#Vino Li

[aestum]

(by Vino Li)

[deletingmyself]

(by Vino Li)

[suenosyfantasmas]

LI Bai (Li Po). Poeta chino, (701 - 762). Dinastía Tang, (618 - 907). Máximo poeta de la historia literaria de China.

BEBIENDO SOLO A LA LUZ DE LA LUNA.

(Fragmento).

Entre las flores, un tazón de vino

bebo solo, ningún amigo está cerca.

Levanto mi copa, invito a la luna

y a mi sombra, y ahora somos tres.

Mas la luna nada sabe de bebidas

y mi sombra se limita a imitarme,

pero así y todo, luna y sombra serán mi compañía.

Fuente: Wordpress.com

Creacion digital: Seyfert Art. Arte digital.

Sueños y fantasmas. El arte de soñar.

[p5x-theories]

Another Thieves Den interaction, this time with Lion Dance Rin and Vino!

[requiem-on-water]

“The jellyfish doesn't actively move anywhere; it's just moved with the tides.”

by Nikolay Kovalenko, Uriel Soberanes, Vino Li, Vania Medina, kaaaka liang

[natalievoncatte]

“We should play truth or dare.”

Kara nearly choked on her wine when she realized what Lena had said. That sounded like an amazingly terrible and yet incredibly intriguing idea. She turned to say something when she caught Alex giving her a look that could shatter diamonds. Kara downed the last of her wine and said,

“It’s getting pretty late, Lena.”

“You’re no fun,” Lena said, poking Kara in the center of her chest for emphasis.

Kara was glad she was sober. It wasn’t entirely true that she was immune to alcohol- it just took about a gallon of grain alcohol for her to feel a mild buzz for a few minutes, then have to run to the bathroom as her superhuman metabolism almost instantly forced it out of her system. Alex had “helped” her discover that once back in high school, and they both ended up grounded for a month.

“Come on, Kara. This way I can find out where you’re always running off to. In vino, veritas.”

Kara looked around and saw her own mirrored panic rising in the others. Kelly looked on from the kitchen, the only other member of their little group who was oblivious to the sheer weight of what Lena just said. Nia looked even more green than she had a moment earlier, and Alex was giving Kara a warning look, shaking her head behind Lena.

Brainy, for his part, remained mellow, sipping his grape soda. He was the designated driver for the night.

“Yeah, we need to go,” Nia threw in. “It’s been fun but I have an early day tomorrow.”

“It’s Saturday,” Lena protested, but it came out shaturday.

“I have to get up for yoga,” said Nia.

“We’re all in the same class on Thursday,” said Lena.

“Um, I’m getting ready for the yoga championships. Extra classes.”

Lena raised an arched brow.

Alex cut in, suddenly. “Kelly babe, you ready?”

“If you are. I was going to see if Kara needs help with the dishes.”

“I’m fine,” Kara called out, hearing the alarm in her own voice.

“Lena, are you riding with us?”

“Nah,” said Lena. “I’ll stay.”

Alex cleared her throat.

“How will you get home? You’re sauced, Miss Luthor.”

Lena grinned and looked over at Kara. “I’ll just stay over. I do it all the time.”

Alex’s brows climbed up and she turned to Kara with an incredulous expression.

“When did that start?”

“It’s no big deal. I live on the other side of town and Kara has a nice couch.”

Alex seemed to relax a little. Kara’s heart was trying to slam through her ribs.

“Okay.”

They all bundled out of the apartment, with Alex promising to text and Brainy swearing to let Kara know they were all home safe.

Kara closed the door behind them and turned around. Lena was still curled up on the couch, swirling the last of her wine in the bottom of the glass. She was in leggings and a big, baggy sweater that had been pulled to one side so hard that it almost bared her shoulder. Her hair was down and had gone wavy, falling over one half of her face, making her mysterious and distant. She downed the last swig of wine and put the glass down.

“We could still play truth or dare.”

“Lena,” said Kara. “You’re really drunk.”

“So are you.”

Kara swallowed, hard, feeling the bitter bile of her lies at the back of her throat. She wasn’t drunk at all. She was barely even tired; the city had been miraculously calm all summer.

“Which is it, Kara? Truth or dare.”

“Neither,” said Kara. “I think what you need is some sleep.”

Lena rested her glass on the coffee table, in the middle of a game of Monopoly that they’d all been too drunk to finish.

(Except Kara. Lena would have won, because Kara always agreed to whatever trade Lena offered, because saying no to Lena was harder than lifting a submarine over her head)

Kara leaned back against the kitchen counter coolly, trying not to betray her emotions. That turned into a job for Supergirl as Lena rose from the sofa with seductive grace, stalking across the loft with feline intensity. She was at once cuddly and soft in her sweater and a seductive vamp with her long inky locks pulled over one shoulder and the other bare.

Kara’s eyes locked on the bared skin, soft and creamy and crying out for a warm touch, then pulled away sharply as she willed herself not to ogle her best friend. It was a losing battle. Every step brought Kara back to the sway of her hips or the way her leggings gripped her thighs or the soft promise of her curves beneath that sweater.

Kara was starting to think she might be gay.

Lena stepped into her space. With both of them barefoot, Kara had a notable height advantage. Lena reduced it by rising on her tiptoes and threw her arms around Kara’s neck.

Kara had few weaknesses. Kryptonite. Magic. If kept up long enough, oxygen deprivation.

Lena Luthor.

She was so close that Kara could taste her breath, the fruity tang of the wine and the soft, inviting scent of Lena beneath her perfume. She was wearing a soft pink lip gloss that drew Kara to stare at her lips. She could almost feel them without touching. Her blue-green eyes were dark and sultry, and she leaned in on Kara, pressing the soft weight of her breasts against her chest.

Kara’s pulse went like a hummingbird and her knees went wobbly, but she simply ignored gravity.

Kara had other advantages. She could see the heat bloom on her skin and feel the change in he skin conductivity, and hear her heart racing. Lena’s pulse nearly matched her own.

Before she knew what she was doing, Kara had her hands resting on Lena’s sides just above her hips, moving on pure instinct. All she’d have to do was dip her head a fraction and she’d be kissing her. She was so close.

“Please pick dare,” Lena whispered.

It too every fiber of her being not to say “dare,” but she held her tongue. She also held Lena.

“I can’t. You’re drunk and I’m not.”

“Hi drunk, I’m dad.”

“Lena! This is serious!”

“Oh, you’re serious. I thought you were daddy.”

“Lena!”

“I dare you to…”

Kara pressed her finger to Lena’s lips.

“Lena, please listen. You’re drunk. I’m not. If you still want to do… whatever this is… in the morning, I… I want that. But not like this.”

Lena frowned and Kara thought she might die of sheer sorrow right there.

“Okay. Should I go home?”

“No, absolutely not. Just… do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll explain in the morning. I promise I’ll,” she swallowed hard, choking down the fear. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“Okay.”

Kara sighed and scooped Lena up, easily taking her weight in her arms. Lena yelped and hugged tight around her, clinging close and pressing cheek to cheek. Kara wanted to kiss her so bad that it ached in her chest, throbbed in her veins, but she didn’t. She carried her to the couch.

“Wait,” Lena said. “Can’t I sleep in the bed with you? I promise I won’t try anything.”

Kara nodded, mentally wincing. She carried Lena around to the bed and laid her down, drawing the blankets over her and settling her head on the pillow.

She had a choice to make her. The right thing to do, the honorable and chivalrous thing, would be to go sleep on the couch. She knew that, but the very idea of it was anathema to her.

To her credit, she stepped out of the bedroom to change and she put on pajama bottoms.

Kara took the far side of the bed, staring straight up. She didn’t expect to sleep a wink, but somehow she drifted off.

When she woke up, there was a weight on her. She looked down and found Lena pillowed on her chest. With a sigh, Kara rolled onto her side and drew Lena close, sheltering the other woman in her arms. In sleep she looked peaceful, so free of the worries and fears and anxieties that dogged her when she was awake.

Kara knew she should stop stroking Lena’s hair, knew she should let go of her, but the soft, hypnotic beat of Lena’s heart was nothing she could escape. She held Lena a little tighter, her own heart fluttering when Lena murmured her name on her sleep and hugged her back.

They woke up like that, Lena tucked in close under Kara’s chin. Lena was already awake when Kara woke up.

“Hi,” said Lena.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

“Head hurts.”

“I’ll get you something,” Kara said, starting to rise.

“Oh no you don’t,” said Lena, tugging her back down. “You said you were going to tell me everything.”

Kara froze.

“How much of last night do you remember?”

“I remember the part where I tried to climb you like a tree and you bridal-carried me to bed and tucked me in,” said Lena. “And the part where you started hugging me like a teddy bear.”

“You started that.”

Lena snorted. “Why didn’t you kiss me?”

“Like I said, you were drunk, and I can’t… not until I… you don’t know everything.”

Lena sighed, looking away, and then looked up.

“So, truth then. Are you Supergirl?”

Kara flinched back, momentarily struck numb. If she was asking that, it meant she knew the answer.

Lena stared at her hopefully, almost pleadingly, her big pretty eyes sparkling with unshed tears. She bit her lip and Kara melted, feeling herself turn to goo.

“Yes.”

Lena let out a long sigh of blessed relief, closing her eyes.

“Lena?”

“It’s my turn. I pick truth.”

“Okay, um,” said Kara, “why did you ask me why I didn’t kiss you?”

Lena rolled her eyes. “Because you’ve been staring at me like I’m a bowl of potstickers for years, and I was wondering if you were ever going to make a move.”

“Why would I look at you like you’re food?”

“I meant you were looking at me like I’m something you want to eat, Kara.”

“I’m not that kind of alien.”

Lena tensed, breathing sharply as she looked stunned and a little hurt.

“Wait,” Kara blurted, “oh Rao that was a joke, I didn’t mean I don’t want to… I really do want… I just , I’m… I don’t know what to say now.”

“I’m in love with you,” Lena sighed.

Kara froze. “You… you’re… with me… IIloveyoutoo.”

The mashed-together declaration had barely escaped her lips when Lena lunged closer and kissed her. From there it was pure chaos. Lena pulled and Kara followed, rapidly ending up on top of her as she shimmied out of last night’s outfit.

Kara pulled back from a soul-burning kiss as she felt the heat of Lena’s bare skin under her hands.

“Wait,” she said. “If I picked truth last night, what would you have asked?”

Lena smirked.

“Why do you stare at my chest all the time?”

Kara laughed, snorting a little.

“I’ll show you.”

[maureen2musings]

Vino Li

[psiqotic]

quando arrivi a ridosso dei trent’anni, i rimpianti, i rimorsi ed il tempo perso, li senti il triplo. ad oggi mi ritrovo da solo, con pochi legami veri, in una domenica qualunque, con una lasagna presa d’asporto, un calice di vino rosso, da solo in questa tavola lunga. qualcosa ho sbagliato, sicuramente.

[hotwifemia]

Da li vaši momci/muževi gledaju sport?

Moj gleda, kada mu dozvolim... Nekad ga pustim da počne, a onda pošaljem po vino i na sve četiri... 😊😊😊

[occhietti]

Dicono che tutti i giorni dobbiamo mangiare una mela per il ferro e una banana per il potassio. Anche un'arancia per la vitamina C e una tazza di Tè verde senza zucchero, per prevenire il diabete.

Tutti i giorni dobbiamo bere due litri d'acqua anche se poi espellerli richiede il doppio del tempo che hai messo per berli.

Tutti i giorni bisogna bere un Actimel o mangiare uno yogurt per avere i "L. Cassei Defensis", che nessuno sa bene che cosa cavolo siano, però sembra che se non ti ingoi per lo meno un milione e mezzo di questi bacilli tutti i giorni, inizi a vedere sfocato.

Ogni giorno un'aspirina, per prevenire l'ictus, e un bicchiere di vino rosso, per prevenire contro l'infarto. E un altro di bianco, per il sistema nervoso. E uno di birra, che già non mi ricordo a che cosa serva. Se li bevi tutti insieme, ti può provocare un'emorragia cerebrale, ma non ti preoccupare perché non te ne renderai neppure conto...

Tutti i giorni bisogna mangiare fibra. Molta, moltissima fibra, finché riesci a evacuare un maglione.

Si devono fare tra i 4 e 6 pasti quotidiani, leggeri, senza dimenticare di masticare 100 volte ogni boccone. Facendo i calcoli, solo per mangiare se ne vanno 5 ore. Ah, e dopo ogni pranzo bisogna lavarsi i denti, ossia che dopo l'Actimel e la fibra lavati i denti, dopo la mela i denti, dopo la banana i denti... e così via finché ti rimangono tre denti in bocca, senza dimenticarti di usare il filo interdentale, massaggiare le gengive, il risciacquo col colluttorio... Meglio ampliare il bagno e metterci il lettore di CD, perché tra l'acqua, le fibre e i denti, ci passerai varie ore.

Bisogna dormire otto ore e lavorare altre otto, più le 5 necessarie per mangiare, 21. Te ne rimangono 3, sempre che non ci sia traffico. Secondo le statistiche, vediamo la televisione per tre ore al giorno. Ma no! Non si può, perché tutti i giorni bisogna camminare almeno mezz'ora.

Bisogna mantenere le amicizie perché sono come le piante: bisogna innaffiarle tutti i giorni per mantenerle in vita.

Inoltre, bisogna tenersi informati, e leggere per lo meno due giornali e un paio di articoli di rivista, per una lettura critica.

Ah!, si deve fare sesso tutti i giorni, però senza cadere nella routine: bisogna essere innovatori, creativi, e rinnovare la seduzione.

Tutto questo ha bisogno di tempo. E senza parlare del sesso tantrico.

Bisogna anche avere il tempo di scopare per terra, spolverare, lavare i piatti, i panni, stirare e non parliamo se hai dei figli o un cane.

Insomma, per farla breve, i conti danno 29 ore al giorno. Non c’è niente da fare: devi fare varie cose insieme. Si chiama multitasking, non c’è altra soluzione! Per esempio, ti fai la doccia con acqua fredda e con la bocca aperta, così almeno ti bevi i due litri canonici. Mentre esci dal bagno con lo spazzolino in bocca e fai l’amore (tantrico) con il compagno/a che nel frattempo guarda la TV e ti racconta, mentre tu lavi il pavimento. Ti rimane una mano libera? Chiama i genitori o qualche amico. Dopo aver chiamato i genitori, avrai senz’altro bisogno di un goccio di vino per tirarti su. Il Bio Puritas con la mela te lo può dare il partner, mentre si mangia la banana con l’Actimel, e domani fate il cambio.

Mi è venuta la confusione mentale.

Adesso ti lascio, perché tra lo yogurt, la mela, la birra, il primo litro d’acqua e il terzo pasto con fibra della giornata, già non so più cosa sto facendo. So che devo andare urgentemente in bagno. E ne approfitto per lavarmi i denti. Però, se ti rimangono due minuti liberi, invia una copia ai tuoi amici, che devono essere annaffiati come una pianta.

Se ti avessi già mandato questo messaggio, perdonami. È l’Alzheimer che, nonostante tutte le cure, non sono ancora riuscita a debellare.

web - Autore sconosciuto

[southernlonewolf]

Il vino prepara i cuori e li rende più pronti alla passione.

Publio Ovidio

[joelmillerisapunk]

WIP Wednesday

Tysm @milla-frenchy for the tag 🥰

I have a million things in my docs, it's a disaster in there 😅

Wine daddy/sending the wrong nude to your dbf instead of your tinder match

The next morning, you wake up to a message notification. Your heart leaps, thinking it's Tinder Joel, but as you reach for your phone, a sense of dread washes over you. The message is from your father's best friend, Joel Miller, a man you've known since childhood and who has seen you grow up. The preview of the message is enough to make your blood run cold.

11:58: "I think you might have sent this to the wrong person, sweetheart."

Panic sets in as you read the full message and your face flames with embarrassment. You type out a flurry of apologies, each one more frantic than the last. Joel's response is swift and unexpected

8:05am: It's all good, baby girl. You don't need those Tinder boys when I'm right here for ya.

Determined to apologize in person and clear the air, you find yourself outside the sleek glass building that houses Joel's wine company Vita Vino: where every sip is a celebration of life. You certainly don't feel very celebratory at this moment. The receptionist leads you up to the top floor, where Joel's office overlooks the city with floor-to-ceiling windows.

Some random thing I just found in my docs

You reach out tentatively, your fingers brushing against the coarse hair on his legs, feeling the solid muscle beneath his skin. You let your hand drift over to where his boxers lay. With a mixture of reverence and desire, you hook your fingers under the fabric and carefully pull it down just enough to reveal what lies beneath. His cock is there in its resting state—impressive even in repose—thick and long with a softness that belies its potential for hardness and power. You remember how it feels when it grows rigid in your hand or against your thighs; how it fills you completely when he's inside you; how it satisfies an ache within you that only he can reach.

Npts: @pascalssbabyy @sawymredfox @mermaidgirl30 @katiexpunk

@604to647 @bitchesuntitled @alltheirdamn @sixhours @pedrosarmsling

@aurorawritestoescape @vivian-pascal @mothandpidgeon @starry-eyes-love @magpiepills

[bookmunchies]

Hahahahahaha, twinning tnght, al kako nisi znala da je jak, bas zato se i pije dzin tonik obicno, ja na svadbi rekoh konobaru, naspi mi dzin a on na to dzin tonik? ok i odma podje, morala sam da ga hvatam da mu kazem da cu cist, ne volim gazirano a dzin tonik ko gaziran, svjedno, on mene gleda ko da ne sme da toci cisti dzin, ono kao ej brate, morala sam mu ponovit i on meni pa koliko ces da ti naspem? sta to uopste znaci, pa imas casu za dzin i spias sta znam visina zavisi od toga da li ga sluze s ledom, ali posto smo trebali uskoro da idemo, ja njemu kazem pa nzm naspi dva prsta, kad on kaze da ce nasut pola case, ja mislim ono ok, pila sam i vise bice ok, i pristanem kad meni on dade pola case za sok dzina, ja se sva zbunila. ko daje dzin u casi za sok sta je to, inace je grk ko cemer zar ne, pa ko ga moze toliko popit ja nzm, ali ja nisam taj tip.

I rly didn't think gin was that strong like.... auwgh?

[famousinuniverse]

Cafayate, Salta province, Argentina: Cafayate is a town in Salta province, in northwest Argentina. It lies in the Calchaquí Valleys, an area known for its reddish rock formations. Many vineyards dot the land, and in town the Museo de la Vid y el Vino explains the process of winemaking. Near the town square are the Rodolfo Bravo Regional and Archaeological Museum, with objects from local excavations, and the 19th-century Our Lady of the Rosary cathedral. Wikipedia

[autolesionistra]

Cose inutili sparse:

Per qualche motivo che non so se voglio approfondire ho proprio un debole per tutti i cliché fricchettoni più truci (oltre la musica): i ciondolini col simbolo della pace, le magliette tie-dye e i braghi larghi, l'incenso patchouli (che se il nome non vi dice niente, è quell'incenso lì, quello che lo senti ed è subito bancarella). Spiace un po' non avere (più) le cheveux du role.

Mai come in questa stagione ringrazio il buddha per non avere un palato fino, per non fare discriminazioni di genere, religione e classe sociale fra le varie tipologie/cotture/pezzature di tortellini, carni, vini, pandori e panettoni. Mi sfondo con silenzio e gratitudine. Noto però che un certo incremento di puntarcazzismo culinario parentale (direttamente proporzionale all'aumento dell'età) mi ha spinto ad incrementare più del dovuto il consumo vinicolo. Di quale vino, a quale temperatura e in quale bicchiere? Qualsiasi, appunto, perché non rompo i maroni al prossimo (almeno, non su quello). Va anche detto che, pur nell'ottima compagnia di mia sorella, ho passato troppo tempo a parlare male di come nostra madre ci forzasse a ingurgitare in maniera acritica e un po' rude qualsiasi cosa ci ritrovassimo nel piatto e, al netto di un certo PTSD residuo che mi spinge a rischiare la crisi iperglicemica pur di non lasciare avanzi, negli anni si è rivelato un superpotere particolarmente utile.

Mentre camminavo in una via sperduta dei colli mi ha superato un tizio che avrà avuto una dozzina d'anni più di me (non li chiamo più "vecchi" ora, sto imparando) che correva con un giaccone blu enorme addosso e due scarpe una diversa dall'altra, con i passi perfettamente sincronizzati con "Time bomb" dei Rancid che stavo ascoltando in quel momento. Ho avuto la tentazione di tirarmi un cartone per capire se stavo sognando, se era tipo un'allucinazione da ictus o cosa. Tanta ammirazione sia per il gesto atletico in mise non tecnica improponibile sia per quello che certe persone riescono a fare col loro corpo pur essendo vecchi avendo qualche anno più di me. Sul mio, di corpo, ho deciso che lascio la pellicola protettiva ancora per un po'.

[requiem-on-water]

by Vino Li