#wine club membership

[ivanhoe-wines]

Beyond the Bottle: How Wine Club Memberships Enhance Your Hunter Valley Experience

Hunter Valley, a picturesque region northwest of Sydney, is synonymous with world-class wineries. But with so many options, planning a visit can feel overwhelming. Here's where a wine club membership can elevate your Hunter Valley experience from a simple tasting to an immersive journey.

Exclusive Access and Hidden Gems:

Unlike a typical tourist itinerary, wine club memberships often grant access to exclusive experiences. Many wineries host member-only events, like barrel tastings or vineyard tours led by the winemaker themselves. This provides a deeper understanding of the winemaking process and the opportunity to connect with the passionate individuals behind the bottles.

Wine clubs frequently feature smaller, boutique wineries that might fly under the radar of casual visitors. These hidden gems often produce unique, limited-edition wines you won't find anywhere else. By joining a club that aligns with your preferences, you can discover these treasures and support local producers.

Curated Selections and Tailored Recommendations:

Wine club memberships take the guesswork out of choosing wines at the cellar door. Based on your preferences, the club curates a selection for you to explore. This not only introduces you to new varietals you might not have considered, but also ensures you're trying wines that align with your palate. Many clubs also offer personalized recommendations, allowing you to delve deeper into specific styles or regions within the Hunter Valley.

Convenience and Flexibility:

Wine club memberships offer the ultimate convenience. Instead of lugging bottles around during your trip, your selections can be pre-ordered and delivered directly to your accommodation. Many clubs also provide flexible options, allowing you to adjust the frequency of deliveries and the quantity of wine you receive. This ensures you only get what you need and avoids the worry of exceeding baggage restrictions.

Building a Community:

Wine club memberships foster a sense of community. You connect with other wine enthusiasts who share your passion. Many clubs host online forums or member events, creating a platform to discuss your discoveries and recommendations.

Beyond the Hunter Valley:

The benefits of a wine club membership extend beyond your Hunter Valley trip. Many Australian wine clubs, including those specializing in the Hunter Valley, offer nationwide delivery. This allows you to continue enjoying these exceptional wines long after your visit, bringing a taste of the region back to your own table.

So, the next time you plan a Hunter Valley adventure, consider a wine club membership. It's a gateway to exclusive experiences, curated selections, and a deeper appreciation for the region's unique offerings. Look for a wine club subscription Australia or wine club membership specific to the Hunter Valley to embark on a truly unforgettable journey.

For more information about wineries in Hunter Valley, visit our website at https://ivanhoewines.com.au/

[hillfamilyestate]

Take A Secret Garden Tour at one of the Top Wineries in Yountville - Hill Family Estate

While winemaking is obviously important to the quality of the wine, it all starts with the vine. Wine is first and foremost an agricultural product. It is easy to make bad wine out of good grapes, but it is impossible to make good wine out of bad grapes!

[vampirekilmerfic]

Country Fuckboy Philip Graves Slander List

A while back my sister and I were talking about Call of Duty, and the conversation turned to the subject of Philip Graves. Now, just to be clear, I'm not trying to yuck on other people's yums. I know plenty of people like the character, enjoy fics about him, and that's great for them! Go have fun.

But me?

The man makes me nauseated.

I'm only slightly exaggerating.

I think its because I've lived in Texas my whole life, and I have known multiple 'Philip Graves'

And you know what we call them? "Country Fuckboy"

Subsequently, I shared the chat with my beloved @the-californicationist, and the following conversation ensued: 

VampireKilmer  I was talking with my sister (Grim) on the phone a while back and asked her and important question: Vamp: "Listen, no judgment, but what're your thoughts on Philip Graves?" Grim: "Well.... I know some people like him... but I don't really like the character myself." (Translation; she's playing it safe, but hates him) Vamp: "OH THANK GOD. Cali & I were talking the other day about how we don't understand how people like him, and came to the conclusion it was because said people didn't grow up in Texas and know at least half a dozen assholes identical to him" Grim: "Oh my gosh, that's it exactly!!!" Vamp: "We all know him (them). We all try to warn our friends to stay away."

the-californicationist They’d all fall for the jacked up truck shotgunned beer take you out on my boat schtick. Like baby that’s Satan in a trucker hat

VampireKilmer  Grim: "But they will never listen. '*No, you don't understand! I'm different! He really opened up to me!^" Vamp: "And the best thing any of us can do is be waiting at the finish line with a bottle of cheap wine, and club membership jacket, and a shoulder to cry on." Grim: "It's a canon event. Dating a man who has a tattoo of a hot pink kiss and "Lips of an Angel" written beneath it.... ask me how I know about that one" Vamp: "Graves would have that shit on his pec"

the-californicationist If you smell cigarettes and curve for men, turn and walk the other way.....

----------

Thus, the Country Fuckboy Philip Graves Slander List was created. Please feel free to reblog and add your additions as you see fit. Credit goes to eclecticgrimlin, the-californicationist, ofdivinity1, gemma hale, and kariggi for their input and valuable additions:

● Graves looks like he has a stars and bars tattoo

● Graves looks like he’s blacklisted from Waffle House

● Graves looks like he thinks consent starts when your period does 

● Graves looks like he goes on guided hunts

● Graves is trying to bring back Ed Hardy t-shirts

● Graves calls every woman under 35 "baby girl" That's it. Thats the only pet name he knows

● Graves thinks Taco Bell is real Mexican food

● Graves looks like the second string quarterback ( Freshman year only)

● Drives a genuine “Pavement Princess”

     ○ Despite having massive lift kids and oversized off-road tires, they never drive them off pavement. These guys take the most practical, utilitarian vehicles and turn them into useless shiny turds. 

     ○ With LED brights

     ○ And those obnoxious light bars for “hunting”

     ○ And those underside lights

     ○ and truck balls

     ○ And loud speakers with obnoxiously loud bass

● Topo Chico gives Graves heartburn

● The cliche veteran tattoo sleeve

● Graves has been blacklisted from every strip club in Dallas AND Houston

● Graves looks like he goes on guided hunts

● Graves looks like he’d break a lug on your tire cause he didn’t unlock it right

● Graves has got the SLUTLiFE sticker but has never been deep sea fishing

● Graves once decided to drive through the 6th ward on a Friday night to prove he wasn't scared.... he doesn't talk about what happened. Would legit walk up to some random black guy and try to fist bump him

● Graves looks like he says “I’m not racist but”

● Graves looks like he uses the F slur

● "Its okay, I'm from Houston. I went to school with a bunch of 'em, said I have a lifetime n-word pass"

● Graves looks like he got stuck and had to be wenched out by a jeep

● Graves looks like he gets mild salsa

● Graves thinks guacamole is too spicy

● Graves looks like he is an OJ Simpson sympathizer

● Graves looks like he hates classic country

● Graves looks like he’s been to a klan meeting

● Graves wears a Masonic ring that was his grandpa's.... has never been to lodge

● Graves looks like he’s never ridden a horse

[depraveddame]

Tempt, my omegaverse glory hole fic, is now posted!

It was inevitable, perhaps, that I’d dip my toes into omegaverse- I’m easily squicked by a lot of common omegaverse elements, so I’ve changed a lot of typical tropes in order to create more of what I have been referring to as my ‘hedonismverse’- a modern day omegaverse that's evolved as far as sex and pleasure with little to no emphasis on reproduction. No angst for once 😂 everyone is happy, healthy, and horny as fuck.

Some CWs: omegaverse, alpha Aziraphale, omega Crowley, D/s, glory hole, oral knotting, wet & messy, praise/degradation/humiliation, implied open relationships/non monogamy, scent kink, boot grinding - please read the rest of the tags on AO3 for more!

Excerpt:

His companion smells fucking divine— Crowley’s mouth waters like a slutty fountain as he breathes in deeply and takes in the fragrance of dark, sweet cocoa that’s spiked with cayenne pepper and something jammy on the end, like a lush, full bodied red wine of some sort, blackberries or currants crushed in a glass that’s been stained with the blood of its juice and doused in the tannic kiss of wine and chocolate. It’s all wrapped in the heady scent of want, it’s cloaked by the musky, smoky quality of alpha pheromones and the clear, overarching note of I’m going to ruin you, omega, and you’ll thank me for it.

And Crowley will— he most certainly, certainly will.

The shoes finally make their way to stand in front of the wall between them, and the open space beneath shows Crowley black leather and grey tartan tweed balmoral boots— they’re expensive and beautiful, undoubtedly bespoke, and his tongue itches with the desire to slide along the contour of their toes.

“I—” there’s a beat before the alpha continues, and the hesitation of an internal conflict registers in Crowley’s sensitive ears, “forgive me, I don’t wish to assume or offend, but I must ask— you’re here of your own volition, am I correct? You’re not being…coerced in any way, to be here, yes?”

Even his voice is delicious, Crowley thinks before he registers he’s being asked a question, and his brow furrows. He’d just been about to beg for this stranger to please get on with it and fuck his mouth, but the hint of nervousness that permeates the arousal in the room has him pausing— for the first time, he picks up on the smell of old, well worn leather, and maybe something earthy and woodsy— perhaps paper.

Books.

“First time at an upscale sex club?” Crowley asks loftily, a little incredulous. It would be very unlikely for someone inexperienced in the scene to be accepted for membership here, but it could happen, he supposes, with the right sway.

There’s a slight, huffy scoff that borders on irritated above him.

“First time at this particular establishment, yes,” the voice continues, and Crowley would categorize its tone as lightly irked as well as anxious, “and while things have improved exponentially within the last two decades or so for such things, I know you’re an omega, and while this business seems extremely reputable thus far, you’ll have to indulge a jaded old alpha who has seen far too many of your gender forced into similar situations they’d rather not be in.”

Crowley sits stunned for a few seconds, nonplussed, as he considers the alpha’s speech.

I hope you’ll enjoy this slutty and smutty fic!

@goodomensafterdark

[pure-ablution]

City guide: London?

London is the nearest major city to me for much of the year, and I’m there an awful lot for all kinds of meetings and appointments. I’ve made a point of trying to step away from the basic clubs and restaurants popular amongst the usual set in the capital, and instead finding a few different places that I think are genuinely worth their while, even if they’re not the places to see and be seen. This is my own little personal directory of my top 3 (not ranked in any kind of order) for each major category—prices range, but the experiences remain top-notch, in my book.

Restaurants and bars:

German Gymnasium

1 King’s Boulevard, N1C 4BU

This lovely German restaurant is right next door to St Pancras station, and I can’t count the number of times I’ve stepped off the Eurostar and sunk into a seat at the bar here. It’s a big place, so there’s no worrying about getting a table, but it still manages to feel private and not too open despite its being housed in a former gymnasium. The staff are very attentive, and the food is both excellent and plentiful—this isn’t nouvelle cuisine in any description! Be prepared for very hearty German dishes which, although perhaps not as authentic as one might find in Germany itself, are delicious and hearty.

Le Beaujolais

25 Litchfield Street, WC2H 9NJ

This is a gorgeous, cosy little bistro and one of my favourite places in London for late-night catch-ups with old friends. Its wine list is quite extensive (ask politely behind the bar for the hidden gem list!) and the sharing platters on offer are a refreshing change from French haute cuisine in the capital, instead serving much more rustic and traditional dishes. A luxurious experience this is not, but it’s very fun, and I always meet some new and interesting people every time I pay Le Beaujolais a visit.

Gordon’s Wine Bar

47 Villiers Street, WC2N 6NE

Gordon’s is the oldest wine bar in London, and I don’t think the décor has much changed since it first opened! There’s always a queue in the evenings, so I recommend booking ahead, but once you’re inside, it’s a lovely experience. The little plates of cheese and bread to go with the wines are always very fresh and tasty, and, of course, the wines themselves are amazing. This isn’t a place only for wine buffs, I see a lot of people on dates whenever I visit, but the staff and many of the patrons are extremely knowledgeable, and you can always have a great conversation with a fellow aficionado if you look out for one.

Museums and libraries:

Victoria & Albert Museum

Cromwell Road, SW7 2RL

This is my absolute favourite of the big London museums, and probably one of my favourite museums in the whole world. I love the V&A. It’s a gorgeous space, the permanent collections form a fascinating journey through the history of decorative arts and design, and the temporary exhibitions are always incredible. It’s the world’s biggest museum of applied arts, and houses 5,000 years’ worth of textiles, jewellery, furniture, prints, and much, much more. I could spend weeks at any given time in the V&A, I just adore it.

The London Library

14 St James’s Square, SW1Y 4LG

I like to have the name of a pretty, quiet little library for each city in the back of my mind, just in case I have a little work to do or a few hours to kill, and the London Library fills that slot for me in London. It’s not as extensive as the British Library, nor as beautiful as some of the university libraries in the capital, but it’s exactly what I like, in a very convenient location for me. I pay an annual membership fee, and it’s worth it to me for the peace and quiet, the excellent staff, the open access policy, and the surprisingly extensive collection of books housed here. It’s a real hidden gem and one that I’m very grateful for.

The Wallace Collection

Hertford House, Manchester Square, W1U 3BN

I love a house museum, and I think that the Wallace Collection is an incredible example by which others ought to follow. It’s a large collection of fine and decorative arts, originally built by Sir Richard Wallace alongside the Marquesses of Hertford, in whose London townhouse the collection is held. The Wallace Collection houses one of the most important collections of 18th-century French decorative arts in the world, and puts on some extremely interesting temporary exhibitions programmes—even just browsing their exhibit archives is enough to inspire me!

Beauty and wellness:

Pied de Poule

67 Mortimer Street, W1W 7SE

One of the nice things about London is the comparatively vast selection of Slavic beauty salons and providers available, and Pied-de-Poule is my favourite spot to call upon if I’m in dire need of an instantaneous makeover. I trust the beauticians here with my hair, makeup, and nails, and—in true Eastern European fashion—they’re capable of deploying their staff to carry out multiple services simultaneously, which saves me a huge amount of time in a city that moves fast. Pied-de-Poule is a chain franchise with branches in Ukraine and Poland, and although I wouldn’t pick them over other options back home, they provide a very respectable service and I’m very happy to use and recommend them in London.

Jinny Beauty

71 Kingston Road, KT3 3PB

It’s not quite in London proper, but it’s definitely worth the trek out to New Malden to visit Jinny Beauty if you’re in search of a good facial. This Korean salon has been providing locals with glowing glass skin for over 20 years, and I love that I can go straight to Jinny and trust that I’ll receive an incredible massage combined with top-of-the-range equipment, including Hydrafacials, oxygen therapy, and ultrasonic treatments. If you’re looking for a proper, full-spectrum Korean aesthetic spa in England, Jinny is the best place for it, in my opinion, and the girls there are incredibly friendly, skilled, and knowledgeable about what they do.

New Docklands Steam Baths

30a Stephenson Street, E16 4SA

This place has recently had a bit of a makeover, but it’s still far from glamorous, so I’ll let you search up interior photos for yourself and just give you the exterior for now. New Docklands isn’t for people who are looking for a luxurious sauna experience, it’s in a grotty area, and intended for expats and immigrants who are desperate for a good steam, and that’s what it does well. The steam is great, the clientele is a mixed—but always entertaining—bag, and I’d say that this is something similar to the Russian Baths in NYC, only without the cult status. The staff are helpful, the facilities are very clean, and I’d recommend sticking to the women-only sessions on Wednesdays and leaving your fancy things at home.

Shopping:

Liberty

Regent Street, W1B 5AH

I’m not all that bothered about Harrods or Selfridge’s, but I’m a huge, huge fan of Liberty. It’s just a little bit more quirky compared to other department stores, and I always find something unusual wandering around the gorgeous mock-Tudor building. Liberty is the artistic choice, I think, and I love that it supports and champions emerging brands, artists, and designers, instead of sticking to the tried-and-tested. Their own range of fabrics, of course, are stunningly beautiful, and the staff exceptionally helpful without being overly attentive to the point of bothersome—something that often grates on me in other shops.

Sign Of The Times

5 Elystan Street, SW3 3NT

Sign of the Times began as a celebrity consignment store, and it still specialises in vintage designer and luxury brands. It’s generally my first stop if I’m struggling to find a specific piece from an old collection. The shop itself is very curated, and I’ve often found a lovely piece I didn’t even know existed just popping in during a free five minutes. Lorraine, the owner, is incredibly knowledgeable about fashion history, and she’s been able to advise me better than anyone else when it comes to more niche brands, items, and provenance. You pay for the experience and expertise, of course, but if you’re a collector or serious fashion enthusiast, then I recommend Sign of the Times wholeheartedly.

Sunbury Antiques Market

Kempton Park, TW16 5AQ

I’m not a big fan of the independent antiques scene in London, especially the markets, and I’d always recommend looking elsewhere to scratch your flea market itch—but Sunbury is pretty good, and the closest you’re probably going to get within Greater London. It’s a big, big market, and you’ll need to come prepared to scrape your knees kneeling on the floor, sift through piles of dust and rubbish, and haggle like your life depends on it, but I’ve always come away feeling triumphant at the end of it all. I recommend arriving early, before 8am if possible, having a clear idea of what you’re looking for (and what price you’re willing to pay), and wearing tough jeans and sneakers you don’t mind getting a bit filthy.

[serpercival]

HIIII percy

my insane request: beejtraphawk, 32 (a kiss while someone watches)

You say insane like this isn't something I'm thinking about 24/7 with only time off for the holidays

Fairly explicit material under the cut <3

beejtraphawk + a kiss while someone watches

It didn’t seem like there was much of a point to climbing into BJ’s lap to practically kiss off his mustache if Hawkeye wasn’t even going to look.

Well, there was a point. It was that it felt nice, and clearly it felt nice for BJ, with the little gasp Trapper got out of him when he spread his legs further and brought their pelvises flush. He adjusted his grip on the back of the old, gray-upholstered couch so he had enough leverage to grind down. A weak moan was enough of an excuse for Trapper to thread his tongue into BJ’s mouth, then pull back and suck on his bottom lip for a moment before he glanced over at the armchair.

Hawkeye was still fucking knitting.

BJ frowned. “You alright, Hawk?”

Hawkeye looked up. He stood and walked over to the couch, eyes barely brushing over any of the ridiculous number of places where Trapper and BJ were touching. Instead, he picked up Trapper’s reading glasses from where he’d tossed them on the couch cushion, neatly folded them, and put them on the side table. “You’ll break those.”

“Gonna break you if you don’t start appreciating this,” Trapper complained. With the way BJ had started grinding against him, it was too breathy to be a proper complaint. “What’s the point of putin’ on a show if I don’t got an audience?”

“Oh, somebody’s taking top billing?” BJ said. Trapper shifted, threatening to take his weight off, and BJ grabbed his hips to pull him back down. Trapper had to bite his lip not to moan out loud. “And why’s that?”

“Because I’m on top,” Trapper snarked back. He bent in to press another kiss into BJ’s mouth, nuzzling up against his mustache. “And because you ain’t got a membership to the perverts’ club.”

“And who’s fault is that? I’ve got two perfectly good sponsors right here, and yet neither one of you has written me a letter of recommendation.”

The clack of Hawkeye’s knitting needles started back up. BJ groaned, a frustrated little sound rather than anything from the pressure Trapper had put back on his pelvis at that exact moment.

Trapper squinted over at Hawkeye. A longer look. He wasn’t actually knitting. He was sitting there, making little noises with the needles, the sweater or whatever it was he was making draped in just the right way over his lap.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” Trapper asked.

Hawkeye looked up, eyes wide. “What?”

“If you’re enjoyin’ yourself so much,” he ground down against BJ again, more forcefully, pulling a proper groan out of him, “then why don’t you get the hell over here?”

Hawkeye blushed, redder than the wine-dark yarn in his lap. “You two crazy kids are having plenty of fun without me.”

“Sure,” BJ said. Trapper took the opportunity to mouth at his neck and BJ wrang a hand into his curls, gasping. “But it’s better with you.”

Trapper whacked him in the side. “Rude.”

“I’m just saying!”

Hawkeye shimmied further into the armchair, drawing his feet up. “Look, I appreciate it, but this is nice. It’s just– you never used to–” he sighed and shook his head, and Trapper pulled away from BJ’s neck so both of them could actually pay attention. “Sometimes it’s nice to know we’ve come so far, you know? The first… year, maybe year and a half, you never would have tried to make me jealous with each other. I always had to do that kind of thing.”

BJ and Trapper looked at each other. It was one of those quickfire exchanges Trapper had always been able to do with Hawkeye, that BJ had always been able to do with Hawkeye, and that they’d only recently been able to do with each other.

BJ took point, and Trapper bent back down to lick a long stripe along his jawbone before going back to attacking his neck. “You’re enjoying the domesticity of the fact that your boyfriends can fuck without you participating.”

Hawkeye curled his knees tighter to his body and nodded.

“You could at least do us the dignity of watching, then.”

Trapper started sucking a hickey right into the place where BJ’s shoulder and his neck joined. There was a shuffling sound as Hawkeye tucked away his knitting, then a clink as he stretched his legs out and unbuckled his pants.

“Put on a show for your prince, then,” Hawkeye declared, folding his hands over his stomach.

BJ laughed, tightened his fingers in Trapper’s hair, and dragged him up for another kiss.

[antoine-roquentin]

corollary to the prior post:

The New Yorker article notes that William Newsom III, the father of the current governor, was also advisor to the son of the richest man in the world in the 1950s, Gordon Getty. In fact, Gordon and William (and John Paul Getty Jr.) grew up together and went to the same Jesuit prep school, St Ignatius. 4 years above them was future San Francisco Mayor George Moscone, 4 years below was future California governor Jerry Brown. Newsom III owed his appointment as judge to Brown in 1975 a year after Brown’s electoral win, where he quickly made good on the governor’s hippie style by ruling the Bohemian Club in violation of anti-discrimination statutes by not hiring women as employees, calling to mind Nixon’s famous remarks (the Grove is the Club’s yearly camp).

William Newsom III in turn owed his fortunes to his father, William Newsom II’s, patronage of a young Pat Brown, Jerry’s father, whose 1943 run for San Francisco District Attorney he financed to the tune of $5,000 obtained from his construction magnate father. In turn, he was Pat Brown’s campaign manager for his 1962 victory over Richard Nixon. This was a repayment for the 1960 transferal of expensive land in the Squaw Valley from the state to Newsom II, which Brown engineered with his gubernatorial powers.

Another St. Ignatius classmate was Paul Pelosi. His brother Ron ended up marrying Newsom III’s sister, Barbara, while he, of course, married the scion of a prominent Baltimore political family, Nancy D’Alesandro. Over the decades, these families became quite intertwined, sharing board memberships on charities and companies around the state. In turn, Billy Getty, son of Gordon, became quite close with current California governor Gavin, who was his best man at his wedding and opened a wine store with him. The duo are seen here with another Getty grandchild, Peter:

And while Gavin was mayor of San Francisco, he was a patron of then-District Attorney Kamala Harris, godmother of Billy Getty’s son.

Of course lots of people have discussed monopoly capitalism and interlocking boards of governance and how they restrict the functioning of creative destruction. It’s a straightforward contradiction that capital becomes more closely tied in a few hands even as it spreads outwards and decimates traditional social relations. However, I do think it’s important to talk about in the context of an article that gives the impression of the Getty family and the California government as opposed when in fact they are closely aligned in numerous hypocritical ways.

[dolce-tenebra-toscana]

Vento Infernale au

La Squadra and their favourite member of the Hazbin Hotel/Helluva boss cast ( considering is a crossover, they interacted at least once or they regularly see each other for plot reasons )

PART 1!

Risotto: Carmilla and Zestial

He may not be an overlord but Risotto is a heavily respected hitman and his services ( along with his team ) are often requested by Carmilla and Zestial themselves.

They usually talk about work but all 3 of them bond over the connection they have with their " family " and that they would do anything to protect them.

Carmilla's daughters are especially fond of him since he teached them the basics of self defense in Carmilla's absence, the overlord deeply appreciated that he took time to listen and find suitable weapons/combat style for her Clara and Odette.

Wine time between the 3 became a regular thing after some time~

Prosciutto: Stolas and Asmodeus

Prosciutto met the big guy Ozzie through his partner Fizzarolli ( Fizz had a show in Pride and was being followed by a bunch of creeps, so Prosci decided to help the imp hoping to get at least some type of reward....he did but definetly not the one he was hoping 🤣) and after being granted special VIP membership to Ozzie's second location in Pentagram city ( bear with me again, it's for plot reasons ) he was introduced by the Sin to Stoals as well.

The 3 of them bond over the fact that they always want to appear to their best and the high expectations people puts on them, their love for expensive stuff and the fact that all 3 are k*nky af.

So they meet in Ozzie's penthouse to chat and enjoy a good show (Asmodeus and Stolas also gave him a " i simp for imp " t shirt when they found out he was into imps as well lol)

Illuso: the Vees

Ok we talking about Heathers here....BUT WAY WORSE!!

If Illuso wasn't already part of the hitman team Vox, Val and Vel would have definetly asked him to join the V club but they all soon learned about his loyalty to the Squadra ( they lowkey respect that )

Vox asks the onryo sinner opinions about what trashy tv entartainment the mass needs cause Illuso is really quick on catching gossip; Val likes to party with him and they like to be the talk of the s*x clubs of the turf ( Valentino asked him to perform in some of his movies as well and illuso may have accepted...but no one knows in which one ) Velvette considers him a fashion icon, not as much as herself but definetly a close one! They love to make Voxtagram lives where they lay down the laws of what's " in " or not and loves to bully people online/on the runway durin vel's shows....so yeah these 3 together vibe but it's a nightmare for whoever is in their proximity

PART 2 SOON!!

[ivanhoe-wines]

Reasons to Consider Hunter Valley Wine Bottle Gift Boxes

When considering the art of presenting a bottle of wine, the packaging plays a crucial role. Wine bottle gift boxes emerge as a sophisticated solution that not only enhances the visual appeal of the gift but also offers practical benefits. Whether you're gifting for a wine club membership, personal milestone, or corporate occasion, these boxes provide numerous advantages that appeal to discerning gift-givers. First and foremost, the protective aspect of wine bottle gift boxes stands out. Their robust construction ensures secure transportation, minimizing the risk of breakage or damage.

The cushioning and insulation provided by these boxes shield the wine from temperature fluctuations, safeguarding its quality and preventing spoilage. Whether you're shipping the gift or carrying it to a special event, the peace of mind knowing that the contents are protected adds to the appeal of these boxes. Moreover, the aesthetic enhancement offered by wine bottle gift boxes is noteworthy. They elevate the presentation of a wine gift, turning it into a stylish and captivating package. Available in a plethora of designs, colors, and finishes, these boxes allow for customization tailored to the occasion and personal tastes. The elegant exterior of the gift box adds a touch of sophistication, making it a visually striking and memorable gift. Whether it's a dinner party, wedding, or anniversary celebration, presenting a wine bottle in such a box instantly elevates the overall gifting experience.

Additionally, wine bottle gift boxes present excellent opportunities for personalization and branding. Many of these boxes can be customized with personalized messages, names, or event details, adding a thoughtful and unique touch to the gift. For corporate gifting or promotional endeavors, branding the boxes with a company logo creates a lasting impression and reinforces brand recognition. The versatility of personalization and branding options makes wine bottle gift boxes an ideal choice for a myriad of occasions and gifting purposes. In conclusion, the utilization of wine bottle gift boxes enhances both the practicality and aesthetics of presenting a bottle of wine. From providing protective measures during transportation to elevating the overall presentation and offering opportunities for personalization and branding, these boxes cater to the diverse needs and preferences of gift-givers. Whether for personal or corporate occasions, opting for wine bottle gift boxes ensures that your wine gift leaves a lasting impression.

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[lauvra]

I shot guns in a videogame. I abstained from sex and masturbation. I quit caffeine. I wrote your last words, painted over them then turned them into an acrostic poem. I smoked one cigarette every ten minutes to fill a rental apartment with smoke and my lungs with tar. I sugar-soaped the walls and moved into the crawlspace of a place by the beach. I ushered the wrong people into forgiveness and said far too much to curious folks who didn't care. I wouldn't watch romance in movies or hug men. I danced in gay clubs and bought drugs. I walked on the opposite side of the street from the bar. I screamed while my friends apologised to strangers, laughed and corrected chairs in my path of destruction. You messaged a day later, asked how I was doing, "fine," I said. I drank coffee 'til 2am and sold my car. I leaned over the rooftop facing Luna Park, looking for you in happy strangers on the street below. I put the link in bio. I took on debt to move farther from you but ended up in a studio beside a skate park. Yikes. With each move I refused to let others carry your painting, fearing they'd damage it. I tanned, stretched, lifted iron and listened to subliminal sleep tapes for self esteem. I quit smoking and stopped answering calls. I caught planes not caring whether they'd land. I underlined text in A Lover's Discourse in Prahran square. I bought a piano and passed you in the rain. I convinced myself I caused the earthquake. I had a second ocean baptism and got a new job. When I panicked in the second week, my boss said "this is about a larger thing". I watched milestone fireworks and felt nothing. I grew sharp claws, painted them cherry red. You walked past me standing with a friend as I launched into cruel criticism of someone from before we'd met. Karma, I guess. I lived by your perception and treated everybody with suspicion. I got a gym membership and therapist. He said "maybe you aren't ready to change yet". I touched a petal on every roadside flower and thought about something you said. I mouthed thank-you in silence at pedestrian crossings remembering "they can't hear you!" I got a new job and two cherubs tattooed on my forearm. The cops did a welfare check. I went on a date to a jazz bar, then an open mic poetry night and fled before it finished. I wrote you bad, I wrote you fair, I wrote you real. I had sex with a divorcee. I sang sad things and sought religious experiences at gigs. I met with a deployed American with a penchant for gore thinking maybe he'd kill me, a mercy, then didn't give him a good enough opportunity. I searched up, beneath and inside. I bought a gold ring to feel a little like you at the end of each day. I wished the non-follower view was you, knowing it was not. I got a new job and moved to the other side of the city then wrote I was free. Two weeks later you tagged all down my street. My bad, another Goliath mishap. Fuck. I brushed my hands against the paint, drank four bottles of wine in one week and wrote in recollection. I moved again and quit the workforce. I had Penny's teeth cleaned, mine pulled and stumbled through the city in a borrowed jacket. I wondered what exactly you were so afraid you'd say under general anaesthetic. I forgot I, then remembered again. I put a painting in an exhibit, got a new therapist and joined a support group. I've walked you off, taken over a thousand showers, laughed, cried, scowled, searched obituaries and whispered sorry too quietly for the wind to carry. I've read, turned you into art, prayed for and ignored you, envied people you moved onto 3 months later, forgiven you but still can't walk past the stranger I loved on Rose Street without my knees weakening. But really, when I write to you it's merely a brick wall I'm speaking to, and it's as Steinbeck once said: money removes the charge of insanity. I never gained a penny for my grief. I realise in going forward, it was real for me but you were right, we have nothing to say to one another. I've felt, thought and said it all. You were more precise: "All good, I'm out."

[hillfamilyestate]

2021 Clarke Vineyard Syrah Wine - Hill Family Estate

The Clarke Vineyard in American Canyon has a cool breezy climate that brings out the depth and finesse of the Syrah grape. Clone 877 is used for body and raspberry chocolate fruit, and a little Clone 383 for extra color and smoky complexity.

[signalterminated]

milf vessel grows in power every day. soon he'll be strong enough to carry a single Valentino handbag around with him that contains every necessity known to man. wear platform boots with heels so thin you break your ankles just looking at them. a few more notes and he'll be investing in leather pants imported from Italy. gonna get himself a wine club membership and go on tasting tours every 3 months subsisting only off of charcuterie boards and gourmet chocolates until he returns home with 2 new bottles of complimentary rosé and a handwritten card from the winery owner that he definitely didn't flirt with the whole trip

[xxiamtiebrousxx]

Chapter 11 "Third Wheel" (The Woman in Red | Spy x Reader)

A/n: I am bad when it comes to updates. So sorry! My life doesn't give me time to write anymore. 

Scout waited in line outside the club. He was shivering and rubbing his arms trying to keep himself warm. He was dressed in his work clothes. It was freezing cold, especially since it was late at night. He wasn’t wearing a jacket and it didn’t seem like the line would be moving any time soon. He impatiently tapped his foot against the cement ground. He heard the entire song. Y/n’s voice was lovely. Her song was full of passion and people inside applauded at the end of it. Scout groaned. He completely missed out on the performance. Soon enough Y/n would leave. Perhaps she would perform another song and Scout would make it. He wanted to see who the woman Spy loved really was.

“Let us in!” he yelled at Jason. The bodyguard was busy arguing with an underage girl and quickly dismissed her. Then he started letting people in one by one, checking their IDs or memberships. Scout sighed. The line was moving at a good pace. “Thank goodness,” he mumbled to himself.

Y/n finished the song and received a well deserved round of applause. She curtsied and ran off stage. Hannah was cheering and clapping her hands together. Y/n smiled, handing her friend the microphone. She turned it off so the audience wouldn’t hear them talking.

“How do you feel?” Hannah asked. “Jittery? Scared? Nervous? Excited?” The crowd behind the curtains began to grow louder.

“It felt good,” Y/n answered, red and flustered. “But I think one song is good for tonight. This full house is a little too much for me.” Hannah nodded, understanding.

“C’mon, I bet your lover boy is waiting for you,” she said, grabbing Y/n’s hand. Hannah led her out in the audience, which was now crowded with more people. Spy was indeed waiting for Y/n. Santiago had served him the finest wine the club owned. Y/n found sitting in the crowd of people. She stopped in her tracks. “He’s right there,” Hannah said. “Go to him.” She gently pushed Y/n forward into the crowd. The people noticed and started clapping. They congratulated her, they shook her hands, they asked for her autograph.  Some man even cried out for her, asking to marry him. Spy heard that. In his mind, he was calm, but in his heart, he felt a twinge of jealousy.

Y/n’s eyes searched for Spy among the sea of people that crowded her. He was no longer in his seat. Hannah’s hand held on tight to her’s. “Do you see him? Hannah loudly asked over the chatter of the crowd.

“No, I can’t see a thing with all these people!” Y/n replied. The crowd pushed and shoved. A gloved hand softly wrapped around Y/n’s hand. It pulled her out of the crowd and into a small corner of the club. She sighed, relieved it was a familiar face. “I was looking for you.” Spy put out his cigarette.

“You performed beautifully,” he answered. Y/n smiled. Her eyes lit up at his compliment. Y/n twirled a strand of hair around her finger. She didn’t know why, but her stomach was filled with fluttering butterflies. She was nervous, sweating slightly. Maybe the heat of the stage lights got to her.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Y/n’s (eye color) eyes looked away from Spy. “Would you like to stay for a bit longer? Perhaps we can get something to eat,” she suggested.

“I’m up for that,” he answered. Spy led Y/n back to his table and they both sat down. Scout was at the entrance, barely arriving to join the loud club. The crowd of fans who had surrounded Y/n dispersed. They were now minding their own business thanks to Hannah. There was no conversation when the waiter came by and asked for their orders. Y/n ordered a light drink and some fries, while Spy ordered the oldest wine in the cellar. Scout watched from afar. So this her, huh, he thought to himself. Gotta get the romance going. It’s so quiet and boring over there. Quickly, Scout called the waiter over to his table and whispered a request in his ear.

Y/n leaned against her fist, slowly devouring her fries. A song began to play from the speakers. The band had left early, leaving no one to cover the music. “It’s Not Unusual”  by Tom Jones softly played. Scout knew this song would work. His mom used to play it all the time when he was younger. Spy softly groaned as he recognized the tune. “Do you know this song?” Y/n nodded.

“Yes,” she answered. “I believe it was released in 1965. I know the lyrics by heart.” Spy swirled his wine around. He definitely knew the lyrics as well. Scout had burned them into his memory. Y/n smiled and leaned on the table. “Would it be alright if I got to know you better?” she asked. “I’d like to know your interests, likes and dislikes.” Spy leaned back in his chair.

“What would you like to learn?” he asked. Y/n looked away, biting her lower lip. She was nervous. This man had her heart bouncing in her chest. 

“If it’s okay, your favorite color? I mean, we can start with an easy question like that,” she said. 

Spy sat back in his seat. There were many colors he liked, many he didn’t. Before he couldn’t even say a word, Scout moved from his table to theirs. He took a seat right next to Spy.

“Hello,” he said, slyly grinning. “It’s nice to see you out and about, buddy.” Spy buried his face in his hands. Scout was going to ruin this. He just wanted a lovely night alone with Y/n, who softly chuckled.

“Do you know this guy?” she asked. Scout, leaning over the table, took her hand and kissed it.

“Charmed to meet you madam,” he said. “My name is Jeremy, but you may call me Scout. We’re friends from work.” Spy grabbed Scout’s collar and pulled him back into his seat. Scout grinned. “What, you jealous?” he asked. Scout laughed as Spy pushed him away. Y/n smiled.

“So, you’re co-workers,” she replied. “How’s that working for the both of you?” Scout grinned. Spy tried not to roll his eyes. What lie was Scout going to spit out now? Or what truth would he spoil and reveal?

[sizequeen1]

Louis, Race, and Colorism

Louis is a HUGE snob. The line between the wealthy black people and the average black citizen toiling in Jim Crow America as domestics, field hands, and in chain gangs without any protection from the law was a THIN line and wealthy black people were likely desperate to maintain any marginal alignment with whiteness that could protect them and their families.

First, let’s consider the fact that Louis and his family are light-skinned. Now, they did not create colorism, but they do benefit from it. Being light skinned and closer to whiteness is also associated with being perceived as smarter and more worthy than darker skinned black people. Skin complexion actually had a huge impact on the life trajectory of black people. Even a cursory Google image search of the most wealthy, famous, and influential black people in the first 75 years of the 20th century will feature almost nothing but light, often near white faces.  

Despite the fact that after Emancipation, more opportunities opened up for Blacks of all hues, the substantial social, educational, and economic advantages of lighter-skinned Blacks undoubtedly gave these Blacks an immense head start in relation to all other Blacks.  Attorney Lawrence Otis Graham observed, in his exposé of Black elite social clubs (like the Jack n’ Jill, the Smart Set, the Boulé), that brown paper bag tests and pencil tests (a test to assess the straightness of hair) were regular institutions at balls and cotillions well into the 1970s. Graham also notes the absolute dominance of Black elite social club membership by lighter-skinned Blacks, running from the creation of these social clubs to the present day.  (”The Unceasing Significance of Colorism: Skin Tone Stratification in the United States”)

The de Pointe du Lacs were slave owners. and not to free their relatives, but for profit. His family must have had a profound sense of disconnect from other black people to establish and maintain their wealth before the Civil War.  Even 100 years later, Louis doesn’t hesitate to discuss this slave owning history with Daniel without an ounce of discomfort or shame. Louis, the descendant of a slave owner moved smoothly to the exploitation of women and his religious, conventional women in his family happily took his ill gotten money without much flinching. 

After all, the du Lacs are upper class black Creoles. His sister and husband go on holiday to Europe, an experience, 99% of white people will never know. Their elegant maman serves meals with multiple courses and iced wine delivered by servants. Louis socializes with and invests with white business owners. His major life goal is to own a white brothel. He has a right to special privileges for his brother, and the gratitude of his white priests at his church because his wealth pays for these favors. 

Louis seems indifferent to racial uplift in general. As stated above, light skinned men like him were often involved in racial uplift.  He seems to have zero connection to the black community (other than the smaller businesses he owns) that we see. This may be because he’s a brothel owner, but I imagine his money would buy his entry into black social circles if he was interested, but I don’t think he’s interested. 

After it’s revealed he has been deceived by Tom Anderson and Alderman Fenwick, he’s understandable livid. He kills Fenwick in the bloodiest way possible, and pins his body to a city gate with a “Whites Only” sign attached and then claims that he did this for “his people.” We’ve never heard or seen him do anything for black people, only for himself and his family. There’s no fucking way he did that for black people. He did that in a fit of thoughtless rage..

The racism that Louis faces is very real, unjust, and painful, but the rage that accompanies it is in part due to the fact that he thinks his connection to whiteness should offer even more privileges. He deserves more because he’s better than ordinary black people and he’s proved it over and over. He exploits just as well as they do. He’s just as smart if not smarter. The volcanic rage that kills Alderman Fenwick and sets Storyville on fire comes from being so close to, and yet so far away from, the white privilege he thinks is rightfully his. 

(I edited this a bit from a previous posting..)

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

Whisky Talk: Malt & Music

SH’s interview at The Vaults - Scotch Malt Whisky Society (SMWS) in Glasgow. He repeats without control or invents in moderation. His problem is that don't know when he has to take off his cap inside the interiors. He takes every opportunity to recall and strengthen his whisky 🥃 and now GIN. But He hand-picked Scottish heather 💐for his botanical gin with floral notes??

SH talks more and more about GIN because it is easier and faster to make. But, will he explore gin beyond the usual limits of reality, with a price that will rise as fast as his whisky 🥃 for a rapid return??

The Scotch Malt Whisky Society (SMWS) is the world’s leading whisky club, offering members an ever-changing variety of rare and exceptional single-cask whiskies. The Society’s focus is on unique whiskies bottled from a single cask at natural strength without the addition of water or colouring. As hosts of the world’s most colourful whisky experiences, the Society also bring its members together to share their passion, at its Members’ Rooms, tasting events, festivals, and international partner bars.

The Scotch Malt Whisky Society is a private membership club dedicated to the appreciation and discerning consumption of the rarest single malt whiskies. At SMWS, you'll find that you can taste a rare whisky on tap, based on its flavour profile, not its brand. SH is a member of The Scotch Malt Whisky Society since 2019.

SH and Graham McTavish (MIK1) with Richard Goslan is the editor of Unfiltered, which is The Scotch Malt Whisky Society’s award-winning magazine that members receive four times a year.

The new venue is situated in the heart of Glasgow at 40 Bath Street. Scotch Malt Whisky Society officially launched its new Members' Room in March 2020.

The Vaults has a long history which dates back to the 12th century, with the current building completed in 1787. At one time it was used as a wine merchant’s bonded warehouse, but since 1983 the venue has served as a cosy bar for the whisky-loving community.

The venue really differs from the other Members’ Rooms in Scotland. The Glasgow venue has a modern look to it (and apparently, the biggest selection of whiskies of all the venues), the Edinburgh rooms are classy yet smaller on many levels, while the Vaults feel historic and cosy like a living room.

The Society releases around twenty new bottles every month, with all the whiskies bottled at cask strength without chill filtration, allowing you to enjoy the whisky in a raw, untouched way.

They have bought casks from most distilleries in Scotland, and you can even find the odd cask from ‘silent’ distilleries no longer in operation as well as the occasional whisky from Ireland, Japan and the US. They even have a few Armagnacs, gins and rums available.

#SMWS