#prosecco hills

[alessandro-accebbi]

Prosecco Hills, Conegliano - Valdobbiadene, Treviso, Veneto, Italy 🇮🇹 UNESCO World Heritage 🥂🍾

[alwayswonderingandwandering]

gravel road

[live-laugh-lenney]

Could we maybe have a part two of this > https://www.tumblr.com/live-laugh-lenney/753590143297912832/id-honestly-love-a-little-something-where-like-yn

Fuzzy confessions and stuff perhaps?

| part one |

months had passed.

and arthur hated how he never acted on what had happened; he wanted to speak to the boys as soon as it happened, as soon as he had them away from yn so he could get their help on what he needed to do, but he chose to keep quiet. he chose to keep what happened a secret between himself and yn... which yn understood.

a change in the dynamic of their friendship group was something she didn't want to happen and she didn't want george nor chris nor arthur hill to view her differently because she'd drunkenly slept with arthur... with no regrets on either side... definitely not.

but he couldn't stand not being able to call her his.

hearing stories about how she'd gone on different dates with men that she had been set up with through becky or shannon because they were fed up with her moping around and being unhappy. deep down, she wanted arthur and not the strangers she was being set up with... but she wasn't going to force any feelings if he didn't truly feel sparks.

how wrong she was.

"this guy just straight up belched in my face and never apologised for it. he drank half the bottle of prosecco before i'd even finished my first glass, he mansplained everything he spoke about, never asked me about myself or my interests or anything and," she huffs as she fell to the sofa behind her, completely flopping down into the empty space beside george, kicking her feet up on his lap, "he was so rude to the waiting staff who were looking after us, too."

"looked like a prick when he came to pick you up so," george shrugs his shoulders, "where did you meet this one?"

"hinge, surprisingly. thought i'd give it a go after you said about it," a scoff left george's mouth and she rolls her eyes, his fingers undoing the heels buckled around her ankles and pulling them from her feet, "i thought he was going to be really nice. maybe i should just stay single? maybe, just maybe, i'm not cut out for a relationship."

"that's rubbish and you know it," george tuts at her and she pouts her lips, "maybe we should double date? i can scope your dates out and you can do the same for me. we can be each others' wingman."

a door opening catches yn offguard and she looks in the direction of where the sound of the creaking hinge came from, making eye contact with arthur as he steps foot out of the bathroom, a soft smile on his lips.

"you don't look like someone who's just had a good date," he says cautiously, walking into the living room and taking a seat in the seat he'd been sat in previously, "what happened this time?"

"terrible table manners, a major narcissist and rude to those around him," yn grumbles and sits up, folding her arms across her chest as she let her eyes wander to the television, "i wasted so much of my time picking out this outfit, buying new shoes, doing my make-up and making my hair look nice. someone really has it out for me at the moment, i swear."

arthur gives her a sympathetic smile before he diverts his attention to his phone.

all he could think about was how she'd never be treated so badly if he just said something, if he put his fears and worries aside, and finally acted on the feelings he was feeling deep inside.

because he found himself thinking back to that one night they shared together on holiday. when he woke up with her beside him, with their clothes in heaps around the room so there was no point in lying to one another about what had happened, with a feeling of happiness that it had happened. a memory that he found hard to shake off. and everytime he was reminded of that night, he found himself falling a little more in love with her.

"want a cup of tea?"

"that sounds so good right now," she looks at george and he stands to his feet, sliding his phone into his pocket and striding across the living room and in the direction of the kitchenette, "can i stay here tonight?"

"you're always welcome here," george says.

and with that, he disappeared around the corner to make her, and himself, a cup of tea because the idea sounding really warming and he could feel a chill in the air. the silence swallowed arthur and yn as they sat comfortably in each other's presence... but he felt his tongue burning from wanting to say something to her. he just didn't know what.

"i don't know why i bother anymore, you know?"

"hmm?"

arthur looks over at her and she frowns in his direction, her eyebrows pinching together on her browline and there's a sudden flush in her cheeks that was something other than the wind-bitten skin that she would have endured on her walk to george's flat.

"why couldn't you just ask me out, doofus?"

"again, hmm?"

arthur's confused and his heart was racing in his chest, beating quick and hard and he was surprised she couldn't hear how worked up he was feeling at her question.

"we slept together, we had such a good holiday, but we get back to england and you forget all that happened? we go back to being best friends and act like we never did anything?" she questions him and he shakes his head erratically, "then why didn't you do anything?"

"why should i? why couldn't you make the first move?"

she scowls at him when she sees the smirk toying at his lips, his phone being slipped into his picket so she had his full attention, his body shifting in his seat so he could look at her.

"i wanted to ask you out. really, i did," he starts, gulping back a thick lump in his throat before he continued, "i didn't want it to ruin what we had though. that night was amazing, from what i remember, and i didn't think we could go anywhere because i didn't know how i felt at the time. i didn't want it to change the group because we became a couple. i didn't know how to approach it, i guess."

"you've seen me go through hell on these dates and you didn't step in," she grumbles and he stands up, taking long steps in her direction and kneeling down in front of her, "be my knight in shining armour, idiot. save me so i don't have to do this anymore."

he takes her hands in his and squeezes them tight, running his thumbs across her knuckles with soft movements, eyes trained on her face as she looks at her lap.

"stay at mine tonight?" he asks her gently and lifts her head, "don't stay here. come back with me. and i'll take you home tomorrow and you can get all dressed up again, you can spend hours on your make-up and your hair, and i'll take you out in the evening and show you a proper date."

"i'm bored of dinners now. i've had too many bad ones to count," she informs him, "surprise me? but it has to be fun. not boring or generic. it has to be exciting."

"deal," he grins widely, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "consider yourself surprised." x

[clarkeyhill]

Butterfly Effect | Arthur Hill

Fluff | inspired by back to life by zayn

Butterfly effect: a significant event that happens that is considered life altering.

-------

"We are gathered here today, to share the special moment of y/n and Arthur's life, a day where we witness the purity and sincerity of their vows as they exchange them for marriage"

The celebrant introduces the ceremony as you and Arthur hold hands, he doesn't even attempt to hold back the tears as his eyes flow like a river. His best friends all in the crowd watching him as he gets ready to marry his best friend, your eyes glisten as you fight back the tears not wanting to ruin your makeup

You read out your vows, staring adoringly into Arthur's hazel eyes

"my dear Arthur, Thankyou for loving every part of me, even the parts that I couldn't love myself, Thankyou for showing me that life can be full of love and appreciation whilst also fun and exciting, I'm so excited to experience this next part of life with you by my side, I will choose you in every lifetime, this one and the next"

His eyes form even more tears at your words, wiping a few away as he chuckles as how soppy he was being.

Arthur pulls out his sheet of paper, preparing his vows.

"Y/n, I've been a lot of places, seen a lot of faces, but nobodies I've seen will every compare to the first time I saw yours, you're the only one that's been watching over me, I can't remember what it was like before you. You give me oxygen when it becomes hard to breathe, when I lose my composure you're there to pick me back up and guide me. Even if I'm wrong or on the odd occasion I'm right you're always by my side; in a world that keeps getting colder, you're the fire that keeps me warm and keeps me a float, Thankyou for picking me in this lifetime, I can't wait for the future"

You can't hold them back no more, tears flow down your face as his words wrap your heart, you can't believe this was your life. Blessed with a man so devoted to you in every way. You couldn't help but think, what if you hadn't met him, what if you never saw him?

"Arthur, you may now kiss the bride"

He doesn't hesitate as his lips lock onto yours, tears streaming down the pairs of your faces as you taste the salt, you pull away and place your heads onto eachothers as you smile

"Let's go Mrs Hill" he whispers as everyone cheers, you walk back down the aisle and take pictures with your friends and family. Awaiting the after party.

-

You top up your makeup, dabbing the tear marks away as you look down and smile at your ring, flashing back to how you and Arthur met. You'd never think you'd be here right now, you chuckle at the reminiscing of the memories as a slight knock etches itself onto your door

"Y/n?" It's Arthur, you place your sponge down as he walks in "hey baby" you reply as he shakes his hands round your waist "we did it" he chuckles "we did" you laugh back as he plants a kiss onto your lips "you ready to go down?" He asks placing a thumb on your cheek

"Never been more ready" you place your hand over his, as you grasp his outstretched hand you make your way to see your friends and family in the function room. Your dress trailing behind you as you beam with joy.

You walk in and everyone cheers as Arthur spins you around walking to your table, a glass of Prosecco already waiting for you as you take a sip, suddenly George adjusts his tie and stands up, clinking his glass

"Ehm, can I have everyone's attention please?" He starts as his eyes dart to Arthur who looks nervous at the words he's going to say

"Just wanted to say congratulations to two of my best friends, you truly fit into eachothers lives like two peas in a pod, your love for each-other is beautiful to see and I'm proud of the pair of you. Not to mention the fact that if I hadn't of accidentally spilt a drink on y/n in a club one night 2 years ago, we'd probably not be here right now" he chuckles as does everyone

"No but jokes aside, I'm glad my clumsiness made some good that night, although it was Arthur that offered you his sweatshirt and I just stood their in a panicky mess, so I guess 90% of the credit should go to Arthur for his smooth tactics, here's to the pair of you" he raises his glass as everyone else does

Chatter begins round the room as the music begins to play, you see your husband dancing with his friends as his arms fling around. A feeling of belonging washes over you as your face flushes, you couldn't help but play George's speech in your head because he was right, what if we never met and what if I never saw him?

-

🫶🏻

[vasiktomis]

TripAdvisor's Top 10 Things To Do In Volterra, Tuscany (18+)

Part 1 | Next Part

Pairing: Aro/F!Reader(No use of y/n). Rating: Explicit (Minors do NOT interact). Word Count: ~3000. Warnings: Pretty tame beginnings tbh but future warnings for Stalking, Toxic relationships and power imbalances, Blood and gore, Devious little fruity men, and Reader-insert being a terrible enough person that it sort of balances it all out?? Idk. Yes there will be weird vampire sex. Read it on Ao3 Here!

__________________________________

It’s in early Summer that you meet him for the first time. 

One sentence typed and re-written with two pages to fill and three proseccos nursed over some amount of hours. A hot afternoon is well on its way to becoming a balmy night, and daytime family shoppers along the tight, sloping roads in Volterra have condensed into young adults seeking whatever might come close to resembling nightlife amidst alfresco dining areas and tall views of rolling hills and old brick- oh, that’s not a bad line.

Rapping the enter key, you make room for the statement. 

Whatever might come close to resembling nightlife amidst alfresco dining areas and tall views of-

A pang of revulsion hits.

Fuck it. It’s shit. 

You slam on the backspace, offsetting just a little of the temptation to hurl your laptop over the retaining wall and onto the road below. 

“Top-up?”

Panic jolts down your spine at the black suit of a hospitality worker in your periphery. You haven’t bought anything since the sun was up. Not since the first prosecco, and the complimentary bread basket, and the second prosecco, and the complimentary bread basket, and the third prosecco, and the humiliating explanation that a family-run business simply cannot keep giving you any more of Nonna’s war-time era bread baskets.

It’s not your fault that no one’s come along to pick up the tab of a pretty tourist tonight. Alcohol’s usually pretty cheap when some cashed-up slob in linen intends to use it to leverage against you later in the night. It’s getting ridiculous out here. It’s been hours, and not only have you gotten a solid zero words into your article — you’ve been squatting here with the nicest view in Volterra for long enough that you fear the staff and your fellow patrons have begun to make assumptions about you. 

You have no money left.

They can’t know you have no money left.

You offer up a smile. “Just water, please.”

You’re met with a pained reflection of the look. Maybe yours is just as sad. They leave with a hurried nod, too busy serving every other table to have time to bother with your bullshit. Maybe you should just order something. Drop a precious thirty on a four-ingredient carbonara that’ll either have you hungry again in an hour or shitting your guts out for the next twenty-four. Wasteful spending, either way. There’s only a few hundred euros left, and you can’t afford to keep doing this.

Rolling hills. Just write something about rolling fucking hills and go back to the airbnb. 

Your fingers poise over the keyboard. 

“Mi scusi—“

“Just water’s fine.” You nearly snap. 

“Oh, you speak English.”

Another black suit in your periphery. Another wave of shame. You look up again, and the well-pressed suit standing before you smiles a mildly manic, overly familiar smile. “Good evening. I’m dreadfully sorry to ask, but would you mind moving on?”

He’s exceptionally pale, you observe. Perfect teeth. Wonderful hair that reminds you of some kind of animal.  

Your brow furrows. “I’m sorry?”

“Yes. That’s fine. No harm done.” The man’s already turned away from you, clicking at the boy who had yet to fetch your water. “Un'altra sedia. Per favore-“

“I’m not done sitting here.” You say.

That smile on his face strains. Just a little. 

“Well, you see,” He offers, “I like to sit here — as well as my company, and you’ve been here for—“ the smile tightens further, and you rejoice in your judgement. He feels entitled to this spot. This is his seat you’re in. 

He’s just as much of a dick about this as you are. 

“Four hours — and this is an exceptional spot to view the end of the sunset at this time of year.”

What a fucking prick. What sweet vindication. 

“Yeah.” You agree, not budging. “It seems like it.”

“Is she gone, yet?” 

Another suit approaches. This time blonde. Younger. Early-twenties perhaps, as opposed to your original assailant’s early-forties. There’s a scowl fixed to his face, exacerbated by a scoff when his gaze finds you still seated. 

 You don’t even give him the time of day, turning back to the brunette. “I’m working. You’re distracting me. I might’ve been gone already if you weren’t bothering me.”

“Oh please.” He lets out a breath of laughter. “You haven’t made a keystroke in over twenty minutes.”

“It’s called incubating.”

“A charming term for a nothing activity. Please move.”

“No.”

“You’re drawing attention.” Now it’s a hiss. 

“Good. Let me finish my article.”

Maybe if you act distressed enough, you’ll get a free pity meal.

“God.” The blonde snarls, snapping his attention behind him, to where a small pod of similarly dressed, similarly toneless people have arrived. “Forget it, Aro. We’re missing it.”

The brunette’s head whips around, as does yours, to catch the last sliver of sun disappearing behind the hills, only the reddest of remnants remaining of its aura on the horizon. Your argument carried you through the entirety of a sunset, and the man — Aro — purses his lips into that same tight smile. Over his shoulder, the blonde retreats, muttering under his breath and merging with the herd.

Seemingly victorious, your fingers hover over the keyboard again, and Aro leans down, not quite in your space. Just close enough for you to find yourself captivated by those filed-straight teeth again.

“A word to the wise —“ He says, tone hushed, pressing a hand to the table. Fingers inches from yours. “That was the Summer solstice drawing to a close, and you made us miss it-“

“I think you took care of that one yourself, actually."

He leans closer. “You’ve drawn enough eyes to protect yourself until the locals forget this, but some of us — my friend Caius, especially — are very fond of our evening routine; and some of us can hold a grudge. You’d do well to move on before the week’s end.”

You’d be happy to punch him if you weren’t thinking so hard about that free meal, so instead, you opt to flash a smile of your own. “You’d do well to eat my ass.”

There’s a pause. A tick of his brow. A tiny twitch at a corner of his mouth. Filmy eyes bore into yours, flickering minutely to your throat.

“Buonanotte. Do try to become at least conversational in Italian.” Aro’s gaze flits to the bare centimetres between your hands. He makes a point to withdraw it across the table, slowly. Like it would simply be beneath him to touch you. “What’s the saying? When in Rome?”

Then, he’s turning. Taking his leave. Shrouded in black cloth the moment he passes into his crowd of gothic friends.

Your gaze lingers on the retreating group. A subtle glance is afforded in your direction from one of the men in his company. Tall. Far too solemn for such an exciting night. 

A young man at a neighbouring table leans over to you, and you’ve spent so long looking at milky white faces at you’re nearly blinded by the hue of his sunburned face. “Ravers.” He comments. American. “Don’t mind ‘em. Probably gonna go take horse tranqs in some warehouse.”

Horse. That’s what you were trying to think of. His hair reminded you of a horse. 

“I am sorry for the commotion.” The hospitality worker returns. A glass of tap water is set down before you. “Could I offer you dinner on the house?”

…

Victory. 

You crack a grin up at your server. “Hey, what’s buonanotte mean?”

__________________________________

For such a compact place, you do not run into Aro again. Nor any of the grimly dressed people that had been in his company. 

Over the weeks spanning your stay, tourists come and go, but many of the faces in Volterra remain the same. Permanent residents remain static and likely have been so for generations. Mornings, recently, have held you in increasingly high regard; your refusal to leave their cramped community with each new brief wave of visitors bringing familiarity usually only reserved for years-old neighbours. Now you're no less annoying than a particularly entitled local.

None of whom, curiously, show any traits of albinism. Funny, considering you’d had a run in with at least half a dozen in a single night. 

“Are you now living here?” A busboy asks in the evening, passing your table (god, you love claiming that) on his way to clean another. You like this one. He’s gotten into a habit of sneaking an extra biscotti onto your saucer when you order. “How is your article?”

“It’s…” The look on your face tells enough to warrant a laugh.

“I have a cousin in Florence. Single.” He explains. “He would take one look at you and fall in love. You can marry him. Take his money. His car? Three wheels. Loser. You can do what ever you want if you marry him.”

“I’ll think about it.” You assure him, turning back to your laptop.

Huh.

Odd.

There’s a smear of black in your periphery again. 

That hasn’t happened since-

Your gaze snaps upward, meeting the eye of the rude bastard who’d made a martyr of you in front of the restaurant. Same phoney smile still plastered on his face. Something surges in your chest — fight instinct activating, readying you rip out a hunk of his hair should the situation call for it. 

You open your mouth. Preparing a scathing slew of words.

“Oh, hi.”

Aro — you recall — doesn’t reply. Not until he plucks a chair from a nearby table and sets it down across from you. At your table. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t apologise. He just sits and watches you with his pleasant expression and his milky eyes and his horse hair. His wake wafts old paper and lint; like community library, or a darkroom, or a basement. 

Your skin runs cold. Oh fuck, is he actually making good on that threat from the other night?

“Buona—“ A gesture is extended to you. 

“—sera?”

“Very good.” He affirms with a too-animated grin. Like you’re a toddler. Bit patronising. “Going native, are you?”

“How do you mean?”

“Caffè in the evening, just like the locals do it. And you’ve been here every night for the better part of three weeks. One might say you were squatting.”

He’s been watching you. 

He’s wearing an identical suit to the one he wore last you’d encountered him. 

He’s a weirdo. You should find another stranger to cling to. Pretend to go home with them to discourage him from following more of your routine—

“Funny. I haven’t seen you.” You reply, bluntly. 

A micro expression must give your thoughts away, because his eyebrows shoot up in mock-surprise. “Oh? Oh. My friends have mentioned seeing you. I hope you don’t mind — we tend to keep an eye out for people who cross our paths. Small circles and what have you.” 

“That’s fair. You did threaten me last time we met.”

“Water under the bridge.” Aro dismisses. “Gossip gets around. People notice you staying.”

Your caution doesn’t dissipate. “Insular but curious?”

His smile widens. “Exactly! I’m Aro."

“I know. I heard one of your friends say it.” You reply, before giving your own name.

“I know.” Aro mirrors, and then fails to follow-up. Then, he moves to stand from his seat, pausing to consider something. “Care to walk with me?” 

“Give me a minute. I’m working.” 

An outright lie. You commit to typing gibberish for several minutes before closing the device and packing it away. All the while, he watches you like he’s watching a fish in a bowl.

“Upfront?” You say, standing, and he follows suit. “I carry a box cutter.”

“Wonderful.”

“Also, I choose where we go.”

He tips steepled fingers in a mockery of a bow. “Of course. Lead the way.”

Cramped as the little city may be, it’s surprisingly much harder to navigate when you’re trying to remain in the most well-lit spots. Conversation speeds up and slows with your meandering and Aro’s occasional interjection, all the while keeping a good bit of distance between you while you walk. His hands remain clasped in front of him, where you can see them. Making a show that he means you no harm. 

He probably won’t murder you tonight, you decide. 

You learn that he’s quite fond of history. That his friends are much the same. Even the ones that are very clearly children have a passion for preserving the arts and maintaining what Aro defines as ’cultural customs’.

It all sounds vague enough to be a little fucking hinky, but there’s a degree of relief that washes over you when Aro assures you they’re not funded by the Catholic church. 

He’s also a bit pretty, and you’re humble enough to admit that your brain goes smooth when you’re confronted with pretty. 

“So what is it you’ve been trying to write all week?” He eventually asks, gaze flickering to the laptop folded under your arms.

“That’s the issue.” You admit. “I haven’t really found my muse.”

“You just write about anything?” He presses.

You snort. “Wouldn’t that be nice. Right now I’m giving travel writing a whirl. Saved up a while after I finished my degree, but the longer I’m out here, the more I’m starting to realise student loans can’t really be paid off in stories.”

“Is it the stories upsetting you?” Aro frowns. “Or the loans?”

“It’s kind of fucking hard to feel inspired when all you’ve got in savings is the plane ticket home.”

“That explains all those free meals you’ve been charming everyone into.”

The heat returns to your face. He’s really been keeping an eye on you.

“Yeah — I’ve, uh—“ You keep your gaze front and centre on the road. “Sort of run out of money.”

Aro considers that for a moment. His steps slow. Then stop.

“Then, would you like a job?” He asks. 

Your brow furrows, thoughts already flicking through every possible trafficking scenario and how to stage a rebuttal, and his hand raises in defence just as you open your mouth. “You would be working with a few young friends of mine.”

You think about that. “Oh, yeah. Very…varied sense of fashion.”

“Heidi’s dress sense is the most modern of us, I assure you. She leads our public outreach, but she’s a single point of contact.” Aro explains, trailing off into thoughtful contemplation. “I like to pride myself on the diversity of our group, but things don’t move as slowly as they once did, and the internet is becoming too big a sandbox for just one voice to be heard so much lately. Perhaps you could lend a hand.”

All of Aro’s words up until that pitch have sounded pretty organic in comparison. That whole thing was rehearsed, for certain. 

“I don’t buy it.”

“Would you, if you had an allowance?”

”Well, yeah. That’s sort of what a job is.” You frown. For an apparently wealthy man, he's not great with employment terminology.

“You’d be compensated more than fairly.” He persists. “Most of us are volunteers, but if it helps put food on our tables, I’d be curious to see how successful you might be.”

He’s got you by the balls with this whole money thing, you won’t lie. It makes it hard to say no.

“What do you and those other two do, then?” You ask, referring to the men he had stuck to his side on your last meeting. Scraping through whatever you can amidst the glamour of his offer just to find something to poke holes in.

“We boss everyone around.”

Once it’s adequately clear that you’re not amused, Aro pivots, resuming his pace. “Marcus is in charge of relations. Caius keeps everyone in line, and I oversee the structure of everything we do.” He expands. “I do a lot of travelling. Talent scouting, recruitment. We’re globally spread. It’s…busy work, keeping track of everyone.”

“Sounds like you don’t have middle management.” You comment. “Why not hire me for that?”

That earns you a chuckle.

”It’s not perfect, but it’s preferable that olive branches are extended personally.”

”So you’re middle management.”

“In less grand terms, you could say I’m intuitive.” Aro explains, lingering for you for fall back into step. When you stop again, he does too. “I’m quite good at reading people.”

“An empath, are we?” You ask drily, turning your attention over the retaining wall at blackened country hills.

He doesn’t pick up on it. “How kind of you to say. No —“ He extends a well-manicured hand to you, keeping respectable distance. Just enough to demonstrate that this is an offer. Not an order. 

He’d look like kind of a jerk if you left him hanging, so you relent and offer your own.

“If I touch you, I can see your thoughts.”

Your hand stops just short of his, pulling away just as he reaches for you. “Sorry. I’m not into the whole street art thing.”

“Not to worry.” Aro assures, outstretching his fingers until the tendons flex over his knuckles. “I’d never commit such an act without your consent.”

“Yeah. I already fell for a a bracelet scam in Barcelona.” You insist. “Once bitten, twice shy. Maybe another time.”

Aro observes you for a long moment. He’s been doing a lot of that, tonight. 

“Perhaps another time.” He agrees, and the beat he takes doesn’t go unnoticed. He’s not used to being denied.

“You’re not rescinding the job offer for that, are you?” You frown.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re friends now.” Aro replies. “Besides; if anything, if you’re sitting in my office I won’t have to worry about you taking my favourite seat outside.”

You squint at him. Unblinking. He only gives you patience in return.

“I’ll get you in contact with one of my colleagues, and one day, you’ll let me perform my party trick for you. Sound agreement?”

It’s all just a little too good to be true, and a little too weird to be charming. You attempt a sympathetic look, but it feels more like an outright wince. “I’m sorry, it’s gonna have to be a no.”

Aro’s lips purse. His fingers lock together at his front, knuckles pressing while he thinks. 

Then, he regards you with a split-second point of his finger. A final bid.

”I’ll pay for your dinner tonight.”

…

Sold.

[gatheringbones]

genuine question: how do you stand the loneliness? i'm in my mid 20s and ive never been loved in a way that didnt hurt. i dont want to have to run after ppl begging for the smallest scrap of affection anymore but i keep turning up ppl who, even though they are interested in me and seem generally decent, arent ready to lower their walls and let me in, so its either that or nothing, and im so fucking lonely. i try to bury myself in work and going out as much as i can, but sometimes it hits me, and i dont know how to stand it anymore. i just want to be able to be kind to someone and treat them with all the love and affection i have, and not have to guard myself at the same time or be afraid of them or feel like i can never be sure with them. i think you've been lonely like that for a long time, too, and i dont have anyone who understands. i know the only advice you can give is probably "endure and continue to have self respect", but i dont know how to do that without also becoming small, and sad, and worn out from all the loneliness. if there's anything you can think of that helped you get through it, please tell me--i dont want to burden or overwhelm you, but i dont know what to do anymore, and like i said, you seem like you've survived a couple of those sorts of droughts and i dont have anyone else to talk to about this

so on those first few early dates with c when she was either driving an hour up north or I was taking the bus two hours down to see her, I was so rattled by the experience of building intimacy with someone else that I couldn’t really think of what we ought to do with each other on our dates. In the end I decided: we would just do what I ordinarily did to build intimacy with myself, which meant taking lots of long walks all over residential seattle. and I’d been living there for over ten years at that point, getting around either by walking or by bus. before that I’d lived in the sticks. before that I’d lived in the part of the sticks that wasn’t connected to the power grid. my earliest memories are long lonely walks. long lonely walks were my primary coping mechanism for debilitating post traumatic stress and survivor’s guilt. and with c it was wild because. it was exactly like going on these walks with myself, only I was more of myself and these walks were more of what they were. what’s more the internal map of the city I had built in my feet over a decade was suddenly of use. all of the time and neurons I had put into building it were relevant to the present situation.

i packed a backpack once. water and a cheeseboard with a little cheese knife and a can of prosecco and a can of kirin for c and lots of little cheeses and salamis and fruits and veggies and chocolate almonds. And I took c on a long meandering walk that I knew from memory; fremont to the crown hill cemetery to the stairs leading down to golden gardens to the beach at sunset. all places I’d been by myself and taken my friends to before. places I’d taken myself to after packing myself a snack and bringing my journal and quite literally staring across the water at a home that would kill me if I ever returned to it. all that time mattered. the time I had spent in that place making those friendships and mourning that life and building that intimacy with myself and the city mattered.

All the years before— giving, giving, gifts to those who could not care, would not give back. How well we made a feast together. Those years of waste were over.

[adamlouisvanlandingham]

We have a collection of whiskey wine and quality cigars such as Weller, Pappy,Staggir, George T Stagg,E.H Taylor, Jack Daniel,Blanton's, Seagram's 7 Crown,Evan Williams, Southern Comfort, Black Velvet,Kentucky Owl,Henry McKenna,Macallan,Crown Royal,Jameson,etc, Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Grigio, Cabernet Sauvignon, Malbec, Merlot, Pinot noir, Shiraz, Grenache,Rioja, Blossom Hill, Champagne,Echo falls, Mionetto prosecco doc treviso brut nv, Prosecco, Cabernet Franc, Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Chianti, Dom Pérignon, Heppington chardonnay, Tempranillo, Yellow Tail.

and Bolivian cigar , Cohiba Cigar, Fuentes Fuentes OpusX , Arturo Fuentes,David off,Padrón,Liga Privada,Romeo y Juliette,My father, Rocky Patel.

https://t.me/tastywhiskieswinesandcigars

cigar cigars cigarlife cigaraficionado cigarporn botl cigarsociety cigaroftheday cigarlover cigarsmoker cigarlifestyle sotl cigarworld cigarsnob smoke cigarphotography habanos cigarsofinstagram cigarboss tobacco smoking cigarculture cigarians nowsmoking cigartime cigarlounge cohiba whiskey cigarsmoking cigarnation united states germany canada australia newzealand finland Switzerland Spain Belgium Europe netherlands finland united kingdom luxembourg bahrain italy whiskey whisky bourbon scotch whiskeygram cocktails singlemalt vodka drinks whiskylover beer bourbonwhiskey whiskeylover whiskygram bar bourbongram whiskyporn gin scotchwhisky alcohol rum wine cheers whiskeyporn cigar liquor jackdaniels tequila cocktail drink

[faithhopeloveandtherapy]

2023 Christmas rundown

We are back home now after a week away at my parents in the Lake District for Christmas. I can say it has been 100% genuinely lovely. The circumstances are not all great - my dad is in the middle of chemotherapy and despite being very stoical, is definitely being affected by pain and side effects, and my mum is clearly worried about everything. Despite that, we managed to keep up with all our traditional Christmas activities. Having no small children with us meant that we really could just relax and rest together.

On Christmas Eve, we traditionally go to the pantomime in the morning and then to my sister’s for a meal and general drinking and merriment in the evening. H hates the panto as he’s always terrified he’ll get pulled up on stage, so he stayed at home with my dad, but the girls and I, my mum, my sister, hubby and two nephews all went. Then we all went out in the evening.

Christmas Day started with a 9am parkrun for some of us, then home for croissants and Buck’s Fizz. We did some present opening - we are that family that go round opening one gift at a time and admiring each others so it takes a while. We had to break off for Christmas dinner prep - we had the traditional enormous roast turkey with all the trimmings and 7 different vegetables. It was incredible. My sister and family came round for the Christmas dinner and then we did some more present opening. We all took Prosecco induced naps about 7pm and woke revitalised and played a board game called Cascadia.

Boxing Day we always go for a walk up our local hill and then come home and sit in front of the fire for the rest of the day.

Over the next few days, I basically did my knitting, completed a jigsaw, went for a couple of runs, and read my book. One evening we watched an Agatha Christie two part TV programme, Murder is Easy. It was all so relaxing and easy. I’d bought the Lego tiny plants set, and we spent an hour or so all making a plant each. Even my dad joined in which I hadn’t expected, as his fingers are very clumsy these days, but he was determined to get a plant built, and he did. My dad is more child-like and gentle in this phase of life and I feel relaxed around him and even protective of him. I’m so thankful for talking through all the painful stuff over the years in therapy, because it doesn’t feel like it’s tripping me up now.

Having no children in foster placement with us made it so restful - one of the very few Christmases over the last 21 years with no small children (our own or our foster children). I’m so glad we have taken this time for a fostering break.

[venetian-friend]

Even if I'm an antique, 🥴 I appreciate the closeness of a beautiful woman, but I think that to live well you also need the right context 🥰, What do you think of a romantic weekend on the Prosecco hills of Conegliano?

[asp1990]

Day 5: Saturday January 4th, 2025 [Tokyo]

Breakfast: Konbini coffee & egg sando

Lunch: Our first proper ramen of the trip!

Dinner: Sirloin ‘gyukatsu’ meal set

Steps: 14,788

We had a slower start today and left the hotel at 11:30am. We had planned to visit a viral restaurant, Menchirashi, who were famous for their Udon Carbonara but I was dismayed to find out that they were closed for New Year for the duration of our stay in Tokyo. Morgan googled another place that did a similar dish and we decided to check it out.

We grabbed brekky from the Konbini and got the train into Shinjuku. We walked for 15 minutes through a pretty dense part of the city with big roads and high-rise buildings. The restaurant was down an alley and already had a queue. Morgan signed us up for the digital queue and it says the approximate wait time was 240 minutes. No thank you! We instead walked back towards the touristy side of Shinjuku to see the giant Godzilla and chose a ramen spot with a Godzilla view for lunch instead. The ramen was fine - about as good as we’ve had in Melbourne. They forgot Morgan’s order though and we got two complimentary drinks for the bother.

After lunch we decided to visit a shrine down the road. We got promptly distracted by an arcade next door and spent half an hour playing claw machines (Morgan won me a Kirby keyring) and getting ridiculous anime photo booth photos. It was confusing as hell to get the photos with Japanese instructions, but the results were hilarious. When we arrived at the shine there was a queue to pay your respects and we didn’t want to linger so we didn’t stay long. We were going to get another goshuin, but didn’t want the novelty to wear off so decided to get one in each major city instead. We then went to check out a mini suburb called ‘Golden Gai’ that Morgan’s mate had recommended. It’s full of tiny bars and Izakayas we decided to check it out one evening before we leave for Disney.

We got the train to Shibuya as we had a sunset booking at Shibuya Sky - our third sky-high tourist attraction in 3 days. I had booked the primo time slot a month prior to ensure we didn’t miss out… or so I thought. When I pulled up the tickets they said 2:20pm not 4:20pm! IDIOT! We took them to the service desk to ask if we could still go up and the guy looked at me like an idiot. He said “why did you come late?” And my only reply was “because I am an idiot”. He was able to transfer the tickets and we headed up to the viewing platform. Phew!

Shibuya Sky rooftop was absolutely stunning. We had perfect weather and a glorious sunset to photograph. We lined up for the ‘edge’ photo and had to wait about 30 minutes for our turn. Fortunately the sun had not completely set yet and we got some cute photos. We were nothing compared to all the Instagram Japanese girls there though - their Insta boyfriends were working overtime! Once we were done with the outdoor platform, we went downstairs to the bar and had a glass of prosecco and watched the city below. It was lovely to sit still for a moment and enjoy where we were. While there we scoped out where to go for dinner and decided to check out the infamous ‘Shibuya Scramble’ pedestrian crossing. Morgan also read up on the famous dog ‘Hachiko’ who had his own gift shop. He is revered in the area for being a real good boy. Very loyal to his owner, he used to accompany him to the city each day and then wait for him at Shibuya Station every evening. One day his owner died at work but the dog still came to the station every day until he too, died. My heart! There is a bronze statue of him outside the station and people had left blessings underneath it and tourists were queued to get a photo with him. What a good dog!

The Scramble was bananas but very efficient. We crossed through to walk up the hill to dinner at Gyukatsu Kyoto Katsugyu. I had seen this place online and wanted to try it as long as the queue wasn’t too long. We only had to wait about 10 minutes before being welcomed in by lovely staff. We both ordered a beer and sirloin beef set. The meal came with miso soup, steamed rice, cabbage, a ‘onsen egg’ and 4 dipping sauces for our ‘katsugyu’ - sliced and crumbed beef that you sear yourself on a mini grill that looks like an oil burner. The meal was delicious and Morgan delighted in trying all of the different sauces. I was a big fan of dipping the meat in wasabi, then the egg and having it with the rice and cabbage. Quite the mouthful. Our meal cost ¥8500 - our most expensive yet, but very worth it.

We were nearly ready to go home but as it was Saturday night, Morgan wanted to experience the nightlife in Shibuya. We’d struggled to find a stand alone ‘bar’ -everything seemed to be a bar/restaurant and required patrons to order at least one appetizer and drink per person which we didn’t want. After some googling, Morgan found an underground cocktail bar called ‘Autumn’ that was lovely and we had the whole venue to ourselves. I had 2 cocktails and Morgi had a cocktail and a Japanese whisky. The staff were lovely, but literally stood still and pretended to clean when they weren’t making our drinks. They didn’t ’go out the back’ or even speak to each other for the duration of our visit. We felt a bit uncomfortable and were ready to go home so left just after 8.30pm.

On the walk back to the station we walked past a multi-storey shoe store (are there any single storey buildings in this city!?) and asked if I wanted to go in. I’d been unsuccessful in my attempts to purchase some new sneakers due to my large Aussie feet and was a bit embarrassed but I’d only brought one pair of sneakers with me and they kept squeaking in quiet areas and I wanted a second pair. I decided to go in and find a men’s/unisex pair that I liked and get Morgan to buy them. The shop assistant inside ended up being lovely and helped me convert the sizes to a female equivalent and I scored a cream pair of Adidas sneakers just as the store was closing. Success! I was so pleased.

We got a photo of the Hachiko dog statue before getting on the train and heading home with coffee and a sweet treat from the Konbini. Today was not my favourite day, but it definitely picked up as we plodded through. It’s nuts that we’ve been here for 4 days already.

[jazzynook]

Wanderlust: road trip stopover in Tennessee

Me and Paige kicked off our Dirty South road trip with a stay at The Hopestead, a historic bed & breakfast that felt like a hidden gem. Nestled deep in the Tennessee woods, about 90 minutes from Nashville, this charming place sprawls over 47 acres of rolling hills. We arrived late in the evening, the sky draped in a starry blanket, and were greeted by the cutest welcoming committee—two delightful dogs, a pair of darling cats, and a playful litter of kittens.

Vanessa and Michael, our warm-hearted hosts, welcomed us and despite our late arrival, they gave us a cozy tour of the house. We spent the rest of the evening lounging on the backyard deck with a glass of prosecco while our new feline friends weaved around our legs and even nibbled on my toes 😅 The starry sky offered a breathtaking glimpse of the Milky Way 🌌

The next morning, the heat of the sultry air and thick humidity greeted me like an old uncle with a slap on the back. Before breakfast was served, I perched on the porch's rocking chair, and listened to the sound of the cicadas. I meandered through the farmhouse's grounds, where horses nibbled at the dewy grass and when I walked back inside the house, I was so charmed by the vintage tunes Vanessa played while cooking. Sam Cooke’s “You Send Me,” filled the entire first floor with a nostalgic warmth.

At breakfast, we shared stories with Michael and Vanessa, learning about their journey of restoring the house and their new life as empty nesters. They also recommended we attend a live radio show at the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville, and I've added it to the list for next time! Of course I couldn't visit Nashville for the first time and not visit the National Museum of African American Music. But more on that later…

After savoring Vanessa's homemade breakfast, I nestled under the generous shade of the lush magnolia tree to call my mom and share our safe arrival at this peaceful haven I was grateful to have found.

Our furry friends continued to shower us with affection and charmed us from our arrival to our final morning, though they seemed less enamored with the couple who arrived the day after us 🤷🏾‍♀️

The Hopestead, with its blend of comfort, nature, and warm hospitality, left an unforgettable mark on our hearts.

c. August 2024

[alessandro-accebbi]

Prosecco hills, RUA DI FELETTO, Conegliano, Treviso, Italy 🇮🇹 🍾 🥂

Photo by Francesco Galifi

[galina]

Remember a month ago, when we were stood on the steps of the town hall in Marylebone together, throwing confetti and enjoying the shelter of a surprise big red bus. When we collectively put on a rainbow array of snappy suits, fabulous fits, dreamy dresses, and dazzled the city commuters around us. Remember when you choked up in the ceremony and it broke all of our friends who just were trying to hold it together. I heard a single tissue had to be split across a whole row as a life raft. And Jem reading the poem they had written for us which made me start up all over again. And ending out going down the pub like any old day. 

Remember your smile and you holding your hand up with an imaginary camera, mouthing ‘remember this one’.

Remember when we took the party cross-country and shared around tiny bottles of prosecco and Tunnock’s on the train as it sped past fields and hills and towns and god knows what else. When we took the unremarkable small town chain hotel by storm in our numbers (“there are a lot of you” the receptionist said to us when we checked in). 

When we basked in candlelight and that gorgeous string trio. And the photo booth that took a photo just a few seconds after you thought it had and made the funniest candids. Smudged lipstick and a warm arm around you.

Oh – who could forget that moment with the brass band, and how we partied into the early hours. How family and friends and strangers came together and had the best night ever (quickly followed by the best hangover ever). And breakfast the next morning, and the hair of the dog, and seeing our town the day after: for us, it really seemed like it might be a little brighter than usual, a little more air in the air, a little more sun in the sun. And I saw sugar cubes everywhere. 

For weeks we’ve been unable to stop reminiscing about what was undoubtedly one of the most fun and love-filled weekends we’ve had in our lives. Remembering and laughing with friends about all the shining, unreal, wonderful moments, I feel so happy and lucky to still be here when in the past I never imagined any of this kind of love. Just had to dump it all out here, sincere and lovesick as it is. 

[ayliamc]

Italia

Day 3 - Lemons: on the coast!

Steps walked: 11,682

Flights climbed: 4

Vehicles ridden: 3

Points of interest visited: 1

Lemons spotted: mostly ceramic and embroidered

We woke up and made ourselves breakfast with the rolls and fruit and jam available at our hotel (along with some vegan cheese we bought yesterday). Then we had an hour to kill before walking to Carol’s* hotel and meeting up with her and her group to take cars to Positano. So we napped.

A little before 11, we joined Carol et al aboard taxis that took us on the 45 minute drive. As soon as I sat down, facing the back, in the center of the car, I knew I was going to feel sick. So as rude as it likely made me seem to those I was facing, I focused on nothing but breathing as we wound through narrow coastal roads, slowing and accelerating with each bend.

A note here on Italian drivers: they have all the audacity of an overconfident Atlanta driver but with actual skill. Regardless of the size of the road or the size of the vehicle, they will weave in and out of pedestrians, traffic, and buildings and I have yet to witness an accident. All the while, they’ll be tailgating you or passing you and in true Hannibal Lector style, their heart rate never seems to exceed 60. I see nothing but relaxed and passive faces despite the aggressiveness of their maneuvering.

Positano is a city on the Amalfi coast with expensive shops lining the street which serves as both a sidewalk and road for drivers. Every other shop features lemon embroidered linen clothes, lemon ceramic sculptures, or limoncello.

I resisted! Aided in part by the cost of anything of interest.

We had some beautiful views and got some lunch at a pizza place where I had a marinara “pizza”, and in an attempt to make it more than just dough and marinara sauce, I added cherry tomatoes. It was fine. We meandered up and down the hill, dodging cars and Vespas and other tourists, got a nice view, but were otherwise pretty much done with Positano a couple hours before our car came back to pick us up. We got smoothies at a cafe to kill time and chatted with Carol before I braced myself for the drive back to Sorrento. I was successful in not being sick both times, but felt like shit for the duration of the trips.

In Sorrento we took a cab into the city square and ate at a big tourist friendly restaurant that had a vegan menu. They gave us complimentary helpings of Prosecco while we waited for a table to be ready for us, Dan and I happily ordered a pesto fusilli with tofu dish, and they also brought us small tastings of what I think was a cherry amaretto that went down very easily.

We had a great time, but Dan and I were ready for an early night because we have a long day ahead of us. So we walked the half hour trip back to our hotel and turned in.

*Carol is Dan’s mom, my mother in law. I was brutally scolded for not including that information earlier for anyone who may not know.

[urbancycling-it]

Domani seconda edizione di NOVA Eroica Prosecco Hills. Partenza e arrivo a Susegana (TV) nella tenuta Borgoluce.

@novaeroica #gravel

[classicmobilebartenders]

Personalized Cocktail Menus in Los Angeles: Elevate Your Event with Custom Creations

In a city as dynamic and vibrant as Los Angeles, every event is an opportunity to create unforgettable experiences. From glamorous weddings in Beverly Hills to intimate gatherings in Santa Monica, one element can make your celebration stand out: a personalized cocktail menu. Custom drink offerings not only enhance your event’s theme but also leave your guests talking about your creativity and attention to detail.

Why Choose a Personalized Cocktail Menu?

Tailored Experiences Personalized cocktail menus are crafted to match the theme, mood, and preferences of your event. Whether you’re hosting a beach-inspired bash in Malibu or a sophisticated soirée in Pasadena, the right drinks can set the tone.

Guest Engagement Signature cocktails named after the couple at a wedding or themed drinks for a corporate event add a unique, interactive element. Guests enjoy sipping on beverages that feel exclusive and thoughtfully designed.

Memorable Celebrations A custom menu elevates your event beyond the ordinary. From exotic ingredients to innovative presentations, these drinks become conversation starters and cherished memories.

Key Features of Personalized Cocktail Menus

Signature Cocktails: Custom-designed drinks named after people, places, or themes relevant to your event.

Seasonal Ingredients: Fresh and locally sourced fruits, herbs, and spices to reflect the best of what Los Angeles offers.

Themed Presentations: Elegant glassware, edible garnishes, and artistic designs that align with your celebration’s vibe.

Mocktail Options: Non-alcoholic variations that ensure every guest has a delightful drink in hand.

Perfect Occasions for Personalized Cocktail Menus

Weddings: Celebrate with cocktails inspired by your love story, featuring your favorite flavors and shared memories.

Corporate Events: Impress your colleagues and clients with drinks that reflect your company’s branding and professionalism.

Private Parties: From birthdays to anniversaries, custom drinks add a creative and fun twist.

Themed Events: Whether it’s a retro Hollywood party or a tropical luau, tailor-made cocktails complete the experience.

Popular Personalized Cocktails in Los Angeles

"The Sunset Spritz" A nod to the breathtaking LA sunsets, featuring Aperol, Prosecco, orange slices, and a splash of sparkling water.

"Malibu Mojito" Refreshing and tropical, this drink blends white rum, coconut water, mint, and fresh lime juice.

"Hollywood Highball" A sophisticated mix of whiskey, ginger ale, and a dash of bitters, garnished with a cherry.

"Citrus Grove Martini" Inspired by California’s citrus farms, this martini combines lemon vodka, orange liqueur, and a sugared rim.

Areas Served in Los Angeles

From the beaches of Santa Monica to the hills of Calabasas, expert bartenders offer personalized cocktail menus across:

West Hollywood

Beverly Hills

Sherman Oaks

Glendale

Culver City

Long Beach

Santa Clarita

Thousand Oaks

Choosing the Right Bartender for Your Personalized Menu

Experience Select a professional with a proven track record in creating unique cocktail experiences.

Creativity Look for mixologists who bring innovative ideas to the table, ensuring your menu stands out.

Customization Ensure the bartender listens to your needs and incorporates your preferences into the menu.

Attention to Detail From flavor profiles to drink presentation, every element should be flawlessly executed.

Conclusion

A personalized cocktail menu in Los Angeles transforms any event into a standout occasion. By blending creativity, flavor, and flair, custom drinks create an unforgettable experience that reflects your style and vision.

Whether you’re planning a large celebration or an intimate gathering, trust Los Angeles’ expert mixologists to deliver innovative and delicious creations that your guests will remember long after the last sip. Let your event shine with bespoke cocktails that are as unique as the city itself!