#florence hostel

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

i spent all morning looking for the cheapest ways to get to venice next monday and i feel like i've cracked the code or something i think i got it

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 11 all chapters

-You fly into Rome on a beautiful June day with an ache in your heart you can’t quite shake. You throw yourself into the sights, visiting museums, soaking up the beautiful art and the Mediterranean sunshine. You see things in person that you’d only seen in art history books before, and as an artist you know you are forever changed. You meet plenty of interesting travelers in your hostel, but no one who quite holds your attention, or your imagination, the way the memory of Mr. Wick does.

Italy is beautiful, but the men are exhausting. Not all the men. Just the continual stream of the ones who find you on the street, see a young lady traveling alone and take it as license to bother you. Constantly. More than once, when you turn down their offers of whatever, as politely as you can in your broken Italian, they get nasty.

It’s a relief in a way when you pair up with a kind young man from Argentina to go see the Vatican. No one bothers you, and you have fun, but it’s not exactly what you want.

You actually like being alone, and in others casual company you find that you itch to steal away to a quiet corner to read or sketch or write in your journal. You revel in this special kind of solitude, being a solo traveler in a strange land, not needing to cater to the wants and whims of anyone else for once.

When Javier tries to kiss you on the Ponte Sant’Angelo, you cannot help but feel as though you are being watched. He’s a good-looking young man, funny and sweet and you enjoy his company. At any other time in your life you would have happily lost yourself in a fling. But you know you wish you were looking into a very different pair of dark eyes, and you turn your head at the last minute, receiving soft lips on the cheek.

“Javi…” you sigh with regret, holding distance between you with a hand on his chest.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, clearly crestfallen.

“It’s ok.”

You’re not mad. You’re just…sad—and you’re not sure why you can’t kick this melancholy longing and enjoy yourself in this beautiful place. You feel like you’re walking around with a hole in your heart, and it’s all Mr. Wick’s fault, the big idiot.   

After a week you move on to Florence, and the museums there fill your days. You see so many wonderful things, from the statue of David in the Galleria dell’Accademia, the wonderful paintings in the Uffizi gallery, the splendor of the Duemo... You fall in love all over again with Botticelli, Bellini, Lippi and Uccello and Tiziano and so many others.

You also see a sun-bronzed old man masturbating unabashedly on a blanket in the park, but that’s Italy for you, apparently.

You still feel as though you are being watched, but you never find the source of this weird feeling between your shoulder blades. You try to shrug it off, going for long walks along the Arno between snacks and visits to this galleria or that.

Before you leave the city you go to a book binder’s shop Mr. Wick told you about that has been in business for literal centuries. They have such wonderful things, books with leather covers and gilded arabesques, ornate handmade papers and parchment. You pick up a blank journal for Mr. Wick. It’s small, but its all you can afford. It’s beautifully made, and you hope he’ll like it.

Venice is beautiful, but so very infuriating.

You manage in a blunder on the very first day to drop your phone, cracking the screen into a thousand spiderwebs. It renders the maps you downloaded utterly useless, and you try to go the paper route, but you are lost for the umpteenth time in the maze of small side streets and canals when a seemingly helpful middle-aged construction worker takes pity on you and offers to lead you back to a main road.

At least you think that’s what he says, but after five minutes you realize you read the situation so very wrong, when you find yourself in a dead-ended alley and the older man is puckering his lips at you. It would have been comical on screen, perhaps, but in real life you are not amused. He’s big, but not fast. You’re glad for your flat sandals as you duck under his outstretched arms and dash away down the street, thinking you can’t possibly get yourself any more lost than you already are.

You look over your shoulder to check if he’s pursuing you, and run into something immoveable. You hit so hard you bounce, and you might have ended up in the canal, had strong arms not wrapped around you.

Oh no.

 Fearing you may have landed yourself out of the frying pan and into the fire, you try to squirm away.

“Y/n?”

Recognizing that voice, you freeze for a moment, before actually bothering to look up at who has you in hand.

It’s none other than Mr. John Wick.

A nearly unbearable flood of surprise and excitement fills you from your hair follicles to the tips of your toes.    

“What are you doing here?” you demand, and maybe it sounds more like an accusation than it should.

“Tying up some loose ends,” he answers vaguely. “Is he bothering you?”

You look over your shoulder to see the construction worker has emerged from the alley, and is stumping your way.

“Yes.”

The worker airs some dramatic-sounding complaint with John, waving his hands animatedly. John’s answer is much less musical, but perfectly pronounced, and you’re pretty sure he told the guy to get the fuck out of here.  

Grumbling, your suitor goes in the opposite direction, talking to himself as he does and gesturing with his arms to no one but the audience in his own mind.

So melodramatic.

You cannot help but notice Mr. Wick still has his arms around you, glaring at the man until he disappears around a corner. You are still breathing heavily from your little mad dash, steadying yourself with hands on the flat plane of his chest. John finally looks back down to you, his eyes fixating on your lips before valiantly rising back to meet your gaze, his fingertips digging slightly into your sides. 

You rack your brains for something to say, when all you really want to do is grab the lapels of his beautiful suit jacket, stand on tiptoe and press your lips to his. 

“I…thought you were retired?”

It seems he only reluctantly lets you go after that, the tips of his fingers sliding from your ribcage. Immediately you feel the loss of his strong hands.

“I try to be,” he quips, almost evasively. “Why aren’t you in Rome?” He asks this as if you are the one who is in a place you’re not supposed to be.

“I…saw everything I wanted to see?”

Only then does he finally offer you a smile. It’s almost boyish, and it pulls at your heartstrings with a vengeance. You look him over. It might be the first time you’ve seen him wearing anything but all black, in a light grey summer weight suit with an airy white button down open at the throat.

He looks, if you may be frank, utterly edible.

“It's good to see you,” he says almost shyly, as though he's afraid you might not feel the same.

If only you could tell him that you've thought about him every day since you've been gone. 

“I’m very glad to see you,” you dare to admit. “It's a small world, I guess.”

You decide not to think about what a strange coincidence it is, running into this man in a back alley in Venice. At the moment, you simply don’t care. It’s as though for once the Universe was paying attention to your heart’s yearnings and delivered on it in the flesh.

“Yeah. So...where are you headed?”

You sigh, and very sorely wish you could hang your head on the solid plane that is his chest again. Your desire to be held by this man is an ache in your very bones.

“I don't even know. I'm so lost.”

Usually you have a decent sense of direction, but this fucking city has you walking in circles. Usually that's fine too, but you've never felt so hunted in your life. 

“Would you... like to come to lunch with me? I'm on my way to meet an old friend. He would love to meet you.” 

For a moment you are dumbfounded to receive such an invitation. But then, you look down at yourself in your colorfully cute but obviously cheap sundress, then look at him in his smart suit that probably cost more than your car.

“That's so sweet, John, but I'm sure I'm not dressed to go wherever you're going.” 

“What do you mean? You look beautiful.” 

You look back up to him, open mouthed. He's never really said anything outright like that to you. It feels ridiculously good to hear it. Warmth floods you from head to toe. You know you are blushing, maybe even glowing, but it’s hard to feel too embarrassed when he looks at you like that.

“Thanks.”

He reaches up very slowly, just barely brushing your chin with his knuckle. “Come with me.” His voice is low, soft even, yet somehow adamant. It induces a flutter in your heart—and an ache in your loins. You like to think you are not easily led, but you wouldn't have dreamed of arguing with him now. 

“Alright.”

His pleased smile is a balm to your earlier frustration. For the first time since you got off the train and promptly got lost trying to find your hostel, you feel like you can relax in this maze of a city. You didn’t realize it before, but you haven’t felt safe for weeks.

He offers you his arm.

The gesture is sweet, and gallant, and maybe you lean against him a little more than you need to. His arm is dizzyingly solid beneath your fingers, and you can’t help but feel a little giddy as you stroll together towards your destination.

[piratekane]

26...+29? 👀

for you? sure.

twenty-six: you're so warm twenty-nine: you're everything to me

They pick places at random: a few weeks in Florence, some time in Stockholm. They go to the Mediterranean Sea, the Caspian Sea. Ava finds gelato everywhere they go and always orders their most and least popular flavor, giving the shop owners her honest opinions. She finds the most kitschy shop she can and buys postcards and terrible mugs and t-shirts. I'm building a collection, she tells Beatrice after every purchase. Ava loves it and Beatrice loves Ava, even if she feels like their luggage is made up of lime green t-shirts with the Eiffel Tower on it and misshapen mugs with when life gives you lemons make avgolemono written on them.

Ava loves it. Beatrice loves her. That's all there is to it.

They stay in hostels - for the experience, Bea - and take the cheapest sleeper cars on the trains. It's cramped on a good night and practically uninhabitable on the bad ones. But somehow, Beatrice doesn't mind this either. It gives her every excuse she doesn't need to pull Ava close, tangle their legs together, and curl her hands into the back of Ava's sleep shirt.

Because she doesn't need an excuse. They're not hiding anymore - not from anything, including each other.

Ava picked Valencia a few days ago off their worn map. She found it in a secondhand store in Brussels. The woman warned that it was outdated, but Ava called it exciting and happily handed over too many euros before bustling Beatrice off to see the Atomium, something she read about in the back of a magazine left behind on their last train ride.

The map takes up more than half of their bed-for-the-night, hanging over the sides of it. Ava screws her eyes shut and swirls her finger in a circle before jabbing it down at the map. They're closer to Cat's Cradle than they have been in months and Beatrice wonders if she picked Valencia on purpose, if she knows Beatrice is missing Camila and Yasmine. But she's Ava, so of course she knows. And Beatrice knows Ava feels the same.

They had spent the morning walking through Valencia and then all afternoon at L'Oceanogràfic. They went for the turtles - and then we'll do a fancy dinner, promise. A sit down kind - but Beatrice knew it would be more than just the turtles. It would be the jellyfish and the penguins and dolphins.

And it was. They spent an hour outside the penguins habitat while Ava talked to the aquarium worker in perfect Spanish, asking about migration patterns and what penguins liked to eat more, krill or cotton candy. Beatrice watched in amusement. No matter where they went, someone fell in love with Ava, charmed by her easy smile; and someone was always left brokenhearted when they packed their things and headed off to their next destination. But today, Ava had even managed to get them back behind the Employee Only door to see the penguins closer.

Ava insisted they take a selfie with a penguin named Yago so they could send it to Mother Superion. From one nun to another, Ava declared. Beatrice neatly stole the phone out of her hand before she could hit the send message button. They agreed on Camila.

She sits on the edge of the twin bed they're sharing and stretches her arms above her head, listening to the soft pop and rolling it back into place. Ava is carefully packing away her latest find, a L'Oceanogràfic mug with a penguin on it, but looks up at the noise.

"Shoulder bothering you?" She doesn't wait for Beatrice's answer, immediately reaching out to rub at the muscle between her shoulder and the blade. "You should have said."

Beatrice lets her head drop to her chest, eyes closing in relief. "It didn't hurt before now."

She hears Ava tut behind her. Her fingers dig a little deeper. "Do you want to pick the next place?"

Beatrice opens one eye, looking back a little. "We're leaving already?"

"Well, no. I still want to see Bioparc Zoo. They have giraffes."

Beatrice hides a small smile. "I'm sure they have an excellent collection of coffee mugs."

"They do, I saw-" Ava stops herself, hands pausing. "You're making fun of me."

Beatrice rolls her neck back, looking up at Ava upside down. "I am."

Ava scowls playfully and leans down, pressing a kiss to the space between Beatrice's eyes. She opens her mouth to say something but yawns instead, her dark eyes suddenly looking tired. She lets her hands drop from Bea's back and pushes her way back towards the head of the bed.

Beatrice watches her. So many things are different now, light years away from their apartment in the Alps, but this is still the same: Ava lifts her legs and pulls the top of the blanket out from under her, she slides both legs under, she shimmies down until her head is resting on her arms, and she looks expectantly at the other side of the bed.

What has changes is this: Beatrice doesn't hesitate.

Ava sighs as she settles into bed next to her, immediately rolling to the side so they're pressed together, knee to knee, nose to nose. Ava grins, the ends of her growing hair tickling Beatrice's chin.

"Have I told you how much I love this?" she whispers.

Beatrice smiles back. "Only twice every city."

"I've always wanted to do this. Travel the world. Get out of that room and experience life. And when the Halo found me, I thought I had a second chance to do all of that." Ava runs a fingertip down over the bridge of Beatrice's nose. "I'm finally getting to do it. And with you."

She shudders at Ava's touch and her cheeks flush. "Well, you could have done this with anyone," she says, ducking away from Ava's piercing attention.

"But I want to do it with you." Ava meets her eyes, holds them for a moment before she says, just loud enough that Beatrice can hear it over the sound of her heart pounding in her chest, "You're everything to me. If we went back right now, never went on another adventure, I'd still be satisfied, because I was with you."

She inhales sharply. Ava says these things so casually, as if she doesn't know how a simple sentence can dismantle all the hard work her parents did closing her off. But then, Ava probably does know. Ava probably works harder than her parents did to bring them back down.

Ava pulls Beatrice's arms around her, wiggles her way until Beatrice's chin and hums happily. "And also, you're warm."

Beatrice laughs unexpectedly and feels Ava grin against her collarbone. "Am I?"

"Better than those hot water bottles Sister Frances begrudgingly put into my bed on the nights where the heat went out." She feels Ava's scowl now and smooths it away with a hand through Ava's hair. "A better shape, too. An Ava-shape."

"An Ava-shape," she repeats. She feels Ava's cold toes press against her shin. "What is that?"

Ava scoffs. "The perfect shape for me to fit in, obviously."

"Yes, of course," she says lightly. She tips her head down slightly, touches her lips to the crown of Ava's head. "Goodnight, Ava."

Ava smiles again, pressing a kiss to her hollow of her throat. "Goodnight, Bea."

In the morning, they'll go to Bioparc and Ava will charm someone else into letting them touch a giraffe and they'll leave with a too-large t-shirt that Ava will wear to bed and Beatrice will pretend to protest when Ava makes her take a selfie with an elephant.

But Ava loves it. And Beatrice loves Ava. That's all there is to it.

[fapper]

Solo traveling europe in the spring: tentative plan…

Places i potentially plan on visiting during my study abroad

- berlin, germany -> hamburg, germany

- budapest, hungary

- vienna, austria

- bratislava, slovakia

- dresden, germany

- munich, germany

- krakow, poland

- salzburg, austria

But my big ones are

- somewhere in italy: milan, florence, rome, venice - at least one of these

- chat do we think i can go to amalfi coast. This is highly unlikely and seems like itll be an expensive trip but we’ll see im just putting shit out there atp 💀 honestly i dont think this will happen tbh.

- PARIS!!! I cant stress this enough.. im going to make it happen even if its expensive. Im so fking dumb cuz i genuinely couldve honestly went to paris this summer cuz i was in Nice, but i chickened out. I didnt know hostels were a thing back then so i was just looking at hotels and they were so pricey bc of the Olympics 😭 its on me fr. But im def gonna TRY to go to paris. Maybe in april.

Some places i hope to visit but highly unlikely:

- oslo, norway

- COPENHAGEN!!!! This ones a big one. If i can make it cheap, ill honestly try and go.

- stockholm, sweden

- switzerland 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 like this is NOT happening but a girl could put it out there ykwim

Any travel advices welcome. Traveling to germany, austria, poland, and hungary will be by train, so it should be relatively okay priced.

The only ones where i might consider flying is for paris or the Scandinavian ones

Idk how im gonna get to italy but bitch im gonna try to explore europe as cheaply as possible LMFAO 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

And then i have to come back to campus and GRADUATE COLLEGE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 im crazy

[n1ightw1ng]

find the word tag !

tagged by @ladytauria thank youu <3

my words are warm, dark, shiver, and hand. I...had not used shiver in any recent wip until tonight apparently, so. lol.

warm -- melograno, a bed sharing/undercover as a couple JayTim fic

Their “hotel” was actually a hostel nestled in the residential side of Florence, not far from the cafe. Heat wafted off the roads and sidewalks and buildings mercilessly, and the first thing he did when they stepped foot in their room was turn on the AC. He gave it a few smacks until it sputtered to life, blasting out warm, dusty air right in his face. Oh, Europe.

“Uh, Jason?”

He sneezed. “What?”

Tim was standing at the end of a bed, looking lost, duffel still slung over his shoulder. “There’s only one bed. I’ll—”

“No way.”

dark -- melograno

Crawling into bed with a Tim-he’d-kissed was…different. Not that different, because he still didn’t know their boundaries or what they were or could be, but kissing Tim made him brave enough to curl up against his back and play with his hair. And Tim seemed to like it, too, because he leaned into the touch until he could smile into Jason’s shoulder. Eventually, Jason extricated himself and went out to smoke by the outdoor dining table, placed as it was on high ground that overlooked the valley. It was a nice view, what he could see of it—it was dark out here, far darker than Gotham, and stars covered the sky.

shiver -- no working title for this yet, but uhhh omegaverse/titans tower/mpreg jaytim/dicktim! just finished drafting this tonight so woo

“Timbo? You good?” Ives tapped the lid of his mocha. “More coffee?”

“Um, yeah, probably. I’m gonna take a piss.” He smiled along with their raucous commentary and headed for the restroom. As he slipped down the hall, another shiver ran down his spine. The cafe bathroom was one of those single-stalls that had their own room, so theoretically a line could form or someone could use the sink while someone else used the toilet. He stepped inside. The door closed behind him a second too slowly, and the lock clicked.

A fist closed around his hood and threw him into the wall, back first.

He croaked, “Jason.”

“Hey there, cuckoo,” he smiled meanly, “been busy?”

hand -- alpha/alpha jaytim smut ;)

He pinned Tim down with a kiss. His nerves were electric, his head spinning like a top. He looped his belt around Tim's bare waist and tugged him higher, his back arching off the mattress prettily. “Where's your lube, puppy?”

Tim felt around until his hand shoved under the pillow. He pressed the bottle into Jason's cheek. “I was gonna–before you–” Already breathless. Gorgeous.

“Mm, now you have me to fuck you open, right? Better than the guys in your omega magazine?” He squirted the lube liberally between Tim’s legs, soaking his cute jock and spilling all over the bed. “Look at all that slick, puppy. You want me?”

no pressure tagging~ @stabthroughme @this-was-a-terrible-idea @deepwithintheabyss

my words areeeee ~ pink, smirk, scream, and cold

[finalsurvivorgrp]

finalsurvivorgrp is a multi muse blog featuring original characters that are based off major horror movies. Multi-ship and Multi-verse. Written by Kit (+18, EST). Like for a plotting DM/ Reblog for a random starter.

rules. muses. open starters.

Amanda Oswald. 29 years old. True Crime Writer. Nonbinary. Bisexual. FC: Snitchery. Survivor of Sinister.

Beatrice Strode. 22 years old. Psychology Student. Cisgender Female. Bisexual. FC: Florence Pugh. Survivor of Halloween.

Bryce Graham. 30 years old. Criminal Lawyer. Nonbinary. Bisexual. FC: Will Poulter. Survivor of Hereditary.

Caroline Kim. 31 years old. Graphic Artist. Cisgender Female. Bisexual. FC: Hyuna. Survivor of The Evil Dead.

Carrie Won. 25 years old. Seamstress. Cisgender Female. Homosexual. FC: Jeongyeon. Survivor of Carrie.

Cate Starling. 52 years old. FBI Agent. Cisgender Female. Heterosexual. FC: Winona Ryder. Survivor of The Silence of the Lambs.

Catherine Johnston. 38 years old. The Director. Cisgender Female. Bisexual. FC: Tessa Thompson. Survivor of The Cabin in the Woods.

Daiyu Wang. 25 years old. Fashion Designer. Cisgender Female. Bisexual. FC: Xie Anran. Survivor of Hostel.

Davy Torrance. 29 years old. Bartender. Cisgender Male. Bisexual. FC: Logan Lerman. Survivor of The Shining.

Deon Donahue. 30 years old. Director. Cisgender Male. Bisexual. FC: Jordan Fischer. Survivor of The Blair Witch Project.

Jacob Brody. 51 years old. Marine Biologist. Cisgender Male. Bisexual. FC: Patrick Wilson. Survivor of Jaws.

Jenni LaDomas. 33 years old. CEO. Cisgender Female. Bisexual. FC: Diane Guerero. Survivor of Ready Or Not.

Johnny Marlowe. 30 years old. Videographer. Cisgender Male. Bisexual. FC: Dylan O’Brien. Survivor of As Above So Below.

Jordan Cotton. 32 years old. Unemployed. Cisgender Female. Bisexual. FC: Tiffany Young. Survivor of Hellraiser.

Katsume Ito. 26 years old. Social Worker. Cisgender Female. Bisexual. FC: Momo. Survivor of Ringu.

Kyungsoo Kim. 29 years old. Police Detective. Cisgender Male. Bisexual. FC: Wonho. Survivor of The Wailing.

Laura Wu. 22 years old. Receptionist. Cisgender Female. Bisexual. FC: Jelly Lin. Survivor of Malignant.

Leah King. 27 years old. Author. Cisgender Female. Bisexual. FC: Megan Thee Stallion. Survivor of Friday the 13th.

Maria Thompson. 25 years old. Sex Worker. Cisgender Female. Bisexual. FC: Bella Poarch. Survivor of A Nightmare On Elm Street.

Noah Gordon. 26 years old. News Photographer. Cisgender Male. Homosexual. FC: Lil Nas X. Survivor of Saw.

Phan. 25 years old. Photographer. Cisgender Female. Bisexual. FC: Lisa. Survivor of Shutter.

Rei Nishina. 26 years old. Nurse. Cisgender Female. Homosexual. FC: Chanmina. Survivor of Ju-On.

Sanghwa Yoo. 28 years old. Scavenger. Cisgender Male. Bisexual. FC: Baekhyun. Survivor of Train to Busan.

Thomas Kennedy. 55 years old. STARS Officer. Cisgender Male. Bisexual. FC: Jeffrey Dean Morgan. Survivor of Resident Evil (The original series).

Travis Hawkins. 30 years old. Drug Dealer. Cisgender Male. Bisexual. FC: Bill Skarsgaard. Survivor of Cloverfield.

Trevor Fuller. 25 years old. Travel Vlogger. Cisgender Male. Bisexual. FC: Shawn Mendes. Survivor of From Dusk Til Dawn.

Trijal Kaur. 35 years old. Biologist. Cisgender Male. Homosexual. FC: Rahul Kohlii. Survivor of The Thing.

Trinity Prescott. 22 years old. Counselor. Cisgender Female. Bisexual. FC: Sydney Sweeney. Survivor of Scream.

[trykynyx]

Pick a song for each letter of your URL, and then tag that many people! Tagged by @werewolvestolovers <3

Woooow, I haven't done one of these forever!! For extra-fun-with-zero-psychic-damage I am crashing at my parents' house for the holiday season. So just flashbacks upon flashbacks in RVA. Let's see what i've got...

This is Not America - Residente ft. Ibeyi

Run On - Moby

You Don't Know How It Feels - Tom Petty

King - Florence + The Machine

You're a Wolf - Sea Wolf

Nandemoaiya - RADWIMPS 

Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Pt. 1 - The Flaming Lips

X - Nicky Jam, J Balvin ft. Maluma & Ozuna

I had only two options for 'X' and I honestly couldn't remember what option 2 even sounded like without playing it. I accept and understanding any judgement - my only defense is I spent 66% of one the summer of 2016 in party hostels in South America.

Tagging the peeps I see on here the most, but if you're reading this and I didn't tag you - follow your dreams. @unrealcities @domesticationkills @luarenah @buffystark @atreebreathing @likecharity @vorpalmuchness @withahappyrefrain

[edwinspaynes]

you are going to Italy for real?!? So cool!! Is my country, you are going to love ittttttttttt, which areas are you visiting?

Probably just Rome and the Vatican! I'd rather spend a week doing more in one area so I can really explore rather than going all over the place and running round like a chicken with my head cut off. But I am thinking about spending one day in Florence so I can see David (Thomas Lightwood) and also try some of the local Florence cuisine. It's a 3-hour train ride so I could do a long day from like 6 AM to 9 PM.

Do you have any recommendations where to stay in Rome? Like what areas? I'm considering a hostel (looking for an all-female room) so I can meet people and get in on activities.

[slowroadtosantiago]

Day 9 - Los Arcos to Viana

The guide book stage today should have been to Logrono, over 17 miles from Los Arcos, but we thought that was a bit far for us at the moment so have stopped at Viana, a 11.3 mile walk but we took full packs today.

We set off early and were walking through town at 7:30. Where possible we have taken to getting away early to get a few miles under our belts before stopping for breakfast. Looking back as we left there was a stunning sunrise over the village.

We followed a steady stream of people going the same way, heading for a place called Sansol 4 miles away. The landscape has opened up a lot and looking into the distance we were taking bets as to which village it was. Luckily it was the closest and we had the cheapest nicest breakfast we have had so far - 3.5 euros for a coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice and a chocolate covered pain au chocolat, all served outside in a lovely courtyard.

I had to take a picture of the drinks menu, the wine is nearly half the price of the soft drinks!

The next village, Torres del Rio, was only a short distance away but it was perched on a hill with another octagonal church like the one we saw in Eunate. There are rumoured Templar connections and we paid a euro to enter though it was just a simple empty room. We found out later that we should have sung a song as the acoustics were meant to be amazing.

The road carrying on undulated, a lot, but we passed by vineyards (entering Rioja country), barley fields (having googled some images don’t think the fields are wheat), and a place where piles of stones had been set up along with a colourful tree where people had attached ribbons and tokens. We left a red ribbon for Wales.

Half way along the last stretch we came across a kiosk selling drinks and snacks, so we sat and had a drink and a chat to Joe (he’s ex forces and looks just like Richard Dreyfus) and Charles (his son) who were also taking a break.

Even though we were almost at our stop for the night we took a break for lunch and I persuaded Jane to have a selfie!

The hostel in Viana is 15 euros for the night, and we’ve paid to have the pilgrim meal (11 euros). We’ve got proper sheets and pillow cases on the bed, a luxury as you normally get given disposable ones when you arrive. As we got here about 1 we’ve both got bottom bunks, again! Yippee, we’re on a 3 day streak at the moment! It’s really clean and quite spacious, but the first so far with a mixed bathroom, though the shower was lovely and strong.

Jane went for a wander and I chilled, then I went for a wander. The town is ancient with narrow streets and a large church which is unfortunately covered in scaffolding. After I got back I tried to sort out the blister on my little toe. It’s an awkward spot to sort out a blister and Jane aka Florence Nightingale came to my rescue.

We both then went for a mooch to the outdoor shop so I could get a new pair of rubber tips for my walking poles as I’ve worn out the pair they came with. We were near the square so had to stop at the bar for a couple of wines (1.50 each, bargain). Nicole, our Australian friend caught up with us along with ‘Vaynond’ (that’s how it sounded) from the Netherlands.

We rushed back to the Albergue for our Pilgrims meal at 7 - pasta, then pork fillets and salad and yoghurt for pudding, washed down with Rioja of course. Time for lights out now!

[1995lahaine]

getting pissed off & crying in a hostel bed in florence yes/no

[pananni]

Just checked in at a hostel in Florence and the first thing the receptionist told me when I arrived was that he liked my pride flag pin on my jacket

Feeling welcomed so far 🥰

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 13 all chapters

-Later that evening he picks you up near your hostel in a gorgeous wooden water taxi. You’d gotten more than a few odd looks from the scruffy backpackers hanging out in the courtyard, as you’d exited in your chic new dress and heels. You wonder if you look utterly ridiculous, until you see the way John looks at you. There is a heat in his dark eyes that could burn the city down, and you flush all over, knowing the evening hasn’t even begun and you’ve already soaked through your new silk panties.

He waves away the driver, lifting you down by your waist into the boat. It surprises you, and you cling to him, though you never feel for a second that he might drop you. The strength in his arms is unyielding as an oak.

He’s changed into a black suit for the evening, and he’s so fucking handsome you could die. When you’re settled in the bench seat in the back of the boat he lifts his arm for you in invitation, and you nestle in. The night air is a little chilly once the boat gets going, but you are pressed to the long lean length of John’s side, and he keeps you warm. He drives you a little crazy, drawing slow circles with his fingertips on your bare arm.

You go to dinner, and it’s everything you’d hoped and feared. The light is low, the food is delectable, the wine is good, and Mr. Wick is the very picture of dark temptation in the candlelight. He is charming, and sweet, and he touches your fingertips lightly with his from across the table. You always knew he had a wry sense of humor, but loosened up with an aperitivo, he is downright funny, and you find yourself laughing at his comments with purest joy.

You brought that leather-bound notebook from Florence in your new little handbag. When you present it to John he cradles it in his big hands like you have gifted him with something made of pure gold, his dark eyes shining like high-polished mahogany. He looks at you with a tenderness that makes your knees weak, and you are glad you are already sitting down.  

“I know it’s not much…” You feel a little sheepish suddenly, thinking about what he spent on you earlier that day.

“I love it,” he assures you adamantly, and tucks it into his inside pocket, where it will rest over his heart. “Thank you.” He reaches for your hands across the table again, and as if you weren’t gone enough already, you feel yourself steadily, inexorably, falling in love with this man.

Afterwards you go for a walk. He smiles down at you, amused when you stumble on a raised cobblestone, steadying you with an arm around your waist.

“I think you are a bit drunk, Miss y/n,” he teases you.  

You like wine, but you don’t drink it often. You’d had half a bottle with dinner, plus a negroni aperitivo, and a digestivo of grappa after dessert… Yes. Yes you are, and maybe it will hurt in the morning, but right now it feels wonderful.  

“And whose fault is that?” you fire back with an insouciant smile, winning real laughter. The rare sound warms you to the bottom of your soul.

“Guilty.” He’d ordered the drinks, after all.

There is a mischievous sparkle in his jet-black eyes, and you think maybe he’s a bit drunk too. Or maybe it’s just this fucking country, that’s so goddamn romantic. You’re not sure why that annoys you in that moment.

You pause on a bridge, and he reaches up to lightly touch your hair, sweeping it behind your ear, tracing the curve of your neck. It’s almost like he’s petting you, and you cannot help but close your eyes.

Is this man finally going to kiss you?

A small, feral sound escapes you with the thought, and you are too tipsy to be embarrassed about it. It makes him smile knowingly, and now you think he might actually have an inkling of what he’s been doing to you.

You do not know it, but over your shoulder, John sees a suspicious shadow move in an enclave in the distance. He does not like the look of it at all.

“I should probably get you back to your hostel.”

You stick your lips out in a pout, mildly infuriated and currently lacking any healthy inhibitions.

“Are you really going to make me tell you how much I want you, Mr. Wick?” What an effective truth serum a good chianti makes. Your hands find his tie, pulling him closer towards you. He lets you, of course, until your bodies are nearly pressed in a line.

It’s almost enough, but not quite. Never quite, it seems.

He lowers his forehead to rest on the top of your head, and you sense that he is coiled tight as a spring, practically vibrating with the effort of holding himself back. You can feel it in his hands on your sides, as though he can’t decide if he should pull you closer, or push you away.

 “Do you?” he asks, his voice gone low.

“As if you don’t already know,” you grouse petulantly. There is a part of you deep down that knows, as you look up at him, that you are pulling the tail of a tiger. You just don’t possess the self-control at the moment to stop.

He narrows his eyes at you. “It’s hard to read you,” he confesses in a rare moment of vulnerability, which you find utterly absurd.

“Hard to read me? Mr. Tall Dark and Broody? Mr. Hot and Cold? Mr. I’ll Take You Out On My Bike For The Ride of Your Life on Your Birthday Then Barely Speak To You?”

Again, he laughs, though this time there is an edge to it. He frames your face in his big hands, and you know he could crush you if he wanted, but you still cannot suppress a sigh. You crave the strength in those hands on you with every fibre of your being.

You’d let him pull you apart, so long as he promises to put you back together again.

“Sweet girl…my love is a curse. I don't want to hurt you—but I don’t think I’m strong enough to let you go.”

It almost sounds like a warning.

You pause at that, listening to your heartbeat pounding in your ears. There is a hint of darkness in that sentiment that would have scared you a little, had you been in your right mind. As it is…you are too far gone, and you are desperate to have it all out at last.

“Are you talking about your wife?” you dare ask, your voice hushed as though she could overhear you. Maybe she can. Maybe her spectre would have the mercy to let this man who still walks among the living go. “John…she got sick, and that is not your fault. You can't blame yourself for that.” 

He just shakes his head slowly against you, his long fingers sliding into your hair, tightening at the base of your skull.

“You don't understand.” 

He has you firmly in his grasp, and it sends the most delicious thrill down your spine, right to your loins. You can’t help but squirm against him, closing that distance at last. The line of heat between your bodies pressed is maddening, and you marvel that you can think at all.

“I'm trying to.” 

“I know.” There’s something in his tone that cracks your heart in two, and you find you are afraid. You’re afraid that he still might backpedal on you after all, after all this, and you’re not sure your heart will survive it.

“Please don’t let me go?”

He tilts your head back, in full control of you. You do not fight him, too entranced by his mouth hovering over yours.  

“Remember that you asked.”

You don’t get the chance to formulate a response, because at last his mouth presses to yours, and you forget everything but the feeling of his soft lips and the tantalizing intrusion of his tongue. You would have surged to meet him, but he holds you immobile in his strong hands, taking you just the way he wants you. Yet you are a greedy thing, and your fingers seek the flat planes of his chest, running over the muscled contours beneath his jacket, up the column of his neck to grab fistfuls of his soft hair, the way you’ve craved practically since the first time you laid eyes on him.  

You fancy you almost hear it snap, when at last you manage to break this man’s iron-clad self-control.

Or perhaps it is you, your fragile body, that makes an audible pop when he grabs you up in those strong arms, his fingers digging into your waist as he practically lifts you from the ground in the desperation his ardor. You meet the fury of his kiss with a matching passion, with lips and teeth and tongue, so caught up in the whirlwind that you entirely forget where you are, that you’re in public, that you’re probably not alone. The focus of your world narrows to the single pinpoint that is him, and maybe it’s been that way for you for a while now.

It’s over all too soon, when he tears himself away, breathing heavily in the bend of your neck. You make a small sound of protest, needy for more of his delectable mouth, and he nips your shoulder, maybe hard enough to bruise. You jump with surprise, but you don’t exactly mind the feeling of his teeth in your skin, as though you are something sweet he wishes to devour.

In that moment you reckon you would let him eat you whole, and lick the bones clean.

You are aware of it this time, when he lifts his head to look beyond you, his hawkish gaze sweeping the shadows beyond. It seems like he’s worried about something. But you are wrapped up in his arms, tucked perfectly against his larger body like you are puzzle pieces finally found—you feel as though nothing could possibly touch you.  

“I should get you back,” he says, his voice pure gravel.

“I don’t want—”

“Don't fight me, y/n.”

He uses a tone of voice you've never heard from him before. It is hard as granite, utterly forbidding, and your blood turns to ice in your veins. Feeling this change in you, he sighs and kisses your forehead in apology. “Come on.”

Slightly comforted, you let him lead you with your hand in his, though you still feel more than a little unbalanced, and not because of the height of your heels on the uneven paving stones, or the tremor in your limbs from that hurricane of a kiss.   

This man…

You are not sure what unsettles you more. The whiplash of his mood, or the fact that you’re not sure you wouldn’t follow him to the depths of Hell anyway, so long as he held out his hand to you.

[chaletnz]

Machu Picchu Adventure: The Journey Back to Cusco

Once we’d finished our tour, Cherry and I walked down the mountain back to Aguas Calientes town where her friend Florence was waiting. The downhill descent was very steep, and Cherry seemed to be having an easier time than me with my bad knee and lack of general fitness! Her and Florence are working as nurses near Manchester which I had kind of expected actually, she said they’d lived there for about 18 years but got funny looks on other tours when they said they’re from the UK so they just say Philippines. We took a couple of breaks when we started sweating a lot but were careful not to sit for too long and have our legs turn to jelly when standing back up. Cherry was really going for it but I was having trouble keeping up so by the end I was a tired mess but she was fine. Luckily there was a water vending machine for just one sol, however unluckily it shut off after pouring only about 150ml of the 500ml I’d ordered! Once we’d reunited Cherry with Florence, I told them I was heading off for some shopping and then went straight to Coffee Trotter for a flat white and phone recharge. It was so nice to sit down in the shade with a coffee and relax for about an hour. A sad street dog wandered in at one point to try his luck but was sprayed at and shooed back out. I walked around the Aguas Calientes market a bit and bought a few little souvenirs and then stamped my passport with the Machu Picchu stamp because I’m such a tourist. I figured that I should get some lunch so I stopped in at Infinity near the train station for a cheese empanada and lemonade which hit the spot nicely. When I got back to the train station I saw Leo and Giada sitting in there so I went over to say hi and they invited me for dinner with some French people they’d met a couple days earlier. The journey back was tiring and I could barely keep my eyes open. Once we finally arrived in Ollantaytambo, the Filipino ladies and I found our names on a sign with loads of other names including loads of Israelis and the South African family. Everyone else arrived except for the family so I tried to explain to the lady to look for parents with a small child and once we were waiting in the van they finally joined us and he was asleep in his mothers arms. It was a long drive back to Cusco with a crazy driver that didn’t stop at stop signs, overtook a police checkpoint, and almost rear ended some standstill traffic. The Israelis in the front asked to get out on a tight side street and the driver let them out thinking it was just the two but no of course there were another 5 or 6 in the back who got out too and left the door wide open so the driver had to get out and close it. Once I got back to the hostel I rearranged all my bags and then took advantage of the wifi to figure out what happened to my Revolut card. Of course, it was not enough to trap all my money on there but now it had a fraudulent transaction on it which meant I had to cancel the card and order a new one after using it for literally two transactions in Peru. I decided to get it sent to my hotel in La Paz and hopefully be there at the same time it would arrive. Although I was exhausted I went out for dinner as agreed with Leo and Giada and met their friends, a French couple named Ines and Jean-Baptiste. I’d waited almost 15 minutes for Leo and Giada to show up and was minutes away from bailing and going to McDonald’s but they showed up and we all went to Limo together in the central Plaza de Armas. It was a Japanese Peruvian fusion restaurant but we all went for the Thai style food - I chose the Arroz Thai with beef which was a delicious stir fry of vegetables, rice and beef. It was a more upscale restaurant for Peru but still didn’t cost too much once the bill arrived for my meal and a passionfruit mocktail, about 70 soles or $20.

[rod1on]

anyways if anyone has a good and cheap hostel in florence recommendation im all ears👂🏼👂🏼

[travelwithdebsi]

Day 18 - Florence -> Rome (20.01.2023)

Today was a travel day. I took the train from Florence to Rome. I‘ve been to Rome before and was really looking forward to coming here again.

When I arrived in Rome, I wanted to see a few things. I walked to Trevi Fountain because it’s near my hostel. On the way to Trevi Fountain I saw so many sights and also just beautiful streets and corners. As I said, I've been in Rome before and loved it. And that's exactly why. Everywhere you go, you can see something. So I saw „St. Paul‘s Within the Walls“, „Via delle Quattro Fontane“ and „Palazzo Barberini“. Then I arrived at Trevi fountain and it was quite crowded there. I think Rome is the first city where I see many tourists now in January. I ate an ice cream there (even if it was very cold) and then went on.

My next destinations were the Spanish stairs and the „Piazza di Spagna“. I just strolled around at the many stores there. After that I went back to the hostel because it started to rain.

It’s Friday night. Let‘s see what the night brings.

[honeymoononvenus]

CLEANSER

I douse my face in the hotel bathroom, 

And notice my face wash has reached the end of its bottle, 

A serendipitous synchronicity with the end of this trip. 

I meet my own eyes on the mirror before closing them softly, then slowly inhaling the last soapy scent of the cleanser. 

Suddenly I'm transported to a hostel in Soho, preparing my face for a day of London exploration, girlishly excited; 

I'm back overlooking Brighton Beach, blissfully unaware of what lay ahead of me, with sweet naivety on my side;

I'm in a family home in Northern England, completely humbled by the kindness of strangers, restorative of the love that exists in the hearts of all humans;

I'm in Florence, praying that in this simple ritual can cleanse away the pitiful mental slump I’ve found myself in; 

I open my eyes and exhale, and in an instant I'm back here, here being a hotel in Bali, readying myself to go to the airport. 

Quickly I count on my fingers  just how long it is that I’ve been away from home, and instead of feeling too sentimental about the sum I come up with, or fondly thinking back on all of the corners of the world I’ve seen; 

I scoff at myself for how terrible I am at remembering to wash my face. 

It's been four months and the bottle was only a travel size.

ART : Jakub Kujawa