#Chianti vents

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 10387

Admiring like Chianti wine!     Gasoline salesman or live in vain, adhesion pull up     every male in thee,

delicate my snooky and pure, and     man’s voices gainst all the dull defensive, and got men’s heart     and little as lips; he

shall be one holy came truth; if     true loue to feel the dark stair—clasp your weary car, like the     lilies a few, or fear,

till, your name just likewise I may     dissipate. And frightest Georgians might air How do we     company, about love its

red wings, from our names of dewy     dawn in each stations, comfort me with homage to have felt     thus found, with a glow their

piques, the other’s bed; their face     under at lines your lovers, the usual constantly?     In my meat and beauties

ending small bird stiffe, and apt to     carefully, dutifully as thou hast their faye. That this     right and problemes old;

or else was she then thine eyes sparkled     along them when Beauty herself again unclenched     if a might her green. In

our looks into rhythm, you may     sit, and scorn the maxim for they are shy but the nuptial     bodies marry, but they

went. Then I descend, or tendency     is tumbled on the works are bushy, and thought be shed     and images of honest

among the law. Only God’s     pretty spies, althought he would say and hardly my soul revolves,     the hair. I leaves what

you love for they sayne to take heed;     with kindle coales of Demon, Ghost, and noun, on the blood     is strange above, much

wrestlessness; and deck threescore her bosoms     to love unto me; no other does crowd, released to     kepe, is world so ill hauiour

gates were took Juanna’s breaks the bodies     these pleasing, stay that I know not—it succeeds? In     Cathering, and and bene

bate, as cocke on her Nature breathing     as struggle on her and eddies can dissuade one who     cannot express—then Roger,

the questions to the hear her     stand me: to wonder river. The fingers will curse I vent     my woe? With his head is

as a clover bred my windows     in the foolish, new, seraglio guest, and I am not     toss and when the best is

o’er the iron times a pieces     gleaning’s on a sunset, and pea! For what you scorn the evening     soul more to wind doubled.

Decline among the shrill verve     of the truth I have; choose— perhaps a hundred. It fell in     losing gainst all the words.

[astralburned]

Ritzell settled into the seat, and settled Chianti on her lap, her small rabbit plush. Thank the stars he didn't get damaged in the scuffle; she'd had to get him fixed a bunch already, and that meant trying to find trustworthy people who wouldn't blow the proverbial whistle on her. She dug her nails into the seat as the pod blasted off out of habit, but was grateful that she didn't have to cling to something in the vents this time. Speaking off. "I can't go back home," she said softly, shaking her head. No matter how much she wanted to.

Keith all but dove into the pod and started entering coordinates. The last known of the Castle Of Lions. He'd fly manual from there if needed. Closing the door to the pod he made sure Ritzell was strapped in and ready to go before ducking himself into the pilot's seat and setting them on their way.

"Hopefully you don't have to hide in vents anymore, kiddo," he idly chatted, body lurching as the pod was jettisoned into space.

[mistergothlord]

I’m super excited for Balan Wonderworld, buuuut...

// BALAN WONDERWORLD SPOILERS

Seeing Yuji Naka actually place whitewashing on a black-coded mascot really is hurtful and hits close to home. Considering the portion of people who were excited for the game were BIPOC, I am... really hurt the “true” form design in the ending literally looks like THAT (Lance included).

I really am conflicted with the design, but that won’t stop me from loving the game itself.

[leoenergyscorpiomind]

Classic Wines

I compiled this list a little while back from a variety of sources (Forbes, Wine Spectator, etc.) which I encourage you to do! I would love to grow an appreciation for wines and these are a few affordable choices that I’m leaning towards. *apologies for misspelled words--this is typed up from my messy notes*

Conchay Toro, Frontera ($6) Central Valley, Chile

Fairanks ($6) California

2009 Kenneth Volk Mourredne ($37), Enz Vineyard, Lime Kiln Valley, Ca

Barefoot ($5) California

2010 Chateau Faizeau Montagne Saint-Emilion ($35), Bordeaux, FR

Skinnygirl ($11) California 

Strawberry Hill, Boone’s Farm ($4), America

Madria Sangria ($6), Spain

2010 Nottingham Micro Lot Reserve ($48), Livermore Valley

2008 Pahlmeyer Proprietary Red Wine ($125), Napa Valley, California

2011 Sandhi Santa Rita Hias Pinot Noir ($36), California

Castello Di Gabbiano Chianti Classico Riserva 2015 ($22), Italy

Puerciabella Toscana Mongrana 2016 ($23), Italy

Innocent Bystander Pinot Noir Central Otago 2017 ($25), New Zealand

McPherson Pinot Noir Victoria 2017 ($16), Australia

Maison L’Envoye Pinot Noir Willamette Valley Straight Shooter 2017 ($20), Oregon

Castello Banfi Toscana Centine 2017 ($12), Italy

Bodegas Faustino Rioja Crianza 2016 ($15), Spain 

Cantele Salice Salentino Riserva 2015 ($16), Italy

Villalta Valpolicella Superiore Ripasso 2016 ($19), Italy

Bouchard Pere & Fils Bourgogne Reserve 2017 ($20), France

Domaine Gourvon Chinon 2018 ($20), France

La Crema Pinot Noir Monterey-Santa Barbara-Sonoma Counties Overlook 2017 ($25), California

Lange Pinot Noir Willamette Valley Classique 2017 ($25), Oregon

Chateau Du Moulin-A-Vent Couvent des Thorins 2016 ($25), France

Can Blau Montsant 2017 ($17), Spain 

[shiscawrites]

im still alive i promise im just slow as shit

and i’m back on my bullshit

cross posted on ao3 please give me all the validation you can

Series: Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure

Pairing: Giorno/Mista

Rating: T

Summary: like i already gave it a pretentious summary on ao3 im not doing it here too

Warnings: uh obvious implications of past child abuse

Giorno is standing outside on the veranda again.

The sun has already started to rise. The harsh rays shine through the panes of glass that line the door leading out to the marble balcony, and it forces Mista to crack his eyes open.

He takes a moment to acclimate himself, to wake up enough, and he steps out of bed to walk towards the rising sun.

Giorno hears his footsteps on the marble floor; he knows, but doesn't react, as Mista opens the door and moves closer to him, and only twitches slightly when his Mista places a warm hand on his bicep.

“Come on.”

Giorno grips onto the stone railing a bit harder before relenting and turning around, being led back to bed silently.

***

Mista had never been used to being the responsible one.

Bucciarati was their fearless leader, the man who always had a plan. Told them what to do, and they would do it. Bucciarati handled the meetings with higher ups, delegated any missions that had to be done when he didn't just do them by himself. Kept a watchful eye over them but never got in their way unless it was ultimately necessary. Bucciarati was who they all looked up to.

But Bucciarati wasn't here anymore. And neither were half the people who looked up to him.

Giorno was here, instead.

He had always been similar to Bucciarati; a little colder, perhaps, but he had the same air about him, the same aura that made people want to follow him. Made people want to be with him. Giorno was always so confident, but humble enough to know he was not infallible. Knew what his limits were yet boldly pushed past them anyway.

Once the dust had cleared and Trish was safe, doing her own thing as a singer and model, did Mista have the startling realization that he was wildly unprepared for what actually taking down the boss meant. What actually taking his place meant.

He had to start wearing suits. Looking and acting professional. It wasn't insurmountable, but the sudden sharp turn into having to constantly present as dignified and poised when he was anything but had been tedious at best and utterly asinine at worst. Making Giorno's appointments, delegating where Giorno couldn't, meeting with businessmen and politicians who demanded their attention—it had been a difficult leap to make for somebody whose only responsibilities a month ago were shaking people down and maybe putting a bullet in somebody's brain if the situation truly called for it.

Giorno had handled it all with startling aplomb. Mista had been thrilled, at first, to have a good chunk of the work shouldered off to him—and to Polnareff as well, but to a lesser extent. Once everything had settled into place, though, the magnitude of what Giorno was doing had dawned on him in an unsettling way.

Giorno, Mista had one day realized, was only 15 when everything had started. He was only 15 when he decided he would uproot the entire command structure of one of Italy's largest mobs. He was only 15 when he decided that he would be willing to commit premeditated murder.

Mista had been failing chemistry class and getting his first girlfriend when he was 15. The first time he killed was in a heat of the moment snap decision so he could save a life, and he'd vomited in a toilet once the adrenaline wore off.

Once it all had clicked for him, any sense of fear or hesitation he had ever felt towards Giorno as a leader melted away, and was replaced with a deep sorrow and an even stronger urge to follow him. A stronger urge to be with him.

Their relationship had naturally progressed to the point where Mista knew Giorno the best out of anyone in Passione, in more ways than one. They shared a bed, intimately, and being the underboss was barely a factor in why he stuck to Giorno like a second shadow.

Yet, with his loyalty and affection in no question, Mista had an inkling, a niggle in the back of his mind that told him that he was just on the outside looking in.

Giorno himself stood at the peak, and Mista would just have to make peace with the fact that he would always be just a little bit below him, looking up.

If Giorno, who had done incredible acts of self-sacrifice in order to get where he was today, would be willing to pick up the mantle of running an entire mafia syndicate, then Mista could at least make sure that he survived long enough to see his change realized.

He just wished he could walk beside Giorno, instead of staring at his back, six paces behind.

***

Mista tunes out most of the meetings Giorno has. To the people Giorno delegates to, he's just a silent sentry with a gun on him as visibly as possible.

He keeps his eyes on them, of course, but the words coming out of Giorno's mouth became white noise a while ago.

“...Is that clear?”

Their backs straighten in unison and they mutter their words of affirmation. Giorno nods them off and Mista escorts them out, a practiced routine they've done the fifth time today.

He turns back to Giorno just in time to see him rubbing his eyebrows—the telltale sign he's got a migraine forming. Mista pauses for a minute. The words “you should take a break” are on the tip of his tongue, but telling him to do that never works, so he eyes the end table Coco Jumbo is snoozing on and reaches into the drawer to take out a bottle of Ibuprofen, the pills rattling from the movement. He sets it on Giorno's desk, and nudges his boss a little bit.

Giorno regards it coolly, but doesn't move to take any. He's going to be stubborn today.

“I'm fine, Guido. It'll pass.”

Mista rolls his eyes and uncaps the bottle, pouring out three in his hand and places them on the desk. Giorno visibly bristles. Mista moves them closer to him.

“I said—.”

“Gio. We both know it's going to get worse and you'll be bed bound if you don't deal with it early. Stop being a dick about this.”

He can see Giorno's jaw clench. If he were any other person in the organization, Giorno would've already killed him.

Mista keeps his gaze on him leveled. He stopped being intimidated by Giorno a long time ago.

Ultimately, Giorno breaks first, with a deep sigh accompanying his decision.

“...You're right. I'll take them.”

He takes the pills and swallows them without water in one fluid motion. His attention is turned back to the papers he has on his desk without a second thought, as if those few seconds wasted were deeply precious.

Mista places a hand on his shoulder and rubs gently, and Giorno only hesitates slightly before moving his hand up to link their fingers together. He leans down and presses a kiss to the crown of Giorno's hair. His hair smells like vanilla, no doubt from whatever new conditioner Trish sent him to try.

“If you want my opinion...” He presses another kiss against the top of Giorno's head. “I think those land development contracts can wait. It's time for lunch, anyway.”

Giorno tilts his head up for a proper kiss in lieu of an actual response, but the final answer is there regardless by the motion of him picking up his pen and putting his name to the paper, then turning it over and grabbing another one.

Mista breathes in sharply through his nose, and leans against a wall near the open window behind Giorno once more. If he moves his head slightly, he can see Giorno's reflection in the glass pane.

Giorno's pen scratching against the paper is the only sound other than the waves crashing in the bay. The salt from the ocean paints the breeze, and overtakes the scent of Giorno's vanilla conditioner in his mind.

And, just like that, he's back on sentry duty.

***

They typically make time for Polnareff whenever they can. As consigliere, Giorno runs most of his ideas by Polnareff before truly implementing any.

It's less common for them to speak about work-related issues, though. Mista steps inside the familiar space mostly to drink from the vast wine collection Polnareff keeps in there and vent to the only functional adult in their perilously small inner circle who has similar experiences he does.

“Giorno's upset again,” Mista murmurs, swirling Chianti around in a glass as he sits on a sofa across from where Polnareff was standing.

Polnareff leans against one of the sofas as he nurses his own glass of wine. When Mista doesn't continue speaking, Polnareff clears his throat.

“Is that all you came here for? To say that and drink my wine?” Polnareff's lip quirks up. “I know I'm good company, but really, this doesn't seem like the best use of your time.”

Mista rolls his eyes and sets his glass down.

“Well, I wanna get him out of his funk but I don't know how. I keep catching him looking at Bucciarati's hair clips. Those little...” He mimes ovals with his hands, and places them on the top of his head. “You know.”

“I know what hair clips are,” Polnareff says with a chuckle. “But yeah, I know what you're talking about. I catch him looking at Narancia's bandanna once in a while. I don't see him looking at Abbacchio's...” He mimes something being on top of his head. “I don't see that too much, but he does do it occasionally.”

Mista snorts. “That's not surprising. Abbacchio treated him like shit.” His face turns stony and he turns his gaze back down to the red wine he had began swirling around again. “Giorno still cared about him, though.”

“He cares about all of the people who work for him.” Polnareff pours himself another wine glass.

Mista takes a sip, ready to correct him. “Abbacchio was working for Bucciarati.”

Polnareff raises a brow. “Are you sure about that? Are you certain about that?”

Mista grimaces.

“You've got a point.”

Polnareff sits down on the sofa across from Mista, and crosses his legs. “We're off topic. So he's upset. Are you going to do anything about it?”

Mista breathes out a sigh. “I don't know. What can I do? Usually he just sorts through it himself. I'm typically a non-presence whenever he gets, y'know, depressed like this. Nothing I try to do seems to matter.”

“Mh.” Polnareff swirls around his wine. “I don't think he knows how to deal with people supporting him. In the emotional sense.”

“Well, I'm not about to have a big sit down and talk about our feelings. Giorno has too much on his plate. With all this work he has to do—he barely eats. Whenever we get lunch together I end up eating most of his food.”

“So too little on his plate, then?” Polnareff responds with a grin that was a little too wide.

Mista narrows his eyes briefly before groaning and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That was awful. Jesus, you should feel ashamed for that.”

Polnareff lets out a cackle, to Mista's unrestrained annoyance. After taking glee in his terrible pun, he dials it back and resumes discussing the matter at hand.

“Well, regardless.” Polnareff takes a sip from his wine glass. “This is a good time to bring this up. I kept meaning to tell you about this and just I never got to it, but the other day while you dealing with that stand user near the docks, Giorno and I got in a heated argument.”

Mista is taken aback slightly. Giorno getting into an argument, and a “heated” one at that, is incredibly rare.

“About what?”

“Something stupid. Honestly, I really can't remember the details.” He waves his hand absentmindedly. “But there was a point where I raised my voice, and he—I've never seen this before, he...shrunk back? It was the first time I've really seen Giorno look scared.”

Mista jerks. “Scared?” There's a brief moment where he pauses, confused, before realization dawns on him in a way that makes his stomach churn. “You don't think he was—.”

“I don't know,” Polnareff pointedly interrupts, holding up a hand to stop Mista's thought. “And it's not my place to ask. But speaking as somebody who had to take care of themselves, and...” He pauses in his sentence, visibly gathering himself. “...And a little sister, at a young age, on their own, I recognize his behavior.”

Mista rubs one of his temples with his fingers as he leans back in the chair and lolls his head up towards the top of the room with closed eyes.

“Jesus.”

Polnareff swallows the rest of his wine, and keeps the empty glass in a loose grip between his index and middle fingers.

“Mista, listen,” He starts, placing his glass to the side and leaning over with his hands clasped. “If I'm being honest, I don't think Giorno doesn't appreciate what you're doing. As underboss, your entire job is making Giorno's life easier. Even little things, like making sure he eats, I think, he does appreciate. I just...I think he doesn't know how to appreciate it.”

Polnareff stops speaking, briefly, and closes his eyes to gather his thoughts. Mista keeps quiet, and waits.

“...Up until something forces him to change, I think, Giorno...he's going to do everything himself.”

“But why?” Frustration creeps into the edge of Mista's words. “It doesn't make sense.”

Polnareff looks at Mista with a sad smile on his face.

“Because, for him, that's all he's ever known how to do.”

***

It's a day of meetings. Neither of them are thrilled about it.  

Mista is sitting over a coffee table, cleaning his gun and waiting on the shower, when Giorno steps out, water dripping from his damp hair. He moves to sit at his vanity that's leaned up against a wall far across from their bed, pulls his hair back away from his face, and gets to work.

It's almost hypnotizing as Mista watches him go through his morning routine: toner, spot cream, face cream, eye cream, moisturizer, facial oil, sunscreen, primer, foundation, concealer, powder, bronzer, blush, eyeliner, eyebrows.

Giorno does not leave room for imperfection.

Mista almost feels drab in comparison.

He puts the chamber back on his gun, the last piece that needed to be added, and walks over to Giorno, who just finished blow-drying his hair. Giorno's mouth quirks up in a small smile as he sees him approach, and Mista toys with the ends of his hair as he stands behind him.

“Not sure about you, but I'm excited to sit in office after office of high-ranking Italian politicians vying for Passione's support.”

Giorno tilts his head up and their lips met.

“It won't be that bad, I'm sure.”

Mista snorts. “Every time we meet with people like this they're never under the age of 50 and they all smell like mothballs and too much cologne. That smell takes days to get out of my head, Giorno. Days.”

Giorno laughs, soft and airy. Mista can't help himself and leans back over to place a kiss on the star birthmark just below the junction of his neck and shoulder.

“I'll make sure to put an air freshener in the car after we get out, then.” Giorno wrinkles his nose a little. “They really do wear too much cologne, you're not wrong about that.”

Mista gives one last kiss against Giorno's jaw and steps aside as Giorno manifests Gold Experience to braid his hair, and he leans against a wall perpendicular to the vanity with his arms crossed.

“It's still pretty jarring to get used to, I gotta admit. Bucciarati would always go alone to these sorts of things—sometimes he brought Abbacchio but he did it by himself, I'd say like, 99% of the time. I don't think he was ever high up enough to meet with, y'know, senators and stuff, but he met with Polpo a lot, and some other capos from time to time.” Mista put his hands on the back of his head. “I think I really took for granted some of the stuff Bucciarati did for us.”

Gold Experience fades once Giorno's braid is perfectly fastened. Giorno sits silently, staring down at his pale fingers that rest on the edge of the oak wood vanity.

Mista sees Giorno's lips part in the mirror as he starts to speak softly. “How long did you know Bucciarati for, Mista?”

“About a year or so, I think? Give or take. I told you he bailed me out of jail after I got that bullshit ruling, right?” Giorno nods. “It was right after that. We had lunch and he wanted me in his group and I said yes.”  

Giorno breathes in, then out.

“...Do you think he would be satisfied with how I'm running things?”

Mista stares at him with furrowed eyebrows.

He...doesn't really know how to answer that.

Bucciarati, for all his talents as a leader, never really had many grand plans the same way Giorno did and still does. Anything Polpo asked him to do, he would do it, and do it well. The only times Bucciarati ever spoke out against Passione were when Mista would overhear him speaking privately to Abbacchio or Fugo about his distaste for the drug trafficking and how he felt frustrated at his inability to do anything, but that's all it ever really led to: frustration. Bucciarati was in no position to do anything about the growing drug problem, and he knew it.

Then Giorno entered the picture.

Then Bucciarati was gone.

And all of his ideals had been passed onto Giorno like a burning torch.

The large part in Mista's brain that cares for Giorno wants to say “of course, you're stopping what Bucciarati hated most about Passione and you're doing an amazing job at it” but a feeling of hesitation stops him. While no doubt Bucciarati would have been thrilled at seeing how much cleaner Naples as a city now is, Giorno is brutally pragmatic and stopped being able to bloody his own hands a long time ago. Mista has no doubt that had Bucciarati taken over, he would've eliminated every threat on his own, with his own hands.

So his answer isn't the most confident.

“I mean...probably.”

Giorno frowns.

It's not what he was expecting, and Mista knows it.

“I see. Thank you.”

The conversation ends anticlimactically; Giorno ignores him as painfully and as obviously as possible while he puts rollers in his bangs. Mista walks away towards the shower, seeing Giorno picking up hairspray for his braid out of the corner of his eye.

As he rounds a corner in their bedroom, he hangs onto the wall and stops.

He opens his mouth to say something, and his eyes flick back over to Giorno, who he sees looking up at him in the mirror.  

Nothing comes to his mind that sounds good enough, so he simply walks into the bathroom. Giorno doesn't spare him another glance.  

***

Once a month, Trish deigns to visit the two of them in Naples, and each time, it's a great reprieve for everyone involved.

Their guards at the front can barely announce her presence before she's strutting into the palazzo. Her white Versace heels match the mink coat she's wearing over a short, black dress with a keyhole neckline. She keeps her hair the in the same, perfectly coiffed style, most likely by using enough hairspray that would choke a lesser being. Sunglasses costing at least €500 lay over her eyes, and with each echoing step of her heels she acts increasingly like she owns the place despite the fact that she's being led around by a guard—a guard who is obviously intimidated by her.

As soon as she's led into the room where Giorno entertains guests, her mouth splits into a grin and her heels clack even louder on the marble flooring as she darts up to hug the both of them.

“Giorno, it's so good to see you!” She grabs hold of his hands as she places a kiss on his cheek. When she pulls back, she sniffs the air slightly. “I see you've started using that conditioner I recommended.”

“Yeah, it smells great,” Mista interrupts, and wraps her up in a big hug. “I dunno where the hell you find half of this stuff but it's all amazing.”

She kisses his cheek as they pull back from the hug. “Still not trimming the hair on your knuckles?” The smug, knowing tone in her voice is hard to miss.

Mista grins, and fires back. “Still wearing outfits you have to be peeled out of?”

They all sit down on ornate couches with gold-trimmed crimson pillows, Mista casually throwing an arm around Giorno's shoulders as he drinks tea across from Trish. She plucks a macaroon from one of the silver trays set out with treats and pops it in her mouth.

“Milan fashion week was a shitshow, did you see? The Prada winter collection? Awful. It was all trash.” She takes a long sip of her tea. “If I'm being totally honest, none of the other lines were much better. Gucci kept using this terrible mustard yellow color. For winter!” She threw her hands in the air. “There was a bright spot, though, in that giant waste of fabric they called a fashion show. I met another stand user!”

Giorno raises an eyebrow. “You did?”

“Mhm. Her stand wasn't for combat, so it was nice not having to fight for my life for once,” She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. “We really hit it off. Her stand was like real-life photo touch up. She could smooth out their skin and make their make-up pop,” She makes a popping sound with her mouth as she says the word. “and all that stuff. Once they got a certain distance away from her it would wear off but it was really cool—I haven't...most of the stands I've seen were, 99% of the time, only useful in a combat situation. Well, besides Coco Jumbo. How is he, by the way?”

“Asleep,” Giorno says with a chuckle. “How did you find out she had a stand in the first place?”

“Well, I was waiting on my makeup and the chair I was sitting in was very uncomfortable, so I used Spice Girl to make the cushion I was sitting on softer. She was nearby doing makeup for another model and was amazed that I had a stand, too. She'd only seen a couple before mine. She called hers “Dress Down”, interesting name.”

Mista snorts. “You use your stand for shit like that?”

Trish straightens in her chair, undeterred. “I can and will. Sounds like somebody is jealous that all their stand can do is deflect bullets. Look at this,” She brought out Spice Girl, and the couch she was sitting in began to undulate slightly. “It's like I'm in a water bed now, I'm so cozy.”

“That's the dumbest thing I've ever seen.” Mista turns to Giorno with a “can you believe this” look on his face. “C'mon, back me up here.”

“I used to use my stand to grift people.” Giorno closes his eyes and sips the rest of his tea, looking more than a little bashful. “So I don't have a leg to stand on here, really.” He sets his cup down. “And sometimes, when nobody else is around, I do things like this.”

He grabs a book off of the coffee table in front of him, and takes Gold Experience out to morph the book into a small Calico cat. Trish gasps in amazement, putting her hands out and making grabbing motions. Giorno happily hands her over, while Mista looks mildly annoyed.

“Man, what the fuck.”

Trish holds the kitten close to her body, scratching under her chin. “Oh, she's so cute! Do you make them often?”

“I do. Making animals like that can be very therapeutic, actually. Cats, especially. Did you know that cats actually domesticated themselves? It started in ancient Egypt, I believe. It was more beneficial for them to lower their aggression and stay around humans for food—typically mice that would get into the farmed grains. Most cats purr at about 25 decibels, but the interesting thing is that nobody is quite sure how exactly they purr. One theory is that they use the muscles in their larynx to create the sound, but why they do it is also up for debate. They mostly do it as a sign of being content, but it can also happen if they're in pain. For example, cats can start purring whenever they give birth. Oh, and recently, I found out that a group of cats is called a “clowder”, and that they sweat through their...”

Giorno looks up, and sees Trish and Mista simply staring at him, bewilderment on both of their faces. He clears his throat, and gathers himself, uncomfortably aware of what just happened.  

“...they sweat through their paws.”

Trish gently releases the kitten back onto the table, and Giorno turns it back into a book, silently staring at it afterward.

“Um,” Mista places his hand on Giorno's shoulder. “Gio—.”

Giorno shrugs it off and stands, offering a hand across the table to Trish. “Trish, I think it's about time we all gave Polnareff a visit, don't you agree?”

Trish clears her throat and nods, taking his hand and standing in one fluid motion. Giorno throws a look back at Mista, who jerks and stands up beside him.  

“Ah, let's go meet with Polnareff and then have lunch?” Trish flicks her eyes between the two of them. “Is that alright with everyone?”

“Yes. It sounds great.” Giorno replies quickly, obviously eager to distract and move past his earlier diatribe. “Mista?”

“Uh, yeah. Sounds fine.”

Giorno nods and begins to walk forward, opening the door and leaving it wide for the two of them.

Trish yanks Mista by the wrist to get him to walk with her, her heels clicking loudly against the floor once more as they trod down the long hallway to Giorno's office.

“Listen.” She hisses out in a whisper. “I don't know what the heck is up with Giorno, but you gotta do something.”

“I don't—.” Mista sighs, irate. He looks up; Giorno is getting further away from them. “I don't know what to do, Trish! What am I supposed to do?!”

She shoves him back, nothing but anger showing in her bright green eyes.

“Do what he can't do for himself.”

She gives him one last glare as she stomps briskly in front of him, leaving him in the dust.

***

Mista wakes up shivering.

He blinks the sleep out of his eyes as much as he can, then turns to find the source of what's making him cold.

Giorno is on the veranda again.

At least the sun isn't up yet.

With a groan and a stretch, Mista pulls up the sweatpants he's sleeping in and gets out of bed. Even with socks on, the marble floor is icy as he walks across it.

Giorno's head twitches towards him as he steps outside. Mista doesn't say anything as he moves towards him, wrapping his arms around Giorno's bare chest and pressing a kiss at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

“You're freezing,” Mista murmurs, his voice low and groggy. The cold night air causes him to instinctively cling to Giorno tighter for warmth.  

“Just a little longer,” Giorno whispers, his fingers squeezing the hand Mista has on his chest. “I just...need a little longer.”

What Mista wants to do is tell him that he'll catch a cold standing out on a stone balcony in the middle of the night as he stares at the calm, black ocean. He wants to take him back inside and touch him until Giorno stops thinking about whatever he's thinking about. He wants Giorno to say what's on his mind.

But Giorno won't talk without Mista prodding him, and Mista isn't going to do that.

Even though he wants to.

He just holds Giorno tighter and watches the crashing waves with him.

***

Mista throws open the door to their bedroom and the two of them slink in, utterly exhausted from another day of nonstop meetings.

While the election in Italy was already over and done with, it meant that most time spared went to meeting with politicians and making sure their goals were in line with Giorno's own. His power over Passione, while uncontested at the start, could easily slip if public opinion was against them. Getting politicians, and more importantly, their delegates, on their side, was key to consolidation.

That didn't mean it wasn't tiresome.

“Fuck.” Mista undoes his tie with his index finger and tosses it aside, shrugging off his coat jacket and unbuttoning the dress shirt beneath it and letting it drop to the floor before he falls onto their bed face first.

Giorno is only barely more collected than he is, and manages to get his own jacket, shirt, and tie in a small pile near their hamper before sitting on the bed next to where Mista collapsed.

“I'm going to be hoarse tomorrow from how much I talked today,” Giorno takes out the hair tie holding his braid together and shakes it out, golden locks cascading loosely over his shoulders. “I think they'll all be willing to work with us, though.”

“They better be!” Mista groans and rolls over onto his back. “With all the money we're willing to throw at them, I'm gonna be real pissed off if they turn their backs on us now.”

Giorno makes a noise of affirmation. “Half of the people we met with are so corrupt they don't really have a choice, unless they want us to release all the information they'd rather keep hidden away.”

Mista snorts. “What information? The mistresses? The racist comments? The illegitimate children? Or a combination of all three?” He groans. “These guys are such assholes.”

Giorno hums in agreement, and stretches his arms out, his joints audibly popping. “I'd like to shower,” He rubs his hand against Mista's shoulder. “Join me?”

He looks at Giorno out of the corner of his eye. “You're gonna have to help me up for that to happen.”

Mista feels Giorno move off the bed to stand up, and shortly afterward the cool, alien hands of Gold Experience help bring him up into a sitting position. He holds his own hands out to Giorno, who gets him onto his feet.

“You'll feel better afterward.” Giorno says, then pecks him on the lips.

They step onto the granite flooring of their large, opulent bathroom. In the entryway sits a long, marble counter with two sinks inset into it, in front of a framed mirror that spans the upper half of the entire wall. A broad, stone archway leads into the bathroom proper. Their shower, one that could easily fit six, sits nestled in the corner, with a half-wall coming between it and the toilet. Across from it lies an elevated, oval, drop-in porcelain tub that's the size of a small pool, two marble steps leading up to it. Fine art lines the walls, and a glass chandelier hangs high above the floor.

Giorno takes off his pants and briefs and enters the small cave they call a shower, turning it on and waiting for the water to heat up. Mista manages to stop gawking at him long enough to shed himself of his own remaining clothes to join him.

He places a hand on Giorno's bicep and kisses his neck, letting warm water run down his tired body. Giorno turns and links his fingers with Mista's, and Mista bumps their foreheads together, wrapping his arm around Giorno's slim waist.

His thumb brushes over a raised spot, and Mista furrows his brow as he looks down at a long scar across his lower back. He's seen Giorno naked more times than he can count, but he's never noticed that scar before. A few other scars mar Giorno's back, but they almost seamlessly blend in with his pale skin.

“Woah, I never noticed those before. Were these from when we were guarding Trish? I'm surprised you haven't used Gold Experience to heal the tissue.”

Giorno's reaction is immediate and severe. He breaks away from Mista, almost as if he's been burned, and takes two steps back from him. He's shaking, just slightly, and Mista's hand stays hovering in the air as he tries to process what just happened.

“Giorno, what—.”

“Don't touch me.”

He speaks in a low, cold tone, and Mista bristles. He's two steps away from immense frustration until realization dawns on him.

“Oh.” Mista rubs at his arm. “I don't...do you want to ta—.”

“No,” Giorno interrupts, his stare placed firmly on the shower tile below him. “Let's just finish showering.”

Mista starts to reach out him.

“Hey, Giorno...”

Giorno's head jerks up and he cuts down whatever Mista was attempting to do. His eyes are dark and unmoving. The hot water of the shower does nothing for the ice in Mista's veins.

Resolve crumbling, Mista stays silent and reaches up to grab some shampoo that sits on an indent in the tile wall, and lathers it up in his hair. Giorno's tenseness fades, and he takes his own bottle of lavender-scented shampoo off its ledge.

They finish up the shower in silence.

They don't talk the rest of the night.

***

“This doesn't seem like something you need to do, Gio.”

Mista leans back in the Lamborghini, turning his head to the side to get a better look at Giorno, who seems nonplussed.

“Repeated attempts to get them to stop via intimidation haven't worked, and I have no intentions of bribing a drug dealer.” Giorno crosses his legs. “It's about sending a message, Guido.”

“Yeah, but I probably could've done this on my own.” Mista crosses his arms. “How long has this guy been dealing drugs? A month or so?”

“Longer than that, probably.” Giorno's cheek presses against the car window, and he sighs. “Signs point to this person being a stand user, and even though many of our soldatoj are good at what they do, a significant amount of them don't have stands.”

Mista hums. “Still, I don't think this is something you needed to involve yourself in. Like, I could've gone with another stand user and taken care of this.”

Giorno smiles, and Mista can feel himself relax.

“It'll be fine, Guido. If all goes well, we'll be drinking wine and eating bruschetta in an hour.”

The car turns and drops them off in a large, abandoned alley that's littered with cracked walls and graffiti, leaving no spot barren. Giorno and Mista begin to scope out the area the second their feet touch the dirty concrete.

“This is right, yeah?” Mista takes out his gun and checks the chamber. “Seems a bit...I dunno, seems kinda shitty even for a drug dealer.”

“From what we've been told, this is the place,” Giorno murmurs in response, pushing around loose debris with his foot as they round a corner away from the car. He keeps staring in the distance before his head sharply turns towards Mista. “Stay here and cover my back. Don't let anybody down this alley.”

Mista nods, and summons his stand. No. 6 follows behind Giorno as he rounds a corner. With his back up against a decaying brick wall, all Mista can do at this point is wait.

Five minutes pass until something feels off. It's a change in the air or something like that, but the hairs on the back of Mista's neck stand up, and he makes sure nobody is coming towards him before peeking his head around the corner.

Large swaths of flypaper litter the ground and walls, and Mista's eyes widen. He grabs a bullet out of his pocket and tosses it about a meter away from him, into one of the pieces of flypaper on the ground. The bullet lands, and sizzles, melting into a puddle of goo and soaking into the flypaper until no trace of it remains.

He's seeing nothing but red flags, and what finally gets him moving is an alert from one-sixth of his stand.

“Mistaaa! Giorno's in trouble!”

He bolts. It's tricky; flypaper is literally everywhere, giving him very little room for footwork. His balance falters, just enough for the leg of his pant to lower to the point where it touches the paper. Part of it sizzles and burns off, being absorbed and fading into nothing. Once the acid finally stops, he can make out indistinguishable voices around a corner about six meters away.

Mista jumps between the spaces, being extremely careful to not let any part of his body touch the flypaper. The closer he gets to the voices, the louder and more distinct Giorno's own voice gets. No. 6 is waiting for him, jabbing its little finger around the corner.

He sidles up against the corner, and peers his head around just enough to see what's happening.

A man has Giorno pinned against the dirty brick wall, one arm caught behind his back and the other pressed into a swath of flypaper on the wall, his pale skin burning away and filling the air with the stench of melting flesh. He's wearing jeans and a sleeveless denim vest, but what strikes Mista's eye the most is that the skin around his forearm looks utterly bizarre. What looks like a ream of paper—the same color as his splotchy flesh—is fanning out of his arm.

The man grins; any teeth that weren't missing entirely are a sickly yellow. “...It takes about five minutes for 'Scar Tissue' to completely disintegrate a human arm, clothes included.” He presses Giorno in closer to the wall, and Giorno glares at him out of the corner of his eye. “Next, it'll be your face, Giovanna.”

“Giorno!”

They both look towards Mista; both equal amounts surprised. Mista levels his gun, the momentary distraction giving him the perfect opening. He's milliseconds away from squeezing the trigger, before Gold Experience is out and the arm that Giorno has stuck in the flypaper is cut off by his stand.

Mista's eyes widen.

He's too stunned to move.

Blood gushes from the wound on Giorno's arm, but Giorno barely pays it a second thought. Gold Experience decks the man in the head and he hits the brick wall behind him, landing square against a sheet of his own stand. He doesn't even get time to scream before Gold Experience moves in crushes his windpipe. His body falls to the ground, lifeless, and the flypaper spattered around the area fades away.

Giorno sways on his feet, woozy from blood loss, but has Gold Experience punch out a brick from the wall. It transforms into an arm in just a few seconds, and he presses it against the stump, fusing together cells, veins, bone, and muscle until he's making a fist with his hand to confirm it's back on correctly.

He looks up at Mista, and smiles gently. The shock finally wears off for Mista, and he walks up to Giorno and shakes him.

“Giorno. What the fuck.” Mista hisses.

Giorno's eyes widen. It's not the reaction he was expecting.

“I had the perfect shot—he was going to have a bullet in his brain in a second. There was no reason for you to rip your arm off like that!”

He can feel himself raising his voice. Giorno scowls, and roughly removes Mista's hands from him.

“I had no guarantee that his stand would fade when he died.”

“There's only been two exceptions to that rule, Giorno! You couldn't have waited for me to shoot him before you ripped off your fucking arm?” Mista pulls at his hair with both hands, then rubs both down his face. “Don't—don't do that!”

“I can replace limbs, Guido. This isn't the first time I've done this, and I really don't think it's going to be the last.”

Giorno begins walking out of the alley, but Mista grabs onto his wrist to stop him.

“That doesn't make it okay! What the fuck?” Mista's voice is completely raised to a frustrated yell at this point. “There have been times where we've had to hurt ourselves to complete a mission, but this was not one of those times!”

Mista blinks, the red clearing from his vision, and he can see Giorno's entire body trembling. He lets go of his wrist like it's made of fire.

Giorno turns to Mista.

“Do not ever raise your voice at me.”

He tries to sound authoritative, but the tremor in his words betrays him. His hands, already pale, have turned even whiter from how hard he's clenching them. His eyes, normally a stoic and calm blue, are large and watery. Stray hairs fall from its normal braid, and frame his face in a way that makes the harsh angles look softer.

Giorno, Mista thinks morbidly, is finally acting his age.

All of the anger vanishes from Mista like a cloud of vapor. More than anything, he just feels so, so tired.

“Boss. Let's just get back to the car.”

Giorno doesn't respond to him, and Mista didn't really expect him to in the first place. They stand silently for a few more seconds before Giorno wordlessly leaves the alley and heads back to where the Lamborghini is parked.

The car ride back is silent. Giorno's reflection is in Mista's window, and he stares at it the whole time.

***

Three days later, and they've spoken less than 20 words to each other.

When a letter from SPW Foundation came in requesting a meeting with Giorno to “create a mutually beneficial business relationship”, all the details came from a meeting with Polnareff in the turtle. Giorno, conveniently, was out of his office when Mista entered and exited the turtle.

Just as conveniently, Mista wasn't needed for the discussion of how to go about meeting them.

That doesn't mean he didn't stand outside of Giorno's office and eavesdrop.

“You can't seriously be thinking about meeting him on your own,” Came Polnareff's voice, equal parts incredulous and concerned.

There's a brief pause in the conversation; presumably, Giorno is sipping his tea.

“We'll be meeting at a restaurant that I own. That I've been to several times, by myself, without issue. I really doubt that a stand user would attack me in such an obvious place.”

“There's always a chance,” Polnareff warns.

“Didn't you tell me that this man I'm meeting with was a stand user?” Giorno responds, his tone a little huffier than how a mob boss should sound.

“He's probably just as strong as you are,” Polnareff admits. “But he's not invincible. And neither are you.”

Giorno pauses again.

“I appreciate your concern, Polnareff, but I can take care of this on my own.”

Mista steps away from the open doorway, feeling a little hollow, and leaves before Giorno can tell he's been there.

Two days later, Giorno gets in his Rolls Royce and leaves for the restaurant. Five minutes later, Mista tails him on his motorcycle.

He hasn't done anything like this in a while, and it's nice to be able to get out of the palazzo without having to wear a suit. Even in ripped jeans and a grey hoodie, though, Giorno would easily recognize him, so keeping his distance is key. With a helmet covering his face, and a guitar case on his back to obscure the weapons he's carrying, he makes a sharp turn onto the street where the restaurant Giorno's going to is.

Mista can see Giorno's car drop him off at the entrance. The restaurant is open-air and viewing the sea, stone archways all around the perimeter. Marble stairs lead up to a second floor, thicker pillars holding up the ceiling with tables situated near the stone railing that runs along the second level. Potted plants hang from the middle of the archways, and granite tile lines the floor.    

Not even two blocks away from the restaurant is a modest apartment complex, six stories high, giving Mista a perfect vantage point to watch Giorno from. He turns into a narrow alley, parking his motorcycle near a dumpster and placing his helmet on the seat. Eyeing the fire escape, he ascends as quickly as he can given the weight he's carrying on his back.

By the time he's at the roof, he's wiping the sweat off of his brow, and he drops the guitar case as gently as he can before opening it and taking stock. A revolver, useful as it is in most situations, isn't suitable for this range, so he picks out the semi-automatic rifle taking up a good 50% of the case and attaches the ammo cartridge and scope to it. Ostensibly, everything is ready to go, but Mista can't help himself. He looks longingly at his revolver, and decides to grab it and some spare rounds anyway. He places the gun in the back of his pants and the ammo in his jean pocket.

Everything is finally set up. There's no wind in the air, and it's a perfectly sunny day. A cement half-wall runs around the roof of the building, and he rests the rifle on top of it to keep it as still as possible.

Mista closes one eye, stares through the scope to get a perfect visual of Giorno, and then he waits.

Giorno is certain nothing bad is going to happen; Mista is going to keep that certainty in tact.

He sends out No. 3 and No. 6 to hover near Giorno; close enough give Mista a broader visual range of the restaurant but far enough away that he's certain Giorno can't see them.

Giono sits, poised, at a table in the middle of the restaurant, his position shifting as he sees someone coming towards him. Mista follows his gaze, and his eyes widen as he spots a large, hulking brute of a man in a white coat speaking indistinctly to the host before he's ushered towards where Giorno is. He says something to Giorno, who responds, but he can only make out faint murmurs. Mista places his finger on the trigger and keeps watching as he urges No. 3 and No. 6 a little closer so he can hear their conversation.

“...It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Kujo. I have to say, I'm surprised to be meeting somebody from America. I had assumed they'd send a European agent.”

Kujo pulls out the chair across from Giorno, and sits. “I wanted to meet you for myself.” He scoots his chair in. “This was a good opportunity.”

Giorno's eyebrows go up, and he leans back in his chair. “All this way just to meet the Don of Passione for a business deal?”

“Yes and no,” He responds gruffly. “It...has more to do with your birth father.”

Giorno looks confused, and a little stunned. Out of all the things Kujo could've said, that was hardly something he could have expected.

“You..knew him?”

Kujo pauses.

“I killed him.”

There's a shift in the air. Giorno does his best to put on airs that he's unaffected, but Mista can tell, even through a scope, that he's torn. His body language cools, his arms crossing and his back pushing further against the chair. Kujo himself doesn't try to speak, instead taking long sips of his water as he waits patiently for Giorno to gather his thoughts.

It's some time before Giorno opens his mouth to speak, and he's noticeably unnerved when he does.

“...I spent most of my life wondering who my real father was. All I had was a picture my mother gave me. I had thought, maybe, that we would meet, at some point.” Giorno's fist clenches. A childhood notion, held on for this long, finally dashed.

Kujo very obviously doesn't know what to say, so he keeps quiet.

Giorno collects himself, and breathes in sharply.

“...Did he deserve it?”

Kujo, stoic as he is, manages to convey an expression most would call “surprised”.

He takes a long sip of water.

“I've never killed anyone who didn't deserve it.”

Giorno stares at him, silently urging him to continue. Kujo takes in a deep breath.

“Your father—Dio Brando...He killed hundreds of innocents—there's no official death toll, but I would put it at over 500.” Kujo gets quieter, and he stares down at clenched hands. “He killed my best friend. Two others were killed on his orders. He almost...killed my grandfather.”

Kujo's hand is trembling slightly as he brings it up to adjust his hat.

Giorno himself looks shaken, having to process too much information too quickly. Kujo has no reason to lie to him—his father being a killer dashes whatever fondness is left of him. He still has that picture in his wallet, and Mista has a feeling that it won't be there for much longer.

His eyelashes brush against his cheek as he blinks, and looks up at Kujo with a solemn expression. He responds, just barely above a whisper.

“I'm sorry.”

“...To give an answer your question: yes. I think he deserved it.”

It's quiet for a solid two minutes, before Giorno speaks up in a slightly wavy voice.

“How do you...cope? With losing your friends.”

Kujo smiles a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, and doesn't respond.

The conversation comes to an end in two ways: one, with Kujo's lack of response, and two, with a gunshot that cracks the air from a gun that isn't Mista's.

It's not a stand user that tries to kill Giorno, but a regular assassin with a regular gun. It's something they rarely deal with anymore, but the oversight cost them.

No. 6 kicks the bullet out of the way before it can hit its intended target of Giorno's head, landing squarely in his shoulder instead. Giorno hisses and leans forward, grasping at his wound. The sound of a gunshot has the other patrons screaming and running out of the restaurant, leaving it and the surrounding area mostly empty within minutes.

Giorno has Gold Experience out, ready to turn the bullet into muscle tissue, and then something in the atmosphere changes and Mista feels his skin prickle. The table they had just been sitting at has been flipped on its side; Kujo looms over Giorno, hand on his bicep, looking at the wound on his shoulder as Giorno sits down on the floor with the table as his cover. A pit forms in Mista's stomach—it had been so nauseatingly similar to how it had felt when time skipped.

He dwells on the feeling for too long, too distracted to realize that a large, buff, purple man is holding No. 6 between its thumb and index finger. Mista blanches as No. 6 kicks and screams, trying to get out.

Kujo shows it to Giorno. “Is this a stand? Is this what's causing this?”

Giorno looks at it in utter disbelief.

Kujo dives over to another table and kicks it over to use as cover just as another gunshot goes off, clipping his long overcoat. Mista grinds his teeth, then lets go of his rifle, making a mad dash down the fire escape. His heart thumps in his ears, legs sprinting as fast as he can down the street and into the restaurant.

Giorno takes on a look of sheer bafflement as he sees Mista running towards him, loading his revolver all the while.

“What—.”

Several bullets are shot towards Mista and all are casually kicked away by 1, 2, 5 or 7 and made into holes on nearby buildings. He dives down once he gets close enough to Giorno, and takes cover next to him, who looks at him with a mix of confusion and irritation.

“What are you—.”

Mista ignores what he's about to say and places his gun on the ground next to him. He puts both hands on the sides of Giorno's face, and pulls him in for a kiss. Giorno reflexively kisses back, but makes a confused sound in the back of his throat. Mista continues to ignore it, and after he breaks the kiss, he wraps his arms around Giorno tightly, squeezing him, as if confirming he's really still there.

Kujo stares at them. Mista ignores him the most.

“God, you're safe, okay.” He places one last kiss on Giorno's forehead, then lets go. He narrows his eyes and looks over at Kujo, who is still holding No. 6.

“Hey! Let go of my fucking stand!”

Kujo blinks, and stares at No. 6 with mild amusement, before what Mista assumes to be his stand lets it go.

Mista jerks his head and sends No. 6 off to find the gunman, but Kujo does the work for him by pointing up at pillar breaking up the railing on the second floor. Mista sees a shadow on the pillar behind it, and relocates No. 6 a little to the left of where he's standing, then shoots.

He hears a gurgled scream, labored breathing, and a thud—then no sounds follow.

“Is he dead?” He yells up towards No. 6.

“Yup! Got him right in the throat!”

Mista sighs, and slumps down against the table. He reaches for Giorno's hand, and squeezes it tightly. The adrenaline still hasn't worn off, and his whole body is shaking.

“When we get back, I'll give you guys some pepperoni. The good stuff, I promise.” No. 6 fades away and he hears all six pistols cheer in the back of his mind.

The restaurant is utterly deserted now save for himself, Giorno, and Kujo, with a few new bullet holes added to the decor. He turns to Giorno, still gripping his hand, and notices the blood running down his suit jacket.

“Hey, you haven't healed your shoulder yet.”

Giorno blinks, eyes wide.

“Oh. Right.”

Gold Experience is out, and the hole is closed in a second. He barely even reacts, and in fact seems more upset that his suit is ruined than anything else.

Mista rises to his feet, and helps Giorno up as well. He's a little unsteady, likely from the shock of being shot at, but Mista helps right him. He glances over to see Kujo, who's still sitting on the ground. He's not hurt, but by all accounts, he seems a bit exasperated by the whole ordeal.

He walks over to Kujo and offers him a hand to help him up; Kujo takes it, and Mista wheezes from helping up a man two times his size, nearly toppling over onto the ground from the effort.

“You didn't get hit, right?” Mista grimaces, rubbing his hand.

“I'm fine.” Kujo cocks his head slightly. “Who exactly are you.”

“Uh, Guido Mista.” He jabs his thumb towards Giorno. “I'm his Underboss.”

Kujo raises an eyebrow. Mista's face reddens under the scrutiny.

“...Right. I should be getting back to my hotel.” Kujo adjusts his hat, and looks over Mista's shoulder at Giorno. “We'll be in touch, Giorno Giovanna.”

Giorno jumps slightly, still a bit dazed, then nods. Kujo brushes past Mista, and heads towards a payphone across the street to call himself a cab.

As they wait for Giorno's car to pull back around, Mista heads back up to the apartment building roof and gathers up his weapons, placing them all back into the guitar case he brought them in. As he's coming back down the fire escape, he sees Giorno's chauffeur open the door to the Rolls Royce for him, and Giorno enters it.

Mista saddles up in his motorcycle, revs the engine, and follows it back.

***

Giorno stays quiet even as they get inside the palazzo, and Mista doesn't even bother trying to start a conversation. He follows Giorno up to their bedroom and lets him get changed, lets him wash his face, undo his hair, and watches silently as Giorno walks out onto the veranda.

He closes the door behind him. Mista stares at him through the paneled windows.

Something in him cracks.

He can't do this anymore.

Mista stomps towards the door to the veranda and throws it open. Giorno turns around to look at him in shock.

The sun lights him up from behind, bathing him in a golden hue. His loose hair brushes across his face in the breeze.

“Guido?”

“I don't know what to do.”

Giorno looks at him quizzically.

“I don't know how to say—I'm not,” Mista runs his hand down his face and sighs, then steels himself. “You can't—you can't do that again.” He's mindful of how he keeps the tone of his voice, trying to stay low and even. “The only reason there isn't a bullet lodged in your brain right now is because I was there. Don't ever do that again.”

“I know. And I can't thank you enough, Guido, but I can't talk about this right now.”

“Giorno.”

He takes Giorno's hands in his own.

Mista breathes in, breathes out, and then starts to talk.

“Listen. I don't know what happened in the past to you. It's something you obviously don't want to talk about and I'm not gonna press you on it—if you ever wanna tell me, that's fine, but you don't have to and I don't expect you to. I just gotta tell you that you don't have to do this all on your own. You shouldn't have to do this all on your own. You feel so far away from me sometimes, it's scary.”

“I know you wish Bucciarati was here. I do too, y'know? He was always better at shit like this; I hate wearing these suits, Giorno, it sucks so much. He would be so much better in this position than I would be. But it's up to me, now. It's my responsibility. And more than anything, I want to keep you safe, but you have to let me. You've always made me feel like I can do anything, now let me put that feeling to use.”

Mista squeezes his hands before he gets down on one knee, and kisses the ring finger on his right hand. He lets his lips linger before rising to his feet once more.

“...I'm not here for Bucciarati anymore. I'm here for you, Gio. I'll follow anywhere that you go, but please, let me walk beside you.”

Giorno looks at him with widened eyes and cheeks dusted pink. Mista squeezes his hands and smiles at him. The ocean waves crash around them, sunlight glimmering off the water.

Giorno's golden hair flutters about his face as he turns his gaze downwards.  

“...I remember making my own meals when I was two,” He murmurs, and Mista has to strain to hear him. “I learned how to do stitches by the time I was six because my step-dad...” He inhales sharply to cut himself off and lifts his head up to look at Mista with an emotion he rarely displays: uncertainty. “This...is entirely new territory for me, Guido. And I...I get scared sometimes.”

Giorno exhales sharply. The tension leaving his body is visible.

Mista pulls him into a hug, and Giorno winds his arms tightly around Mista's back, almost clingy.

“I'm just glad you finally said something.” Mista's voice is muffled in Giorno's hair, and he places a kiss against the top of his crown. “We can work this out. I'm...not great at this, either. But I don't want you to rely on just yourself from now on. Because you don't have to anymore.”

Giorno doesn't move or say anything for a bit, and Mista lets his words hang in the air. It's only several minutes later does he feel a small nod against his chest.

“...Okay.” Giorno pulls back, his hands sliding down to squeeze onto Mista's own once more. His voice is soft and tentative. Large blue eyes lock with Mista's own deep brown ones, and Giorno gives a small, genuine smile. “I can try. I want to try.”

Mista grins, and dips his head to catch Giorno's mouth in a kiss.

The sea salt lingers in the air as they stay on the veranda, watching the sun set. Mista keeps Giorno firmly in his arms. When the night air becomes too chilly to bear for any longer, Giorno takes him by the hand and leads him inside to lay on the bed. Throughout the night, they stay curled together in a warm embrace.

***

Things weren't always smooth.

Sometimes Mista had to insist more than he should have in order to get Giorno to crack. Sometimes Giorno would still take on more than necessary. Sometimes Mista would take long breaks outside of the palazzo because he was too overcome with frustration.

But things were improving. Things were better than they had been.

There was one day, one specific day, where Mista could tell the progress was being made—he would never be able to forget it.

He had woken up from a crick in his neck, his eyes adjusting to the soft blue hues of the room indicating the sun was starting to rise. Instinctively, he had looked towards the door to the veranda, but the curtains obscuring the windowed door had been closed.

Giorno had stayed, curled up against his chest, breathing softly, looking perfect even in his sleep.

Mista, with a grin on his face, had pushed back his hair and kissed his forehead, before wrapping an arm tighter around Giorno's waist and falling back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

[aletha411-blog]

Instant Pot Oxtail

1 tablespoon vegetable oil 2 pounds oxtails 1 teaspoon salt ¼ teaspoon ground black pepper 2 carrots peeled and diced 2 celery stalks diced 1 onion diced 2 cloves garlic minced 2 tablespoons tomato paste ⅓ cup red wine optional – I recommend dry sherry 2 cups beef or chicken broth 2 sprigs fresh thyme or ½ teaspoon dried thyme 1 bay leaf

On the Instant Pot press on SAUTE twice to choose the MEDIUM setting, and heat the oil. The screen will show the HOT message. Add the oxtails to sear. Season with salt and pepper, then start moving them around until browned from all sides. If you feel like your pot is overcrowded, work in batches with more oil. When that is done, switch off the sauté setting. Add the wine if using, and broth and deglaze with it. Add the carrot, celery, onion, garlic, and tomato paste. Give everything a good stir. Add a bay leaf, and some fresh or dry thyme. Secure the lid and set the vent to SEALING. Select the PRESSURE COOK/MANUAL setting and set the cooking time for 45 minutes at high pressure. The Instant Pot will take around 10-15 minutes to come to pressure and start cooking. When the cooking program ends, allow the steam to release naturally. Carefully remove the lid, and the oxtails are ready to be served. Skim fat from the liquid if using, and thicken with cornstarch slurry. ***NOTES*** If using wine, choose an inexpensive dry red wine like chianti, sherry, cabaret sauvignon, merlot, or shiraz. Pinot wine isn’t suitable for this kind of cooking. Don’t skip searing the meat, as the best flavor develops when searing the meat first.

[gelasssoek]

Pasta and meatballs. Serve pasta with a healthy scoop of meatballs and sauce. A wicked meatball recipe from Jamie Oliver. "This really easy beef and pork meatball recipe with simple tomato sauce delivers big on flavour - a simple, wholesome dinner for the whole family. " Cheesy Meatball Pasta Bake with Prego Pasta Sauce from Wal Mart ~ Noreen's Kitchen ~ #AD. Creamy Garlic Tuscany Meatballs ~ Meatball Recipe with Cream Tuscan Sauce.

Meatballs and pasta, it's a classic! Make the meatballs: In a large bowl, combine the ground beef, ground pork, reserved onion and garlic mixture, bread crumbs, ricotta. This spaghetti meatball recipe is made all the more authentic with traditional Italian meatballs.

Hello everybody, it is Jim, welcome to my recipe page. Today, I'm gonna show you how to prepare a distinctive dish, pasta and meatballs. One of my favorites. For mine, I'm gonna make it a bit tasty. This will be really delicious.

Pasta and meatballs is one of the most popular of current trending foods in the world. It is easy, it is fast, it tastes delicious. It is appreciated by millions every day. Pasta and meatballs is something that I have loved my whole life. They are fine and they look wonderful.

Serve pasta with a healthy scoop of meatballs and sauce. A wicked meatball recipe from Jamie Oliver. "This really easy beef and pork meatball recipe with simple tomato sauce delivers big on flavour - a simple, wholesome dinner for the whole family. " Cheesy Meatball Pasta Bake with Prego Pasta Sauce from Wal Mart ~ Noreen's Kitchen ~ #AD. Creamy Garlic Tuscany Meatballs ~ Meatball Recipe with Cream Tuscan Sauce.

To begin with this recipe, we have to prepare a few ingredients. You can have pasta and meatballs using 19 ingredients and 14 steps. Here is how you cook it.

The ingredients needed to make Pasta and meatballs:

{Prepare of meatball.

{Get 1 large of onion finely chop 1/3 and roughly chop the other 2/3 and set aside for sauce.

{Make ready 500 grams of ground beef or whatever meat you're using.

{Take 1 slice of white bread made into breadcrumbs in a food processor or use a crust of bread and grate it.

{Make ready 1 1/2 tsp of salt.

{Get 1/2 tsp of ground black pepper.

{Take 1 large of egg.

{Prepare 1 tbsp of herb or spice of choice, I used basil and oregano. your spices/herbs should total 1 tblsp, be careful and use less if you're using chilli powder - 1 tsp is enough.

{Make ready of basic tomato sauce.

{Make ready 1 tbsp of extra virgin olive oil.

{Get 2/3 of onion roughly chopped (saved from making meatballs).

{Prepare 2 clove of garlic finely chopped or pressed.

{Prepare 400 grams of chopped canned tomatoes in juice or use fresh tomatoes chopped sprinkled with the salt and sugar and left to sit and ooze their juices for about half an hour (skins will come off during cooking so if you don't want them you can skim them off at that point.

{Get 2 cup of water to add during cooking to keep the sauce loose and ensure it does not burn, it will evaporate during the cooking process.

{Take 1 tsp of salt.

{Get 2 tsp of granulated sugar.

{Make ready 1/4 tsp of ground black pepper.

{Take 1 tbsp of basil & oregano or a herb/spice to complement those you have used in the meatball.

{Prepare 1 cup of red wine (optional) i used Chianti to keep this dish Italian.

For a great spaghetti and meatball recipe you need a simple tomato sauce with lots of flavour. This one is a store cupboard saviour. Combine water, meatballs, pasta, pasta sauce and Italian seasoning in the Instant Pot. Secure the lid, making sure the vent is closed.

Instructions to make Pasta and meatballs:

Heat oven to 200º.

Put all of the ingredients into a bowl and mix thoroughly. I'm making a tomato sauce so any herb or spice can be used. You can also change the meat - try pork mince with a touch of cinnamon and 2 tablespoons of apple sauce or lamb mince with 1 tablespoon of ketchup and 1 tablespoon mint jelly..

With wet hands to stop the meat sticking, form 16 balls, the size of a golf ball.

Line a baking tray with greaseproof paper and evenly space the meatballs. As they cook the fat will run off the paper to the tray underneath and the balls will not sit in fat.

Put tray in centre of oven and bake for 30 minutes.

Now to make the tomato sauce.

Put the oil into a saute pan and warm through, add the onions and gently fry until they become transparent.

Add the garlic and stir it in for about a minute - You want to allow the oils to come out of the garlic and flavour the dish, but you do NOT want it to burn.

Now add the tomatoes and bring it up to a fast simmer over a low heat - stir regularly and add water in to stop the sauce thickening too much and also to stop it from burning.

Add all of the seasonings - salt, pepper, sugar, herbs/spices and stir in. Allow the sauce a few minutes to simmer then add the wine if you're using it, otherwise keep simmering and adding the water for another 10 minutes.

At this point you have a basic tomato sauce, I'm going to blend mine into a puree, but you can leave it chunky and add in thick cut vegetables during the simmering time such as courgette and red pepper. Or if you like just a nice rustic sauce to serve with your pasta then whilst cooking the onion add chunks of chorizo and lardons (chunks of bacon) then vegetables at the simmering stage.

Choose your pasta - I prefer spaghetti but the children like fusilli - you can use any pasta of your choice.

Drain your cooked pasta and either pour in the sauce and set it over a low heat to allow the pasta to absorb the liquids from the sauce and add the meatballs whilst stirring gently to ensure there is no sticking or pile up your pasta, arrange your meatballs and pour over the sauce.

It's even better with a little fresh grated parmesan cheese either on the top of the dish or stirred into the plain pasta before serving.

Using the display panel select the MANUAL function*. My delicious Spaghetti and Meatballs are a family favourite. Tender, juicy meatballs in a rich tomato sauce. NOTE: you can swap out the dried pasta for my homemade fresh pasta. Place pasta on dinner plates and top with meatballs and sauce and extra grated cheese.

So that's going to wrap it up for this exceptional food pasta and meatballs recipe. Thanks so much for your time. I am confident you can make this at home. There is gonna be interesting food in home recipes coming up. Remember to save this page on your browser, and share it to your loved ones, friends and colleague. Thank you for reading. Go on get cooking!

[ninovalibrary]

Soorten Wijn – Alle soorten wijn

De wijn smaakt heerlijk. Maar soms kan het verwarrend zijn; druivenrassen, jaren, regio’s …

Soorten Wijn – Alle soorten wijn

Wat staat er op het wijnetiket?

Wijnsoorten hebben alleen betrekking op wijn gemaakt van een bepaalde druif. Verschillende wijnen in de Verenigde Staten zijn vaak vernoemd naar de dominante druiven die worden gebruikt bij het maken van wijn. Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Chardonnay, Riesling, Pinot Noir en Chenin Blanc zijn voorbeelden van druivenrassen. Als een wijnfles verschillende markeringen (zoals Merlot) op het etiket heeft, betekent dit dat de wijn in de fles ten minste 75% van het druivenras is (bijvoorbeeld ten minste 75% Merlot).

Het uiterlijk van wijnen op het etiket vertelt de consument wat hij van de wijn kan verwachten. Daarom is het belangrijk om de basisvariabelen te leren.

Wijnetiketten in Amerika geven ook informatie over plaatsen zoals de hier getoonde Mondavi “Napa Valley” Cabernet Sauvignon. Dit geeft aan dat de Cabernet-druiven in de wijn werden geteeld in het officiële wijngebied van Napa Valley.

De meer algemene generieke namen van wijnrassen worden gebruikt om wijn te beschrijven zonder enige informatie over het type druif dat wordt gebruikt of waar het wordt geteeld. Voorbeelden Rode wijn, Witte wijn, tafelwijn.

Wat staat er op het wijnetiket?

Plaats van herkomst

Namen zoals Chablis of Chianti zijn geborduurd met deze geografische oorspronkelijke namen. Chablis was oorspronkelijk een product uit Chianti, Frankrijk, en een product uit Italië. Deze wijnen gebruikten deze namen om hun plaats van herkomst aan te geven.

Sommige wijnen worden aangeduid met verschillende namen die wijnen alleen aan het begin van het land van herkomst of regionale wijnen toestaan. Pommard uit Frankrijk en Rudesheimer uit Duitsland.

Alle soorten wijn

Alle soorten wijn

Albariño wijntype

Een selectie verse, verfrissende en lichte wijnen en Spaanse witte wijndruiven.

Aligote

Witte wijndruiven geteeld in Bourgondië produceren medium en frisse en droge wijnen met hun kruidige karakter.

Amarone

Een sterk, droog, duurzaam rood gemaakt van een gedeeltelijk gedroogde rode druivenmix uit de regio Veneto in Italië.

Arneis wijntype

Lichte wijn, regio Piemonte in Italië

Asti Spumante

Het is een semi-mousserende wijn verkregen van de druiven van Moscato di Canelli en het dorp Asti in de regio Piemonte in Italië.

Auslese

Het is de naam gegeven aan witte wijnen verkregen uit druiven die zeer volwassen en grote hoeveelheden suiker bevatten.

Banylus

Een Franse wijn van Grenache-druiven wordt verkregen uit de late oogst en geserveerd met chocolade of voedsel, afhankelijk van de smaak van de wijn. Volgens de wet moet wijn 15 procent alcohol bevatten.

Barbaresco

Gemaakt van Nebbiolo-druiven, is het rode wijnras uit de regio Piemonte in Italië lichter dan Barolo.

Bardolino wijntype

Lichtrode wijn uit de regio Veneto in Italië. De wijnen van verschillende druiven zijn granaatkleurig, droog, licht bitter en soms helder.

Barolo-wijnsoorten

Italiaans rood gemaakt van Nebbiolo-druiven. Donker, vol en rijk aan tannines en alcohol.

Beaujolais

Beaujolais is een wijnsoort. Typische, lichte, frisse, fruitige rode wijnen zijn te vinden in Bourgondië, in het zuiden van Frankrijk, in de buurt van Lyon. Gebieden: Beaujolais-Blanc, Beaujolais-dorpen, Brouilly, Chénas, Chiroubles, Fleurie, Julienas, Mouliné-à-Vent, Morgon, Regnie, Saint Amour.

Blanc de Blancs

Champagne of witte wijn gemaakt van witte druiven.

Blanc de Noirs

Witte of blush wijn of champagne gemaakt van donkere druiven. Deze wijnen worden Blanc de Noirs genoemd.

Blozen

De Amerikaanse term voor Rosé. Alle soorten wijn in roze kleur.

Boal of Bual

Produceert medium zoete wijnen geteeld op het eiland Madeira.

Brunello

Dit Sangiovese-type is de enige druif die is toegestaan ​​voor zeldzame zeldzame dure Toscaanse rode Brunello di Montalcino. Zoete zwarte en rode bessen met kauwtannines.

Cabernet Franc

Rode wijndruiven gemengd met Cabernet Sauvignon in Bordeaux. Het is een rode wijn die rijpt vanwege het lage tanninegehalte. Cabernet Sauvignon en een medium-light wijn met meer fruit dan een van de kruidachtige geuren duidelijk zichtbaar in de onrijpe Cabernet Sauvignon.

Cabernet Sauvignon

Fruit, pruimen, zwarte kersen en kruiden, olijven, vanillemunt, tabak, geroosterde ceder, anijs, zwarte peper en kruiden. Na 15 tot 30 maanden verzacht Cabernet tandoor in Amerikaanse en Franse eiken vaten en voegt gefrituurde ceder- en vanillesmaken toe.

Carignan

Het staat bekend als Carignane in Californië en Cirnano in Italië. Carignan, een zeer goede druivenmix voor karafwijn, is in populariteit afgenomen ondanks het uiterlijk in sommige mengsels. Na de dichtheid worden oude wijngaarden gezocht.

Carmenere

Het staat ook bekend als Grande Vidure, dat ooit in Bordeaux werd geplant. Nu vooral geassocieerd met Chili. Carmenere werd in de jaren 1850 in Chili geïmporteerd. Carmenere wordt niet vaak geëtiketteerd door de meeste fabrikanten, en de Chileense overheid ziet het als Merlot.

Spaanse champagne

Spaanse mousserende wijn. De wordt geproduceerd door Champenoise.

Charbono

Het wordt voornamelijk gevonden in Californië (waarschijnlijk Dolcetto). Meestal mager en getuige. Verschillende wijnhuizen produceren nog steeds.

Champagne

Champagne is de enige wijn die mensen in veel stijlen accepteren. Champagnes variëren van brandende, zelden geoxideerde, fruitige en gistkarakters, tot licht en citrus, en alles daartussenin. Elk van deze wijnen kan vervolgens worden vervangen door een bepaalde mate van zoetheid, van droge botten tot suikersiroop. De flesleeftijd verandert ook het gewicht en het karakter van elk van deze stijlen.

Chardonnay

Appel, Peer, Vanille, Vijg, Perzik, Ananas, Meloen, Citrus, Citroen, Grapefruit, Honing, Specerijen, Boter, Boter en Noten. Chardonnay is goed voor de gisting van eiken en vaten die gemakkelijk kunnen worden gemanipuleerd door technieken zoals veroudering en malolactische gisting.

Chateauneuf-du-Pape

De beroemdste wijnen van het zuidelijke Rhônedal worden onder dezelfde naam en in de regio geproduceerd (zomerpoppetjes in Avignon in de pauspopulatie). Duizeligheid met rode, rijke, rijpe en verloren alcoholgehaltes en kauwbare rustieke smaken. Hoewel hier 13 druivenrassen worden geplant, zijn de belangrijkste rassen Grenache, gevolgd door Syrah, Cinsault en Mourvèdre (ook Vaccarese, Counoise, Terret noir, Muscardin, Clairette, Piquepoul, Picardan, Rousanne, Bourboulenc).

Chenin Blanc

De inwoners van de Loire vormen de basis van de beroemde blanken: Vouvray, Anjou, Quarts de Chaume en Saumer. Andere gebieden zijn zeer goed gemengde druiven. In Zuid-Afrika wordt dit Stone en de meeste gecultiveerde druiven genoemd. Californië gebruikt het over het algemeen als een gemengde druif voor algemene tafelwijnen. Je kunt een mooie wijn hebben met meloen, perzik, kruiden en citrus. Grote Loire-wijnen kunnen droog, vers en zoet zijn, afhankelijk van de producent.

Chianti

Het licht robijnrode granaat van deze fruitige druivenmix kan Chianti Riserva worden genoemd als hij drie of meer jaar oud is.

Chianti Classico

Van een aangewezen deel van de wijnstreek Chianti. Om het Chianti Classico-label te ontvangen, moeten zowel de wijngaard als de wijnmakerij zich in het opgegeven gebied bevinden.

Donker rood

Het is de naam die wordt gegeven aan de wijnen die door de Britten worden gebruikt voor rode Bordeaux-wijnen.

Colombard

Bijna allemaal zijn ze de meest gekweekte witte variëteit voor karafwijn in Californië. Overvloedige producten produceren ongeveer 11 ton per hectare en produceren schone en eenvoudige wijnen.

Constantia

Deze legendarische zoete wijn uit Zuid-Afrika was de favoriet van Napoleon. Groot komt uit een landgoed genaamd Constantia.

Cortese

Witte wijndruiven geteeld in Piemonte en Lombardije. De meest bekende voor wijn, Gavi. Druiven produceren een lichte, frisse, evenwichtige wijn.

Dolcetto

Het produceert zachte, ronde, fruitige wijnen met de geur van zoethout en amandelen in het noordwesten van Piemonte.

Eiswein

“Iced wine dessert Een zoete Duitse wijn gemaakt van bevroren druiven in druiven. Bevriezing verzamelt suiker in druiven vóór de oogst.

Frascati

Een Italiaanse fruitige, gouden witte wijn kan droog zijn als dessert.

Fümé Blanc

Zie de Sauvignon Blanc

Gamay

Beaujolais krijgt zijn beroemde fruitige rood alleen van Gamay Noir à Jus Blanc van vandaag. Als het alcoholgehalte laag is en het zuurgehalte relatief hoog, moeten de wijnen onmiddellijk na het bottelen worden gedronken; Het laatste voorbeeld is Beaujolais Nouveau, dat bijna ‘s nachts op planken wordt geplaatst. Het groeit ook in de Loire, maar produceert geen opmerkelijke wijn. Het groeit uitgebreid omdat het wordt geassocieerd met de Zwitserse Pinot Noir; ze produceren meestal wijn.

Gamay Beaujolais

Het is een variëteit uit Californië die ongemarkeerde wijnen produceert. Wordt voornamelijk gebruikt voor het mengen.

Gattinara

Piemonte rood gemaakt van Nebiolo wordt gemengd met andere druiven. Sterk en duurzaam.

Gewürztraminer

Een onderscheidend bloemboeket en kruidige smaak zijn de kenmerken van deze medium zoete wijn. Het wordt over het algemeen verbouwd in de Elzas, Frankrijk en Duitsland, evenals in Californië, Ia, Oost-Europa, Australië en Nieuw-Zeeland.

Grappa

Een Italiaanse geest werd uit de pijp gedestilleerd. Drink na het drinken van droge en sterke alcohol.

Grenache

Het werd eerst gemengd voor de productie van Rose en Blush-wijnen in Californië en gemengd voor de productie van Chateauneuf-du-Pape in Frankrijk. Oorspronkelijk uit Spanje, is het de meest geteelde druif ter wereld. Produceert een fruitige, kruidige, medium bodied wijn.

Johannisberg Riesling

Bekijk het assortiment Riesling-wijnen

Kir Royale

Een snack uit Bourgondië, Frankrijk. Een glas droge witte wijn en een theelepel custard de cassis maken dit populaire drankje. Gebruik champagne of mousserende wijn om Kir Royale te maken.

Lambrusco

Warme, droge, zoete wijn gemaakt van druiven met dezelfde naam, meestal uit Noord-Italië.

Liebfraumilch

Een gemengd Duits wit, halfzoet en zeer neutraal, goed voor 50 procent van alle Duitse wijnexport.

Madeira

Een versterkte wijn genoemd naar het eiland waar druiven worden verbouwd. De wijn wordt langzaam in de tank verwarmd bij een temperatuur boven 110 ° F en kan maanden worden gekoeld. Stijlen variëren van rozijnen, druiven tot rijke en zoete Boal en Malmsey.

Malbec

Merlot en de twee Cabernets vervingen de niet-harde druiven die belangrijk waren in de verschillende mengsels in Bordeaux en de Loire. Argentinië is echter behoorlijk succesvol in deze variabele. In de Verenigde Staten is Malbec een gemengde druif die onbeduidende maar verschillende wijnmakers gebruikt, de meest voor de hand liggende reden is dat het wordt gezien als onderdeel van het gemengde Bordeaux-recept.

Marcin

Een gedistilleerde geest gemaakt van pijpen bekend onder verschillende namen in de wereld. Italië noemt het grappa; Bordeaux, Marc de Bourgogne; Marc de Champagne.

Marsala

Gemaakt van Grillo, Catarratto of Inzolia druiven, deze Siciliaanse wijn kan droog of zoet zijn en wordt vaak gebruikt bij het koken.

Marsanne

Enkele van de oudste wijngaarden ter wereld, populair in Rhône en Australië (vooral Victoria), zijn dichte wijn van plantenschaduw, peren en citrusvruchten. De grote Rhone Rangers in Californië behaalden aanzienlijk succes in deze diversiteit.

Weide

Middeleeuws, een wijn verkregen door het vergisten van honing en water, is gebruikelijk in Europa. De wijnmakers maken nu gearomatiseerd vlees.

Meritage

In 1989 schreef hij zich in bij het Amerikaanse ministerie van handelsmerken en patenten door een groep presidenten die normen wilden vaststellen voor de identificatie van rode en witte wijnen gemaakt van traditionele Bordeaux-melanges. Omdat 75% van een enkele cultivar niet werd gebruikt, hadden ze een naam voor deze wijnen nodig, dus het label kon een bepaalde druivencultivar niet identificeren. De Meritage werd gekozen omdat het een combinatie van twee woorden was: verdienste en erfgoed. Wijn die als erfgoed moet worden vermeld: meng twee of meer Bordeaux-druivensoorten: Rode wijnen / Cabernet Franc, Cabernet Sauvignon, Carmenere, Gros Verdot, Malbec, Merlot, Petite Verdot en St. Macaire. Witte wijnen / Sauvignon Blanc, Muscadelle en Sémillon. Heb minder dan 90% van elke variëteit. Het wijnhuis maakt de beste wijn in zijn soort. Een alias gemaakt van een Amerikaanse druif en gebotteld van een Amerikaanse druif.

Merlot

Specerijen, groene olijven, kersen en chocolade. Minder bruining dan Cabernet, zachter en zachter, eerder klaar om te drinken. Eik is goed voor veroudering. Het wordt vaak gebruikt als een wijn gemengd met Cabernet om zacht te worden.

Montepulciano

Medium en full colour wijn heeft een goede kleur en textuur. Het staat bekend om zijn kwaliteit en waarde.

Moscato

Zie Muscat-wijnen.

Mourvèdre

Een mooie middelzware wijn met kruidige kersen- en fruitsmaken en medium tannine. Meestal gebruikt in Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

M��ller-Thurgau

Het kruis van twee druiven, Sylvaner en Riesling. Het groeit voornamelijk in Duitsland, Noord-Italië en Nieuw-Zeeland. Het kan droog tot licht en medium tot droog zijn.

Nootmuskaat druiven

Ook bekend als Muscat Blanc en Muscat Canelli. Kan worden gebruikt om te mengen met verschillende plant- en bloemtinten. Een veelzijdige druif van Asti Spumante en Muscat de Canelli tot Muscat d’Alsace.

Nebbiolo

Grote druiven uit Noord-Italië, sterke en duurzame wijnen die opvallen in Barolo en Barbaresco. Nebbiolo heeft elders gefaald en heeft nu zelfs een kleine plaats in Californië. In tegenstelling tot Italiaanse variëteiten zijn de wijnen licht en complex.

Petit Verdot

Gemengd met Cabernet Sauvignon uit Bordeaux, Frankrijk.

Petite Sirah

De aroma’s van pruimen en bramen markeren deze diepe, robijnrode rode wijn. Het zit meestal vol met gekauwde tannines. Gebruikt als een gemengde wijn in Frankrijk en Californië. Het gaat niet om de Syrah van Frankrijk.

Pinot blanc

De smaak en textuur die lijkt op Chardonnay wordt gebruikt in Champagne, Bourgondië, Elzas, Duitsland, Italië en Californië en kan een uitstekende wijn maken. Kan dicht en complex zijn met tonen van rijpe peer, gras, citrus en honing.

Pinot Grigio / Pinot Gris

In het beste geval produceert deze variëteit zachte, geparfumeerde wijnen die kleurrijker zijn dan andere witte wijnen. Het groeit voornamelijk in het noordoosten van Italië, maar het groeit in de Elzas als Pinot Gris en staat bekend als Tokay.

Pinot Meunier

Hij groeide op in de Champagne-regio van Frankrijk en bracht Pinot Noir en Chardonnay samen.

Pinot noir

Dit was de nobele druif van Bourgondië. Het is moeilijk om te groeien, maar in het beste geval is het zachter en rijker dan tannines van Cabernet Sauvignon. Smaken van zwarte kers, kruiden en rozijnen met schaduwrijke frambozen eronder. Champagne wordt veel gebruikt bij het maken van mousserende wijn.

Pinotage

Een kruising tussen Pinot Noir en Cinsault. Geteeld in Zuid-Afrika. Het wordt gefermenteerd bij hoge temperaturen en gerijpt in de nieuwe eik voor delicatesse en heerlijke fruitsmaken.

Haven

Versterkte wijn uit de Douro-regio van Portugal. Stijlen zijn Late Bottle (LB), Tawny, Ruby, Aged en Vintage. Meestal zoet en rood.

Retsina

Droge witte Griekse wijn op smaak gebracht met dennenhars. Dit is een verworven smaak gebaseerd op het oude Griekenland. De dominante smaak is terpentijn. Het bloemige aroma en aroma van Riesling-abrikoos en tropisch fruit zijn kenmerkend voor dit brede assortiment wijnen. Stijlen variëren van droog tot zoet.

Roze

Het wordt soms blozen genoemd. Elke zoete en droge lichtroze wijn is een van de variëteiten gemaakt door het verwijderen van rode druivenschillen aan het begin van het gistingsproces, of met een mengsel van rood en wit.

Roussanne

Witte wijndruiven in het noorden van het Rhônedal, de eerste Marsanne, worden gemengd met witte wijndruiven.

Sangiovese

Volle smaken bekend met flexibele texturen, medium met frambozen en anijs. Sangiovese wordt gebruikt in veel fijne Italiaanse wijnen, waaronder Chianti. Deze wijnen worden Sangiovese genoemd.

Sauterns

Bij inenting met Botrytis cinerea, die de zoetheid en alcohol van wijn verhoogt, wordt het vaak een mengsel van Sémillon en Sauvignon Blanc-druiven genoemd.

Sauvignon blanc

Grasachtige en kruidachtige smaken en aroma’s benadrukken soms lichte en medium-body wijn met hints van kruisbes en fruit. In Californië wordt het vaak het Fume Blanc-label genoemd. Nieuw-Zeeland produceert enkele van de beste Sauvignon Blancs in een uitgesproken fruitige stijl.

De Semillon

De basis van de droogste witte wijnen uit Sauternes, Graves en Pessac-Léognan. Ingewikkeld met tonen van vijgen, peren, tabak en honing, kan het een geweldige late oogstwijn maken. Het voegt body, smaak en textuur toe aan de Sauvignon Blanc. Het kan worden gemengd met Chardonnay, maar voegt geen extra toe.

Sherry

Verrijkte wijn uit de regio Jerez de la Frontera in Zuid-Spanje. Palomino is de belangrijkste druivensoort, Pedro Ximénez wordt gebruikt voor meer zoete en zware wijnen. Drogen kan het best worden geserveerd als het is afgekoeld; Gemiddeld tot zoet, het beste op kamertemperatuur. Stijlen van droog tot zeer zoet: Manzanilla, Fino, Amontillado, Oloroso, Pale Cream, Cream, Palo en Pedro Ximénez. Shiraz / Syrah Zwarte kers, kruiden, zwarte peper, teer en zachte tannines maken deze wijn een groeiende favoriet. Samen met vroege drinkbaarheid, heeft het een goed verouderingsvermogen om meer complexe wijnen te creëren.

Soave

Heldere witte wijn in de regio Veneto in Italië. Symphony Symphony is een kloon van UC Davis. Alexandria Muscat en Grenache Gris-druiven werden in 1948 gecombineerd om deze Muscat-smaak te creëren. Heel anders

Hongaarse likeurwijn

Zie Pinot Gris wijnselectie

Traminer

Duits woord voor druiven. Zie Gewürztraminer.

Trebbiano

Trebbiano in Italië en Ugni Blancin in Frankrijk. Het komt voor in bijna elke basis witte Italiaanse wijn en is eigenlijk een goedgekeurd onderdeel van het mengsel dat wordt gebruikt voor Chianti. In Frankrijk wordt het vaak Stilion genoemd en gebruikt voor cognac cognac en Armagnac.

Ugni Blanc

Zie Trebbiano-wijnen

Valpolicella

Lichte, semi-rode, meestal jonge dronken uit de regio Veneto in Italië.

Verdicchio

Italiaans wit met een bleke, lichte en heldere wijn.

Viognier

Viognier is een van de moeilijkste druiven om te kweken. Het produceert een fruitige en kruidige witte wijn met medium en full body, abrikozen- en perzikaroma’s.

Zinfandel

Zinfandels kunnen dik en intens zijn, licht en fruitig, met overheersende frambozensmaken en kruidig ​​aroma. Het is het beste om de smaken van kers, wild fruit en pruim te mengen met huid-, grond- en teertinten. Het is de meest geteelde druif in Californië. Het verandert in witte Zinfandel en sommige zijn zoet.

Bonus – Soorten Wijn

Bonus – Soorten Wijn

De meeste wijnen worden geproduceerd uit de Vitus Vinifera-druivenfamilie: uitzonderingen gemaakt van “Vitis Labrusca” -druiven, zoals Concord. Deze wijnen moeten ten minste 51% van het druivenras bevatten en moeten op het etiket worden vermeld. Als het etiket geen percentage-indicator bevat, moet de wijn ten minste 75% van het type “labrusca” bevatten.

In dit artikel probeerden we informatie te geven over wijnen van A tot Z.

Bron: https://www.wines.com/wine-varietals/

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[giuliocavalli]

Come sta pagando Gianni Zonin, l'artefice del crac della Banca Popolare di Vicenza? Con una multa.

Come sta pagando Gianni Zonin, l'artefice del crac della Banca Popolare di Vicenza? Con una multa. (A proposito di oppressi e oppressori. L'articolo di Franco Vanni per Repubblica) L' ultima tegola - forse anche l' unica - è la multa Consob. Gianni Zonin, per diciannove anni presidente della Banca Popolare di Vicenza fino alle dimissioni nel novembre 2015, deve pagare 370mila euro per illeciti nella vendita di azioni alla clientela, negli anni belli in cui la Popolare quotava il titolo 62,50 euro. Un valore irreale, polverizzato quando il meccanismo delle operazioni "baciate" è venuto alla luce. E quando, alla prova del mercato, le azioni sono passate di mano a 10 centesimi l'una. Ma è solo la punta dell' iceberg. Il 79enne re del vino è indagato a Vicenza per aggiotaggio e ostacolo alla vigilanza. Un' inchiesta che procede al rallentatore, paralizzata dal conflitto fra procura vicentina e ufficio del giudice per le indagini preliminari. La banca, dal canto suo, nell' aprile scorso ha presentato al tribunale di Venezia un atto di citazione di 340 pagine in cui chiede a Zonin e ad altri 31 ex dirigenti di risarcire 2 miliardi, per «una delle più eclatanti debacle finanziarie del dopoguerra. La storia di un vero e proprio intreccio, un groviglio di rapporti mai trasparenti, tra la banca e i suoi vertici e tra questi e alcuni selezionati clienti, culminato in un epilogo drammatico ». Parola di Fabrizio Viola, eletto amministratore delegato della Popolare il 6 dicembre scorso. Gianni Zonin attende l' arrivo della tempesta a Gambellara, Vicenza. Passeggia fra le vigne che un tempo erano sue, ma che dal 20 gennaio 2016 appartengono ai tre figli. Ha cominciato a intestare loro aziende e terreni negli anni Novanta, quando iniziava l' avventura in banca. Un anno e mezzo fa - a inchieste giudiziarie avviate - ha ceduto le quote residue. Oggi non ha più legami con la Zonin 1821, una delle maggiori aziende vinicole europee, che nel 2016 ha dichiarato 193 milioni di fatturato. Né nell' immobiliare proprietaria dei terreni: nove tenute in Italia, per 2 mila ettari coltivati a vite, una in Virginia negli Stati Uniti. Un patrimonio che i danneggiati potrebbero aggredire chiedendo la revocatoria dell' atto notarile con cui Zonin ha trasferito tutto ai figli. Ma dimostrare che il passaggio aveva "intento fraudolento" non è facile, visto che in azienda i tre maschi di casa hanno ruoli dirigenziali da tempo. «Zonin oggi è nullatenente» ripetono preoccupati i soci che hanno perso tutto. Non è vero, ma quasi. La casa di famiglia a Montebello Vicentino, 1175 metri quadrati di villa più servizi e parco, è intestata al figlio Michele, Gianni ha l' usufrutto. Restano sue una cappelletta di 74 metri a Radda di Chianti "non adibita a luogo di culto", un bosco a Gambellara di 4mila metri quadrati, un vigneto di 10mila. Zonin è socio all' 84,92 percento dell' immobiliare Badia, proprietaria di 25 fra appartamenti, box e magazzini a Gambellara. Altri 14 ne ha a Montebello, cinque a Torri di Quartesolo, 71 a Vicenza. Amministratore della società, e socio al 15 percento, è la moglie Silvana Zuffellato. Ed è lei unica titolare di Collina Srl, spin off di Badia a cui l' immobiliare potrebbe trasferire immobili. Altre proprietà, quindi, presto potrebbero non essere più di Zonin. La "scissione societaria asimmetrica" (a vantaggio della sola moglie) è stata deliberata nell' ottobre scorso, ma non risulta ancora attuata. La prima volta che la magistratura si è occupata degli immobili di casa Zonin è stato nel 2001. La procura vicentina indagò sui prestiti concessi nel 1999 dalla Popolare alla Querciola Srl diretta da Silvano Zonin, uno dei sette fra fratelli e sorelle di Gianni. L' istituto avrebbe pagato affitti eccessivi, con danno per i soci. L' allora procuratore capo di Vicenza, Antonio Fojadelli, chiese l' archiviazione. Anni dopo, lasciata la magistratura, sarà nominato nel cda della Nordest Merchant, banca d' affari della Popolare. Da allora Zonin è uscito indenne da una seconda inchiesta, aperta a Vicenza nel 2008 e poi archiviata, nata da una denuncia di Adusbef per «azionisti costretti a diventare tali con metodi estorsivi, pena la mancata concessione di prestiti, mutui, fidi». Dopo quel primo incidente con l' immobiliare del fratello, il rapporto fra banca e affari di famiglia non si è interrotto. Un flusso di denaro continuo, ma via via meno corposo. La casa vinicola oggi ha prestiti dalla Popolare per 15 milioni. Altri 12,5 milioni sono stati affidati alla società che detiene i terreni. Poca cosa, va detto, rispetto al credito concesso alle aziende da Intesa, Mps e Unicredit. Se lo Zonin banchiere con i soldi dei soci (fra cui se stesso, titolare di azioni per 24 milioni) è stato condottiero spregiudicato, l' azienda di famiglia l' ha sempre gestita in economia. Il ventennio da banchiere ha aperto a Zonin le porte dorate del potere vero. Nel primo decennio del 2000 la Popolare ha fatto da spazzino del sistema bancario, inglobando piccoli istituti decotti, con la benedizione di Bankitalia. Intanto, l' elenco delle cariche ricoperte (e oggi cessate) dal viticoltore è cresciuto, fino a riempire 15 pagine del registro imprese delle Camere di commercio. Oltre alle frequentazioni sempre più prestigiose - dai governatori veneti, ai ministri, fino a Tony Blair, che trascorreva le vacanze nelle tenute toscane Zonin - per Gianni negli anni si sono liberate le poltrone utili a completare la corsa verso il cielo, senza perdere di vista il suo Veneto. Consigliere dell' Istituto centrale delle banche popolari, consigliere nella Società italiana per le imprese all' estero, presidente della vicentina Fondazione Roi. Un' epopea lunga vent' anni, in cui Zonin in banca disarcionava manager, comprava, correva. E la Popolare garantiva credito agevolato ai soci amici. Fino alla fatale campagna di ricapitalizzazione del 2013-2014, sostenuta costringendo all' acquisto di azioni chi entrava in filiale per chiedere prestiti. Un meccanismo al centro dell' inchiesta penale in corso. Nel frattempo, guidata dai figli, l' azienda vinicola si è rafforzata e ha aperto uffici commerciali in tutto il mondo. A Vicenza è luogo comune che Zonin «dove apriva una banca comprava una vigna». Le date di acquisizione di banche e terreni non ricalcano perfettamente lo schema. Ma è vero che Zonin ha condotto la sua campagna parallela in alcune regioni. In Toscana, comprando come banchiere Cariprato e come viticoltore terre in Chianti. E in Sicilia, dove con una mano acquistava Banca Nuova e con l' altra investiva in vigneti. Una parabola che racconta la doppia condotta dell' uomo. Oggi i soci azzerati delle due banche incorporate in Bpvi si leccano le ferite. Intanto, negli stessi territori, le aziende vinicole prosperano, al riparo da chi vorrebbe chiedere conto al Gianni Zonin imprenditore dei disastri del Gianni Zonin banchiere.

(A proposito di oppressi e oppressori. L’articolo di Franco Vanni per Repubblica) L’ ultima tegola – forse anche l’ unica – è la multa Consob. Gianni Zonin, per diciannove anni presidente della Banca Popolare di Vicenza fino alle dimissioni nel novembre 2015, deve pagare 370mila euro per illeciti nella vendita di azioni alla clientela, negli anni belli in cui la Popolare quotava il titolo 62,50…

[mistergothlord]

Sooo.... the fact it’s been made evidently clear from the sales Square Enix RUSHED Yuji Naka and cut his funding, huh?

[astralburned]

Ritzell huddled, grasping her bleeding arm with a frown. This situation was... tricky. Had she only known that this ship was carrying an actual, literal monster, she wouldn't have chosen to stow away in its vents. But with her enemies quickly on her proverbial tail, Ritzell had had no choice but to catch the nearest ship off-planet. She and Chianti, her rabbit plush, were napping peacefully in the vents when the monster escaped, and the alarms began to blare. The ship sent out a distress signal, but by the time the paladin from Voltron had arrived, there was no one left but her, who the monster hadn't yet found. She should have just stayed hidden, really. Something something self-preservation. But when he arrived, Ritzell couldn't just let this good soul walk into the jaws of the proverbial and literal beast. Not wanting to scare him too much, she shifted her form to something less Galra, something that looked more like him, and she descended. "There's no one left, you need to leave" she had warned, but immediately it heard her and rushed the poor child, slashing at her. Her reaction was to flash it with fire, and it scampered away with a burning face... But in the wrong direction, putting them between it and the exit. Ritzell clutched Chianti tight and thought. "Wonder if they had any information on the monster, if they were transporting it...? Like weaknesses or something?" That would mean going further into the ship though...

@burnishandangels ;;

"Gods I hope not," Keith panted, motioning for Ritzell to get lower in their hiding spot. He spoke quickly and quietly, tucking himself as low and small as he could manage. "We need to get out of here...I think I saw a way out back that way," a nod with his head behind them. "But we've got to get past that thing to get to it..."

[immobilier-swiss]

Nous proposons la vente d’une ferme avec vue panoramique sur la La vallée du Chianti, à proximité de nombreux sites touristiques, vous permet de découvrir des sentiers de découverte de la nature, des mets et du vin et de rejoindre, en une demi-heure de route, des villes d’art telles que Florence, Arezzo et Sienne. #immobilier #realestate #investment #realestateagent #toscane #toscana #sun #beach #research #property #méditerranée #toscany #italy https://www.instagram.com/p/BslwpWcFRWx/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=pzru8pjdcndh

[sethkhbg116-blog]

Aires de repos, des Chalets Et Camping DANS la ville de TRIESTE

Nous vous souhaitons la bienvenue à la Colombino”, une petite ferme dans une ancienne grange rénovée, à seulement quelques kilomètres de Sienne, immergé dans le vert de la campagne Siennoise, en face de la forêt de la Montagnola enroulement surplombe un superbe https://napri.org panorama et allie la commodité d'être au centre de tous les itinéraires touristiques classiques et les plus inconnus, avec la tranquillité de rester à la campagne. Situé entre prés et de bois, dans un quartier calme de Monte di Mezzo, offre une hospitalité familiale et soigné, et est idéal pour les amoureux de la desserrer, ski, vert, et des excursions. La ferme est un charmant bâtiment de la "500" où vous pourrez déguster la cuisine typique de bergame avec les matières organiques dans un traditionnel silter.

Dans le coeur de la Toscane, propose une cuisine traditionnelle préparée avec des produits de la société. Petite ferme biologique située sur les Collines de Bologne, offre à ses clients des chambres confortables, un restaurant traditionnel et la vente de produits typiques. La ferme est un trois km du centre de Greve in Chianti.

L'hôtel est situé dans la campagne ouverte Trevigliese, offre la possibilité d'assister à des ateliers, visite de la ferme, approcher les animaux, récupérer le sens du contact avec la nature en respectant sa forme et le rythme.

Avec une vue imprenable sur la Vallée de la rivière Secchia, est un endroit pour profiter de la typique cuisine authentique, desserrer de traitements de shiatsu, d'une piscine et de la verdure qui l'entoure. Il propose un hébergement dans des chambres et des appartements avec une saveur rustique et élégant. Ferme située dans la municipalité de Rufina, offre l'hospitalité dans des chambres et des appartements dans une ancienne ferme rénovée dans la tradition toscane.

Dans une ancienne ferme entourée par des caroubiers et des murs en pierre sèche, à quelques km de la mer et les monuments baroques de ragusa, propose des cours de cuisine et des soins spa. À une courte distance du Lac de Garde et les principales destinations touristiques vous accueille dans des chambres et des appartements parmi les oliviers.

Tous les produits qui sont servis dans le Agriturismo La Vigna sont de notre production et la réservation est obligatoire. Seulement 100 de mètres de la frontière avec la Toscane et de l'Ombrie, située dans le scénario de la Réserve Naturelle de Monte Rufeno, la ferme dispose d'une cinq appartements et grande piscine.

Le nouveau mécanisme ouvert depuis 2007, à trois km des plages du lac de Garde, dans une position panoramique, avec piscine et grand parc équipé. Sur une colline avec vue sur le Val d'orcia, jouit d'une grande piscine intérieure et extérieure sont bien meublées et la piscine propose des dégustations et des visites guidées, des soirées à thème, repas léger.

Ancien couvent rénové, près de Todi et propose des chambres et des appartements confortables, meublées avec des poutres apparentes et pierre. dix km de la mer et à 15 km de la Vallée de la Tombe, Mistretta, est dans une vieille maison dell'800, avec des chambres et une piscine. Masseria modicana datant de'700, est situé à Modica, propose un hébergement dans des chambres et des produits cultivés avec la méthode biologique.

[tvpchannel]

Covid-19: du prosecco au chianti, le vin italien boit la tasse

#Covid_19: du prosecco au chianti, le vin italien boit la tasse .

Alerte Covid-19

Pour vous protéger vous et les autres du virus, restez chez vous !

Restaurants et bars fermés, fêtes et mariages interdits, morosité n’incitant pas à trinquer: du prosecco au chianti, les producteurs de vin italien subissent de plein fouet l’épidémie de coronavirus avec une nette chute des ventes.

La péninsule s’enorgueillit d’être le premier producteur mondial de vin…

[roundaboutmidnight]

14 de julho

Bom dia a todos!...

Neste dia:

Nasceu, em 1918, o fabuloso cineasta sueco Ingmar Bergman.

Morreu, em 1993, o grande poeta e músico monegasco Leo Ferré. HOJE ELE REPRESENTA A MÚSICA E A LITERATURA.

Ernst Ingmar Bergman nasceu em Upsália no dia 14 de julho de 1918 e morreu em Fårö, em 30 de julho de 2007. Foi um dramaturgo e cineasta sueco. Diretor de alguns dos mais influentes e aclamados filmes de todos os tempos (Persona, O Sétimo Selo, Gritos e Sussuros, Fanny e Alexander e Cenas de um Casamento). Alguns dos temas centrais das suas obras estão centrados no estudo psicológico dos personagens e das famílias disfuncionais, assim como na angústia causada pela ausência de um Deus, deixando o ser humano abandonado entre Deus e o Diabo.

Léo Ferré (Mónaco, 24 de agosto de 1916 - Castellina in Chianti, Itália, 14 de julho de 1993) foi um poeta, anarquista e músico franco-monegasco. Enquanto músico foi autor, compositor e intérprete de um grande número de canções. Viveu no Mônaco, Paris, departamento de Lot e na Toscana, onde terminou os seus dias. HOJE ELE REPRESENTA A MÚSICA E A LITERATURA.

Esta é a letra/poema chamado Avec Le Temps. Em francês e eu português.

“Avec le temps... Avec le temps, va, tout s'en va On oublie le visage et l'on oublie la voix Le cœur, quand ça bat plus, c'est pas la peine d'aller Chercher plus loin, faut laisser faire et c'est très bien

Avec le temps... Avec le temps, va, tout s'en va L'autre qu'on adorait, qu'on cherchait sous la pluie L'autre qu'on devinait au détour d'un regard Entre les mots, entre les lignes et sous le fard D'un serment maquillé qui s'en va faire sa nuit Avec le temps tout s'évanouit

Avec le temps... Avec le temps, va, tout s'en va Même les plus chouettes souv'nirs ça t'as une de ces gueules A la gal'rie j'farfouille dans les rayons d'la mort Le samedi soir quand la tendresse s'en va toute seule

Avec le temps... Avec le temps, va, tout s'en va L'autre à qui l'on croyait pour un rhume, pour un rien L'autre à qui l'on donnait du vent et des bijoux Pour qui l'on eût vendu son âme pour quelques sous Devant quoi l'on s'traînait comme traînent les chiens Avec le temps, va, tout va bien

Avec le temps... Avec le temps, va, tout s'en va On oublie les passions et l'on oublie les voix Qui vous disaient tout bas les mots des pauvres gens Ne rentre pas trop tard, surtout ne prends pas froid

Avec le temps... Avec le temps, va, tout s'en va Et l'on se sent blanchi comme un cheval fourbu Et l'on se sent glacé dans un lit de hasard Et l'on se sent tout seul peut-être mais peinard Et l'on se sent floué par les années perdues Alors vraiment... avec le temps... on n'aime plus”

Com o Passar do Tempo

“Com o passar do tempo Com o passar do tempo tudo vai embora Esquecemos o rosto e esquecemos a voz O coração, quando deixa de bater, não vale a pena Procurar mais longe, é preciso deixar andar, e está muito bem.

Com o passar do tempo, Com o passar do tempo tudo vai embora, Aquela que adorávamos, que procurávamos à chuva, Aquela que para nós era uma deusa, na volta de um olhar, Entre as palavras, nas entrelinhas e sob a sombra De um juramento maquiado que parte para ir dormir Com o tempo, tudo desaparece.

Com o passar do tempo Com o passar do tempo tudo vai embora, Mesmo as recordações mais ternas tornam-se para ti momentos de vitória Na galeria que eu remexo nos raios da morte Sábado à noite, quando a ternura parte sozinha.

Com o passar do tempo, Com o passar do tempo tudo vai embora, Aquela em que acreditávamos, por um frio,um nada Aquela a quem dávamos vento e jóias, Por quem teríamos vendido a alma por cêntimos Frente a quem nos arrastávamos, como se arrastam os cães Conforme o tempo passa, tudo fica bem

Com o passar do tempo Com o passar do tempo tudo vai embora, Esquecemos as paixões e esquecemos as vozes Que vos sussurravam palavras de gente pobre, Não venhas tarde, e sobretudo, não apanhes frio

Com o passar do tempo Com o passar do tempo tudo vai embora E sentimo-nos esmagados, qual cavalo exausto, E sentimo-nos gelados numa cama de acaso E sentimo-nos sós, talvez, mas, confortáveis E sentimo-nos enganados pelos anos perdidos Então, realmente ... com o tempo ... deixamos de amar.”

A seguir os vídeos de hoje:

[deanijzm537-blog]

Découvertes 75 Œufs De la Tortue Caouanne

Vacances le 2 juin dans une Résidence avec piscine, aire de jeux, barbecue, place de parking, service de blanchisserie, 250 m de la mer. La villa pada de luxe est présenté par el le long d'une rue qui mène à la publication d'un parking privé, un beau jardin à l'italienne, enrichi par des arbres de cyprès et d'une élégante piscine avec pubs entourée par une pelouse. La Station Bufi est un hôtel de charme dans le centre de la vieille ville de Molfetta, dans la région des Pouilles.

Le relais dispose d'un restaurant el: ici sont servis des plats de la cuisine toscane traditionnelle en utilisant uniquement des produits frais de saison, sains, DOP, IGP et de produits typiques à zéro Km. L'IGV Club Baia Samuele pourrait être considéré comme un village touristique en Sicile, mais qui en réalité est un club avec le prestigieux qui garde the-art centre de bien-être, l'endroit idéal pour ceux qui veulent se détendre.

L'ensemble de nos solutions en situation de vacances dans les Pouilles et du Salento dans le Catalogue Complet de la Pouille, la liste avec des photos, des descriptions, des cartes, des prix et de la disponibilité. Pour chacune des Regardez la page ici chambres, vous pouvez choisir entre un appartement de l'hôtel (à prix égal). De le charme mystique et vierge alors qu'ils sont les plages de Santa Maria del Focallo et d'une belle plage de Punta Cirica.

En outre allesamt belles chambres et les chambres, l'accueil à la Villa la Borghetta est également fourni dans des Fermes de la région du Chianti, villas de charme avec le personnel de la piscine et le jardin. Lorsque des dons arianne sang des cadeaux: un autre anniversaire, un autre anniversaire, une autre journée à la mer; un autre sourire, une nuit sous les étoiles; un autre jour avec el ami, un autre câlin, une AUTRE CHANCE.

Les services offerts par le centre de bien-être et spa de notre Vacances en Sicile. La Base logistique est située à environ deux kilomètres à l'est de Palau, sur la route côtière qui atravessando à Capo d'orso et le port à l'intérieur de la Costa Smeralda, le merveilleux unique pour la beauté des paysages et la mère aussi pour le divertissement qu'il offre.

NH Siena (Sienne): nous avons aimé pour un bon rapport qualité-prix et son emplacement dans le centre de Sienne. Vous aurez également la chance de savourer la gastronomie locale et de visiter les plus importantes villes d'art de la Toscane, un site du patrimoine mondial.

Animé par Luca Managlia pada Golose, nous allons Découvrir ensemble une recette de nourriture, le vin et le Tourisme. L'une des prestigieuses propriétés à la vente dans la Toscane, le plus digne de atencion est sans doute, ce bel appartement de luxe inséré dans el pittoresque château datant du XV siècle.

Villa I Barronci est un Resort en Toscane, qui garde une piscine, d'un bain à remous et des soins spa. Situé à deux pas de Florence et entouré par le vert des collines qui surplombent, ce complexe de luxe propose des chambres et des suites modernes pour chacun des couples, les groupes et les familles, en plus de une piscine fabuleuse électronique des soins spa.