#negroni week

[byroniuspunk]

Mole Negroni

[gastronominho]

Campari e a Imbibe começam os preparativos para a Negroni Week 2024

O icônico aperitivo da Itália e a revista se reúnem para mais uma edição, que acontece entre os dias 16 e 22 de setembro

O icônico aperitivo da Itália e a revista se reúnem para mais uma edição, que acontece entre os dias 16 e 22 de setembro Os recursos arrecadados pela Negroni Week para o parceiro beneficente Slow Food têm apoiado o financiamento de projetos educacionais e inovadores, com a Negroni Week 2024 prometendo outra série de grandes iniciativas A iniciativa global de caridade acontece em sua 12ª edição,…

[goodspiritsnewsat]

GSN Alert: 12th Annual Negroni Week hosted Sept. 16-22, 2024

Campari®, the iconic Milanese red aperitivo, and Imbibe, the ultimate guide to liquid culture, partner for the 12th annual Negroni Week hosted Sept. 16-22, 2024. The #1 best-selling classic cocktail* – the Negroni – will be celebrated globally to support Slow Food, a worldwide movement of local communities and activists in over 160 countries. The classic Negroni has a storied history from its…

[gintrinsic-writing]

Based on this art.

CW: body horror, impending death.

-

Rough bark against his back. Cool moss beneath his trembling fingers. What little light managed to breach the canopy of boughs was carried on the swirling backs of leaf litter motes. Fog curtained the air between trunks, and Link found himself nestled as though within a blanket. A small comfort.

It hurt, even now—short of breath and blood alike; this ultimate transformation from living to dead. His flesh was sunken and pitted, his sagging skin like ribbons of meringue to be feasted upon by the lichen and the insects. Every inhale rattled, every swallow stuck. No moisture remained for his aching eyes. So yes, it hurt, but the pain felt like a promise, like respite, like coming home in a way he couldn’t define but could nevertheless taste and smell and sense and know, even as consciousness threatened to divorce soul.

It was fine. It was meant to be, Link suspected, in some twisting, circling way. He’d first been Kokiri, then Hylian, then Hero. Now, he was to be something other.

Stalfos, Fado had whispered a lifetime ago. He wondered if she’d known.

Time passed in increments and in multitudes. His body withered like the bark of a fallen tree—consumed bit by bit, patiently placid to this un-becoming. Perhaps it was seconds, wasting away, being gnashed upon by mouths both small and microscopic. Perhaps it was minutes. Regardless, as the Hero of Time drew one of his final breaths, there came a voice the memory of which had beckoned his rare, understated smiles for years.

“You’ve returned, friend.”

The Skull Kid approached slowly, respectfully. Their hands flittered as though they could not decide on touch. Finally, they brushed away a strand of Link’s hair. “I knew you would,” they chimed. “I knew you’d come back.”

Link tried to smile for them. His lip split like old parchment. “Did…n’t… know… where else… to… go.”

The Skull Kid tittered like that was funny. “Didn’t know? Didn’t know! Of course you knew. See?” They gestured to the woods around them, snapping their beak in amusement. “You’re here, silly Hylian.” They nodded, apparently pleased, then dragged a claw feather-light down the bridge of Link’s cavitated nose. “This will be a sacred place. A magical place. The forest is singing over you.”

Link closed his eyes to listen. A melody drifted by like a dandelion’s seed, soft and aimless, difficult to catch. It settled what remained of his nerves.

“Yes,” the Skull Kid agreed, “time to let go. No fear.” They grasped Link’s hand, gentler than he’d ever felt before. Their callouses scraped against his bones. “The Lost Woods will welcome you, and we will be friends forever.”

A breeze drifted by, stirring song once more. It took what remained of Link’s breath. He found he did not mind.

“I will stay here until it’s finished,” the Skull Kid continued contently. “You can rest. Rest, rest, rest. When your spirit is full again, I will find you. Rest, friend. Rest.”

And Link did.

[canonicallyanxious]

A bold and honestly terrifying claim to make about a year that includes both A Starstruck Odyssey and A Court of Fey and Flowers in their full entireties

[thesungod]

in ao fucking drunk for fuck’s sake

[mildmayfoxe]

no pic but i just cooked up some steak i got for ONE dollar as an add-on from my meal kit box (ONE DOLLAR??? i WISH i'd gotten more) and fried up the last ~chalupa shell~ that i bought that time i wanted pita but there wasn't any pita at target and spread that with the last of the fancy garlic dill spreadable cheese i got at the farmers market and then put steak on there and more cheddar cheese and then the last of the red cabbage cucumber spicy slaw from that other meal and then red onion and then put on more sweet tangy hot sauce and it was sooooooo good

[my-52-weeks-with-christie]

Cocktails With Christie: Blood Orange Negroni

Inspiration: Perusing one of my favorite baking magazines a few months back, they advertised an upcoming cocktail book that looked interesting — Holiday Coupetails. Trusting the editors of Bake From Scratch, I gave the book a go…and am delighted that I did. Not only does Holiday Coupetails have drink recipes, but it also gives instructions on how to make the garnishes and some fun, festive…

[byroniuspunk]

Cocoa Negroni

[gastronominho]

Uma noite enigmática com a Campari

O Parla Piano acontece em um endereço secreto de São Paulo, trazendo uma imersão sensorial completa

O Parla Piano acontece em um endereço secreto de São Paulo, trazendo uma imersão sensorial completa Não é possível comprar entradas, nem mesmo utilizar quaisquer um dos meios de pagamento disponíveis. Para poder vivenciar a experiência Parla Piano, em São Paulo, é preciso, participar da Negroni Week. Para começar, o primeiro passo é aderir a uma dinâmica de colecionar moedas personalizadas e,…

[goodspiritsnewsat]

GSN Alert: 2023 Negroni Week, Sept. 18-24

Campari, the iconic Italian red aperitif, and Imbibe, the ultimate guide to liquid culture, come together September 18-24 for Negroni Week. For one week only, bars and restaurants around the globe will join forces to celebrate the iconic Negroni, while supporting Slow Food, a global movement of local communities and activists in more than 160 countries. Since its creation in 1919, Campari has…

[fratboykate]

I can’t believe we waited like ten years for the Coast music video and that’s what we got.

listen im just gonna sit here and eat my food in silence because...yeah

[fashionfoodcocktails]

Cocktail of the week| Negroni

As the weather warms up I get so excited because I can’t wait to sip on my favourite Summer cocktail, a Negroni. A sophisticated and well-balanced drink that has stood the test of time. With its rich history and simple yet elegant composition. Follow along as we explore how to create this classic Italian aperitif.  Continue reading Cocktail of the week| Negroni

[bostonfly]

1st Place: 1 oz. Sipsmith London Dry, 0.75 oz. Cocchi Vermouth di Torino, 0.75 oz. Campari

2nd Place: 1 oz. Beefeater, 1 oz. Campari, 1 oz. Cinzano Rosso

3rd Place: 1 oz. Bombay Sapphire, 0.75 oz. Campari, 0.75 oz. Martini & Rossi sweet vermouth

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Perfect Life || CL16 {4}

Summary: The plan is set and it's time to get things into motion. Warnings: angst, swearing, sarcasm, abusive parents WC: 2k

One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Two Weeks Later

You were barely through the ornate arch that separated the foyer entrance from the dining room when a fist of razor sharp fingernails cut into your upper arm. 

“Hi,” you greeted your mother as she dragged you into the room lit by a gilded chandelier. You were late to the regular Friday night dinner but time had slipped away from you at Arthur’s apartment. Charles had picked you up after flying in from Maranello and taken you to Monaco to finalise the plan after officially signing a contract his lawyers had drafted. The risk of exposure was too great to be an employee through his Ferrari team so everything had gone through his personal solicitor.

“Don’t ‘hi’ me you ungrateful little-sweetheart, you didn’t tell me you would be bringing a guest.” Your mother’s eyes widened as Charles stepped in behind you, his palm warming the small of your back. “I’ll have one of the maids set a place for you, Charles.”

You had coached Charles through the cutlery he could be expected to use, even in an informal setting such as a family dinner. The variations of forks would no doubt be a test that your mother would use to judge the latest guest. In return, he had posted cleverly taken photos throughout the week to ‘soft launch’ the relationship. 

“Madame Florence told me that you missed your piano session this afternoon,” your mother said sweetly, but her nails dug deeper into your skin. 

“That was today? It must have slipped my mind, you know what a ditz I can be.” Your aloof tone only set to anger her more but you knew she wouldn’t lash out while Charles was around. She always had to maintain the perfect image, like how her bruising grip was hidden by the sleeve of your shirt. 

“You play piano?” Charles asked as your mother turned on her stiletto heel and took her place beside your father at the head of the table. 

“Not by choice,” you muttered.

“Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them,” you mother quoted Shakespear like the actress she had failed to become. “She might not be the first, but my daughter could achieve greatness if she applied herself and actually attended the lessons.”

“That must be the nicest thing you have ever said,” you commented as you took a seat opposite them. Charles pushed your chair in before taking his beside you where Alicia had placed a setting for him, an appetiser already waiting. “Charles is staying over so perhaps I can have some greatness thrust upon me tonight.”

Your mother choked on her negroni and the oyster fork slipped from your father’s hand, clattering to the fine china plate. Even Charles looked a little shocked but he quickly recovered.

“If that is alright with you of course, not the uh thrusting, but staying the night,” he said after clearing his throat. 

“This isn’t a hotel,” your father stated. “Or a brothel.”

“Not sure about that since everything around here is completely fucked,” you whispered to Charles and caught the hint of a smile before turning to the head of the table. “Father, Charles is my boyfriend - get used to having him around.”

Charles’ fingers laced with yours and he kissed your knuckles. “At least until you move in with me.”

“Let’s just take a step back,” your father chuckled. “Boyfriend?”

You nodded and watched the amusement fade. 

“You are dating the boy you spent weeks, months, crying over?” your mother asked with a laugh. 

“Really?” Charles asked behind the napkin that he patted along his clammy upper lip. 

“I was an emotional teenager, but I grew out of it - don’t take it personally,” you lied. 

The dishes were swiftly taken away and replaced with the main course and Charles frowned when he saw the child size portion on your plate. “We can share,” he offered, thinking that his sudden arrival for dinner meant the kitchen was short of food. 

“She’s on a diet,” your mother tutted. “It’s Social Season and we can’t have all those lovely gowns ill fitting.”

You stabbed the salad fork into a sweet cherry tomato and watched the seeds and juice splatter over the lettuce, morbidly imagining it was a certain someone across the table. You didn’t bother to even finish the plate of rabbit food before you excused yourself. 

“You can stay,” you said to Charles when he rose to follow. “They’ll let you have dessert.”

“I’d rather your company,” he replied before turning to your parents. “Enjoy your evening.”

You felt his presence following closely up the stairs and you knew he was biting his tongue from the waves of discontent that seemed to physically roll off him. The second floor of the mansion was quiet as you walked the hallway and turned a corner to see Alicia step out of the staff stairwell. 

“Rough night,” she said with a sad smile and held out the tray of food Chef Alain had prepared. This time there were two portions of dessert. Her eyes darted to Charles and she started to speak before closing her lips. Finally, she worked up the courage and asked, “Are you alright? I can call Franco.”

You smiled genuinely at her concern and placed a hand on her shoulder to reassure her that Charles was a welcome guest. “I’m fine, thank you, no need for the big guy. But, could you please let him know we’ll be heading out the south entrance tonight?”

Alicia nodded and relaxed slightly. Unable to fight the habit, she bobbed sedately and ducked back into the shadows of the stairwell. Your parents may have acted like the house staff didn’t exist but they were always around, and they always saw what the outside world didn’t. You would have lost your sanity long ago if it weren’t for their help, even if it meant risking their jobs. 

Charles took the tray from your hand and you opened the plain white door that looked just like the others down the hall. He remained silent as he cast his eyes around the room that dripped lux from every surface. The plush carpet absorbed his footsteps as he stepped into the sitting room and the sheer curtains wavered in the breeze coming in from the sea beyond the wide balcony. In one adjoining room a large canopy bed spread across a wall decorated with blue and silver hand painted damask designs while an equally large desk sat in another connected by open glass doors.

“Hmm,” he hummed as he placed the tray on the coffee table and continued his quiet judgement walking around the rooms. 

“Still not up to your standards?” you asked as you followed him to the bed that he sat comfortably on, toeing his shoes off before kicking them up and reclining back among the pillows.

Charles smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “I think I like the dump better, at least it has some personality. You don’t even have any photos on the wall.”

You thought about correcting him again for calling your sanctuary a dump, but gave up on the idea. Instead, you reached under your bed for the duffle bag you kept there and disappeared inside your wardrobe to pack. “You’re in luck, that’s exactly where we are crashing tonight.”

You dumped the bag on the floor in your spacious closet and dropped to your knees before rummaging around the bottom shelves. You pushed aside a box of Prada pumps you hadn’t yet worn and found what you were looking for as a shadow dimmed your light.

“Why aren’t we staying here?”

You looked up to find Charles towering over you and sat back on your heels, pulling the gym gear onto your lap. “It’s Friday, I have a fight.”

You stuffed a sports bra and shorts into the duffle bag before adding a pair of sneakers, knuckle tape and Vaseline in too. Lastly, you grabbed the hoodie Charles had given you and tossed it on top. 

“You don’t have to fight anymore,” Charles said, blocking your exit from the small room. 

“I’ve never been forced, the whole point is that it is my choice. Now move aside.”

He ignored your request and stayed planted in the doorway as you stepped closer. “Your mother said you cried over me. Why?”

Your back stiffened and you swallowed at the memory. “You’ve seen my family, I had plenty to cry about. Maybe I blamed you one day when she caught me.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Believe what you want, I don’t care.” You tried to duck under his arm and escape but he was quicker and dropped it, catching you around the waist and tugging you against his body. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek and just how strong his body was as his arms tightened their hold. 

“I think you’re lying and I want to know why.”

“What good would the truth do?” You craned your neck to look him in the eyes and wondered when he had grown so tall. “Do you enjoy feeling guilty?”

Charles’ eyes bored into yours and you noticed the little crinkles around them as his frustration grew. “Just tell me, please.”

Your resolve broke and you shoved against Charles until you had the space to breathe. “I never got to say goodbye to him.”

His brows pinched together in confusion. “Who, Jules?”

“God, I hated you,” you laughed humorlessly as you sat on the edge of your bed and looked at your hands fidgeting on your lap. “Things were great before you came around, not here, obviously, but with the Bianchi’s. We would go karting on the weekends, Mélanie would let me help her bake. I didn’t know what a home felt like before then.”

The bed dipped as Charles sat beside you and took your hand. It was one thing to act as if there was a relationship but your heart stammered a little when he brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

“I know now that my father already had plans for Jules before you met him, but that was when I noticed things started to change. Whenever I went to their house he would disappear, then there were no more karting days. Whenever I asked, he was busy karting with you. I thought you stole him from me.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“But it made you cry.”

Your shoulders jumped with a clipped laugh and you shook your head. “You know, I never went back to the hospital after that day.”

“What day?” Realisation dawned on his face and his hand slipped out of yours as he covered his mouth. 

“I never got to finish the story. I never got to say goodbye,” you whispered as your voice broke and fresh tears burned your eyes. “And that is why I need to fight. There is so much anger inside me that I don’t know what else to do. It’s just sitting here,” you beat your fist against your hallow chest, “burning a fucking hole through me.”

A sob cracked the room as you admitted aloud for the first time something even Arthur didn’t know. You let Charles see just how close to the edge you really were and how little it would take for you to break. Strong arms enveloped you and pulled you onto his lap as you fell apart. You tried desperately to shut yourself off from the emotions but you had let too many through that it was impossible. 

“I hate you,” you rasped as you hit his chest. The punches were weak without the space to swing your body behind it, but somehow it served to hurt him more. He knew you were stronger and seeing your feeble attempts crumble cleaved his chest apart more than your words. “I hate you, Charles. I fucking hate you.”

“I know,” he whispered as he held you closer and took each hit he more than deserved. “I hate me too.”

Part Five.

[minkdelovely]

homebodies

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Alastor x GN!Reader

tags: domestic!alastor, fluff, established relationship, alcohol consumption, not “explicit” but as a general rule MDNI 18+

word count: 1.2k

author’s note: more self-indulgence. just a little something that’s been on my mind since i watched ‘casablanca’ over the weekend. i tried my best not to get too ooc, but idk - i feel like under the right circumstance, alastor has great potential for coziness. here’s looking at you, kid.

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Tonight was the night. The decision was made a week ago and there was no way you would be backing down.

You didn’t know why you had gotten the urge one day, but once it was there you were determined on getting an antique TV. It had taken visiting several antique shoppes throughout Cannibal Town, but you had managed to find one: a 1949 Packard Bell television (or possibly Hell’s greatest dupe) that was in beautiful shape.

It had been so exciting rearranging your furniture to make room for it, and you set it up to play some of the movies you had also found. The perfect cozy piece that had been missing from the lounge area in your suite. You loved how it looked with the rest of your things, fitting in seamlessly with some of your other antique finds; the morning glory gramophone being one of yours and Alastor’s favorites.

Thinking of him, you began to feel a little nervous about your impulse buy. You knew how he felt about modern technology but… would a TV from 1949 really count? If the concern was Vox, surely the Vees wouldn’t be interested in bugging this old thing?

Uncertainty won out, and you decided to conceal it with a scalloped, ivory tablecloth, placing a vase of flowers on top to complete the transformation. Just until you could work up the courage to show it to him.

You had given yourself a week, and it was finally time. It had been all planned out, from what you’d be having for dinner to the movie you would ask him to watch. The two of you had a long-standing routine of staying in on Friday nights, with activities ranging from you each settling down with a book to dancing in the lounge all while the radio played. Needless to say, it had been a long time since you had felt so nervous about him coming over. What if he really hated it? Or worse… thought it was silly?

A distinct rapping at the door interrupted your spiral, Alastor peaking his head in before fully entering your suite. Despite the number of times you had told him he didn’t need to, the knocking was a habit he refused to give up. Tonight you were grateful, as it gave you the slightest bit of warning to pull yourself together before you hurried to greet him.

He was already removing his coat by the time you reached him, and he kissed your hand in greeting when you tried to take it. A gesture that still left you with butterflies.

“Evening, dearest. Tonight couldn’t have come soon enough, I’ve been looking forward to it for days,” he sighed, finally allowing you to take his coat as he loosened his bow tie with a tug of his fingers.

You would never get used to seeing him be so relaxed around you. He was always so composed and properly dressed that the moments in which he was casual were precious to you, like a secret.

“I know, you’ve been busy this week,” you commiserated, already reconsidering your plan of action as you put the coat away. It was rare that he was tired like this. “What would you like to drink? I’ll get it for you.”

Maybe this isn’t be the best time to try and spring something new on him, you thought as he took a seat at the small table in your makeshift dining area.

“Surprise me,” he said, resting his head in his hand. His eyes trailed you as you made your way to the bar cart, the lazy smile on his face making your heart jump.

Husker had recently taught you how to make a few cocktails, the Negroni turning out to be a surprise favorite. You made two and set his glass down in front of him, exchanging a silent cheers before taking a sip.

Dinner went off without a hitch, and you took turns catching each other up with superfluous details of the week now that you finally had the time. It was during all of this that you worked up your courage to stick to the plan. Maybe a movie might be a nice distraction?

“I bought something last week that I’ve been meaning to show you,” you said, fiddling with your glass.

He raised a brow and hummed. “And why the wait?”

“I was nervous at first, how you’d react to it — it’s nothing bad!” you added quickly, seeing the look on his face. His imagination could be the worst sometimes. “Just… unexpected? I bought a TV from 1949. It’s been hiding in the lounge.”

Alastor turned to look and you got up to remove its disguise. Seeing it for the first time since covering it, you fell in love all over again. It really did fit your space so perfectly.

“It’s not… terrible,” he conceded, standing over it with a suspicious air. “It doesn’t stick out, at least. And you intend to watch it, I presume?”

Here goes nothing.

“I do,” you said, not as confidently as you’d have liked. “I, um… I was actually wondering if you wanted to watch a movie with me? It’s from 1942.”

“You don’t have to keep telling me which years they’re from, dearest,” he sighed, taking a seat on the couch. “But first, I’d like another drink.”

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“I’d like to think that you killed a man. It’s the romantic in me,” Louis said from the television, and to your surprise Alastor chuckled. Was he… enjoying this? You couldn’t help but dare take a peak, and the relaxed smile you found nearly killed you.

He was actually watching it! This was a victory you’d soon not forget.

You started to covertly look over at him as the movie moved along, curious to see which parts of it he reacted to. He was so absorbed that you were able to get away with it for nearly half the movie.

Alastor nearly caught you when the Paris flashback was over, giving you an unmistakable ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ look. You couldn’t help but laugh, and he soon joined in.

You picked up on moments here and there throughout the rest of it, mostly when involving Rick and Louis. And he really enjoyed when Victor began to sing La Marseillaise, singing along with just as much passion. Laughing when Ilsa pulled a gun on Rick, disappointed when she didn’t follow through.

Before you knew it, Rick and Louis were walking off into the proverbial sunset and the movie was over.

“I wouldn’t mind if you ever wanted to watch that again,” he said, looking down at you. You had been inching closer and closer to him throughout the movie, until he tucked you under his arm.

“Really? I’m so glad you liked it!” You couldn’t fight the smile on your face. This had gone so much better than expected, and you were just so happy. “Can I kiss you?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“Goodness, so well-mannered tonight,” he teased with a laugh, voice low and eyes heavy. “I suppose, since you asked so nicely.”

The kiss had started chaste enough, before he said he wanted ‘payback’.

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tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco