -- the dialogue, the details, all adding up to a densely-packed, seven layer slice of dessert.

Muscle Memory by @corvuscrowned (E, 8K) 

There's something just beneath the surface, just at the periphery of Harry's mind. They've been here before — they've done this before. If only he could remember it.

I think this has my favorite last line of a fic all year. Maybe ever. This is exactly the kind of narratively layered, brilliant and beautifully captivating fic that Crow has done so well so many times. A gift.

Rich Friend by @sorrybutblog (E, 19K)

As far as Harry can tell, Draco Malfoy is still rich as hell. He’s just not a wizard anymore. Featuring: Draco Malfoy trying to make it as a Muggle pop star, Harry Potter as our confused and horny hero, bad driving, good music, and the mysterious magic of falling for someone.

LKSJ:FLKJSD. I mean, this is a perfect Harry POV fic, the most believable Drarry dynamic in the midst of a fic about Draco as a Muggle pop star named Dragon, the "I'm with the band" fic I didn't know I needed. I love it with my whole soul.

Sun Thief by @floydig, (E, 28K)

It’s 2005, and Draco Malfoy says, “Fuck the Ministry,” Harry works as a handyman in muggle London, and Draco should really stop pissing off the Squib gangs.

Bracingly original, thrilling to read, does not hold the reader's hand at all and just throws you into it -- fantastic.

Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 22K)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July/Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why/There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more/Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore/Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss/And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

No one can make me SEE a fic the way Sweet does. The writing in this is so tangibly gorgeous, the love story is so tender and sweet and funny and lovely. The most charming of fics.

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

The 90s song ever - ROUND 2!

Guess who's back?

SIDE A1

When You Sleep vs Barbie Girl Firestarter vs Born Slippy Sabotage vs I Want It That Way Losing My Religion vs Stratford-On-Guy Freak On A Leash vs Doll Parts Bulls On Parade vs All Star The Distance vs I Could Fall In Love Bitch vs End Of The Road Sour Times vs 1979 Sunburn vs Wakko's America Around The World vs Nothing Compares 2 U Pepper vs Law & Order Theme Black Hole Sun vs Unfinished Sympathy No Rain vs Free Your Mind The X-Files Theme vs Fear Of The Dark Deceptacon vs The Tourist

SIDE A2

Beetlebum vs River Of Deceit Hunger Strike vs Bills, Bills, Bills Doo Wop (That Thing) vs Tearin' Up My Heart Everybody (Backstreet's Back) vs Boombastic Yakko's World vs Amish Paradise Basket Case vs Dagger Rebel Girl vs Hallelujah Only Happy When It Rains vs U Can't Touch This Cornflake Girl vs Don't Walk Away The Boy Is Mine vs Juicy Buddy Holly vs Pony All I Wanna Do vs Santeria Birdhouse In Your Soul vs Brain Stew/Jaded Kiss Me vs Black Bullet With Butterfly Wings vs Tank! (Everything I Do) I Do It For You vs Friday I'm In Love

SIDE B1

Everlong vs California Love Glory Box vs Livin' la Vida Loca What's Up vs Personal Jesus Glycerine vs Semi-Charmed Life Amor Prohibido vs Rhythm Of The Night Heart Shaped Box vs Insane In The Brain Tornado Of Souls vs My Own Summer Californication vs No Scrubs Bitter Sweet Symohony vs Waterfalls Army Of Me vs Self Esteem Under The Bridge vs No More Tears Pure Morning vs Lump Girls and Boys vs Waking Up You Oughta Know vs Your Woman Cannonball vs Even Flow Tubthumping vs I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)

SIDE B2

Closer vs Loser

Wannabe vs Kiss From A Rose

Killing In The Name vs Ordinary World

Estoy Aquí vs I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone

Criminal vs Enjoy The Silence

This Is Halloween vs I Will Always Love You

Istanbul (Not Constantinople) vs Virtual Insanity

No Diggity vs Common People

Gangsta's Paradise vs What Is Love

Linger vs Venus As A Boy

Macarena vs Violet

...Baby One More Time vs Creep

The Kids Aren't Alright vs Bruise Violet

Killing Me Softly With His Song vs Jump Around

Don't Speak vs Dreams

Smells Like Teen Spirit vs Poison

Round 1 results // playlist with all the songs // join ColosseumCord

Past tournaments: #most attractive 90s musician // #90s album battle royale

Other music poll blogs: @the-80s-music-colosseum @the-70s-music-colosseum @60s-musician-tournament @80s-music-tourney @siblings-in-music-bracket @opera-music-tourney @70s-music-tourney @bestalbumsincethe80stournament @best-of-basslines @bestalbumcovertournament @80salttournament

Admin's main where I regularly lose my mind over bands, cars, and sci-fi - @goodmotorfinger

[gemsofgreece]

Now stfu. Thanks :)

Oh wow. I kinda expected, you know, a page in an encyclopedia or any other page with educative content about Greece or geography in general, but you come proudly with a random Turkey vs Greece article by a David dude.

Honey. You will find anything spelled out on the Internet, including actual mistakes. That's why we check our sources. In fact, this article has many other mistakes as well.

False. Turkey gets more tourists than Greece.

False. The Turkish Republic is exactly 100 years old and the Ottoman Empire lasted about 600 years.

Where to start with this one... If Greece is famous for anything, that's not its urban locations.

Mistake #1: Aya Sofya is not famous because of its minarets and Mistake #2: Ephesus was built in the 10th Century BC, so its heyday or point in time it should be referred with was at least 900 years before the Golden Age of the Roman Empire. Although granted, a lot for its preservation was done in the Roman era.

OMG American mistake #18361986: Greece is NOT a tropical country and HAS ZERO tropical islands

Built by WHOM of WHAT? Perhaps David meant King Antiochus I Theos of Commagen, check an actual source for once

David is straight out pulling facts out of his ass, isn't he

"The major cities like Istanbul and Santorini" the guy is either trolling or hasn't stepped one foot in Greece ever. Santorini is a tiny island and its "major city" Fira has 1,600 residents LMAO my grandparents' godforsaken village has more than that

The guy does a super delicate trolling, I give him that. The guy says things like oceans and tropical and major city of Santorini but has also come across Slav-Macedonian. Amazing combo. David is a man of contrasts. For the record, I haven't come across it and I have lived all my life here. I mean, it exists but you have to struggle to find its speakers and they are all bilingual anyway.

Overall David, that international traveller, does not really mean bad... apart from this????

That was very professional there. But even though he says this, he proceeds to say equally good stuff about both countries, I 'd say. The article is a confusing text by a confused man. But that's not the point. The point is his myriad of inaccuracies and mistakes (as called out in several of the comments), some very typical of Americans, like mistaking Greece for a tropical destination or confusing oceans and seas.

Which brings us to you @libbyhaiku .

I believe, very politely, I added in the tags of that damn post this:

That really set you off. You sent me an ask, telling me to fact check in google... what... whether the country of which I am a native has seas or oceans?

And I did! Even though I don't need to fact check whether Greece has oceans. And once again every website of any actual integrity, apart from the David dude, repeats this over and over. Greece has seas. Which I told you.

Furthermore, @jamy-libations searched for it on their own accord, and to my understanding they are not Greek or native Greeks, they told you and you responded as you responded to me.

I wonder, did you tell them to shut the fuck up too in your message?

So, here's the answer. You and David are making a very typical American mistake, or maybe its not a mistake within your very own borders, which is that because the USA is surrounded by oceans, you think ocean is the standard generic term for sea.

In fact, the word ocean can be used in two ways: either as THE Ocean, which is the entire body of saltwater of the earth and derives as a concept from the Greek mythology, just like the very word derives from Greek so I know well what it means, or to describe the five major bodies of water: the Pacific, the Atlantic, the Arctic, the Indian and the Southern ocean.

Greece, unlike the USA, is surrounded by neither. Greece is surrounded by the Mediterranean Sea and its adjacent smaller seas like the Ionian, the Aegean, the Libyan, the Cretan, the Myrtoan, the Ikarian, the Karpathian Seas. While the Mediterranean Sea is connected to the Atlantic Ocean through the very narrow strait of Gibraltar, it is so enclosed by land and it exchanges so little water with the Atlantic that it is both traditionally and scientifically considered its own body of water, a Sea, and not just a general area of the Atlantic Ocean.

Here's to explain to you the difference between an ocean and a sea by an actually serious source.

Here is a map of the Mediterranean Basin. As you see, it is almost entirely enclosed and it does not earn the status of being an ocean, let alone containing a multitude of them. Greece is also in the far end of the Mediterranean, as apart from the Atlantic as possible. None of the countries in the Mediterranean Basin have access to an ocean or oceanS, apart from Spain, France and Morocco, as evident here.

Now, I would honestly have not cared or written so much if you didn't throw a tandrum for a tiny tag in a post I reblogged in a positive manner. Unfortunately, you chose the asshole way.

And since we're at it that photo was actually taken in the Italian....... oceans

and it's edited... but whatever, we have this species too.

[424151998]

I am in Athens and tomorrow I am going to Tbilisi

Athens is cool at first I was scared and kept thinking I was gonna get pick pocketed but it’s actually extremely chill here. I’ve been wearing the same outfit the whole time tracksuit pants and cardigan and hoodie with the addition of fleece and long sleeve and two puffer jackets and scarf wrapped around my head today and gloves coz it was like 10 degrees lol soooo not that bad but it felt hellish to me it’s gonna get sooooo much worse and I’m scared

Ummm yeah having withdrawals too so I’ve been sleeping a lot and feeling irritable but I’m optimistic that I’ll be feeling more normal soon

I didn’t go to any of the ancient ruins coz they cost money so I just saw them from a distance

Just tonnes of walking and eating

Food:

Tis theatrou to steki twice now…first time was better..first time I was like 😍 marinated anchovies and vegetables in vinegar and garlic and bread and saganaki w lots of lemon 😍 second time we got like an omelette which was average and meatballs which were boring and such a bad choice by me hmm kinda just like eating bread with little accompaniments rather than bigger dishes, cheap place

Went to some place max’s friend recommended that had vinyl records as placemats and we had this amazing soup with ceviche but after that dish it wasn’t as yum it was like a big stir fry type thing and that’s just not really my thing but max really enjoyed it and also some coconut rice thing which again meh I don’t really care but that’s just vegetarian food I’m so meh but also again I am in a state of withdrawal so maybe I’m just pretty anhedonic. We did get a little carafe of wine which was soooooo good and also some digestif after I forget what it was called but similar to ouzo super strong and when we got home I passed out I felt so drunk

We went to Atlantikos this like tourist famous fish restaurant for lunch and it was good yeh idk max was really into it we had squid and it was fine idk I think we ordered badly coz I was jealous looking at some of the other tables

We had giros at o kavourras which was so effing yum

We’ve also had a couple falafel wraps

I keep waking up super early it’s funny coz my sleeping pattern is so fucked up in Melbourne it’s like super normal here I wake up at 7am like 🤩and then have to wait til midday for max to wake up but anyway yeah it’s crazy I’m like early bird here but for some reason I don’t wanna leave the apartment without max I could probs go walk around and get a coffee but I’ve just been chilling on my phone and reading my kindle hmmmm until like 1pm when we leave the apartment , after about 5000 steps im fucking done and Need to rest before I can keep going..

Currently in bed and gonna go back out at some point idk I have these Greek cigarettes I might have one later but only one

Step count:

Wednesday: 12,299

Thursday: 12,719

Friday: 11,367

Saturday: 21,146

Sunday: 5,785

Monday (so far, will update): 8,521

Umm what else I keep having insane nightmares which is disturbing but I’m Hoping it’s just my brain cleansing itself …nd max says I’m grinding my teeth heaps so maybe I’ll get teeth grinding Botox when we get to Istanbul but idk

Lol

Ummm ok that’s all

Oh yeah and I’m obsessed with how easy it is to get thru the metro gates like soo amazing and not scary like they just stay open if u put your hand in front of them unlike the myki gates that feel like they’re gonna fully slam my pelvis

[bomberqueen17]

cartagena

am in cartagena. the wifi in the hotel works best when you are on the roof, which also contains the pool. this is a building from 1820, made of like. concrete and plaster. how they have put a whole-ass pool on the roof of a mud building i do not know but there it is. so I’m slightly dripping onto the

only a couple photos behind the cut, just a lil tease

starting with that pool-- pool water in foreground, midground is the rail around the roof, painted to look like water, and then background is the skyline of the rest of cartagena beyond.

This is the view from my hotel room door out into the building’s central courtyard, which is open to the sky above, and the bottom level is a tile floor where there is seating for a cafe and also the hotel lobby, with rooms around the edge there too.

We walked around a bunch today, looking at the old wall of the walled city (which we’re staying in) and then going outside the wall to the next neighborhood, which is called Getsemani and is a kind of artsy slightly lower-rent district. It self-gentrified a bit a while back, trying to attract tourism dollars, and now is coated in beautiful graffiti art and all kinds of Instagram bait. Like this street, colorfully hung with umbrellas.

(further description: it’s a quite narrow street, too narrow for a car, and there are strings across from the roof of concrete buildings each side, from which brightly colored open umbrellas are suspended right-side-up.)

Funny story about the graffitti in Colombia, featuring everyone’s least favorite internet popstar Justin Bieber. This was in Bogotá in 2013, but it has meant that across Colombia graffiti is more recognized as an artform than in many other places, and especially in Getsemani, it is a common decoration to attract tourists to come take photos and then spend money. And it’s beautiful.

We’re having a lovely time and the food is great. The street hustlers are aggressive but not as much so as Istanbul. it’s very hot and very sunny and I have very powerful sunscreen. I’ve worn four of the five dresses I made for this occasion already so far and they’ve all performed very well, and I’m already plotting making more iterations of the same patterns.

Tomorrow we are taking a boat to the Rosario Islands and probably won’t have Internet for a day and a half. I have remembered that I’m afraid of the ocean but I also am so ADHD i will probably be so distracted by the shiny that I’ll forget my fear. We’ll see, LOL.

Anyway, just kinda checking in, have no fear but that I have a thousand selfies in my various me-made outfits, LOL.

[meetinginsamarra]

Rest

for today’s prompt “Rest” by @notjustamumj

@lisbeth-kk @calaisreno @raina-at

You’ve all been so fast with filling today’s prompt! I reblogged them all around noon and had not written a single word for this. So much for increasing pressure... To be fair, I’ve completed chapter 4 of my casefic WIP and have already written for 2 hours this day. And nearly another one for this ficlet.

----

Rest

Sherlock as good as stumbled out of the train. He had gotten several hours of distance between himself and Tarek Saleh’s henchman in Istanbul after taking the first available train that left from Pendik station this night.

He was exhausted, bone-tired and his body was aching everywhere. The broken ankle throbbed with the fires of hell and yelled at him every time it had to support Sherlock’s body weight.

Still, he felt lucky that he had escaped the weapon dealer at all. Sherlock had successfully avoided to get shot, to break his neck, to get shot again and to get crushed by heavy rubbish bags.

People on the train had looked at him suspiciously. He had stood out like a sore thumb, crammed into the farthest possible corner of the non-subdivided passenger compartment. He knew that he looked like rubbish and smelled like he had taken a bath in it.

Which he literally had. His escape by getting literally dumped into the hopper of a bin lorry had been a close call, Saleh’s goons had already come very close to the skip where Sherlock had hidden.

Apparently, the stench of rotten food had soaked too deep into his skin and hair to be scrubbed away by the quick wash he had gotten in the dumpsite’s maintanance building. He had discarded his soiled clothes and stole one of the grey boiler suits but he still reeked.

His battered face and wild hair did nothing to make him presentable and he had no cap to hide the disaster. Also, his broken finger was set with an – in lack of a better word – interesting construction made of ice lolly sticks and duct tape.

Sherlock desperately needed to get access to his emergency funds, get medical supplies for his wounds, get new clothes, get practically everything else he needed to carry on hunting down Moriarty’s web.

But first of all, he needed to sleep. In the half delirious state he was in, he was prone to making mistakes and mistakes meant certain death.

Sherlock hobbled out of the Antalya’s busy train station and caught a bus that would bring him to the coast where all the tourist hotels were located. It would be quiet there this time of the year and Sherlock planned on breaking into one of the uncharitable concrete blocks that housed dozens of holiday flats.

Getting access without getting caught was tedious but he managed by using the last dregs of strength he could muster.

The flat was cold and dark with the shutters firmly closed. It smelled damp and dusty but to Sherlock it seemed like heaven. He sighed with relief when he discovered that the water had not been turned off. The shower was cold but refreshing nonetheless and he used the small rest of a forgotten bottle of shower gel to clean himself. He tore down the curtains in the living room area, using one as a towel and wrapping himself firmly in the other one. It would be enough to keep him warm and then, finally, he could let himself fall onto the bare mattress of the king-size bed.

Tomorrow, he would think about tomorrow. He had survived today, yet another day to keep John safe. But now he would rest.

---

This could be placed at the end of chapter 13 in my Whumptober fic “Learn My Scars” when Sherlock tells John about what had happened to him in Istanbul.

[bobemajses]

I am half Sephardic & my ancestors came from the Balkan peninsula (not exactly Eastern Europe but South Eastern Europe), from Podgorica and Istanbul! I currently live in Istanbul.

I would like to say some things about the city that I live in. Here we had a large community of Jewish people. Mainly located in the European part of the city. But my family had been living in Yel Degirmeni (Anatolian side) – which is also a neighbourhood with great amount of Jewish population.

Nowadays the Jewish community have left the region although there's still a significant population in Turkey unlike other Balkan countries, most of them have migrated to Israel, USA, Spain etc.

If anyone would be interested, there's a book called Anyos munchos i buenos by Laurence Salzmann (Good Year And Many More, Turkey's Sephardim 1492-1992).

Very nice! The Jewish community of Istanbul and Turkey has such an interesting history and was earlier so diverse, being comprised of Sephardim, Ashkenazim, Romaniotes, Karaites and Georgian Jews (now Sephardim constitute 95%). In 1992 the community celebrated the 500th anniversary of its official existence in Turkey since the Spring of 1492, when a big wave of expelled Spanish Jews came to Istanbul under the reign of the sultan Beyazid II.

But Turkish Jewish history is actually much older than that. Early (Romaniote) Jewish settlements in Anatolia are mentioned by the historian Josephus Flavius (37-100) when he relates that Aristotle “met Jewish people with whom he had an exchange of views during his trip across Asia Minor.” Ancient synagogue ruins have been found in Sardis, near Izmir, dating from 220 B.C.E. The Rabbi Yitzchok Zarfati wrote in the Middle Ages a famous letter to his fellow Jews, saying, “I assure you, Turkey is a country of abundance where, if you wish, you will find rest.” Thus, a wave of Jews from Hungary came in 1360 and from France in 1394, as well as Jews from Bavaria, Georgia, Portugal, Sicily, Crimea and Salonika. In 1477, Jewish households in Istanbul numbered 1,647, or 11% of the total. Half a century later, that number had quadrupled. Most of the Sultan’s court physicians were Jews, including Hakim Yakoub, Joseph and Moshe Hamon, Daniel Fonseca, and Gabriel Buenauentura.

The Great Ashkenazi Synagogue is one Istanbul’s most famous Jewish landmarks. This synagogue which was built with the support of financial contributions made by Austro-Hungarian Jews was opened in a grand ceremony in the year 1900. The opening ceremony was marked by the attendance and  remarks of the ambassador of Austria-Hungary to the Ottoman Empire, representing the importance and significance of this synagogue for the upper echelons of Ashkenazi society in Istanbul at the time. Today, it remains resolute, standing proudly on Yüksekkaldırım street, seen and pictured on a daily basis by locals and tourists alike.

During World War II, Turkey under Ataturk was a safe passage for many Jews fleeing the Nazis. Several Turkish diplomats persevered in their efforts to save the Turkish Jews from the Holocaust and succeeded.

The present size of the Jewish community is estimated at 14,500. Since the 1980s and especially under Recep Tayyip Erdogan, Turkish Jews have been the victims of violent antisemitism on multiple occasions. Turkey, a country that once welcomed Jews worldwide, is losing its Jews to emigration and assimilation. In an ironic twist, there are many Turkish Jews that emigrate to the relative safety of Spain and Portugal, reversing the historical path taken centuries earlier.

And here are some pictures from the book you mentioned:

They are so incredibly beautiful, I will make a separate post about them (Tumblr only lets me add 10 pictures to a post ;()

[istanbultravelers]

🏺From the Istanbul Galata Bridge, you can see a beautiful view of Eminönü, one of Istanbul's oldest districts. Eminönü is located at the southern end of the Galata Bridge, and it is home to many historic landmarks and tourist attractions. The district is situated on the Golden Horn, an inlet of the Bosphorus Strait, which adds to its stunning waterfront views. 🧿 Looking out towards Eminönü from the bridge, you will see a bustling district with a mix of modern and traditional architecture. You will likely see the famous Yeni Cami (New Mosque), which was completed in 1665, and the iconic Spice Bazaar (also known as the Egyptian Bazaar), which dates back to the 17th century. You may also see the Galata Tower in the distance, which is another popular landmark in Istanbul. Overall, the view of Eminönü from the Galata Bridge is a must-see when visiting Istanbul, and it offers a glimpse into the city's rich history and culture. 🇹🇷 . . . #istambul #stambul #トルコ #istanbulphotos #goldenhorn #bosphorus #galatabridge #istanbulturkey #istanbulcity #istanbullovers #이스탄불 #turquia #estambul #стамбул #exploreturkey #visitistanbul #turkeyvacation #visitturkey #igersistanbul #discoveristanbul #travelturkey #lovefromturkey #istanbultravel #gotürkiye #onlyintürkiye #goturkey #turkeyhome #turkey_home #photo_turkey (Eminönü İstanbul) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpIdQx2oGMH/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[baharlivings]

Istanbul boasts renowned historical sites like the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia, drawing crowds. However, the city offers lesser-known, crowd-free attractions worth exploring. While visiting iconic landmarks is crucial for cultural immersion, exploring Istanbul's unique attractions adds depth to your experience. After exploring the main tourist spots, delve into Istanbul’s hidden gems

[rockislandadultreads]

New Title Tuesday: Thrillers

Midnight is the Darkest Hour by Ashley Winstead

For fans of Verity and A Flicker in the Dark, this is a twisted tale of murder, obsessive love, and the beastly urges that lie dormant within us all...even the God-fearing folk of Bottom Springs, Louisiana. In her small hometown, librarian Ruth Cornier has always felt like an outsider, even as her beloved father rains fire-and-brimstone warnings from the pulpit at Holy Fire Baptist.

Unfortunately for Ruth, the only things the townspeople fear more than the God and the Devil are the myths that haunt the area, like the story of the Low Man, a vampiric figure said to steal into sinners' bedrooms and kill them on moonless nights. When a skull is found deep in the swamp next to mysterious carved symbols, Bottom Springs is thrown into uproar—and Ruth realizes only she and Everett, an old friend with a dark past, have the power to comb the town's secret underbelly in search of true evil.

The Reformatory by Tananarive Due

Gracetown, Florida, June 1950: Twelve-year-old Robbie Stephens, Jr., is sentenced to six months at the Gracetown School for Boys, a reformatory, for kicking the son of the largest landowner in town in defense of his older sister, Gloria. So begins Robbie’s journey further into the terrors of the Jim Crow South and the very real horror of the school they call The Reformatory.

Robbie has a talent for seeing ghosts, or haints. But what was once a comfort to him after the loss of his mother has become a window to the truth of what happens at the reformatory. Boys forced to work to remediate their so-called crimes have gone missing, but the haints Robbie sees hint at worse things. Through his friends Redbone and Blue, Robbie is learning not just the rules but how to survive. Meanwhile, Gloria is rallying every family member and connection in Florida to find a way to get Robbie out before it’s too late.

The Spy Coast by Tess Gerritsen

Former spy Maggie Bird came to the seaside village of Purity, Maine, eager to put the past behind her after a mission went tragically wrong. These days, she’s living quietly on her chicken farm, still wary of blowback from the events that forced her early retirement.

But when a body turns up in Maggie’s driveway, she knows it’s a message from former foes who haven’t forgotten her. Maggie turns to her local circle of old friends—all retirees from the CIA—to help uncover the truth about who is trying to kill her, and why. This “Martini Club” of former spies may be retired, but they still have a few useful skills that they’re eager to use again, if only to spice up their rather sedate new lives.

Complicating their efforts is Purity’s acting police chief, Jo Thibodeau. More accustomed to dealing with rowdy tourists than homicide, Jo is puzzled by Maggie’s reluctance to share information—and by her odd circle of friends, who seem to be a step ahead of her at every turn.

As Jo’s investigation collides with the Martini Club’s maneuvers, Maggie’s hunt for answers will force her to revisit a clandestine career that spanned the globe, from Bangkok to Istanbul, from London to Malta. The ghosts of her past have returned, but with the help of her friends—and the reluctant Jo Thibodeau—Maggie might just be able to save the life she’s built.

This is the first volume of "The Martini Club" series.

When I'm Dead by Hannah Morrissey

On a bone-chilling October night, Medical Examiner Rowan Winthorp investigates the death of her daughter’s best friend. Hours later, the tragedy hits even closer to home when she makes a devastating discovery—her daughter, Chloe, is gone. But, not without a trace.

A morbid mosaic of clues forces Rowan and her husband to question how deeply they really knew their daughter. As they work closely to peel back the layers of this case, they begin to unearth disturbing details about Chloe and her secret transgressions…details that threaten to tear them apart.

Amidst the noise of navigating her newfound grief and reconciling the sins of her past, an undeniable fact rings true for Rowan: karma has finally come to collect.

This is the third volume of the "Black Harbor" series.

[spaceoperetta]

Bazaars! I'm combining the Grand Bazaar (top) and Spice Bazaar (bottom) in Istanbul.

The Grand Bazaar sells a little bit of everything, the Spice Bazaar sells mostly spices, but with the smattering of Genuine Fakes and cheap souvenirs, as well. I'm not a spice souvenir person, so I didn't buy any. (Also I don't generally check luggage, and you never know what customs won't like as far as plant matter goes.) Real Turkish Delight is tasty, and is sold in big logs. I'd had the cubed stuff elsewhere and enjoyed it, but this was the good stuff. No spice or turkish delight for me! I pack only carry-on, and I like more physical souvenirs.

Bazaars were my first exposure to Genuine Fakes! All through the trip I got a laugh out of them being at bazaars, rest spots, tourist sites, and the like. Tourists must like them, because they were everywhere at tourist spots. There are also /genuine/ genuine fakes, especially around where the factories are, but I just saw the genuine fakes.

(I am also garbage at bargaining - I'm anxious during normal conversations that /aren't/ about money - but both places I did my shopping didn't have much wiggle room with prices and it's not like I overpaid by 50%. Hopefully. If you ever go, do take any tea that's offered - apple tea is great but pomegranate tea? oh yeah baby. I like Turkish-style tea far more than English. I'm not an English tea person at all, but Turkish was my style - smooth, and done in glassware as opposed to mugs.)