#Merlot & Guinea

[plantsonplutoart]

I know original projects rarely do well on tumblr but I still want to introduce a project I just started working on. Its mythology meets Cryptids meets Arthurian legend meets a summer camp in the mid 90s. I’m still deep in the development phase for the overall story arc but Im writing a short story within the world for a class right now (go art school!).

It’s going to be two webcomic style episodes, Ive always wanted to make a webtoon so Im super excited! This is a wip of a promotional illustration featuring the main characters Merlot (left) and Guinea (right). I hope you guys like them :)

[deanaferal]

just delivered carrots, zucchini and merlot to a funeral for a guinea pig named Cheese :( the veggies were for his widow named Artichoke :( I wanted to stay but that’s weird :(

[les-degustations-ugo]

🇫🇷❓❓Hello les amoureux du tire-bouchon. Et vous, aimez-vous les Pessac-Léognan ❓❓🇫🇷

🍇🍷AOP Pessac-Léognan rouge 2018 Château de France du @chateau_de_france_leognan 🍇🍷:

🍇 :

54 % Cabernet-Sauvignon

46 % Merlot

🏺:

Elevage en barriques neuves (30%) et de un vin pendant 12 mois.

Légère filtration avant mise en bouteille.

Production moyenne : 60 000

💰:

27,60€ / bouteille

👁️ :

Une robe de couleur grenat soutenu avec des reflets violets

👃 :

Un nez expressif sur des notes de fruits noirs, épices

💋 :

En bouche, on a un vin équilibré, d'une belle rondeur et d'une grande finesse. Sur des arômes de cassis, myrtilles, prunes, cuirs, poivres, eucalyptus, réglisse. Une bonne longueur en bouche avec une finale sur des notes toastées, tabac, cèdre et une petite touche fumée très appréciable.

📜En résumé📜 :

Beaucoup de rondeur et de finesse pour ce beau Pessac-Léognan que j'ai dégusté avec beaucoup de plaisir. Un vin qui appelle à la dégustation. Je vous le recommande.

🧆Dégusté sur un Confit de canard 🧆.

🍷Quelques accords mets et vin possible avec cette cuvée🍷 : Brochettes de suprême de pintade, Carré de cochon de lait, Agneau au cumin, Entrecôte à la bordelaise, Faux filet de boeuf grillé,....

📌N'oubliez pas, boire un canon c'est sauver

un vigneron. Allez voir le site internet du domaine pour voir toutes les cuvées et promotions du moment📌.

🔞« L'abus d'alcool est dangereux pour la santé, à consommer avec modération »🔞 La plupart des

vins ont été dégustés et recrachés. Dégustation non rémunéré.

#lesdegustationsugo #wine #winelover #vino #winetasting #winetime #winelovers #instawine #redwine #winestagram #winery #beer #wineoclock #vin #sommelier #love #vinho #foodporn #winelife #instagood #whitewine #cocktails #drinks #wein #foodie #wineporn #drink

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🇫🇷🗣️Description du Domaine 🇫🇷🗣️

Le Château de France est dirigé aujourd’hui par Arnaud Thomassin : la continuité familiale, avec un même objectif de qualité et de développement dans le monde. Ses soeurs Véronique et Virginie sont également impliquées dans la gestion de la propriété.

Le vin, c’est son premier métier.

“Dès mon arrivée au Château de France, j’ai porté une attention particulière au vignoble. Les travaux en vert, qui ont une réponse qualitative immédiate, ont été développés dès lors”.

La famille Thomassin choisit une commercialisation essentiellement en direct, maîtrisant ainsi ses circuits de distribution et ses prix.

Le souhait d’Arnaud Thomassin est de contrôler la majeure partie de sa clientèle. Il se déplace en France, en Europe et sur le grand export pour soutenir l’action des distributeurs sur le terrain. “Des distributeurs proches et constructifs, qui viennent au château, des relations d’amitié, tout en gardant en ligne de mire nos objectifs”.

___________________________________________

⏬🇫🇷Français dans les commentaires🇫🇷🇮🇹Italiano nei commenti 🇮🇹⏬

🇬🇧❓❓Hello corkscrew lovers. And you, do you like Pessac-Léognan ❓❓🇬🇧

🍇🍷AOP Pessac-Léognan red 2018 Château de France from @chateau_de_france_leognan 🍇🍷:

🍇:

54% Cabernet Sauvignon

46% Merlot

🏺:

Aging in new barrels (30%) and one wine for 12 months.

Light filtration before bottling.

Average production: 60,000

💰:

€27.60 / bottle

👁️:

A deep garnet color with purple reflections

👃:

An expressive nose with notes of black fruits and spices

💋:

On the palate, we have a balanced wine, with beautiful roundness and great finesse. With aromas of blackcurrant, blueberries, plums, leather, pepper, eucalyptus, liquorice. Good length in the mouth with a finish of toasted notes, tobacco, cedar and a very appreciable little smoky touch.

📜In summary📜:

Lots of roundness and finesse for this beautiful Pessac-Léognan which I tasted with great pleasure. A wine that calls for tasting. I recommend it.

🧆Tasted with duck confit 🧆.

🍷Some possible food and wine pairings with this vintage🍷: Skewers of guinea fowl supreme, Rack of suckling pig, Lamb with cumin, Bordeaux-style entrecôte, Grilled beef fillet,....

📌Don't forget, drinking a barrel is saving a winemaker. Go to the estate's website to see all the current vintages and promotions📌.

🔞“Alcohol abuse is dangerous for your health, consume in moderation”🔞Most wines were tasted and spat out. Unpaid tasting.

#lesdegustationsugo #wine #winelover #vino #winetasting #winetime #winelovers #instawine #redwine #winestagram #winery #beer #wineoclock #vin #sommelier #love #vinho #foodporn #winelife #instagood #whitewine #cocktails #drinks #wein #foodie #wineporn #drink

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🇬🇧🗣️Domain Description 🇬🇧🗣️

Château de France is managed today by Arnaud Thomassin: family continuity, with the same objective of quality and development throughout the world. His sisters Véronique and Virginie are also involved in the management of the property.

Wine is his first job.

“As soon as I arrived at Château de France, I paid particular attention to the vineyard. Green works, which have an immediate qualitative response, were developed from then on.”

The Thomassin family chooses essentially direct marketing, thus controlling its distribution channels and prices.

Arnaud Thomassin's wish is to control the majority of his clientele. He travels to France, Europe and major export markets to support the actions of distributors on the ground. “Close and constructive distributors, who come to the castle, friendly relationships, while keeping our objectives in sight.”

___________________________________________

🇮🇹❓❓Ciao amanti dei cavatappi. E tu, ti piace Pessac-Léognan ❓❓🇮🇹

🍇🍷AOP Pessac-Léognan rosso 2018 Château de France di @chateau_de_france_leognan 🍇🍷:

🍇:

Cabernet Sauvignon 54%.

Merlot 46%.

🏺:

Affinamento in botti nuove (30%) e un vino per 12 mesi.

Leggera filtrazione prima dell'imbottigliamento.

Produzione media: 60.000

💰:

€ 27,60 / bottiglia

👁️:

Colore granato intenso con riflessi violacei

👃:

Un naso espressivo con note di frutti neri e spezie

💋:

Al palato abbiamo un vino equilibrato, di bella rotondità e grande finezza. Con aromi di ribes nero, mirtilli, prugne, cuoio, pepe, eucalipto, liquirizia. Buona lunghezza in bocca con un finale di note tostate, tabacco, cedro e un piccolo tocco affumicato molto apprezzabile.

📜In sintesi📜:

Tanta rotondità e finezza per questo bellissimo Pessac-Léognan che ho degustato con grande piacere. Un vino che richiede degustazione. Lo consiglio.

🧆Gustato con anatra confit 🧆.

🍷Alcuni possibili abbinamenti enogastronomici con questa annata🍷: Spiedini di suprema di faraona, Carré di maialino da latte, Agnello al cumino, Entrecôte alla bordolese, Filetto di manzo alla griglia,....

📌Non dimenticare, bere una botte fa risparmiare un enologo. Vai al sito dell'azienda per vedere tutte le annate e le promozioni del momento📌.

🔞“L'abuso di alcol è pericoloso per la salute, consumalo con moderazione”🔞Most i vini venivano degustati e sputati. Degustazione non retribuita.

___________________________________________

🗣️🇮🇹Descrizione i Dominio 🗣️🇮🇹

Château de France è gestito oggi da Arnaud Thomassin: continuità familiare, con lo stesso obiettivo di qualità e sviluppo nel mondo. Anche le sue sorelle Véronique e Virginie sono coinvolte nella gestione della proprietà.

Il vino è il suo primo lavoro.

“Appena arrivato a Château de France, ho dedicato particolare attenzione alla vigna. Da lì in poi si sono sviluppate opere verdi, che hanno un immediato riscontro qualitativo.”

La famiglia Thomassin sceglie essenzialmente il marketing diretto, controllando così i propri canali di distribuzione e i prezzi.

Il desiderio di Arnaud Thomassin è quello di controllare la maggior parte della sua clientela. Si reca in Francia, Europa e nei principali mercati di esportazione per sostenere le azioni dei distributori sul campo. “Distributori vicini e costruttivi, che vengono al castello, rapporti amichevoli, pur mantenendo in vista i nostri obiettivi.”

[supraveng]

Marvelous Friends part 1

Summary:  You join your best friend at a party, and meet the man of your dreams?

Characters: Reader, Benedict Cumberbatch x Sophie Hunter, RDJ x Susan Downey, Sebastian Stan, Chris Evans

Warnings: cursing, reader in over her head, bad writing...

“Oh, for fuck’s sake Aaron, you are supposed to be preventing these things, not causing them“ you scream into your cell phone so agitated by this whole thing that you aren’t even aware that there are people watching you from the window.

You stepped outside trying to not cause a scene or god forbid have Sophie’s kids hear you and repeat anything you might say.  You finally hang up and throw your phone across the lawn as Benedict comes out the door to check on you. 

“Everything ok dear?” he approaches you with a smirk knowing full well that you are irritated beyond rational conversation.  “Can I get you anything?” he asks.  Turning to face him now that you’ve taken a few deep breaths, 

“I think I need a new manager, got any good ones lying around?” you reply.  

“Holy Shit!  That was your manager!  I just thought your husband  was in the doghouse!  Hi, I’m Robert” he sticks out his hand and you shake it, thankfully you are still too riled up to get star struck and make a fool of yourself.  

“Hi, sorry, I didn’t intend to be that loud, but that man is an absolute jackass!  I’m Y/N” you respond as you blow out some air and try to calm down.   

“Y/N darling, you need a drink, let me make you a martini” 

“No, Benny, I’m your babysitter tonight and you know one martini turns into 5” you smirk as you follow  the two of them back into the house.  

Sophie is coming down the stairs and her smile disappears when she sees your red face and Benedict heading toward the kitchen. “Y/N, what happened?  Are you ok?” she asks, her voice thick with worry.  

“Oh Phie, I’m fine, Aaron is just trying my patience and I couldn’t stay quiet” you smile as she wraps you in a hug, then busts out laughing.  

“Well, that’s a long time coming, I’m not sure how you have worked with him this long without bloodshed” she quips as Benedict hands you a cup of tea.  

“I’m not that bad to work with, I just don’t like my personal life to be used without my permission. Ugh, I just don’t have the energy for him today, I wanted to come and have fun with Kit, Hal & Finn” you whine as you sip your tea “but apparently the drama pays off because this is the best cup of tea Benny has ever made for me, thank you” you reach up and peck his cheek “I’m feeling better already.” 

“Good, because the boys have a list of fun for you tonight and they are extremely excited.” Sophie responds “Oh, and this is Susan, Robert’s wife”  

“It’s nice to meet you, now you all go on and have a lovely dinner and don’t worry about us” you smile to the couples as you head upstairs to check on the kids. 

Three hours later the two couples walk back into the house to find you frantically typing on your laptop at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, with a cold cup of tea next to you.  You jump when you hear someone clear their throat, not realizing they had come in and were all staring at you.  

“What? Why are you all staring at me?” you ask.  

Sophie shakes her head and giggles at you “we asked if you wanted to join us for a drink, apparently you are very focused on your work and didn’t even hear us come in.”   

“Sorry, I was planning my wedding” you reply with a smirk “Kit proposed again, actually, I’m not sure this was a proposal, it was more or less a list of reasons why my previous decline is not being accepted.  Apparently, age is just a number and I can move to England right away, so the wedding is next week” you explain as you follow the others over to the bar.   

Benedict turned around with a guilty look on his face, “what did you do?” his wife asks with a pointed glare.   “I was reassuring our son that if he liked someone and made his intentions known then any girl would be lucky to have him, but in my defense, I thought he was talking about that little girl down the street, Madison.   They were playing yesterday and he seemed smitten, so when he mentioned his love living in the US and not in England…..I was trying to help” he huffed out as he started pouring the drinks.   

You all start laughing and realize that since it’s Benedict’s fault, he will have to break it to Kit that you will not be marrying him next week.  “Why do I have to be the bad guy here?  It was an accident!” Ben protests “and why didn’t you just tell him you have a boyfriend already and can’t marry him?”  

“Because I would never lie to Kit” you respond, sipping your martini.   “I haven't really met anyone since I moved back from Vancouver, a few dates here or there but no one to write home about" you say with a shrug  “Well, in that case, can I give you away at the wedding?”  Robert asks and thankfully lightens the mood.  It was another two hours of drinking and laughing with your oldest and newest friends before you all decide to call it a night.   

“Y/N, Robert and I are having friends over to our place on Sunday, we would love for you to be there” Susan states as they are heading toward the door.  “That’s so sweet, thank you, I’ll just tag along as an extra Cumberbatch” you tell her as you hug her goodbye. 

You wake the next morning and know that you have a ton of work to do and 0 motivation.   Deciding to distract yourself as best you can, you text Sophie about the party at Susan & Robert’s.

So what kind of party is this thing tomorrow?

Phie: They usually have 30 or so people, tons of food, drinks, but very laid back.  I think you will like it 

That’s reassuring, the last thing I need is to make a fool out of myself in front of Ben’s celebrity friends

Phie: Oh, there will definitely be celebs there, but honestly I have no idea who, most likely a bunch of the Marvel crew, those who are in town anyway….but don’t stress, they are all  mostly normal people, lol

Well, I’m going to work on some writing and then maybe try to find something nice to wear to the party, I might make a fool of myself, but I need to look like I have my act together

Phie: Send me pics, I’ll help you decide….btw Ben has been questioning me on your dating habits, I have a funny feeling that he might try to set you up...

Well, that sounds dreadful,  I love your husband but what is his track record for match making?

Phie: I don't think he's actually ever tried to set anyone up before

Fantastic, I'm the guinea pig 🙄

 Ok, what do you think of these, I don’t want to be overdressed or look like I’m homeless

Phie: I love them both, but how about you were the short one & I borrow the blue one?  

That is a great idea!  I’ll be there a bit early so we can get ready together.  Who is staying home with the boys?

Phie: Actually, day time parties with the Downey’s usually includes the kids, so they will be joining us

Time for the party came earlier than you had anticipated as you pulled up to Phie’s house, Kit came running out the door with a big smile on his face.  Crouching down you scooped him into a hug and kissed his cheek.  

“Well aren’t you in a good mood today, handsome?” asking as you set him back down.  He grabbed your hand and began dragging you back to the house. 

 “Mum told me we can’t get married next week, but I can still love you for the rest of my life, isn’t that great!” he exclaimed as you walked in the front door.  

“That is the best thing I’ve heard all week!  And I get to love you for the rest of my life too” you reply watching the realization hit him and his smile get even bigger and run off to tell everyone the good news.  Before you could do anything, you went back out to your car and grabbed your bags and then headed up to Phie’s bedroom to get ready.  

“There you are, I was beginning to worry” she said as she pecked your cheek and gave you a hug, then handed you a glass.  

“Did you start day drinking without me?” you inquire as you sip on the merlot with a smile on your face.  

“I just opened the bottle for us to enjoy while we get ready.  I spoke with Kit and the wedding is off but he understands and all is well.  Benedict tried and, just made everything messier” she responded while pulling the blue dress from the garment bag.  

“You did a fantastic job, he gave me the biggest hug and seems very happy that we will not be getting married” you giggle as you move around her room figuring out the best place to put your things.  

“I think he’ll be more upset about you taking off next week than anything, that’s why I’m not planning on telling him until after you’ve gone.  He has grown really attached to you” she smirks as she’s slipping the dress on.  

Before you realize it, the wine bottle is empty and Ben is knocking on the door.

“You two look amazing as always, but the car is here, so we need to head out.  Can you bring Kit down with you while I go down and get Hal & Finn seated in the car?” he asks as Kit comes in and gasps looking up at his mom.   

“Mum, you look like a princess” he hugs her legs and looks up at her lovingly. 

 “Thank you love, you look very handsome.  Are you ready to go? Do you have your bag?” she asks while rubbing his back.  

“Oh, I need to get that, and can I give Y/N her present now?”  You look over a bit confused 

“oh Kit, you didn’t have to get me a gift” you tell him as he gives you a hug.   

“But it’s important to show the people you love how special they are, I’ll be right back” he states as he heads back downstairs.  You look at Sophie confused and she just smirks at you as both follow him down to the kitchen.   He holds up a cupcake with a huge grin on his face.  

“This is for you, because you are as sweet as a cupcake.  And that’s a ring you can wear to remind you that you are wonderful when I’m not here to tell you.” 

 You feel like you are about to cry, it was by far the most sincere and thoughtful thing you have ever heard.  “Thank you!  I love it & I love you!” you told him as you kissed his forehead and put the ring on.  

“Alright, let’s get going Kit, dad and your brothers are in the car waiting for us!” Sophie grabbed his hand and laced your arm with hers as she ushered you all out the door. 

Stepping out of the car at the Downey’s house you started walking towards the door when Kit came up and grabbed your hand.  

“Can I be your date tonight?” he asked with a shy grin.  

“Absolutely!  There’s no one else I would want to accompany me tonight.”  

Ben turns to you, holding Hal & Finn “remember Kit, the kids are going to be playing upstairs, but you can join us when you get hungry, alright?”  

“Yes, dad, but Y/N is still my girl” he stated proudly as you walked through the door.  

“That’s right Ben, I’m Kit’s girl!” you lean down and kiss the top of his head just before he heads up the stairs with his dad.  Sophie grabbed your arm and the two of you headed further into the house.  

Robert spotted you almost immediately and came over hugging you both “where is the fiance? Are all the details in place for the ceremony?  I’m still walking you down the aisle right?”  

“Hi Robert, I’m sorry but the ceremony has been cancelled.   Sophie was able to talk some sense into Kit since Benny was useless” you reply.  

“I heard that!” Ben remarks as he’s coming into the room.   “And in my defense, I’m not useless, just not very good at telling my son no.”  

“It’s alright dahling, you tried your best.” Sophie tried to console Benedict who seemed to take your statement to heart.  

“Well, I’m glad you made it, can I get you a drink?” Susan asked as an attempt to move on to a more neutral conversation.   

“Yes, please” you replied happily as you followed her to the bar.  

“Y/N? Y/N L/N?  Holy Shit!”  You heard from the doorway to the next room, where most of the party goers had already gathered.  You turned and was shocked 

“Seb?  Holy Shit!  How are you?” you asked as you moved over to hug him.  “It’s been so long, I’m surprised you recognized me.”  

“I’m good” he responded “and yea, it’s been like...10 years? And you look great, haven’t aged a bit!”  

You laughed at his response “that is an absolute lie, but I will take the compliment anyway.” you giggle at him.  He was always such a nice guy to work with and genuinely considerate to everyone on set.  His charming personality always made you smile. 

“This is so great running into you, I saw your interview on Good Day LA last week.  You are doing so great!” he said with a huge smile.  

“Oh thanks, but I think that may have been the worst interview in the history of television.   I was honestly hoping no one saw it” you cringed rethinking how quickly the questions had gone off the rails.  You are a writer, becoming more well known over the past decade so interviews were becoming more common for you, but that one felt more like a Twilight Zone episode.  

“Well, it was a bit crazy, but you handled a lot better than most people would.  I was impressed” he grinned as he took a sip of his beer.  

“Thanks, I appreciate that, and my whole deer in headlights reaction.” you commented as you took the drink Susan offered.  

“Hey, I didn’t know you knew each other?” you heard Robert say as he came up from behind you “and what happened in the interview?”  

“Yea, I was writing for Gossip Girl, back when Seb was on and he was constantly teasing me for being cold” you reminded him with a smirk.  

“New York in fall is beautiful, not cold! You are crazy!” he responds as he starts laughing at me.  

“And the interview was a shit show that I barely made it out alive” you state with a roll of your eyes.  

“That’s not true, you put that woman in her place and didn’t seem fazed by her ridiculous questions at all” he told me.  

“What the hell happened?” Robert seemed more interested than I thought he would 

“we were talking about my new book and the book tour coming up, then all of a sudden she’s asking me about my ex” I responded as I shrugged my shoulders.  Sebastian looked at me “then, the woman asks if she’s seeing anyone now, and your response was priceless, I might steal it if you don’t mind”  he states as he’s laughing remembering the interview.  

“Y/N, dear, what did you say?” Robert asks with a smirk.  

“I asked her ‘why? Are you shooting your shot?” as you start laughing too, realizing that you probably couldn’t have planned it if you tried.  At this point you realize there are more of the Marvel friends standing around listening to your conversation and you don’t even care.   

Your first drink is kicking in and it’s not like you are ever going to see these people again. “Honestly, I don’t know why she even mentioned my ex, nobody cares who I’m dating, I’m a writer”  

“Yes, but when us writers date high profile celebrities, people want to know” Sophie reminds you as she puts her arm around you.  

“Oh Phie, high profile is a bit of a stretch doncha think? But you are always my voice of reason, this is why I love you!” you say as you kiss her cheek.  Looking around the room you wonder if there’s anyone else here you know, when you see Chris Evans on the other side of the room.  

Benedict immediately follows your line of sight and smirks before taking your empty glass.  “I think you need a refill, here allow me, why don't you and Sophie go find a place to chat.”  

His wife shakes her head and gives you a small sympathetic smile before sending him back for refills.  Sophie drags you further into the room and finds a spot to sit that gives you a better view of Mr. Evans.  

“I didn’t realize you knew Sebastian” she said as she sat.  

“Yea, we worked together when I was living in NY, that was 10 or 12 years ago.  I didn’t know you knew him” you respond.  She looks at you questioningly, then shakes her head.  

“All the Marvel people know each other, you still haven’t watched the movies, have you?”  

“Um, I haven’t seen all of them, there are a lot, but I did watch Doctor Weirdo, and Benny was very good!” you respond quite proud of yourself.  

“Bloody hell!  It’s Doctor Strange, we’ve had this discussion before” Ben states as he hands you your fresh drink.  

“Ok, I’m sorry.  Doctor Strange, although I don’t think that’s much better than Doctor Weirdo.  And in my defense, your facial hair in the movie gave me nightmares'' you say as you sip on your drink. 

“Anyway, did the ex contact you after the interview?  I’m just curious?” Ben asks, rolling his eyes at you.  

You scrunch up your nose at the question “no, why would he? I haven’t spoken to him in the last four years. And honestly I'm sure he deleted my number.  Can we talk about anyone else?"  

"Yes, what's the schedule on the book tour? How long will you be gone?" Sophie acts trying to defuse the irritation in your voice with the mention of your ex.  

You can tell by the way she's glancing at her husband that she's trying to figure out why he brought up your ex knowing full well that if he had contacted you, she would have been the first one to know about it.. 

"Oh I'm flying out next Sunday, heading for NYC, then I'll be in Boston for 2 days, then a day In Philly, a day in Baltimore and I'm not 100% of the cities after that, other than ending up the following week in Miami so I can be with the family for spring break" you mention to them. 

"Did I hear you say you are only going to Boston for 2 days, that's not nearly long enough" you hear a deep voice state as you look up and see Chris Evan's standing next to Seb and walking closer to you.  

Holding out his hand "I'm Chris, I don't think we've met" he states.  

You plaster the most sincere smile you can on your face in hopes of not drooling at the sight of him, shaking his hand "I'm Y/N, and yes, this tour is only 2 days in Boston, but I lived there for 5 years so I’ve seen quite a bit already” you respond.

“Huh?  For someone who’s cold all the time, you seem to wind up in colder climates” Seb laughs at you.  “Shut up! You are the worst!” you respond with a laugh.  

“It’s true though, darling.  And you always call me to complain about it!” Sophie responds with a smirk.  

“OK, in my defense, Boston was a needed escape from my family, whom I love dearly but can be quite suffocating at times.  Then Chicago was my first real job after graduation and I couldn’t pass that up!  And as my best friend, Phie, you are required to listen to all my complaining, regardless of the topic” you state matter of factly.  

“And last year in Vancouver, that was the worst yet, she would send me photos of eyelashes with ice crystals on them” Sophie laughs remembering your first winter in Canada and how miserable you were.  

“That was awful and you and Benny both ridiculed me, I’m still emotionally scared”  

“So, you don’t like the cold but keep torturing yourself?” Chris asks with a smirk.  

“It appears I do, but it’s always for good reason. Chicago was an opportunity I couldn’t resist, if I had taken that job, I probably wouldn't have published my first novel” you explain with fondness.  

“That’s not true, Y/N.  Your first novel was incredible and it would have been published eventually”  Ben states as he takes your empty glass.  

“Benedict has read my book?” you asked Sophie completely shocked.  

“He has read all of your novels, but I think the first 3 was trying to find juicy gossip on how we met or something to try and blackmail you later, I’m not quite sure” she responds with a shrug.   

“Hold on” Seb interjects “your book, Searching for more, is about Sophie?” 

“Yes, and no” you respond “the adventure that Annabell has is loosely based on my summer after high school before moving to Boston.  And her new found friend, Fiona, is Sophie to a T!  And I’m also shocked that you’ve read it” you eyed him suspiciously.  

“Ok, so you really married a French man when you were 18 and brought him back with you?”  Seb asks, completely disregarding that you questioned him about reading the book.  How did your day turn out like this?  This was the most surreal moment you have had in a long time.  

“No, he wasn’t French, he was Belgian!” Benedict responds as he comes back in with refills.  You start laughing when you see the way Chris and Seb are staring at you wide eyed.   

“Oh my gosh!  No, I didn’t get married when I was 18.  And Benny, you weren't there, you don’t know anything” shaking your head.  “Annabelle’s story is loosely based on events that occurred, we didn’t get married…..and he was Swiss, I think.” you snicker when you look over at Sophie for confirmation, she shrugs and takes a drink.    

The five of you continue to chat for another hour or so when you feel a tap on your shoulder.  You turn to see Kit smiling at you with a cup in his hand “I missed you” he states as he climbs up into your lap and hugs you around your neck.  

“I missed you too little man, do anything fun while you were upstairs?” you asked as he made himself more comfortable.  

“I didn’t know you had a kid” Seb says as you are trying to balance the 5 year old in your lap with your drink in your hand.  

Kit looks up at him “she’s not my mum, she’s my girl!  That’s my mum” he states as he points to Sophie.  

“Oh, well, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Seb, this is my friend Chris.  What’s your name?”  he asks while Kit plops himself in the middle of the group as though he should have been there all along.  

“I’m Kit” he states as he extends his hand to both Chris and Sebastian.  

“So, she’s your girl, huh?” Chris asks with a smirk “is it serious?”  

“Very!  He gave me a ring today, see.” showing Chris your right hand and the Wonder Woman ring. 

“Wait a minute, the wedding is cancelled, but you still gave her a ring? I’m not sure that’s how it works buddy”  Robert kneels down talking to Kit.  

“it’s ok, I get to love her forever and we can get married when I’m 30!” Kit explains as he rushes off to join the other kids.  

You all turn and look at Sophie “I thought you fixed it Phie!  You’ve just given him a deadline!" you gasp. 

She smiles at you with a guilty look on her face "I think you might need to grab a bite to eat before you have another drink. And honestly, I'm sure he will forget all about this in a few months. Besides, I won't let my 30 year old son marry some 60 something year old hag that's after him for his money!" she states as seriously as possible. 

You deadpan "thanks for that. I need a new best friend" you roll your eyes and head towards the food. 

"Well, I didn't see that coming" Robert chuckles as he watches the two of you walk out of the room. 

"That actually went better than I expected" Ben responds and shakes his head, "those two are worse than siblings." 

A/N: I had an idea of who the ex is, but I may just leave it open for interpretation, he does come into the story later, but can remain faceless

[this-is-a-love-story-fleabag]

The Wedding Planner (2/4)

An AU in which Fleabag is a wedding planner, and Klare and Claire have found the perfect Catholic church to get hitched in... 1461 words. Chapter 1.Also on ao3.

"That's... interesting, wow," the priest was saying, looking both polite and extremely uncomfortable. The bride's godmother was clinging tightly to his bicep. The father of the bride was standing mildly in the background with his usual level of understanding of the situation, namely none.

Her dress was voluminous, lacy, and pure, brilliant white.

Nonchalantly, the wedding planner made her approach, swiping the glass of merlot from the table as she went.

With a practised ease, she managed to trip when she was a foot or so away from her godmother, and sent the dark red wine flying straight over the front of her dress, miraculously missing the priest.

"Oops," she said, very convincingly.

"I prefer the last one," said the priest, putting down the bouquet on the florist's counter.

The wedding planner was inspecting the peonies in minute detail, her nose crinkling in a way that he was trying very hard not to find adorable. "Me too."

He ran his eye over the other flower arrangement, the soft purples of the freesias soothing and pleasant. "It's a bit more subtle."

"Elegant, yeah." It would be so easy just to reach out and kiss her.

"I just think the baby's breath is a bit..."

She nodded. "Yeah. Definitely that one."

The florist took careful note of their choices and disappeared into the back of the shop without a word.

The priest examined the pollen coating his fingers and did his best to wipe it off on his trousers. "Has my knowledge of flower arranging made me seem more cool or less cool?" he asked, fairly certain that he could predict the answer.

"Much more cool, obviously."

"Knew it."

Hillary was making herself quite at home on the priest's shoulder as he made himself comfortable with a drink in the desk chair. "Do guinea pigs even get married?" he asked. "Are they monogamous?"

"I think they mate for life," said the wedding planner, pouring herself a generous glass of the Business Rum she kept in the bottom of the filing cabinet.

"What about hamsters?" He nodded to where Stephanie was trying to climb inside a coffee mug.

"Female hamsters sometimes kill the male partner after mating, so I'd say they'd be a less appropriate mascot."

He shrugged. "I don't know, if you want repeat customers I guess you've got to break up the marriage somehow."

"That's beautiful, Father, you should put that in your speech at the wedding."

Hillary began to nibble politely on his ear and he manoeuvred his head to get away from her teeth without dislodging her from her perch. "If you were getting married, what would you want the priest to say?"

"I'd want you to say, 'Stop the wedding! Let's go and fuck in a hotel room instead'."

"Come on, you must have thought about it."

"I've thought about it a lot." She gave him a lascivious look over the top of her glass.

"I mean your wedding."

Crossing one long leg over the other, she threw her hands up in surrender. "I genuinely haven't. I'm sorry to disappoint you."

He leaned forwards on his elbows, drawn towards her like a flower to the sun, and laughed. "You really are a fucking enigma."

"I try to cultivate an air of mystery. How about you? Did you used to plan your big day? Get your Action Man dolls to dress up and hold hands?"

He wriggled a little, feeling uncomfortably exposed. She crowed with laughter.

"You did!"

"It wasn't my Action Men."

"Uh-huh."

He winced. "I used my brother's Care Bears."

"What's the opposite of an enigma? You're that."

"I'm Alan Turing?"

"Oh god, I fancy a nerd."

"Fuck off."

"Does your alarm clock work? You haven't taken out the batteries to use in your vibrator again, have you?"

"Claire! I'm a professional adult."

"Sorry."

"My vibrator is mains-powered these days."

"I really need you to take this seriously."

"I will."

"No, really, there are very important people who will be attending."

"It'll be fine."

"Just don't be... you."

"Am I ever?"

It was the morning of the wedding and the priest was pacing around the church, anxiously checking on all of the preparations.

"Is there supposed to be a glass of red wine on this table?"

"Yes," said the wedding planner, smoothly steering him away. "I'm going to need it later."

"You and me both," he mumbled.

"Nervous?"

He wrinkled his nose and squinted adorably. "A tad."

"I'd recommend a quickie in the broom cupboard to take your mind off things, but..."

He looked for a moment as though he were considering her suggestion, wild eyes focusing helplessly on her lips.

"Yeah, no, best not," he decided, unconsciously running a finger up and down the spine of the bible in his hand.

"Ungh!"

"Unf!"

"Ah! Fuck!"

"OK, I think that's got it."

A pause. "Are you sure?" asked Claire.

"Yeah," panted her sister, tying the laces of the corset in a final knot. "They should really consider getting a hitching post installed if they're going to carry on doing weddings."

"At least this one's a sensible length," said Claire, inspecting herself in the mirror. She cut a lovely figure in her blush-pink calf-length dress, the gauzy fabric lending a softness to her austere frame. "Do you remember the poofy skirt on the last one?"

"I remember having to help you go to the toilet."

"Don't remind me."

"You were all-"

"Don't remind me," she said, more sharply. "All right?"

"OK, OK, Jesus."

"That's Maria and Johan," she murmured into Claire's ear, pointing out a couple on the other side of the room and consulting the family tree on her phone. "Klare's first cousins, once removed."

"All right, and who's that one in the green dress?" asked Claire in an undertone. They were hiding in the organ loft while their friends and family filed into the church, scoping out the crowd.

"That's our cousin Charlotte."

She squinted. "Fat Charlotte?"

"She lost weight."

"Obviously. God."

Claire sipped her champagne nervously and tapped her foot. Her sister laid a hand on her arm to give it a comforting squeeze.

"It's all under control," she reassured her.

"Aren't you just so dreadfully chic!" shrieked a voice from below.

"And that's my cue."

"That's... interesting, wow," the priest was saying, looking both polite and extremely uncomfortable. The bride's godmother was clinging tightly to his bicep. The father of the bride was standing mildly in the background with his usual level of understanding of the situation, namely none.

Her dress was voluminous, lacy, and pure, brilliant white.

Nonchalantly, the wedding planner made her approach, swiping the glass of merlot from the table as she went.

With a practised ease, she managed to trip when she was a foot or so away from her godmother, and sent the dark red wine flying straight over the front of her dress, miraculously missing the priest.

"Oops," she said, very convincingly.

"You-" started her godmother, rage building through the syllable. "You-"

"I actually happen to have another dress in your exact size right through here," she said smoothly, laying a hand on the small of her back and steering her towards a side room. She spluttered and fumed as the door was closed firmly in her face.

"Hi, Dad," said the wedding planner, kissing him on the cheek.

"That was very naughty," he said mildly, looking unperturbed.

"I know," she said with no contrition whatsoever. "Claire's in the organ loft, go and bring her downstairs and wait for my cue."

"All right, darling. You look, er, very... yes," he tailed off, wandering up the stairs.

"I can't believe how fucking smooth you made that look," said the priest in an undertone, leaning close, his eyes wide and twinkling with mirth.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, and reached out to straighten his purple vestment.

As she ran her hands over the smooth fabric on his shoulders, he let out an exhalation that was unsuited to a man of God. Bringing up one hand to cup her cheek, he trailed a thumb over her red lips before stealing a kiss, just one swift, close-mouthed press of the lips. She made a soft little sound and pressed her body closer to his, winding a hand into his dark hair.

The approaching sound of Claire's heels clicking on the wooden staircase broke them apart. He spun away and wiped the lipstick from his mouth while the wedding planner tried very hard not to look too smug.

"Right," said Claire between her teeth, tension evident in every line of her body. "Let's get this over with."

"Claire," said her sister softly, holding her by the upper arms. "Take a deep breath in... and let it out... OK?"

Claire did as instructed, and some of the nervous energy seeped out of her. "OK."

"You're marrying the man you love today," said the wedding planner, her usual armour of ironic detachment giving way to something startling in its sincerity, her eyes gentle as she connected with her sister. "That's the only thing that matters."

Claire smiled at this, a tight, guarded little thing, but a smile nonetheless.

"Alternatively, I've got a getaway car right outside if you want to blow this whole thing off and elope to Hawaii."

That elicited a laugh, and finally Claire squared her shoulders and raised her head high, ready to march on.

[danfanciesphil]

L’Histoire Française (Five Years Later) (NSFW)

Happy Nearly-New Year! This is a gift that I know a lot of you have been waiting for, I really hope it lives up to your expectations. Those of you that read and loved this fic mean a great deal to me, as this one is particularly close to my heart. You deserve a treat, and here it is! 

I love you all very much, and here’s to a fab 2019. 

Ellen xx

(L’Histoire Française Masterlist)

(TRANSLATION OF THE FRENCH IN THIS CHAPTER)

(Ao3 LINK)

Not Quite The Louvre

June 2022

The restaurant is one Dan has never set foot in, but admired from afar, the way he might admire one of Tyler’s designer suits, or Louise’s newborn - intensely, but with an awareness that it’s very much Not For Him. He walks through the large doors that sit beneath a calligraphic sign reading ‘Gilted’, already deeply concerned about what lies beyond them. From the name, this place promises extravagance, and from the moment Dan steps inside, this is just what it delivers. A wiry, angular woman at a small desk greets him, and immediately summons a young man to take his coat. The young man is wearing a pale green suit jacket, as are all of the other wait staff, which Dan admires for its quirkiness, but is also unnerved by. Is this some new, hipster trend that he’s unaware of? Is he outdated in his plain black suit? Or is it just the restaurant trying to distinguish themselves in some way? As his coat is being dealt with, Dan peers into the dining area, noting a lot of green decoration to match the waiters, including masses of tropical plants spreading their enormous leaves and vines throughout the tables. The walls are a distressed emerald, and plastered in enormous mirrors, which also cover much of the ceiling. Instantly, Dan is gobsmacked by the opulence, and fears for his wallet, which is about to get a pummelling, he can tell.

“Do you have a reservation, Sir?” the angular lady asks, one thin eyebrow arched. Dan tugs on his own boring suit jacket; he gets the distinct impression that she can smell inferiority on him.

“Yes,” Dan replies, cheeks warm. “I think it’s under Lester?”

The woman nods stiffly, then gazes down at her iPad, which has its own pale green cover, and the word ‘Gilted’ etched on in swirly gold. A nice touch, Dan can’t help but think. The woman pauses, then taps the screen, and locks it. She nods to Dan, marginally more amiable now that she knows he’s not some imposter.

“Right this way, Sir.”

She leads him through the maze of tables, of which there seem to be hundreds, scattered across a huge ballroom with vaulted ceilings, and a mezzanine balcony, accessible via an enormous spiralling staircase. Dan swallows, thinking again of his poor bank account, which has no idea of the violent assault headed its way. The woman takes him to a four person table in the centre of the room, underneath a chandelier so large Dan is astounded it can be safe, suspended as it is above his head.

“Enjoy your meal, gentlemen,” the woman says, and Dan nods awkwardly, mumbles a thank you, and sits down.

“Hi,” Dan says as he slides into his seat, and meets the gaze of the person opposite him. “Phil’s going to be late.”

Tyler’s mouth falls open, gasping dramatically. “The scoundrel.” 

“He already texted to tell us,” Teddy says, and Dan relaxes a bit. It’s warm in here, not unpleasantly so, but as Dan is already uncomfortable, it feels stifling. He can’t help but think that it would be far easier to relax if Phil were beside him. “So,” Teddy continues, his fingers lacing together on the table in front of him. “Shall we get straight to it?”

Dan freezes, hackles immediately up, sniffing danger misting off of Teddy’s words. He looks between his two friends, trying and failing, as he always does, to decipher the mischievous look in their eyes. 

“What?” he asks carefully.

“Well Dan,” Tyler jumps in, suspiciously keen to answer. “I know you’re not one for deep thought, but what do you think the reason might be that your other half might have summoned us here tonight?”

“I hardly think Phil suggesting we all go for dinner counts as a summons,” Dan says, though truthfully, Tyler’s implication stirs the butterflies that have already begun awakening in Dan’s belly. 

Teddy’s left hand spreads itself atop Tyler’s, rather obviously. Dan tries not to roll his eyes as Teddy’s fingers waggle, making the large, princess cut diamond on his ring finger sparkle under the chandelier lights.

“Guys,” Dan says in his warning tone, which, granted, is about as terrifying as a guinea pig squeaking. “It’s just a catch-up dinner because you guys are gonna be on your cruise over my birthday next week.”

“Mmhmm,” Teddy says, sipping from his water glass. “In a restaurant expensive enough to bankrupt all four of us with the tasting menu.”

“It’s funny isn’t it,” Tyler muses to the general vicinity, leaning back in his chair. “That what with your parents being on the other side of the world, there’s nobody whose approval Phil could seek if he were inclined to, say... pop the question.”

“Oh, no, Ty,” Teddy says before Dan can object to that loaded statement, patting Tyler’s hand. They share an amused smile. “I’m not sure about that.”

“Oh no?” Tyler asks, theatrically.

“I think if I were Phil,” Teddy says. “In place of his actual guardians, I’d turn to Dan’s closest pals. The people he’s been closest to for most of his adult life, his mentors, his confidantes-”

Dan snorts loudly, and a nearby waiter shoots him a disapproving glare. “Kim and Kanye couldn’t make it, unfortunately.”

“D-list imitations compared to us, darling,” Tyler says, grinning. He’s wearing an irritatingly smug, patronising expression that Dan is very familiar with. “Come on, Dan. The set up is so obvious even you shouldn’t be able to miss it. He’s probably pacing the pavement outside right now, rehearsing his proposal speech.”

“He’s late because he had to supervise detention today,” Dan mutters, though beneath the table, his hands wring the cloth napkin.

Luckily, a waiter approaches then, and Tyler is distracted, demanding the wine list, and a round of nibbles and G & T’s to start them off. Dan turns his attention to his phone while the waiter reels off the various gins available.

From: Dan To: Phil omg please hurry up im about to commit a double homicide x

Ten seconds later, he gets a response.

From: Phil To: Dan no fair. you promised if you ever murdered them that i could help :( im four mins away. steer clear of the silverware. xx

From: Dan To: Phil no promises x

“Darling, I know the etiquette expected from this sort of establishment is a little beyond you, but texting at the dinner table really is terribly rude,” Tyler says, giving him a level glare.

“Sorry,” Dan mutters, though he doesn’t mean it. He pockets his phone reluctantly, noting that the waiter has once again disappeared. “This place is too fancy for me.”

“I must say,” Teddy says, thoughtfully. He’s gazing around at the other patrons, clinking silver cutlery against china dishes, their bleached white teeth clacking against crystal glasses of Merlot. “I was a little surprised at the venue Phil chose to to do this.”

“To do what? Teddy, Phil is not going to-”

“Yes, I thought the same,” Tyler says animatedly, turning to his husband. “That man’s so off-the-wall in every other respect, you’d think he’d have conjured up some extravagant, personalised proposal scene in a lego version of the Eiffel Tower or something ridiculous. Not a restaurant so posh it almost makes me feel uneasy.” He sips water again. “Almost.”

“For God’s sake,” Dan near-snaps, nails pushing into his palms. “Will you stop? It’s just dinner, for God’s sake.”

Something over Dan’s shoulder catches Tyler’s eye, and the smile that spreads over his mouth is somehow both smug and excited. He leans back in his chair, and exchanges a glance with Teddy.

“Uh huh,” Tyler says.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m stupidly late I know,” Phil’s voice says at Dan’s ear. Seconds later, lips are pressed, fleeting and damp, against Dan’s cheek. “Have you already ordered?”

“Just the wine-” Dan starts to say, and then stops short as Phil slips into the chair beside his.

His boyfriend is wearing a suit that Dan has never seen him in before. The jacket is black velvet, with thin, undulating gold thread woven into swirling patterns across the expanse. It’s fitted to his long, lithe body, and hugs his broad shoulders perfectly. Phil’s hair has been trimmed, jaw closely shaven, and a haze of expensive-smelling cologne floats in the air around him. In short, he looks more delicious than anything on the menu, and Dan hasn’t even read it yet.

“Phil, darling, you look so scrumptious that it’s going to be a struggle not to leap across the table and devour you,” Tyler says with a gleeful grin.

Phil laughs politely, scooting his chair in. “Hey, Ty. Teddy. How are you guys?”

Dumbed by the appearance of his boyfriend, who earlier this morning had had to run out of the house without showering to get to work on time, Dan can only stare. He feels underdressed beside this deity. A pale, unworthy companion for someone so beautiful, in a place so beautiful to match. Dan is wearing a suit as well, sure, but it’s just the same one he always wears, black and tight-fitting, possibly a little on the small side, especially noticeable from how it exposes his ankles.

“We’re wonderful, my dear,” Tyler answers for both of them.

“I’ve been trying to get around to finally divorcing him, but he keeps distracting me with blowjobs,” Teddy says in a sigh.

At that moment, a slightly flustered waiter coughs from the end of the table, holding a bottle of expensive-looking red wine. “Y-your Rijoca, gentlemen.”

Tyler claps his hands excitedly. “I’ll do the tasting, garcçon.” He pushes his glass towards the waiter, who pours a drop in.

Whilst Tyler sniffs and sips pretentiously, Dan leans towards Phil as discreetly as he can. “You look absolutely amazing,” Dan says, still dazed. “Should I have dressed up more?”

Phil gives him a warm, fond smile which spreads, like treacle, through Dan’s entire body, until he can feel it in his toes. “Dan, tu es toujours la plus belle personne dans la pièce.”

A bunch of pink, sun-warmed flowers bloom in Dan’s cheeks. “Merci,” he mumbles. “But seriously-”

“The bouquet is divine Phil,” Tyler announces, gesturing for the waiter to fill everyone’s glasses. “Try, try. Is that not simply magnifique?”

Phil takes his glass, thanking the waiter, and sips politely. “Yeah, it’s delicious,” he says. “Well picked.” He turns his attention back to the waiter. “Um, excusé-moi monsieur, nous voudrons un boutéille de champagne aussi, s’il vous plaît.”

“Assurément, monsieur.”

“Oh? Are we celebrating?” Teddy asks in a knowing voice, chin resting atop his interlaced fingers. His eyes glimmer, though it could be the reflection on his superfluous, hipster spectacles.

“We are,” Phil confirms once the waiter has disappeared off. The three of them wait for Phil to continue, but he simply sips Rijoca, and pretends to be intrigued by the décor. Just as Tyler’s big mouth opens, clearly intent on prompting a further explanation, Phil clears his throat loudly, and opens his menu with a flourish. “So! What are we having? French cuisine can be a somewhat hit and miss. Do you think you’ll be alright finding something you like?”

Reluctantly, Dan turns his attention to his own menu, though his heart has started to thump distractingly beneath his shirt. He feels as if he might need to remove his suit jacket soon, or else rivers of sweat will begin pouring out of his sleeves. That might put Phil off whatever it is he has planned. Not that Phil is necessarily planning anything. This could, still, just be a normal, catch-up meal between friends. Where everyone is dressed to the nines for no reason, and champagne is being placed on standby, and the very air itself tastes decadent.

The menu is entirely in French, and despite the lessons he’s been taking for the past three years, and despite Phil’s steady stream of dirty talk and sweet nothings in the language, Dan cannot understand a word in front of him. Then again, even if the menu was in layman’s English, Dan doubts very much that the words would seep into his mushy brain.

“Hmm, what’s cuisses de grenouilles?” Tyler asks, peering at his own menu.

Phil hides a smile behind his wine glass. “Frog’s legs.”

Tyler shuts the menu sharply. “Right, think I’ll stick to the salade.”

“I can never resist a French Onion Soup,” Teddy says with a conspiratorial smile. “Just don’t tell my health-freak husband how much oil and cheese they pour in.”

Tyler immediately begins Googling this on his phone, which starts a quiet, whispered argument on the other side of the table. Phil turns to Dan; there’s no mistaking the hidden twinkle in his eye, unsuccessfully being held back, perhaps until the champagne arrives. 

Phil’s eyebrow lifts. “Dan?”

“Y-yes?”

His heart is pounding against his chest, as if it wants to break free and launch itself onto Phil’s plate.

“What are you going to have?” Phil asks, nodding towards his menu. God, he looks phenomenal, Dan can’t help but think. In the low, warm lighting, surrounded by pastel green, Phil is a waterlily in bloom. He puts Monet’s Nympheas to shame, and Dan saw those right up close, too. “Do you need me to translate anything?”

“N-no,” Dan says, mesmerised. He swallows, quietly, and tears his gaze away. Oh, God. Is his entire life about to turn upside down at the sight of one fold of a bended knee? “I’ll just have the, uh,” he casts about the thick ivory page for something vaguely recognisable. “The ratatouille.”

“Are you sure?” Phil asks, frowning. “I think they have galettes. They’re like savoury pancakes. You like pancakes.”

“No, really,” Dan assures him, stomach roiling at the idea of attempting to digest a flappy, doughy pancake right now. He lifts his glass of wine to his lips and pours about half of it down his throat. “I’m in a, uh, tomatoey mood.”

“What a romantic sentiment,” Tyler mutters to Teddy. 

“He can treasure it forever,” Teddy replies, luckily too low to be overheard by Phil. Even so, Dan kicks both of them in the shin.

The waiter returns with an ice bucket and champagne, and Phil orders for everyone in his fluent, silken French. Dan is on edge, certain now that he is about to be jumped with some monumental romantic gesture that he is entirely unprepared to deal with. It all feels overwhelming - the glitz, the alcohol, the unrecognisable, expensive food -  but he tries to cling to the presence of Phil beside him, safe and comforting even gussied up as he is.

Is this how it always is? Is the proposer supposed to fire the question out of the blue, giving the proposee no time at all to rehearse or prepare? He supposes in all the films he’s seen, the woman is always totally caught off-guard by the sight of her man kneeling before her. Dan’s always been pretty cynical about this however, thinking she must have had some sort of inclination. 

Before he can dwell any further, the food arrives amidst casual chatter about jobs and grievances, and Teddy and Tyler’s usual guilt tripping about Dan having “abandoned them to go and live in sin with his French lover.”

“It was three years ago,” Dan says to Teddy. “I think possibly it’s time to forgive me.”

“We should really be angry at Frenchie, of course, for snatching you away,” Tyler says, studying a tomato on his fork with scrutiny. “But who could stay mad at those chiselled features?”

“You do know I’m not actually French, don’t you?” Phil asks, though he’s laughing good-naturedly, playing with the stuffed aubergine on his plate. “And hey, without Dan there I bet it was great that you could have sex in any room of the house, before you moved into your new place, obviously.”

“Never stopped us before,” Teddy mutters and Dan throws a napkin at him.

By the time dessert is over with, the red wine has been drained, and the champagne is finally lifted from the ice bucket, Dan has almost forgotten what he’d been worried about. The wine in Dan’s bloodstream is creating a pleasant, blurred hum around their table. It even makes Tyler’s loud, boisterous chatter just the right side of tolerable.

“So,” Phil says in a louder voice than he has been speaking, and reaches to pluck the unopened champagne from Teddy’s hands. “I have something I’d like to announce.”

Instantly Dan’s heart leaps into his throat. Tyler and Teddy exchange a look loaded with something like ‘here it comes’. Phil turns to Dan, and reaches for his hand. Dan lets him take it, limply, and tries to focus on the words about to come from his boyfriend’s mouth; in the thousand ways he’d imagined Phil might do this, he always knew he’d need to remember everything he said. Phil’s always been a master of language, wielding it like a sword in the hands of a medieval Knight.

“Dan,” Phil says. “There’s a reason I wanted us all to be here tonight.”

Dan takes a deep breath. “O-oh, okay.”

“I don’t want to give you the wrong idea,” Phil says, unexpectedly. “There are things I want to ask you, in the future, but that’s not what this is. You should know, by now, that I love you more than anything. I see a future for us, a long and happy future, and that’s why I think we don’t need to be swearing it to one another with rings just yet.”

“I…” Dan frowns, looking towards Teddy and Tyler. Their expressions are unreadable; they look excited, brimming with some secret thing Dan is perplexed by. “Wait, so you’re... not proposing?”

Phil smiles sweetly, and squeezes Dan’s hand. “No.” He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a key. There’s a keyring attached, in the shape of the Eiffel Tower. On it, Dan can see silver lettering, though he can’t read what it says. “I thought about it. I’m always thinking about it, honestly. Of course I want to be married to you. But before we splash out on a big wedding, I think it’s important for us to get to a place, individually, where we’re happy in ourselves.”

Dan’s heart squeezes. He knows that somewhere in that speech Phil said he loves him. That he wants to be married to him someday, even. But all Dan hones in on is the word ‘individually’. He and Phil have tried individually. It had been, and remains to this day, the worst period of Dan’s life, trying to extricate himself from Phil, after he’d known the touch of him, the closeness. Surely Phil cannot be suggesting they do that again - try some new-age method of spending some time apart to ‘find themselves’ before committing? Phil turns Dan’s hand over then, distracting him, so his palm faces up, and drops the key into it. Bemused, Dan brings it to his face, squinting at the words written on it.

La Cerise Galerie, 234 Lipton Avenue

He recognises the name. It’s a gallery Dan used to like visiting from time to time, smallish, and independent, run by a French couple with a passion for the romantics and the impressionists. Unfortunately, the couple, Madame and Monsieur Cerise, decided to put the gallery on the market a few months ago to go and travel the world on an extended retirement trip. They were clearly wealthy from some unknown source, the gallery just being something they did on the side. Sadly, the pretty mansionette that the gallery was in, with its white, modern, square exterior, and neat gardens, has since remained empty. 

“I don’t understand,” Dan says, feeling as if he’s stood on the edge of some tall, sheer cliff in high winds.

“He never was the brightest bulb, Phil,” Tyler says in a stage whisper. “You may need to spell it out for the poor dear.”

“It’s yours, Dan,” Phil says, inexplicably. “I bought it. Well, almost. I’ve had a a little help.” Phil shoots a meaningful look towards Tyler, who lifts his glass, smiling. “You need to sign the deed for it, and I have to finalise some stuff. But it’s yours if you agree, Dan. I picked the key up on my way here. And now I’m giving it to you.”

Dan stands from his chair, making it screech across the wooden floor. He can barely breathe; he knew this suit jacket was too small for him. The key sits weightily in his palm, loaded with all that it represents.

“Phil” Dan says, shaking his head. He wants to hurl the keys across the room. “You can’t do this. This is... mad.” He looks at Tyler, who is wearing a fascinated expression, as if Dan’s reaction is a scene in a teledrama. “Ty... you knew about this?”

The room is rocking violently, side to side beneath Dan’s feet. Tyler nods, sipping wine. “Of course. Phil and I have been in the process of purchasing the place for weeks.”

“But earlier... you were hinting he was gonna propose!” 

Teddy laughs then, clearly thoroughly enjoying this crazy scene as much as Tyler. “We had to throw you off the scent, obviously.”

Well, Dan thinks, they sure managed that. Dan feels utterly blindsided by this, can’t even wrap his head around something so absurd. The keys in his hand are dragging him to the floor as the responsibility they drip with mounts. Being a property owner of any description at his age is something far out of Dan’s expectation, let alone the owner of his own gallery. Carefully, as if he’s approaching a wild, skittish deer, Phil places his napkin on the table, and stands too. He holds his hands out to Dan, wary of spooking him.

“Let me explain,” Phil says, or Dan thinks that’s what he says; his heart is pounding so loudly it’s nearly drowning out the words. He takes Phil’s hands anyway, if only to ensure he doesn’t topple over. A few heads have turned towards them from nearby tables, presumably because Dan standing up and clearly on the verge of a panic attack is not the usual spectacle for a place like this. “I want you to be happy, Dan,” Phil is saying, somewhere on the horizon. “I want to see you flourish, and grow. I’m so, so grateful you decided to apply for a TA position five years ago, I truly am. But I know it’s not the path you’d have chosen, if you could.” He pats the keys in Dan’s hand. “This, right here, is what you want. I’m lucky enough to love what I do. All I want is for you to feel the way I do each morning, when you get in to work.”

Glassy-eyed, Dan just stares at Phil. He looks down at the keys in his hand again, and slowly curls his fingers around them, just to feel the cold, slim weight of them, and test out the idea that they belong to him.

“It’s too much,” Dan whispers, trying to remember the asking price painted onto the sun-faded For Sale sign in the front lawn of the gallery. Even with Phil’s additional new research-job at the University in the next town over, he’s can’t be earning enough to afford this. “We can’t afford it.”

“I loaned Phil what he couldn’t reasonably stretch to,” Tyler says then, dropping this snippet of information with far too much nonchalance. “My promotion has given me a salacious new salary. Teddy and I already bought the dream home last year, and had the big wedding. We thought about getting one of those abandoned infants from China shipped over, but on balance, this seemed more of a priority.”

“Tyler, no,” Dan says, coldly. “I don’t want a handout. I’m working full time, and I’m doing the teacher-training course. In a few years I’ll be a qualified English teacher, I don’t need-”

“Your dreams are always worth a shot,” Teddy interrupts, then reaches out, and pops the champagne. “Even if it’s just one shot, with everything you have. Besides, you’ll never persuade Ty out of it. He’s a regular sugar daddy now. Buys his way out of everything. Cooking dinner, doing the dishes, return blowjobs-”

As if to prove this point, Tyler whips out a few banknotes from some pocket in his immaculate suit and throws them into Teddy’s face. “Twenty pounds to shut your cute trap, darling.”

Suddenly exhausted from the overwhelm, Dan sits back down, heavily. Phil follows suit, watching Dan with scrutiny.

“I know it seems like a lot,” Phil says softly, one hand on Dan’s shoulder. “But it seemed… right. I was on my way to the jewellery store to get you some fancy ring, and I drove past the gallery on my way. And I got this feeling in my gut, a familiar feeling that I couldn’t quite place. So I drove on, and then I realised - it’s the same feeling I had when you walked into my classroom that first day. A kind of static buzz, exciting and hopeful. Like all the atoms around me just aligned.”

A lump, huge and insistent, aches in Dan’s throat, making his eyes water. “I won’t be able to repay you. Not for years.”

“I think I speak for Phil and myself when I say that the only repayment we need right now, is for you to give it your best shot,” Tyler says, making Teddy smile at him in that rare, fond, proud way. “Well,” Tyler corrects. “I’m sure Phil wouldn’t mind a grateful blowjob or two as well-”

“He’s right,” Phil interrupts, and Dan raises an eyebrow. “About you not needing to worry about repaying us,” Phil adds quickly, though a smirk has crept onto his face. “You don’t need to decide right now. But I thought we could go and see it after dinner, take a look at least.”

“See it tonight?” Dan asks. His full stomach squeezes and contracts uncomfortably, the ratatouille threatening to make a second appearance. “Um, w-well...”

He looks at Teddy and Tyler, now kissing on the other side of the table. He’s not sure he can take a visit to the potential property of his dreams with them in tow. Phil follows his gaze, then leans towards Dan, smiling.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll tell them seulement nous.”

*

They walk to the restaurant, floaty and slightly swaying from the champagne Dan had forced himself to knock back in celebration. He’s still incredibly unsure about this whole thing, and feels as if either accepting or rejecting the offer would have equally disastrous consequences. Not even taking into consideration how it would disappoint Phil to refuse the gallery, Dan can barely stand to imagine how, in the weeks and possibly years that followed that refusal, he’d slowly be consumed with regret. Phil had been right, earlier - Dan had never wanted this career path, and has only really stayed on it to be near him. But Phil’s career prospects are changing; he’s spending more and more time at the University, and Dan knows it won’t be long until he goes from Assistant History Researcher, to PhD student, to full-fledged History Professor. And then what will Dan’s excuse be for working in a job he has no passion for, with children that are more inclined to fondly mock him than listen to him as an authoritative figure?

Working as a teacher has always been a horrifying thought for Dan, if he’s honest. The only thing that makes it tolerable is knowing that he’ll be able to snatch time with Phil, before class and in class and a bunch of times between. The idea of patrolling the school halls without this prospect is not a fun one. 

And... he has always wanted this. The cute, perfectly situated, small-town gallery. It’s a dream he’s only told a select few about, not even his parents, who would dismiss it as unrealistic. Perhaps their influence was stronger than Dan thought it had been, because never did he expect to actually get his dream, especially not like this, when he’s so young, and only because Phil’s willing to place so much faith in him.

All of this bubbles around with the champagne in Dan’s tipsy brain, until they’re at the door of the gallery, and Dan realises he hasn’t spoken a word to Phil all the way here. Their hands are joined, swinging gently between them. Now, Dan breaks the hold, reaching into his trouser pocket for the key. He looks at Phil before he inserts it into the lock.

“If I decide I can’t do it,” Dan says in a rush, because Phil has to hear it. “If it’s all too much right now, and I’m not ready��� I just want to tell you,” he swallows, determined to find the right words, “nobody has ever done anything like this for me. Nobody has ever even listened to me long enough to understand that I dream about this all the time. I don’t think I really understood how much you must love me until now,” Dan confesses, feeling his eyes sting. “I don’t know if I’m quite able to accept something so…” he flaps his hands at the pale grey door of the gallery, with its frosted windows, and neat, quiet sign. “You know. But oh my God. Thank you for this. That doesn’t even begin to cover it. But thank you.”

“That’s okay,” Phil says with a small, pleased smile. “I know it’s big. And maybe I’m doing everything wrong. Maybe I should have proposed first, I don’t know.” He shrugs, eyes travelling to to the sign on the door. “But I know one day, maybe way in the future, but one day, I’ll look over and see a ring on your finger. I know it would make you happy, if I asked you. But I don’t want that to be... what defines you. I don’t want you to just be my partner, who hates his job. I want you to be your best self, and to commit to me knowing you’ll never yearn for more. No pressure, Dan, really. It’s all reversible. But let’s have one teensy, decadent little explore, try out picking which room you’d display what in. It can just be pretend, for now.”

Dan smiles, marvelling as always at Phil knowing just what to say. “Okay,” he agrees, and opens the door.

*

September 2022

“What are you doing here?”

Phil laughs, thankfully, and walks over to kiss him. “Nice to see you too, stranger.’

“Sorry,” Dan says against Phil’s mouth, sagging into his embrace. “My nerves are fraught.”

“Good thing I brought this then,” Phil says, leaning back and pulling out a bottle of cold champagne from the large bag in his hand. “To celebrate your Grande Ouverture, Monsieur.”

Dan smiles weakly, though the phrase makes his heart speed up. “God, don’t call it that. It’s just a small party to let people know I’m here.”

Phil nods seriously, but there’s a glinting smile in the depths of his eyes. That smile hasn’t faded for one moment since Dan announced, after just one tour of the gallery’s rooms, empty of everything but promise, that he’s going to do this. Since that night, Dan has thrown himself into getting it ready, procuring artworks, establishing a name for himself as a young curator with a new space, and it’s all led up to this. Tomorrow night, the Cerise Galerie officially opens, under new ownership. It’s currently eleven o’clock, and Dan’s been working tirelessly since 7am. He’s barely been home all week, in fact. Buffy probably doesn’t even recognise him anymore.

“Sure,” Phil says, then pushes the bottle into Dan’s hands. “Open this will you? I’ve got some plastic glasses in here somewhere.”

Dan watches as Phil sets the bag down, pulls out his zig-zag blanket and spreads it over the floor of the main gallery room. It’s a strange thing to do, probably, but Dan is rarely surprised by Phil’s peculiarities anymore. Phil finds glasses, and then produces a few cartons of Chinese food, and Dan falls in love with him all over again. They eat and drink sat on the blanket together, shoes kicked off, shirts unbuttoned, until Dan feels vaguely normal again, and much less like he’s about to burst into a million shards of stress and worry.

“It looks awesome in here,” Phil says, leant back on his hands as he surveys the walls. The frames are all simple wood, so as not to detract from the paintings within. This room shows the work of three artists, all Ethiopian by birth, who paint about their culture, their current lives in England, and their families, respectively. Dan found each artist separately, and has placed their work in one room, to see how their combined cultural experience compliments each other’s work. “You’re really good at this.” Phil lowers his eyes to meet Dan’s, still glinting. “I knew you would be.”

“Thank you,” Dan says, as sincerely as he can manage. He must have thanked Phil a thousand times by now, a hundred thousand, possibly, both verbally and… non-verbally, but he still feels he needs to stress it again. “Most people wouldn’t get an opportunity to even try. Let’s hope I don’t fuck it up.”

Phil frowns. “I don’t think you could, Dan. But you know if it doesn’t work out, it’s not your fault. This is hardly the best economy to be opening an independent gallery in. If it doesn’t take off like we hope…” Phil shrugs. “Then we’ll chalk it up to experience, and a fun adventure, and try again somewhere down the line.”

Dan nods, grateful for his optimistic practicality. Those two things shouldn’t fit together, but somehow Phil makes it work. Just then, Dan’s elbows give out, shoulders and back screaming at him to release the tension, and he flops back onto the blanket, groaning.

“You alright?” Phil asks around a chuckle, nudging Dan with his knee. “Getting old?”

“Everything aches,” Dan complains, eyes falling shut. “The stress of running my own business has aged me before my time.”

“And you haven’t even opened yet,” Phil teases, but starts to gather up the empty Chinese boxes, moving them into an empty carrier bag. “Turn over, Grandad.”

One of Dan’s eyes opens. “What?”

Phil laughs, eyes crinkling around the edges. This is a rather wonderful vantage point, Dan muses to himself. Phil is knelt up, in just black jeans and his white shirt rolled up at each sleeve. His jet black hair is starting to pepper grey at the shaved sides, which Dan adores, and tells him so frequently. He looks like a man, strong and lean, with the piercing blue eyes of a mythical sea creature, and the mischievous smile of an eighteen year old.

“I said, turn over,” Phil repeats, but this time he winks. Dan thinks about refusing, but that’s never normally a good idea if he wants to get through the night un-spanked. And yes, the idea of being bent over Phil’s knee is tempting, but as he’s got to run around an opening-party tomorrow, he probably needs to not be in pain every time he takes a step. So, Dan turns onto his stomach, intrigued already by what Phil has in mind. Phil crawls over to him then, and straddles Dan, sitting on his bum. He smooths his big hands across Dan’s shoulders and begins to squeeze and knead them; Dan is so caught off-guard by the massage that he sinks heavily into the floor, and groans, making Phil laugh again. “Good?”

“So good,” Dan says, practically drooling. “Your fingers are like wonderful knives.”

“Hmm,” Phil says. “I’m hoping that’s a positive thing.”

“Oh, it is.”

Phil keeps kneading him, knuckles working the knots out one by one, then carving pathways either side of his spine. He works Dan’s hips, the dip of his lower back, slots his fingers between Dan’s ribs and rakes over them. It’s sinfully good, and by the time Phil’s hips grind into his bum for the first time, Dan is so hard he can barely think straight.

Phil climbs off of him, and pulls Dan’s shoulder, encouraging him to turn over until he’s laid on his back again. Dan moves fluidly, easily, perfectly happy to be led by Phil’s desire. He learned long ago to trust that despite the teasing and playful build-up, Phil will always get him there in the end. Phil unbuttons Dan’s shirt, then trails his tongue up the exposed strip of skin between the lapels. He pulls the material aside, revealing a nipple, and closes his lips over it, first softly, and then biting down, hard.

Dan gasps, the sting of pain giving way to the instant tingle of blissful relief that follows it. At first, Dan had been more reluctant to experiment with the duality of pleasure and pain that Phil had slowly revealed he enjoyed. But over time, Dan has dipped his toe deeper and deeper into the waters, and discovered, to his shock, that he actually likes it a lot. Now, five years into their sexual relationship, Dan is no longer shy about his desire, and readily admits to Phil, as he found it so hard to do once, that he wants Phil to hurt him, and then kiss him. To tie him up with ropes that chafe, and then lick soft, warm lines up his neck. To bite his thighs hard enough to mark the skin, and then push slick fingers inside of him so gentle and slow that it takes hours to open him up enough.

Phil has removed Dan’s shirt entirely now, and is currently working his trousers off too. Once they’re thrown aside, he settles between Dan’s thighs, hands roaming over the bare skin on show. His fingers pinch Dan’s nipples, coaxing them into taut pebbles. His nails drag down Dan’s sides, leaving thin white lines across the skin in their wake. Dan just breathes shallowly, trying not to wriggle too much, or gasp too loudly, as he’s not been expressly permitted to do anything except lie here, on his back, and let Phil do as he wants.

“Do you know,” Phil says conversationally, as he runs a teasing, light hand over Dan’s erection, concealed beneath his black briefs. “You’re just as gorgeous as the day I met you.”

“Less cocky, I expect,” Dan replies, and Phil slaps him in the thigh for answering, then strokes the spot.

“A bit, perhaps.”

“You’re more gorgeous,” Dan blurts, at which point two spots of pink burst into each of his cheeks. “Maybe it’s the salt and pepper hair. Or just… happiness. You look magnificent, every day.”

Phil’s hands pause for a moment, and he gives Dan a fond, loving smile. “No more talking now,” he says after a moment, and Dan is sort of glad. Who knows what other schmaltzy nonsense might have seeped out if he were allowed to continue. He tips his head back, and sinks into the sensation of Phil’s hands on him again, and then his mouth, against his briefs, light and teasing with his flicking tongue.

“Lift,” Phil instructs, tapping Dan’s hip.

As he raises his bum from the floor, Phil tugs the briefs down, and then all the way off. He trails one finger along the slightly curved line of Dan’s cock, then scoops the pearl of precome on his fingertip, and deposits it into his mouth. He takes Dan’s thighs in each hand then, and pushes them upwards, until Dan’s near bent in half. Practiced at this by now, Dan knows to wrap his own hands around them, and hold himself like this, so he does.

“Bon,” Phil whispers, offhandedly, and presses a kiss to Dan’s left foot.

There’s a pause before anything else happens, and staring up at the ceiling as he is, Dan can’t tell why. If he had to guess, however, he’d say that Phil was in the process of removing his own clothes, and the thought of it makes Dan ache, in the centre of his chest. It’s a struggle not to lift his head, and see the slow reveal of Phil’s naked body with his own two eyes. Eventually, Phil is back, and Dan feels lips against the backs of his thighs, making his cock twitch in anticipation.

“Ne jouir pas,” Phil says, firmly, shortly before taking one of Dan’s balls into his mouth.

He does the same to the other, and right away Dan is not convinced he will be able to follow Phil’s instruction. Phil’s tongue trails down, not going the way Dan expected, and he groans, deep and long, sensing the impending development before it happens. His cock remains untouched and flushed a deep pink, Phil’s mouth moving to areas further south. He licks between Dan’s cheeks in one unbroken line, then places a hand on each, and begins to swirl the tip of that tongue around Dan’s rim.

Dan’s face is hot, and probably bright red. Each movement of Phil’s tongue against him sparks a dozen electric pulses through his whole body, along with that delicious, hot sluice of shame that comes from being so vulnerable, from doing something ‘taboo’. If Dan turns his head to the left, he can see a painting he loved from the moment he set eyes on it, of a wild desert, over which a string of bunting hangs, displaying the Ethiopian flag, and beside it, the Pride flag.

“Fuck,” Dan lets slip as Phil’s tongue inches its way inside him.

He’s relentless at this, and saves it for special occasions because he knows Dan goes mad for it. When he does press his tongue there, he is slow and teasing, and can spend hours at it, driving Dan to the brink of ecstasy, and sometimes over the brink, if Dan is out of practice at staying in control. He highly suspects this might be one of those times.

His hips dance and shift, pushing into the feel of Phil against him, all warm wet mouth, and insistent, flicking tongue. “Fuck, Phil,” Dan moans, breathless. “Y-you’ll have to stop if you don’t want me to-”

Phil’s hand draws back and then lands with a slap on Dan’s right cheek, loud enough that it echoes around the room. He draws back to look at Dan between his thighs, lips slick, cheeks flushed. “Ne jouir pas,” he repeats. “And no talking, either.”

Then he dives back in, leaving Dan struggling and gasping, eyes fixed to the ceiling, trying desperately to think of the most non-arousing objects he can conjure up. A teapot. A wheelbarrow. Phil’s socks on the table. Phil’s tongue against his ass-

“Unngh, God,” Dan groans, and then, miraculously, and awfully, Phil moves away. There’s a smirk twisting his lips, and he reaches for the champagne bottle, taking a cheeky swig. Dan lifts an eyebrow, but dares say nothing.

“Très bon,” Phil says approvingly, then offers him the bottle. Dan shakes his head carefully, sensing a trap, and Phil laughs. “Hey, I brought it for us to share, no tricks.” Still, Dan refuses, too aroused to contemplate trying something as mundane as drinking, and Phil shrugs, setting it down. He’s in only his pants now, Dan notes, which are doing a poor job of concealing how hard he is beneath them. He climbs back on top of Dan, takes both of his wrists in either hand, and pins them above his head, smiling. “If I told you to keep your hands here, would you?”

At once, Dan nods, eagerly.

“Alright,” Phil says, leaning down to give him a slow, explorative kiss. When it’s over, he releases Dan’s wrists, and tilts his hips forwards, pressing their groins together. Even through the fabric of Phil’s underwear, Dan’s eyes roll back at how good it feels, to have some friction against his tortured erection at last. “I’m going to let you fuck me,” Phil says, as if he’s telling Dan he’s bought Buffy more dog food. “And you’re not to move your hands.”

Dan’s eyes widen. There’s absolutely no doubt in his mind that he is not strong enough to achieve this feat, but to say so might mean it won’t happen, so he stays silent. His heart races, watching as Phil finds his suit jacket a few feet away, and rummages in the pocket for a hidden bottle of lubricant. Dan wonders if he’s got any other exciting objects in there, but doesn’t dare ask.

So Dan is forced to watch, silent and unmoving, as Phil tilts up onto his knees above Dan, shucks off his underwear, and reaches between his legs to insert two lube-slicked fingers inside himself. It’s utter torture, and Dan’s eyes sting from how badly he wishes he could reach up and touch, bite, kiss, claim him. But he does none of this, just watching, mind blurred from lust, as the Adonis above him prepares himself for Dan.

“D’accord,” Phil says after what seems like centuries. “Je suis prêt. Ne bougez pas.”

Don’t move. As if that’s even a possibility, Dan thinks as Phil adjusts their positions, and then carefully sinks down onto Dan’s cock. It’s blinding, and consuming, like a meteor dazzling across his vision, obscuring everything else. Burrowing into Phil’s tight, warm body is akin to no other sensation. Dan feels sounds slipping from his mouth, feels tremors undulating through him, and still Phil engulfs him in a slow, steady swallow, until Dan has bottomed out entirely, and Phil is speared on his cock.

“Oh, for the love of fuck, please move,” Dan begs. Maybe it’s because Dan’s been so stressed, or because despite talking aloud, and making demands no less, he hasn’t actually moved his hands from where Phil pinned them. Whatever the reason, Phil does start to move his hips, in small increments at first, shifting up and down, and then gradually increasing the speed. “Oh, fuck. Oh, God.”

It’s when Phil shifts his angle, and then tips his head back to gasp, that Dan can’t help himself. His hands fly out to grab at Phil’s thighs, to feel his hips shift as he moves them. Seconds later, he remembers that this is not allowed. Despite his own flush, and the glassiness of his eyes, Phil is coherent enough to recognise that Dan has broken the rules, and grabs him by the hands, pinning them up above his head again. This time, he holds them there as his hips work, pulling Dan to the precipice of a cliff with each thrust downwards, grinding himself onto Dan’s cock. It’s Phil’s moans that throw him over the edge. It’s the flutter of his eyes, the slackening of his mouth as the tip of Dan’s erection grazes his prostate. He is a corrupted angel, fallen into iniquity, and Dan cannot bear the sight of it. He cries out as he comes, hips pushing himself as far into Phil as he can manage.

As his body slackens, the tremors slowing and stilling, Dan relaxes into the blanket beneath them, shuddering as the aftershocks ebb through him. He looks down; Phil hasn’t come - looks as if he intended to resist all along - and extricates himself from Dan carefully.

“You broke the rules,” Phil says, making Dan’s spent cock twitch again. “You moved your hands.”

Dan’s mouth is dry, but he manages, “I’m sorry.”

“Tu veux me faire jouir?” Phil asks, and Dan’s heart skips a beat, as it always does when Phil talks to him this way. Filthy and unabashed, not even a light flush against his pale skin. Dan nods, emphatically, and Phil’s smile grows wide. “Trente secondes.”

At once, Dan jumps to attention, leaping for Phil’s lap with such enthusiasm that Phil can’t help but laugh. It’s a kind punishment, really, as Phil is well aware by now how much Dan absolutely loves sucking him off. Before Phil, he’d never have dreamed he’d find it so pleasurable, but now he can’t get enough of it. Phil jokes, from time to time, that he’s more at home at floor level than Buffy is.

In the many, many opportunities Phil readily gives him to indulge himself in his favourite activity, Dan has gotten… pretty fucking good at it, if he does say so himself. He knows Phil’s tells, can switch techniques expertly just by listening to the shift in Phil’s breathing. But thirty seconds to make him come is a tall order, particularly as Dan prefers to draw it out.

Nevertheless, he does his best, head bobbing, keeping a tight seal around the girth of him, using one hand to meet his lips as he sinks down. Before he knows it though, Phil is tapping him on the back of the head.

“T-time’s up,” he says, sounding a little breathless himself. In the second that follows, Dan makes a snap decision. He continues sucking, tongue laving at him as he goes. He doesn’t bother wiping the spit that drips from his lips, and doesn’t respond when Phil taps him again, and says, “Dan. That’s thirty seconds- oh, oh merde.”

Dan can feel the give in him, can sense when he decides to just abandon that incredible willpower he has and let Dan pull him off the cliff as well. Phil plummets down into the ocean of bliss beneath, flooding Dan’s mouth with his release, and groaning loudly, his hands tangling in Dan’s hair. He swears several times in French, and then releases Dan, letting him slide off.

Dan sends him a sheepish, but pleased, look as he wipes his chin. “Sorry,” Dan says, and doesn’t mean it for a moment. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Bitte salope,” Phil says, but fondly, teasingly, and reaches his arms out wide, so Dan tackles him to the floor. “I’ll have to punish you again,” Phil says, trailing his fingers through Dan’s curls. “But I guess it can wait until after your big fancy opening.”

“Very gracious of you,” Dan says, laughing, then sighs happily, pressing lips to Phil’s chest. “I needed that. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Phil replies with a giggle. “It’s very taxing for me, obviously. But for you, anything.”

Dan swats him gently. “If you weren’t so hot and great in bed, you’d probably be a right pain.”

“Je t’aime aussi, chaton.”

*

In the middle of the party, just as Dan is about to grab one of the wait staff he hired and ask him why he’s been having to top up his own wine glass all night, a familiar, loud and obnoxious voice booms out from nearby.

“Mr Howell!”

Even the sound of that name is enough to make Dan shudder. In this environment, he’s simply Dan. He only TA’s at school a few days a week now thanks to PJ’s unwavering support and understanding, so most of the time Dan can forget he’s got an awkward, stern twin personality, charged with looking after a bunch of teenagers. He looks around, trying to place the voice in his mind, and failing.

Then, in the centre of the room, a young man stands between a few curious patrons, their heads turned to find out who is shouting in the midst of all the quiet, appreciative murmuring. Even staring him full in the face, it takes Dan a while to figure out who this person is, familiar though he seems. Then, his brain helpfully removes the heavy beard from the man’s chin, shrinks him down a few feet, and strips away the pyjama-like clothing, dressing him in a school blazer instead.

“Jonah,” Dan breathes, astounded. Before he can think anything more, Jonah Frank is storming over to him, a grin peering out from within the thick, unruly beard. Two impossibly strong arms wrap around him, thumping him on the back. “Oh my God,” Dan says, “what on earth are you doing here?”

“Came to support you, teach!” He releases Dan, jostling him by the arm.

“I hardly recognised you,” Dan admits, still baffled that the brawny but short kid he once chaperoned to Paris and back has somehow morphed into this stoner-dude, with long hair and a full beard. “You look, uh... nice tunic.”

Jonah laughs heartily, plucking a canapé of some kind off a nearby tray and seeming to swallow it whole. “Thanks,” he says, still grinning. “I’m at uni now, innit. Decided to reinvent myself.”

Dan chuckles, but then re-examines what Jonah just said. “Wait, you’re at uni?”

“Don’t sound so shocked, Sir!”

“Dan,” Dan says, blushing. “Call me Dan, we’re not in school now.”

“Oh yeah, guess you’re right! Weird.” Jonah is looking around, nodding as if impressed, as he takes in each artwork. “This is pretty decent if you ask me, Sir. I mean, Dan.”

Dan smiles at him. “Thanks, Jonah. It was really sweet of you to come.”

“Aw, don’t be a nonce,” Jonah responds, batting Dan in the shoulder. “You’re the reason I got into uni at all! Well, you and Mr Lester, obviously.”

It’s an absurd thing to say, and Dan has no idea where to begin responding to it, so he catches a waiter’s eye and waggles his glass, indicating he needs more alcohol, stat. “What are you studying?”

Jonah grins, then clears his throat. He pinches his thumb and forefinger together, accenting himself as he says, “L’histoire Francaise!”

Dan’s eyes bulge, and he almost drops his glass when a waiter, appearing at his shoulder, begins to fill it. “Is that… are you actually?”

“I swear,” Jonah says, readily accepting a second glass of wine from the waiter. Instinctively, Dan reaches to pluck it from him again, but Jonah pulls it out of reach. “Oi, I’m eighteen! I just told you I’m at uni, remember? Keep up, Sir.”

“Oh right,” Dan says, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“No worries,” Jonah says. “So, where’s Mr Lester these days, then? I heard he’s not teachin’ at school anymore. Did he come to his senses in the end? Or did you scare ‘im off?”

The lack of tact in that question is so blunt that Dan sincerely hopes Jonah knows this is not the case and is just teasing him. He opens his mouth to respond, but before he does, a voice at his side butts in.

“If Mr Howell and I can survive your meddling Jonah, I think we’ll make it.”

“Ah, there he is!” Jonah cries out, arms thrown around Phil before Dan can blink. “Missed you, Sir. Uni’s got some well shit professors. When you gonna come and teach in the big leagues, eh?”

“Give it a year or two,” Dan says, aiming a loaded look at Jonah. Phil nudges him in the side, but doesn’t contradict the statement.

“Oo-er,” Jonah says, stepping back and draining his wine. “And here I was worryin’ that without me you two’d be lost!”

“Oh we are,” Phil says, smiling. “In an emotional sense.”

Dan nods in agreement, and feels Phil’s arm wind around his waist. “Classroom Nine echoes with Jonah Frank’s timeless words of wisdom… ‘when’s lunch, Sir?’, ‘how come they didn’t just wash a bit in the Middle Ages, Sir?’...”

“‘Stop flirtin’ with your TA, Sir…’” Phil adds, then winks at Dan.

Jonah laughs good-naturedly, and they chat a bit more about his Uni, what he’s studying, how it’s all going. He seems to be enjoying his first year, and not just the partying side of it, either. Dan still doesn’t believe that Jonah is there because of him - for some reason, in his last two years at secondary school, Jonah knuckled down and actually left with a decent set of GCSE’s and an acceptance to a nearby college - but he’s immensely glad that he was there to see it all happen, and in some small way, to help.

“At least now you can say it wasn’t all a huge waste of time,” Phil says once Jonah has excused himself to go and wander round the few other rooms.

Dan looks puzzled. “What wasn’t?”

“Doing the TA thing,” Phil says, nodding in the direction Jonah disappeared. “You successfully transformed the school’s most troubled student into a typical, bong-smoking uni fresher.”

Dan snorts, rolling his eyes. “Wow, I’m truly a marvel at my unwanted profession.”

“It’s not your profession anymore,” Phil says; he’s got a stupidly lit-up expression on his face, like he’s bursting with something Dan suspects might be akin to pride. “This is what you do. It’s what you’ve always been meant to do.”

“Well, don’t jump the gun just yet,” Dan says, mind back on how many tickets are left at the door, and if he’s going to be able to pay the caterers and still make a profit. “It’s only the first night.”

“Dan, look around,” Phil says gently, and Dan surveys the room he’s stood in, which is crammed with people, all admiring the art, talking and laughing, the wine in their hands flushing their cheeks. “This is a huge success. It’s a fantastic start to a promising career. You’ve done it.”

Dan opens his mouth to argue, but the sight of Teddy and Tyler in the corner, bickering over the meaning of the abstract sculpture Dan had fought some collector for, he closes it again. They’re arguing over what they deem is art. They’re arguing because they see different things within it, and interpret it in separate, personal ways, in just the way art is supposed to prompt people to do. And Dan’s responsible for that argument, he’s responsible for their individual reactions that caused it. He placed that art in front of everyone here, for those reactions to spill out of people’s mouths, even in the form of a snappy retort.

“You know,” Dan says in a low murmur. “I think you might be right.”

Phil leans in and kisses him, excitable and without finesse. “Je t’aime, mon petit propriétaire de la galerie.”

Dan laughs, softly, against him, drawing back just enough to dive into deep, brilliant pools of pure blue. “Moi aussi, mon amour.”

Fin.

[therandomfics]

AMA Pt5

“Hey doll, what are you doing out here?” Sonny called out as he approached you. Thirty minutes had passed and everyone was back inside, something about dirty Santa. The knot in your stomach only served to tighten as you tried to look at Sonny without showing him your disappointment. “You’re gonna catch your death. Come inside. We’re about to play Dirty Santa. I don’t wanna get stuck with socks again.” 

“Of course, sorry. My mother texted me. I didn’t want to be rude and on my phone in front of everyone,” you lied, standing up and allowing Sonny to guide you back inside. 

Dirty Santa was a game you had played often in college among your friends. Pick a number, hope you’re the last one, and pray that if you’re first your gift doesn’t suck. One time, you remembered fondly, you went home with three bottles of wine. On the flip side, you’d also gone home with a toilet seat once. It was a fun game to play and you usually enjoyed it, so you tried your best to be enthusiastic especially since you were with his family for the first time. You had chosen number 10, out of 18 options. When it was your turn, you picked a small bag and opened it, revealing a pair of leather driving gloves. They were very beautiful, and though you seldom drove, you knew they’d prove useful. Sonny was number 12, and took your gloves, leaving you to pick again. This time, you picked the largest box left and unwrapped a wine carafe with a bottle of vintage Merlot. 

“This is pretty amazing,” you commented as you sat down next to Sonny. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and you leaned into his warmth. Surely he had a good explanation, and you wanted to have a good night, so you let it slide. 

Mrs. Carisi was 17, and she took Sonny’s gloves - no, your gloves - and waved them in his face. “Serves you right!” she chirped and sat back down. Sonny, having to pick again, got up and picked a package at random, selecting a Barnes and Noble gift card. Solid choice. 

Finally, at number 18, Nicole stood up and sauntered over to the table. You couldn’t help but notice that she seemed to be dressed for warmer weather - or, her cleavage was at least. She scanned the table and then turned back, walking right up to you and stepping on your toes with her heeled boots. You winced and pulled your feet away as she snatched the box from your lap. “Thanks Amanda,” she said loudly, flashing you a smile that could only be described as ridiculous. The room fell silent, eyes of the guests trained on the trio that somehow had unknown history. 

“Fuck you, Nicole,” Sonny spat, a flash of frustration on his normally pleasant features. 

“Again?” Her sickly sweet voice made your stomach turn. “All you hav’ta do is ask, Dominick.” 

“What?” you whispered, mostly to yourself, though Sonny heard you and turned in his seat to face you. Before he was given a chance to speak, you shook your head and murmured, “Please, don’t.” 

You didn’t know how, but you ended up outside, pulling your hat on and buttoning your pea coat. Sonny, inside arguing with Nicole, didn’t even realize you had slipped away. Several blocks later, your phone vibrated in your pocket. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N, where did you go?” Sonny demanded. 

You sighed and looked around. “This was a terrible idea, Sonny. I’m going to catch the Ferry and go home. Thank you for inviting me, but, I just.. I think it’s best I leave.” 

He stayed silent, though you could hear his heavy breathing. He was angry. At you? Maybe. “No. I’m gonna come get you. Where are you?” he asked again. 

“I think you’ve got your hands full with two women already. You don’t need to worry about me, too,” you chided and hung up the phone. The port was only a few minutes away, and the schedule online said the next boat left in ten minutes. So long, Staten Island, you thought to yourself. Good riddance and may we never meet again. Sadly, you didn’t know if you meant the island, or Sonny. 

When you got home that night, you were exhausted. Mentally and emotionally, not to mention physically. It had been hell to get home from the ferry. Traffic was insane - Christmas shoppers - and you were on the verge of tears the entire time you trekked home. You must have looked like a mess, but it was New York. No one really paid any mind to the crazy people.

As you curled up in your bed, you tried not to let the situation get the best of you. Though you tried, it was pointless. You broke down, shaking and crying into your pillow. It wasn’t just Sonny, or the fact that he’d hidden parts of his life from you. It was how unwanted, unneeded, misplaced, and tossed out you felt. You knew it stemmed from your childhood, and if you knew anything it was how impossible it was to get over childhood trauma. It was hard to feel loved and wanted being passed from home to home, and it was even harder to feel loved and wanted when you became part of a family where only a handful of them appreciated your existence. You didn’t fit their mold of sharp bone structure and dark features. No, you were soft, rosy, nothing like them. And though your mother and father had always done well to provide for all of your needs, it was hard to believe them. That’s why now, it was hard to trust Sonny. Not only was it hard to trust him, it was hard to understand why he’d hide Amanda, why he’d allow himself to be seen so close to Nicole, why he’d bring you to meet his family if he knew she would be there. Nothing made sense, and you had no one to turn to in your time of need. 

For several hours you’d lied in wait, hoping sleep would grace your mind. When the clock finally read 1:00AM, you realized the fight was useless and got up, padding into the kitchen. You struggled in your sad state to pop the cork on a bottle of white wine, but rejoiced quietly and threw the corkscrew and cork into the sink. The bottle didn’t last long, less than thirty minutes, and before you knew it, you were drunk. The wine took over and had a mind of its own, ensuring that you picked your phone up and called Sonny. Two in the morning, but the wine didn’t care. It rang twice. 

“Hello?” Sonny answered. Wherever he was, it was noisy. 

“Where are you?” 

Background noise, shuffling, a door opening and closing, and then silence. “Where are you?” he countered. 

You sighed and fell back onto your bed. “In my fucking bed.” 

“I’m at O’Malleys,” he finally answered. You sat up. That was the bar two blocks from your apartment. A female voice in the background caught your attention, causing your ugly jealousy to peek through. 

“Who’s that?” you demanded. 

You could hear the strain in his voice when he answered, as if he thought answering slowly would prevent you from getting mad. “Amanda.” The line went dead, leaving Sonny standing outside in the cold, with no one on the phone. 

You were three days out from Christmas, and six days past the last time you’d spoken to Sonny. Unfortunately you were no where closer to understanding who Amanda was, or if he’d really had a relationship with Nicole, or if anything he’d ever told you was true. The hardest part, though, wasn’t figuring out the truth from the lies. It was trying to fill time in your schedule that you’d once spent with him. Eating lunch alone, spending evenings alone watching television, falling asleep without having anyone to bid farewell.. it wasn’t easy. It had felt like ages, though it had barely been a week. Your only consolation was that you’d taken three weeks off, starting the day before Christmas and into the second week of January, and had high hopes of finding something to occupy yourself during those weeks. 

A faked illness got you through Christmas - meaning Chinese delivery and all of the Die Hard movies. Your parents were disappointed but wished you well, offering to send over food if you’d wanted it, but you declined. What a depressing way to spend your second favorite holiday, you thought. But, how much worse would it have been to spend it with someone who didn’t care for you the same way you’d cared for them? Sonny hadn’t tried to reach out in a few days, but you didn’t blame him. You didn’t give him a chance to explain himself, and he hadn’t tried after the night you caught him with Amanda at 2AM. It seemed like a big waste of time, time you couldn’t get back, but that you could learn from at the very least. 

New Year’s Eve finally arrived. You had no plans, no glittery dress and heels to wear, no one to kiss at midnight. It was no different than the past 29 years, but for some reason it seemed morose this year. For a while you contemplating calling Sonny, but he was probably with Amanda. You were too embarrassed to update your relationship status back to single on Facebook, but not proud enough to stop stalking Amanda’s page, grimacing each time you saw her name. Stop torturing yourself, you thought, you’re not making anything better. As you closed out of the app, your phone vibrated and Sonny’s name appeared at the top of the screen. 

Sonny: I just wanna make sure you’re okay. 

You: How “okay” am I supposed to be? 

Sonny: I know. I want you to let me explain everything. No bullshit. 

You: Let me guess. You slept with Nicole when you were a teenager. It was a passing fancy. Now you just enjoy seeing her, reminding yourself that you fucked a guinea. And as for Amanda, you guys slept together a few times, decided to stop and keep it professional, but the kid’s yours? Now you just spend time together because it’s convenient when you’re lonely at 2AM the same night you get into a massive fight with your girlfriend over the very girl you’re with. Why’d she call me Amanda? 

Three dots in a thought bubble popped up and disappeared off and on for ten minutes. 

You: That’s what I thought. Fuck you, Sonny. 

[ladywineclub]

CASTELLO DI AMA L'APPARITA 2017 TOSCANA IGT

L’Apparita, the first purebred Merlot produced in Tuscany, has been an iconic wine since its initial harvest in 1985.

Two parcels at the top of the Bellavista vineyard comprise the L’Apparita cru.

The open-lyre training system and the predominately clay soil make this cru a crown jewel in world winemaking.

Since the first vintage, this wine has maintained its unique expression in which the distinguishing features of Merlot are elevated by the terroir of Ama

.

Toscana IGT L’Apparita, the first purebred Merlot produced in Tuscany, has been an iconic wine since its initial harvest in 1985.

Two parcels at the top of the Bellavista vineyard comprise the L’Apparita cru.

Vines were firstly planted in 1975 with Canaiolo and Malvasia Bianca, they have been replanted in 1982 with Merlot, using the clone nr 342.

The open-lyre training system and the predominately clay soil make this cru a crown jewel in world winemaking. Since the first vintage, this wine has maintained its unique expression in which the distinguishing features of Merlot are elevated by the terroir of Ama.

CLIMATE

Winter has been mild and rainy. In April, temperatures raised rapidly, while May and June have been very instable. Finally, summer arrived in July and we had great temperature excursions between night and day, which helped to develop aromas and flavours in the wine. Although we had hail at the end of August, grapes were very healthy. After several samplings and organoleptic analysis in the vineyards and in our laboratory, on 15th September.

VINIFICATION

The vinification started using ambient yeasts, in steel tanks at a controlled temperature of 30/33°, with manual pumpovers and a total cuvaison of 28 days. After the first racking, the wine was transferred into steel tanks for the malolactic fermentation.

REFINEMENT

After the malolactic fermentation, the wine has been transferred in oak barriques of fine grain, 50% of which were new and the rest were second-passage barriques, for approximately 14 months. Colour: purple red with violet nuances. Impenetrable.

Nose: red fruits, blackberry. Lavender, mint, sage, spice, new leather and cloves develop with time.

The finish has a balsamic note. Layered, perfumed and wonderfully nuanced.

Taste: L'Apparita is especially silky and refined.

TECHNIICAL DATA OF THE WINE

First release: 1985

Grape variety: Merlot 100%

Alcohol: 13,5%

Total acidity: 5 g/l

Residual sugar: <1 g/l

Extract: 31,4 m/l MAP Ha: 2.95

Exposure: North-South

Soil: Calcareous with clay Altitude: 490 meters above sea level

TECHNICAL DATA OF THE VINEYARD

Training system: Open Lyre Vine density: 2.800 plants/ha Clone selection: 342

When to drink: 2023 to 2030

Professional reviews BOW (9-) PARKER (96)

This edition of L'Apparita is extra dark, succulent and firm.

When the wine has been given another five to ten years of cellar age, then I'd suggest guinea fowl or one of those delicious roasted pigeon dishes you find in Tuscany.

Some 7,300 bottles were made.

Maybe a MUST in your Wine Cellar.

[allhisdays]

10 August 2018

dear diary

august 10th seems to be a very popular day to be born. i know in total 6 people whose birthday is today, and a 7th in fact who was born this very morning! (if we include my friend’s rainbow baby - a girl btw!). just thought it was funny.

found a hilarious guinea pig t-shirt with the inscription “i am two guinea pigs past normal”... it’s like it was made for me!! i am very tempted to buy it. :p

the heat is back but this evening is cooler. i celebrated physio giving me the green light for exercising (a bit) with that bottle of merlot my mum bought me. i only had two small glasses. i am ready for bed now! not just bcs of the wine lol but also bcs tomato was a no-show today so i have no good reason to stay up. im glad God is keeping him busy and focused on the task(s) at hand. i hope he knows at this stage that he doesn't need to apologise for not coming to chat - his time is not mine, it's God's and i pray he would be a good steward of that precious resource. i'm also sure he'll be glad to hear that i used the time we would've spent chatting reading Your word Lord, and in praise & prayer. ;)

God, You are so good,

my Healer, my Provider

all i need is You

all i need is You, Lord.

[peopleplatesplaces]

Ocean View Estates Winery & Craft Brewery

Ocean View Estates Winery produces a range of wines from their vineyards located at Mt Mee, Queensland. Their vines are 450m above sea level, enabling them to produce classic varieties such as Chardonnay, Viognier, Merlot and Shiraz.

Owner and Winemaker of Ocean View Estate Wines, Thomas Honnef, has a long family history of viticulture. Thomas was born in Papua New Guinea to his German parents who were serving in the missions at the time. When Thomas was just 2 years old they returned to Germany to live among their family on the banks of the Moselle River who were working in viticulture. Moselle is a famous wine region producing cool climate, crisp whites and light, fruity reds. Thomas and his family lived in a small village, Linz am Rheine, (translates to Linz on the Rhine) until the cold, and sometimes harsh, environment became too much to bear… The New Guinea tropics had coursed its way through their veins!

The family was given the opportunity to sail to Australia on a cargo ship and settled in Brisbane where they had friends they had met in the missions.

Thomas wasn’t always on the viticulture and winemaking path. When the family was still young they moved to Narangba and set up a permaculture farm raising chickens and turkeys on a commercial scale. After he completed his schooling, Thomas’ father encouraged him to get a trade. He became a skilled sheet metal worker and went on to achieve Apprentice of the year 3 years running. Even with his love of the intricacy this job entailed, Thomas decided the workshop life wasn’t for him.

In his first year of marriage to wife Kate, he began studies in Biochemistry and Naturopathy. This was to fulfil another passion - to be able to help people live to their full potential both physically and mentally. Again he completed this with distinctions and went on to develop a successful and well respective Naturopathic Clinic on the Northside of Brisbane. During this time he spoke at many conferences and mentored new Naturopaths kickstarting their careers. The Clinic was sold in 2010 to free up time for his new and lifelong passion- Wine and everything about it!

In 1991 he met a new mate, Cal Irons, at a party. The relationship blossomed into a great friendship & business partnership between Thomas, Cal, Kate & Cal’s partner, Rosemary. This meeting has led to the development of what is now Ocean View Estates Winery & Restaurant and all that it is today.

Cal and Rosemary had the land, Thomas & Kate had the time and all had a passion for wine. Having grown up on a farm and being a perfectionist at whatever he puts his hand to, the vineyard soon flourished and plans for the winery came to fruition. With background knowledge in biochemistry, Thomas commissioned a winemaker from Victoria to teach him the wine making  process and complete the first three vintages with him. Since 2005 he has been on his own and won many awards for his wine.

The Viognier has done particularly well for him with a win every year of production.  It was a risk to grow this variety as it was not well known and recorded as being hard to grow, but through his research and experience, Thomas knew it would do well if given the chance and clearly he has never been afraid to take risks.

Thomas has now found his calling in life and loves nothing more than to have wine stained hands during vintage, spending hours in the vats. He is a great business leader and is comfortable in his role as Director Of Ocean View Estates Winery & Restaurant. He now makes fantastic wine, fixes everything that breaks on the estate, builds things & prescribes a good glass of red to anyone with any kind of ailment. He has learned to use every skill he has learned in life.

Ocean View Estate Winery offers a restaurant, cellar door, function space and accommodation. The restaurant serves fresh local produce with a focus on seasonality and designed to pair with their wines.

Thomas and Kate’s daughter, Hannah Honnef, is Head Brewer at Ocean View Brewing Company. Hannah’s craft beers have become increasingly popular, and her brews include a refreshing, citrus pale ale, a gluten free hibiscus and rose Saison, chocolate porter and Scottish Brown Ale.

Restaurant  Wednesday 10am - 3pm Thursday 10am - 9pm Friday 10am - late Saturday 10am - late Sunday 8.30am - 5pm

Cellar Door Wednesday 10am - 3pm Thursday to Sunday 10am-5pm

http://oceanviewestates.com.au

People, Plates & Places are proud to announce Ocean View Estate Winery & Ocean View Brewing Company will be pairing their drops with our hand crafted menu at Blue Dog Farm long table lunch in the paddock.

Blue Dog Farm, Mt Mee - Saturday October 28th

Tickets are $198pp and include;

-       Five-course meal paired with Ocean View Estate Wines & Craft Beer

-       Meet the brewer, the winemaker, the farmer and the steers

-       Take a tour of the property

-       Learn about sustainability and regenerative farming practices.

Book tickets via our website at www.peopleplatesplaces.com.au

[cesium-sheep]

we went to the mall today and it was Exciting :>

matt went to game stop and the employee at the counter was fun to talk to, and also he decided to renew his membership that had lapsed years ago which means I can mooch off of it to get discounts B)

we smelled every candle at bath and body works and we got the black cherry merlot one which we’ve enjoyed repeatedly, also the employee there was also fun to talk to and was excited to hear there’s a new kirby game for switch soon!

at fuego they had a cute pusheenicorn that if you pressed the button the horn lights up and it makes a noise, which was adorable. I should probably get a pusheen plushie someday, since I’ve liked it for a long time -u-

aaaand at barnes and noble I got the two books that came out yesterday in series I follow (yona of the dawn 10 and behind the scenes!! 5), as well as the next volume of anonymous noise (6) cuz I had the points and I’m a spoiled brat

and then matt wanted to go to target on the way to petco, and they had giant enormous teddy bears! for $15! matt was gonna get me one but I got fussy so he let it go, but then when I changed my mind he went back and got one for me anyway :x his name is teddy and he is huge and perfect (and also sheds a little)

then we went to petco, the guinea pigs were very active, two different strangers started conversations about pets as well as the employee that got a shrimp out for me and the cashier, and also I have a shrimp for my fishtank now, I love its dumb little legs.

edit: I just remembered there was a lapras plushie in the pokemon center machine today too! I didn’t get it but lapras will always have a special place in my heart (it was my favorite card, I had a holographic one. I traded it away cuz I was a dumb doormat kid but sean got it back for me)

[babyhoneywrites]

top 5 baby names, top 5 beauty products (can include body wash/shower gel, soaps, shampoo, etc!), and top 5 pets you'd want to own

baby names:

girls: brooklyn, charlotte, holly, lucy, and oliviaboys: asher, jacob, jonah, peter, and wyatt

beauty products:

- pomegranate exfoliating body scrub (dove)- cinnamint toothpaste (colgate)- pomegranate & mango body wash (softsoap)- lilac you a lot palette (colourpop)- black cherry merlot foaming hand soap (bath and body works)

pets:

literally any breed of dog!, a turtle, a guinea pig, a fish, or (if it was legal) a hedgehog

[maudereno38705-blog]

Way of life.

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