#dry Sauvignon Blancs

[thefinewinecompany]

What are some good dry Sauvignon Blancs?

When it comes to wine, Sauvignon Blanc is a popular choice for many wine enthusiasts. Known for its vibrant flavors and refreshing acidity, Sauvignon Blanc is a versatile white wine that pairs well with various dishes and occasions. In this article, we will explore some excellent dry Sauvignon Blanc options available at The Fine Wine Company Ltd, a renowned online wine retailer in the UK. Whether you're a seasoned wine connoisseur or a novice looking to explore new flavors, these recommendations are sure to satisfy your palate.

1. Understanding Sauvignon Blanc

Before diving into the recommendations, it's important to understand what sets Sauvignon Blanc apart. Sauvignon Blanc is a white wine known for its herbaceous and fruity characteristics. It is typically produced in a dry style, meaning it has little to no residual sugar. This dryness enhances its crispness and makes it an excellent choice for those who prefer a refreshing and lively wine.

2. Top Dry Sauvignon Blancs at The Fine Wine Company Ltd

Sauvignon Blanc A - A Burst of Zesty Citrus

One of the standout dry Sauvignon Blancs available at The Fine Wine Company Ltd is the Sauvignon Blanc A. This wine boasts a vibrant combination of zesty citrus flavors, including grapefruit, lime, and lemon. Its crisp acidity and refreshing finish make it a perfect choice for warm summer days. The Sauvignon Blanc A pairs exceptionally well with fresh seafood, salads, and light appetizers. Its balanced flavors and excellent value make it a popular option among wine enthusiasts.

Sauvignon Blanc B - Elegance and Complexity

For those seeking a more complex and layered experience, look no further than the Sauvignon Blanc B. This wine offers a unique blend of tropical fruit notes, such as pineapple and passionfruit, with hints of fresh herbs and minerals. The Sauvignon Blanc B exhibits an elegant balance between fruitiness and acidity, creating a wine that is both refreshing and intriguing. It pairs wonderfully with grilled vegetables, goat cheese, and sushi. With its distinctive character, the Sauvignon Blanc B is a must-try for wine lovers.

Sauvignon Blanc C - A Crisp and Aromatic Delight

Another exceptional dry Sauvignon Blanc at The Fine Wine Company Ltd is the Sauvignon Blanc C. This wine showcases a crisp and aromatic profile, with pronounced flavors of green apple, pear, and gooseberry. It's vibrant acidity and lively character make it a delightful companion for a variety of dishes, including roasted chicken, creamy pasta, and goat cheese salads. The Sauvignon Blanc C offers a great balance between fruitiness and acidity, providing a memorable drinking experience.

3. Why Choose The Fine Wine Company Ltd?

Aside from their impressive selection of dry Sauvignon Blancs, The Fine Wine Company Ltd offers several advantages for wine enthusiasts. Firstly, they provide a convenient online platform to browse and buy wine from the comfort of your home. Their website features detailed descriptions and tasting notes, allowing you to make informed decisions. Additionally, their knowledgeable staff is always available to assist with any inquiries or recommendations. Lastly, The Fine Wine Company Ltd offers reliable and efficient delivery services, ensuring your wines arrive in pristine condition.

Conclusion

When it comes to exploring dry Sauvignon Blancs, The Fine Wine Company Ltd offers an array of excellent options. From the zesty citrus flavors of Sauvignon Blanc A to the complexity of Sauvignon Blanc B and the aromatic delight of Sauvignon Blanc C, there is something to suit every palate. Remember to consider your personal preferences and food pairings when making your selection. By choosing The Fine Wine Company Ltd, you can confidently embark on a journey to discover the best dry Sauvignon Blancs available, all with the convenience of buying wine online in the UK.

[askwhatsforlunch]

Chilli, Pepper and Tomato Mussels

These Chilli, Pepper and Tomato Mussels, hot with home-grown chilli and fragrant with garden pepper, tomato and herbs, remind me of the delicious kūtai I ate when Ava took me to Gusto, one of her favorite restaurant (with a superb view!) in her hometown of Ngāmotu New Plymouth, back in March. Which mean, I shall definitely cook this dish for her next time we're together!

Ingredients (serves 1):

about 905 grams/2 pounds fresh mussels

120 grams/4 ounces unsalted butter

1 small onion

1 fluffy sprig fresh rosemary

half a dozen leaves Garden Sage 

2 bay leaves

1/2 tablespoon olive oil

1 garlic clove, minced

½ Garden Chilli Pepper 

¼ red Bell Pepper

1 heaped teaspoon tomato paste

1 large, ripe tomato, rinsed

4 sprigs Garden Chervil 

¾ cup dry white wine (such as Sauvignon Blanc, Chenin Blanc or Chardonnay)

Wash mussels thoroughly, gently scrubbing them with a clean sponge to remove any dirt and grit. Remove the stringy beards from the shells as well. Soak in clean water, a couple of minutes. Drain. Repeat, twice. Set aside.

In a large heavy-bottomed pot, melt half of the butter over a medium flame. Finely chop the onion, and add to the butter once it’s foaming. Sauté, a couple of minutes until softened.

Finely chop the soft top of the rosemary sprig, keeping the bottom whole and Garden Sage. Add the chopped herbs and both bay leaves to the pot. Cook, 1 minute more.

Increase heat to medium-high, and stir in mussels, coating in the butter and herbs. Cover with a lid, and steam, about 6 minutes, until the mussels start to open.

Using a slotted spoon, lift mussels out of the pot and into a large bowl.

Strain leftover liquid through a fine mesh sieve, into  a bowl.

In the mussels pot, melt remaining butter with olive oil. Add garlic. Cook, stirring over medium-high heat, until just softened, 1 minute.

Finely chop Garden Chilli and Bell Pepper, and stir into the pot. Cook, until softened, a couple of minutes. Add tomato paste. Cook, 1 minute more.

Dice tomato, and stir into the pot, along with its juice.

Finely chop Chervil, and had half of it to the pot.

Return mussels to the pot, stirring well, coating in chilli and tomato sauce. Stir in Sauvignon Blanc. Pour about 1/3 cup strained liquid back into the pot, making sure to discard any leftover sand. Cover with the lid, reduce heat to medium, and simmer, 4 minutes more.

Serve Chilli, Pepper and Tomato Mussels hot, topped with reserved Chervil, with toasted Sourdough and a glass of chilled Sauvignon Blanc. Bon appétit! 

[what-marsha-eats]

[tattoorue]

[haybug1]

Dry Creek Vineyard Fume Blanc

Last year Sonoma’s Dry Creek Vineyardraised a very special glass to toast its 50th anniversary of making wine in the AVA of the same name. When Dry Creek began the Dry Creek Valley AVA designation was just a far off dream, qualifying for status some 10 years later. However, in 1972 founder David Stare saw the potential for making robust, luscious wines like Zinfandel and juicy Sauvignon…

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 3 - C’est Un Gars

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none... just some instant attraction and flirting ;)

Word Count: 2.6k

Author's Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is when reader and Benedict finally meet. Yep, that's the whole chapter. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

Paris, September 1939

Benedict doesn't turn up the next day. Or the day after that. Some snag with travel arrangements that Eloise doesn't explain, and you don't pry. You suspect she championed any excuse for him to delay his trip. But it does mean his arrival is not particularly front of your mind as the days slip by.

It's a week later - after an exhausting workday in uncomfortable shoes - when you get home and notice the door is unlocked. Assuming it's Eloise, you enter the apartment distractedly, reading a flyer you picked up on your journey home.

“El, did you see this?” you call out without looking up, dropping your bag as you unbuckle your T-strap heel, the relief to your foot palpable, flinging the first aside. “There is a new jazz night in Montmartre… I think we should go, seeing as your troublesome brother is never turning up…”

“He is actually…” a refined, resonant voice calls out from across the room with a wry tone. There, silhouetted by the bright window, is the outline of a tall man.

You stumble in shock, twisting your ankle quite heavily as you remove the last shoe, and he rushes forward to your aid, large hands grasping your waist, stopping you from falling down and righting your stance. His hold is gone as soon as you are stable. 

Discombobulated and embarrassed, you find yourself staring up into the most handsome face you have ever seen in your twenty-two years on earth, tongue-tied and awkwardly holding your right shoe. Not the introduction you would want with anyone.

“Benedict?” you squeak, mouth rapidly running dry.

“The very same,” his acknowledging smile is crooked, and something gallops hard through your chest. “Y/n, I presume?”

All you can do is nod. You can see the family resemblance - chestnut hair, blue eyes, a proud jaw - but damn if this is not the most fetching male version of Eloise’s prettiness. Tall and broad-shouldered, he looks very dashing in a royal blue three-piece suit with a crisp white shirt and burgundy and gold striped tie. 

“Are you alright?” his forehead creases in concern as he nods to your ankle.

“I… I think so?” you stutter. There is a slight throb there, but it's almost background to the riot in the rest of your body at the very sight of this man. 

Oh god, Eloise is going to disown me…  

Her warning from last week is ringing in your ears as you attempt a step but can't hide the wince at the bloom of pain as your weight transfers.

“Hmmm, I think that's a no,” he hums. “Come, take my arm, let's get you seated and this foot raised…..”

And so you find yourself clinging to the arm he offers, feeling the latent power under the layers of fabric as he provides a solid brace to lean on. Still a touch mortified, you drop onto the sofa as elegantly as you can, raising your ankle onto the coffee table and sighing with relief. You don't miss how his eyes linger briefly on your stockinged leg before he bustles over to your refrigerator and grabs a chilled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. 

“Here, this should help,” he explains as he walks back. 

“Drink until it doesn’t hurt anymore?” you guess drolly. 

His responding laugh is warm and crinkles his eyes so beguilingly. “Stop the swelling,” he explains as he slides to sit on the coffee table next to your leg and presses the bottle against your ankle. 

You hiss gently behind your teeth, the coolness seeping through your stocking. Your eyes meet, and you swear his dilate a fraction, the hand not holding the bottle wrapping around the inside of your ankle to align your foot better, long elegant fingers cupping your arch. Just that simple touch is enough to make your pulse race. Something about this man feels electric. Like standing beside a humming pylon, an energy coursing through you.

“It’s nice to finally meet the artist,” you murmur, gesturing to the artwork you know so well now.

His eyes track to the painting, and his face lights up. “You like it?” his tone so hopeful.

“It's beautiful,” you confess, a tingle where you can feel the warmth of his fingers flexing around your foot, contrasting to the cold of the bottle.

“Thank you,” he demures, bowing his head and looking up at you through his lashes, a dot of colour high on his cheekbones.

“What the….”

You both twist to see Eloise standing in the doorway, mouth agape. Benedict’s hand flinches away from your foot, and you realise it must look more incriminating from her angle, unable to see the cold compress. All she sees is him sitting on the coffee table, grasping your leg as you talk softly to each other….

“El! Hi!” you call, attempting a breezy tone, “I tripped on my way in, and Benedict here was just helping me. I’m okay,” you add preemptively.

He jumps up from the coffee table and indeed indicates your injury. Eloise nods to acknowledge it, then narrows her eyes at him before walking over and giving him a quick embrace, kissing his cheek.

“Hello, brother. I was hoping you would never show up,” she greets sardonically.

“Hello, little sister, always such a warm welcome…” he drawls.

You can’t help but giggle at their exchange, and both seem pleased to have entertained you, twinkles in their similar eyes.

“Well, this rather scuppers tonight’s dancing plans…” Eloise motions at your ankle.

“You and Solene go without me. Why not take Benedict, too?!”

“I’ve had a full day of travel. I’d rather not…” he confesses when Eloise looks at him expectantly.

“Spoilsport,” she rolls her eyes. “Where are you staying?” 

“I haven’t booked anywhere...” he confesses, looking a touch sheepish. as you clock a suitcase against the wall. 

“Well then, your choices are to find a hotel now or sleep on our sofa,” she shrugs. 

“If it means it will get you packed quicker, I’ll stay right here,” he answered pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

“Brother, have you ever been to Paris before?” You can tell Eloise is winding up for one of her persuasions with that opening gambit, so you chuckle and relax back into the sofa, crossing your arms, about to enjoy the show.

“Is this going to be a two-minute or a ten-minute Eloise soliloquy?” he misdirects dryly, catching your eye and winking, which makes your heart skip.

Undeterred by both of your reactions, Eloise launches into her argument. “I know for a fact you haven’t, so let me say this. You are an artist. This is the art capital of the world. It would literally be irresponsible for you not to stay a while. Enjoy the galleries. Soak up the atmosphere. Get inspired. Hell, y/n here works in a gallery and has quite the encyclopedic knowledge of all the artists on display in the city - a literal font of knowledge…” As she extols your virtues, his eyes cut to you, an admiration and curiosity in them that makes your lungs feel tight, “…I would personally judge you for not staying. At least a week? Maybe two…”

“Delay tactics, El,” he sighs, but even you can see him wavering.

“Paris may not always be here, at least not as it is now,” you append, unwilling to look at him as you say it, looking out across the rooftops wistfully. “The art truly is spectacular, and if war comes to its doorstep in the next few months, who knows what could happen? You may regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t experience at least some of it.” Your focus back in the room as you look upon his art again. “Someone who paints something that beautiful deserves to see the old European masters up close…” you end on a shrug.

His gaze feels heavy like a cloak as Eloise waves her hands towards you. “Yeah… THAT,” she adds with finality.

Benedict sighs and tips his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows heavily.

“Fine. Three days,” he capitulates. “But, Eloise, you must be packed and ready to leave by then. I mean it. I don’t need Mother’s wrath about this…” his warning avuncular.

“Promise,” she smirks, before grinning and whooping in victory, doing a little jig as he shakes his head with exasperated affection.

“Prêt à partir?”  Solene's face appears around the doorframe, her face made up for a night out.

“Not for me,” you pout as she opens the door fully. “ I twisted my ankle. But I’m pretty sure Eloise wants a bit more victory dance time,” you smile as Eloise nods furiously, still swaying. 

They all offer to help you to your room, but you steadfastly refuse, confident you can hobble to bed when the time comes. Wishing them all well, you’re looking forward to some quiet alone time after an eventful day. 

—

Half an hour later, you are reading a book and feasting on brie and crackers when there is a soft knock at the door.

“Come in?” your call is tentative, unsure who might be knocking this late.

You frown as a key jangles in the door, then a warm flush down your spine as Benedict appears in the doorway, suitcase in hand.

“Eloise gave me a spare key. The hotel is fully booked for tonight,” he grimaces apologetically. 

“Sofa it is?”

“Appears so…”

“So there’s only one hotel in the whole of Paris, then?” you tease softly as he removes his hat and drops his case.

“Only one in close enough proximity to ensure Eloise doesn’t have time to pack and up and abscond to god know where before I can intervene, yes…” that crooked grin reappearing.

“I’d never let her do that!” you gasp in mock outrage. “At least not without taking me too….”

He laughs heartily and moves to the counter to grab two wine glasses and a bottle opener, asking silently with an eyebrow raise if you want to join in, which you enthusiastically agree to.

“What will you do? When we leave?” He asks over the glugging sound of the glasses being filled. 

“My family has told me to move up my return sailing to as soon as possible…” you can’t hide the disappointment in your tone. “I know I should do it… I just…”

“…Don’t want to give up on something before you even know how much you need it?” He guesses as he hands you a glass.

You are momentarily floored by how accurately he has pinpointed your feelings.

“Yes,” your reply is quiet but emphatic, a jolt to your being as your fingers brush while taking the drink, “that’s exactly it!”

“I understand…” and there is a world of empathy in his tone, raising his glass in silent toast, which you mirror. “But time isn’t on your side…” he reminds after a sip, “a few weeks, months if we are lucky, and Paris may well be invaded.”

“England too…” 

“Perhaps, indeed. So you should go. Be safe. Back home to America…”

“What if that’s the very last thing I want?” your whisper is more fervent than you intended.

“That sounds more like a reason you don’t want to go than a reason you want to stay,” he surmises, again frighteningly on target with his assessment of your feelings, almost as if he’s in tune with them somehow. “But yet… Eloise said you’re engaged?” he aims for nonchalant, but you could swear there is dejection too.

“Sort of…” a wave of guilt crashing into you as your thoughts slide to Stanley. Good, reliable, comfortable, safe Stanley.

“How does one become ‘sort of’ engaged?” he frowns bemused, using air quotes. 

“Growing up down the street from someone your age whose father happens to be your own father's best friend and business partner?”

“Oh…” there’s a pause, “you’re not being pressured, are you?” his query filled with concern. It makes your ribs glow that he might even care.

“No… just… a life plotted out,” you echo the words Eloise threw at you on your first night here.

“And it’s not the life you want…?”

“I used to think so…,” you sigh, eyes cutting to the side as you feel a swell of a tear forming.

“You have the right to change your mind,” Benedict attests softly as you twirl your glass between your fingers. “You don’t owe anyone else your happiness.”

You want to climb into his lap, grab his jaw and kiss him senseless. The impulse so strong you can feel a tingle where his stubble would abrade your lips if you did so. Suddenly worried you'll act recklessly if you stay any longer, you rise to your feet, make your excuses and limp mildly to your room… laying in bed staring at the ceiling for a long time before sleep claims you.

–

It's the middle of the night when you awaken thirsty and decide to get a glass of water, your ankle much better from the laydown. Half-asleep, you wander out of your room, fumbling towards the kitchen area, when you almost trip for an entirely different reason. Well, perhaps the same reason you tripped in the first place.

There on the sofa, in a shaft of moonlight, is Benedict, fast asleep; his face is so peaceful in repose. But that is not where your eye lingers. He is topless, a blanket pooled around his waist, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. And you cannot look away. He is all smooth planes of skin peppered with occasional moles that your fingertips itch to trace patterns between. His shoulders are indeed broad without a suit, and it's obvious he is somewhat of an athlete; the play of muscle and ribcage as he breathes deep utterly entrancing. It's so completely different to how Stanley looks - hairy and stout - that you drift closer without realising it, drawn to the sight. It's the closest you’ve seen to a breathing Statue of David, a shape you didn't think real humans came in…. until now. 

So much so you don't even realise when his eyes flutter open, just transfixed by how his breathing pattern appears to change the flex of his abdominals.

“Are you alright?” his voice is a rough whisper and you startle. His eyes seem to focus, and you notice they flit down your body before he seems to stop himself.

“Sorry,” you stumble in apology, feeling your face flushing violently as your eyes fly to his face, then look away, embarrassed to be caught ogling so obviously.

“Do you need anything?” 

Yes, to run my tongue over that divot right there… your mind screams.

“No, no... I just came out to get some water and worried you might be cold uncovered,” you bluster. “I was going to cover you up, but you awoke before I could….” 

You are mildly impressed you can come up with an excuse as your heart pounds in your ears. Benedict’s face morphs into an intriguing mix of knowing, lopsided smile and bashfulness, pointedly pulling up the covers until they are tucked under his chin.

“Better?” he rumbles, and you could swear it is with a teasing lilt.

“Much…” you nod before awkwardly turning away.

“Y/n…” he calls softly, and you look at him over your shoulder, a flutter in your belly as you catch him glancing at your bottom.

“What…?”

“I'm glad your ankle seems better,” he offers softly.

“It is, thanks to you…”

“De rien…” his response, low and deep, in a flawless French accent, makes goosebumps break out over your arms.

Damn you, Benedict Bridgerton.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[themirroredmoon]

Wine in Witchcraft - Meanings and Associations

Wine is generally associated with Happiness, Success, Love, Relationships, and Offerings. However, specific types can be broken down further and have more associations.

RED WINE (In General) Element: Earth Season: Winter Associations: Love, Warmth, Contemplation, Happiness, Success, Money, Passion, Health, Lust

[Cabernet Sauvignon] Tastes Like: Full-bodied, dark fruit flavors of blackcurrant (cassis), black cherry, blackberry with notes of green bell pepper, spice, tobacco, wood, and vanilla Element: Earth Associations: Grounding, Protection, Banishing, Strength, Energy, Lust, Fertility, Ancestors, Written Magic (Sigils)

[Merlot] Tastes Like: Soft/round, dark fruit flavors of black cherry, blackberry, plum, and raspberry layered with herbal notes and undertones of vanilla and mocha Element: Water, Fire Associations: Unity, Love, Passion, Self-Care, Protection, Healing, Prosperity, Sexuality, Sea Witchcraft, Water Magic

[Pinot Noir] Tastes Like: Delicate and fresh, complex flavors that include cherry, raspberry, mushroom and forest floor, plus vanilla and baking spice when aged in French oak Element: Earth, Air Associations:  Prosperity, Protection, Wealth, Success, Beauty, Passion, Glamours

[Shiraz] Tastes Like: Hearty, spicy, black pepper, black currant, clove, blackberry, plum, leather, tar Element: Fire, Earth Associations: Wealth, Banishing, Divination, Tech Witchcraft, Comfort, Mystery, Secrets, Endings

[Zinfandel] Tastes Like: Rich, zesty, raspberry, raisin, black cherry, blackberry, pepper Element: Earth Associations: Growth, Wealth, Plant Magic, Vigor, Stamina, Happiness, Love, Healing, Versatility 

WHITE WINE (In General) Element: Air Season: Summer Associations: Joy, Happiness, Love, Relationships, Friendships, Endings, Success, Energy, Purification

[Chardonnay] Tastes Like: Wider-bodied, light, velvety, apricot, mango, green apple, citrus, melon, vanilla Element: Water Associations: Peace, Emotions, Safety, Success, Happiness, Balance, Polarity, Purification, Mental Power/Abilities

[Moscato] Tastes Like: Sweet, acidic, fruity, grapefruit, musk, citrus, apricot, rose, caramel Element: Air Associations: Love, Mystery, Lust, Relationships, Fertility, Purity, Cleansing, Healing, Love Magic

[Pinot Grigio] Tastes Like: Crisp, dry, fruity, peach, pear, acidic Element: Air Associations: Rebirth, Endings, New Beginnings, Happiness, Reality, Creativity, Longevity, Divination (especially open-ended, like tarot)

[Riesling] Tastes Like: Steely, crisp, fresh, slightly sweet, pear, apple, peach, petrol, honey Element: Fire, Water Associations:  Energy, Movement, Growth, Rebirth, Love, Friendship, Attraction, Activity/Movement (dance, preparation, cleansing, etc)

[Sauvignon Blanc] Tastes Like: Herbal, grass, bell pepper, green apple, lime, gooseberry, jalapeno, melon, mango, black currant, passionfruit, peach Element: Air, Earth Associations: Love, Peace, Friendship, Companionship, Arts, Healing, Happiness, Joy, Spirit Work

ROSÉ WINE (In General) Element: Air Season: Spring Associations: Beginnings, Happiness, Excitement, friendship, New Romance, Love, passion, Playfulness, Relaxation, Luck

SPARKLING WINE Element: Fire Season: Summer Associations: Success, Completion, Celebration, Wealth, Opportunity, Setting Things in Motion, prosperity, space Witchcraft, Weather Magic, Adding a “Spark”

[parkiiinson]

house of anubis as cocktails; sincerely, a bartender

nina: margarita (will order a margarita tower) (either original, mango, or strawberry)

fabian: old fashioned, knowledgeable about whiskey but prefers rye. will talk with the bartender for hours about the history of blah blah.... blah... bla....

amber: a cosmopolitan with a specific vodka. she likes feeling fancy whilst being a tad particular. plus it's pink!

alfie: orders a cosmo to be cool, but really just wants a vodka cran. really just there for the party.

mick: "do you have a normal beer list?" he says in a craft brewery.

jerome: orders the most expensive scotch to impress someone; he does not enjoy it, but pretends to.

eddie: orders the most expensive gin and tonic to impress patricia; he's never had alcohol in his life.

patricia: rum and coke, she makes fun of eddie's $34 gin and tonic. pretends to hate clubbing.

joy: manhattan or black manhattan, served up with three cherries. and specifically that way. or there will be consequences.

kt: lemon drop martini, salt rim. only cocktail she will have that isn't a margarita tower with nina. only goes out with the promise is dancing.

mara: sensible glass or red or white. always dry. a sauvignon blanc/vinho verde for whites, or pinot noir/sonoma valley cab sav. she does her budget plan at a quiet bar on thursdays.

[your-divine-ribs]

Kinktober ❤️ Cheat

"Bet you wish I could fuck you right here, right now... bend you over this table and take you in front of everyone."

Words: 2.1k // Red Van // exhibitionism

Kinktober Masterlist Main Masterlist

"Do you have a reservation for tonight?" The waiter steps forward, polite smile on his face as he waits for your answer.

"Yes," you say hesitantly, your cheeks flaming as you nervously glance around the packed hotel restaurant. "It's McCann, table for two."

"Ah yes," the waiter replies, index finger sliding down the reservation diary then tapping on a handwritten entry. "Mr and Mrs McCann, table number 15... right this way please. Your husband's waiting for you."

The lies were killing you, even the ones you told to complete strangers, an unsuspecting waiter at this posh hotel who you'd probably never see again. You'd sworn you'd finish it, this illicit fling with your boyfriend's best friend, but yet here you were... sneaking around shamelessly on a 'date night'... the object of your desire just too tempting to turn away from.

You spot him straight away, sitting at a booth tucked away at the back of the room. He's reclined back looking relaxed while you're a bag of nerves, one arm stretched around the back of the seating which slips down over your shoulder as you take your seat in the booth next to him.

"Why the hell did you have to go and book it under that name?" You hiss at him, irritated that your concerns are met with a wide easy grin.

He just shakes his head, unconcerned. "No one knows us here do they? I just thought it'd be nice to pretend... just for one night..."

"Oh so you want to act like a happily married couple then?" You scoff, bristling as you grab for a menu, hoping a glass of something dry and chilled might help to smooth away the edges of your prickly nerves, jolting when you feel a warm hand alight on your upper thigh.

"Yeah... and why not? It's just one night. Let's forget about all the guilt and the sneaking around, just enjoy each other's company without having to look over our shoulders all the time. What d'ya say?"

He smiles at you like it's the most natural thing in the world, the two of you being here in a restaurant booked for a romantic meal for two... and that's just the thing... despite your nerves and guilt it does feel natural. Being with Van just feels right. You hate yourself for feeling that way but you can't deny it.

He orders a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and you giggle as he mispronounces the name, his fingers jabbing playfully in your side as you tease him before they return to your leg, higher up this time. You feel yourself relaxing, the familiarity of his touch as his fingers flex against your thigh,  chasing away your anxiety.

"I love this dress, you look gorgeous in it. Is it new?" His hand wanders higher, catching the silky fabric and rubbing it between his fingers, exposing your upper thigh.

"Uh-huh, bought it specially for tonight," you tell him, a warm glow filling you as you feel the excitement that's been building for days radiate through your body. "Thought you'd like it."

You nestle closer into his side as the waiter arrives with the wine and you place your order. It's been a long time coming, being able to spend time together just the two of you. It's wrong and immoral and you're sure you're destined to burn in the fires of hell for all eternity for your infidelity but maybe Van's right, maybe it would be nice just to pretend for one night. You can worry about the consequences tomorrow.

"You look beautiful love, but you don't need fancy clothes to impress me. You do know that don't ya?"

You just smile seductively at him, easing your legs slightly apart under the table. "Oh I know, you're more impressed with no clothes... am I right?" You lean over to murmur quietly into his ear as he chuckles. "That's why I'm not wearing any panties..."

"Fuckin' hell Y/N," he gulps, eyes bulging, laugh cut short. "You do realise we're definitely not gonna make it through three courses now you've told me that don't ya?"

It's addictive, the fiery chemistry that sparks between the two of you, the way your body reacts to his presence, the ease with which you can rile him up. You've never been this daring sexually before but you're wild around him, pushing the boundaries, risk the most powerful of aphrodisiacs.

Your starters arrive and they look delicious but you only manage to pick at them. Van has one hand under the table whilst you eat, his fingertips just lightly brushing your inner thigh, a teasing journey that inches slowly towards your aching heat. He can't take his eyes off you, keenly watching your reactions as he makes your breath catch again and again.

"Open your legs for me babe," he says in a low tone and you do as instructed. "Wanna make ya feel good."

The thought of being fingered here in public in the middle of a busy restaurant makes your heart pound and your veins course with adrenaline. As his fingers reach up to brush against your folds you gasp out loud, disguising it with a cough and a sip of wine.

"I can't believe what you're doing to me in public!" You whisper, face scarlet as a seeking finger quickly locates your clit, brushing over it lightly, making you squirm. "Can't you wait?"

"No I can't and don't pretend like you want me to either," he grins back at you salaciously, picking up his wine in his free hand. "Naked under your dress like that? You wanted this you dirty girl so don't act so shocked. You love the thought of sitting here acting all innocent whilst I'm finger-fucking you under the table. You get off on it, admit it.”

"Van!" You hiss loudly, embarrassment flooding you from the roots of your hair down to the tips of your toes which are curling in the confines of your pretty strappy stiletto heels.

"You love it don't ya?" He mutters in muted tones, a fingertip dragging masterfully over your clit as he causally takes a sip of his wine. "Bet you wish I could fuck you right here, right now... bend you over this table and take you in front of everyone. Make you moan my name out loud so the whole room knows exactly who it is that makes you feel so good. Want me to make you come babe? Want me to make you come in front of all these people?"

"Keep your voice down for god’s sake!” You plead, eyes darting about to see if you've drawn anyone's attention.

Of course to everyone else you just look like any other couple here, young and in love enjoying a romantic meal for two, so enamoured of each other that you can't bear to be apart, sitting so close together there's not a inch gap between your two bodies. They don't know the real truth, the sleazy affair you're engaged in, the sneaking and the lying and the conniving lengths you two will go to just to get your sordid kicks.

"You're fucking dripping love," he chuckles lowly, satisfaction evident in the cocky smirk plastered across his face as he runs a finger up and down your slit before slowly pushing inside.

You purse your lips together to suppress a moan as he curls his finger upwards, his hand twisting so he can press his thumb against your clit. He's right, you're already slick with excitement, the rush of being pleasured in public unbeknownst to all these people firing you up.

You try to act unbothered even though you can feel the pleasure mounting, that blissful pressure pulling everything up tight inside like a ticking time bomb ready to explode. You reach for your fork, digging it in your starter, trying to clear your mind but it's impossible. He's just too good at this, his fingertip rubbing up against that mind numbing spot deep inside that makes your jaw fall agape and your eyes roll back in your skull.

"Shit," you choke out, dropping your fork which lands on to your plate with a noisy clatter. Heat rises up your body, your cheeks glowing like a furnace as a middle-aged couple glance over and you shoot them an awkward apologetic kind of smile.

"I can't do this Van, I can't come quietly, it feels too good."

You look at him with pleading eyes, trying to snap your legs shut but that doesn't deter him. He pinches at your swollen clit, the sharp pressure nearly sending you through the roof as he leans right over to whisper in your ear.

"You can do it babe, just keep your eyes on me, breathe through it. I know you're close, can feel you clenching. Can feel your legs starting to shake."

You do as instructed, shifting all your attention to him, looking deep into his eyes, trying to block out the rest of the room. It doesn't help that you can hear the obscene squelch of his fingers plunging into your slick over the background chatter and hum of the restaurant. The pace of his fingers feels euphoric now, hard and fast, the heel of his hand catching your clit just right at every thrust. You feel like you're going to shatter into a million pieces.

"I'm so close," you utter, white knuckling the edge of the booth as he hones in on your most sensitive spot, his drenched fingers rubbing tiny concentrated circles on your bud, your hips rocking in tiny waves under the cover of the tablecloth.

"I know you are," he murmurs, that self-assured tone you used to hate so much that now just makes you want to launch yourself at him and rip his clothes off. "I want you to be a good girl and come for me. Want you to make a mess all over my fingers. C'mon baby, I wanna feel it, let it go."

That tips you over the edge and you fall hard and fast, one hand gripping the table and the other grasping his forearm, your body quaking as your cunt spasms with wave after wave of earth-shattering pleasure. A high-pitched whine threatens to break forth so you bury your face in his shoulder, biting down hard on it, making him hiss.

"Shit babe... that feel good huh?" He chuckles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, jeans strained and tight at watching you fall apart.

You've lost the power of speech, feeling his fingers slip out of you as you mutter incoherently into the material of his shirt, trying to compose yourself as a loud male voice suddenly booms out from nearby, making you jolt in surprise.

"Is everything okay Madam? Would you like me to fetch you a glass of water perhaps?"

Your head snaps up in an instant to meet the concerned eyes of the waiter who took your order and you straighten up quickly, smoothing down your dress and tucking your hair behind your ears.

"Errr... yes... yes please, that would be nice... thank you. It's a little... errr... warm in here, I just came over a little faint, that's all."

You stumble over your words, willing the fire in your cheeks to subside as you make a show of fanning yourself with a hand. Van's there in your peripheral vision, huge shit-eating grin etched into his smug face as he bites back the urge to laugh. You squeeze his thigh under the table, hard, willing him to display some sort of composure before you collapse into giggles yourself.

"Right away Madam," the waiter replies, his professional demeanour just making it harder to keep a straight face. Then he turns to Van, eyeing his plate of food which has barely been touched. "And you Sir, is everything okay? Did the food meet your expectations?"

Van just smiles, and you watch, gobsmacked as he licks at the fingers he's just been pleasuring you with, a look of intense enjoyment on his face. "Well the first course was delicious, but I think me and the wife might order room service for the rest of the meal. I've got a suite booked for tonight."

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head and your mouth falls agape. "B... but you never told me you'd booked a room?"

"Sorry darlin'," he grins, standing and reaching for your hand as you take it and rise up on shaky legs. "It must have slipped my mind... shall we?"

[askwhatsforlunch]

Lemon and Dill Monkfish

The delicate flesh of this beautiful Lemon and Dill Monkfish is beautifully fragrant with fresh herb and citrus, and generously coated in a Hollandaise blanket, making it a tasty lunch! Happy Friday!

Ingredients (serves 3):

half a large lemon

4 fluffy sprigs Garden Dill + more for garnish

2 litres/8 cups water

1 1/2 teaspoon coarse sea salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper

1/2 cup dry white wine (like Sauvignon Blanc)

a beautiful (about 395-gram/14-ounce) fresh monkfish tail

Dill and Schnapps Hollandaise, warmed, to serve

Cut lemon into slices, and add lemon slices to a large, deep skillet, wide enough to fit the fish. Add Dill sprigs and cover with the water.

Bring to the boil over medium-high heat, and cover with a lid. Allow to boil, for about 10 to 15 minutes, so the broth is fragrant. Season with coarse sea salt and black pepper.

Then, stir in Sauvignon Blanc, and lower the monkfish tail into the fragrant bath. Poach, about 10 to 12 minutes until cooked through.

Lift monkfish tail out of its court-bouillon, and drain before sitting onto serving tray. Drizzle generously with warm Dill and Schnapps Hollandaise, and garnish with reserved Dill sprigs.

Serve Lemon and Dill Monkfish immediately, with more Dill and Schnapps Hollandaise, steamed broccoli and a glass of chilled Sauvignon Blanc or other crisp white wine.

[coins-that-never-land]

So I know it’s not WIP Wednesday, and I usually tend to save my WIPs until they’re done, but I figured just this once I’d start switching it up a bit!

For the few of you that already know, this is a snippet of my rock band hangster au!!

For those of you that don’t: it’s basically what it implies!

“Ya don’t like havin’ people’s eyes on ya?”

Hangman seemed unbothered as he looked up from the menu, focused purely on him.

If he was honest -

“I don’t dislike it,” he countered, trying to glance around surreptitiously at his surroundings without seeming as if he was bothered. Because he absolutely was a bit surprised. “I’m not usually being watched while I eat, anyways.”

A quiet huff from across the table drew his attention back to Seresin, who was holding up a glass of water with the most self-assured expression that he’d ever seen.

“Well. Gotta get used to it then, Roo.”

…What?

“‘Roo’?”

Jake’s affirming hum was swallowed by the drink that he was taking, before he set the glass back down on the table.

He hadn’t even touched his drink.

He should have.

Frankly, his whole throat was sandpaper. Maybe he had some new disease.

Because he didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, other than -

“Yeah. We’re callin’ ya ‘Rooster.’ Took ya long enough to get off the fuckin’ perch and sing for us.”

He was too busy staring at the pleased smirk on Jake’s face, but felt his mind turn the cobwebs from his brain.

“Roosters aren’t songbirds,” he found himself saying instead.

“No, but they ain’t too good at doin’ what they should, either. Ya ever see ‘em? Territorial, stubborn shits.”

Lord.

Hangman was the one…giving him a nickname?

Why?

…

And -

“So why - ”

“Ya know why,” Seresin’s smile was a little softer. It had to be, he swore that he wasn’t imagining it. “If ya want the spot, it’s yours, Roo. We ain’t considerin’ anyone else.”

He…Jake had to be joking.

“What about the others?” His throat was still dry, even though he’d taken a drink of water. He was starting to think he needed something stronger than that. “Tash said - ”

“Other people auditioned, yeah. But we ain’t gonna use ‘em, not ‘less ya say no. It’s yours first, if ya want it.”

…The frontman position for Aviator Silencers?

He would be an idiot to say no.

(Even this - whatever the hell conversation that he was having with Jake Seresin - wasn’t quite charged with the weird ass rivalry that they used to have. At least, not the kind that had to be spitting insults every five minutes.)

(Jake was still getting on his nerves, but…in a manner that he could almost appreciate. So it would be fine.)

“Yes,” he nodded, head moving so aggressively on his neck that he thought he’d give himself a concussion. “I’d be honored.”

Another small snort, before Seresin was waving the waiter back over.

“A bottle of,” Jake trailed off, raising an eyebrow at him.

…Oh.

“White?”

Seresin had nodded before he could second-guess himself, which sent a small wave of relief through him at having understood the question correctly without verbalizing it.

“Bottle of your finest white, please, m’dear. Don’t matter which.”

“Of course, Mr. Seresin. I’ll be right back.”

But the smile on Jake’s face - the one that seemed almost giddy - was focused on him again, and his breath caught automatically.

He couldn’t help it.

It wasn’t as if he was blind.

Jake Seresin - Hangman, lead guitarist of Aviator Silencers - was, and always had been, exceptionally beautiful.

Somehow, the time away, combined with stardom, had only been kind to the guy.

(Not that he planned on verbalizing any of that himself. He wasn’t blind, but he wasn’t an idiot, either.)

(They had never gotten along, but again - not blind.)

And when the waiter returned, handing Hangman the entire uncorked bottle of Sauvignon Blanc that - while he couldn’t read the date - appeared to have been stored precisely for quite some time…

Yeah.

Jesus.

He didn’t even want to know what that must have cost as Jake poured them both a glass before picking his own glass up.

“To you, Roo, for havin’ enough common sense to accept an offer from us,” the fucker’s toast started.

It needed some work.

(Seresin’s shit-eating grin hadn’t abated any, either, so it was a guarantee that he was well aware of that fact.)

He rolled his eyes, only slightly exasperated, and ignored the way Hangman clinked his glass without any hesitation.

“Well, darlin’,” ah, yep, and there came the tease. “Guess we’re eatin’ fish tonight, with your drink choice. Ain’t exactly my idea of a good first date, but I could be convinced.”

A salacious wink followed the vomit-inducing statement, and he was certain that he would have genuinely thrown up if he felt even slightly more at ease.

As it was, his stomach was still knotted.

He hadn’t exactly expected the pet name, even though he knew full well that it was just a joke.

Jake Seresin, in his time on stage, had gained something of a reputation for picking partners of a male variety - and a good many of them, too.

But those were just rumors, and he knew Seresin like he knew the back of his own hand.

That man was certainly playing up his reputation for laughs, regardless of whether or not there was any truth to it.

Instead, he forced himself to breathe, a slightly choked exhale that he hoped came off as mere excitement for his new job than anything.

“Please,” he returned. “As if you’d bring anyone here.”

A light in Seresin’s eyes told him there was another tease, so he cut it off at the pass.

“And if you have, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Jealous, Roo?” No. “Don’t be. You’re here, ain’t’cha?”

Couldn’t fault that brilliant logic.

[flamemittens]

random OC ask: if your OC was in a modern!AU, what would their job be? what would their day-to-day life look like? would they be very similar to their canon conception, or different?

(the modern!AU can be in the fashion of your favored iteration, whether that is a 1:1 version of our universe, modern-with-magic, etc.)

The Devil's Advocate

Early mornings in the offices of Avernus Inc, law firm to the rich—and any poor souls desperate enough, of course—are always charged with delicious, anticipatory tension.

Josephine strides through the frenetic throng on her way to the main office, cutting any collateral enquiries off with a dismissive yet polite wave of her hand. The unfamiliar, inexperienced eye would blanch at the apparent chaos, but all who matter know that, in truth, within is only order and productivity—the fires of industry, burning in tribute to the firm’s bank account. Remaining focused is key, especially at this time of the day—for the boss will soon arrive, and there are certain…expectations.

There is one, however, who feels no such compulsion. As the PA enters the main office, she sees them, slumped in one of the chairs next to her desk, head in one hand, lazily flicking the desk toy in absent minded amusement. Or boredom. Likely the latter. The terms of their employment are a mystery to most, seemingly only here on Mephistopheles’ order—and Raphael seethes.

“You do know that you don’t have to hit it repeatedly, don’t you? Just once tends to do the trick.”

Haarlep sits up and then sprawls back in their chair to observe her approach. “Oh, I know, but where is the fun in that?”

Josephine smirks and moves around the desk, depositing the stack of client files before taking her seat in the high-backed, black leather chair. She nudges the mouse to wake her workstation. “Using something in the way it is meant to be used? How preposterous.”

“This is what I keep telling you, dear. Let go a little every now and then, exist out with the box you limit yourself to. Like that quaint little apartment of yours.”

“What of it?”

Haarlep draws lazy circles on the desk surface with an elegant index finger, tail swishing languidly back and forth. “So plain, so minimal. In need of much more nightly excitement than a risotto and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.”

“What’s wrong with that? I like it dry.”

“That’s not what I hea—"

Josephine smacks Haarlep’s hand with the end of her fountain pen.

“Ouch, you cruel thing. That weapon is heavier than it has any right to be.” They pause for a moment, before tilting their head in contemplation, and asking “Montblanc?”

“Yes, the order arrived the other day by special delivery. Including the boss’s custom request.”

“The special ink colour?”

“Yes.”

“It’s red, isn’t it?”

“Technically, it’s vermilion. The colour of life and eternity.”

Haarlep sinks down in their chair in a show of cringing despair. “Of course it is.”

Josephine leans forward. “He wrote the invoice letter to the old widow with it. And added an extra touch too.”

“Despite the certainty of regret, pray, enlighten me” they say, from underneath the hand now covering their face.

“He scented it. With palmarosa and black pepper.”

Haarlep groans loudly and continues their dramatic slide downwards, off the chair and onto the floor. Korilla, on her way to the printer room, passes by the door, pauses, and backtracks to briefly observe the scene, before rolling her eyes and continuing on. Sometimes—well, most times where Haarlep is concerned—it is better to not get involved.

“Was that necessary? Are you quite alright?”

“So, you’re telling me—” they pause suddenly. After a brief moment she feels a nail tapping inquisitively on her shoes underneath the desk. “Nice Louboutin’s, dear. ”

“Irrelevant. But thank you.” They continue. “—he is scenting his correspondence now? How painful it is to bear this knowledge.” A deep sigh. “And what horribly expensive suit is he wearing today, then? The Prada again?”

“One of the Brioni ones, I believe.”

She can hear Haarlep grinning. “How do you know this, clever girl?”

“I know everything, Haarlep.” She smirks as they lift themself off the floor and back into the chair. “But on a serious note, I have seen him already this morning. When I dropped the case files off.”

“His mood?”

“Uncertain. Likely terrible. Definitely changeable.”

“I am unsurprised.”

Suddenly, there’s an increase in activity in the office beyond, a rise in tension which can only mean one thing. Haarlep leaps to their feet like a startled housecat, hurriedly straightening their clothes, in what must be the fastest movement she has seen them make in an age.

Raphael sweeps into the internal suite, scowling deeply, raw displeasure rolling off him in waves.

“Josephine, a glass of—”

“Already in your office, sir.”

The cambion’s frown lessens to a paltry degree. A minor victory, but a victory nonetheless, especially so early in the morning.

“You” he points a finger towards Haarlep, as he strides into his office. “Follow me. We have much to discuss.” The younger man walks over, turns back towards the PA, quietly mouths ‘Think of me, when I am gone’, and closes the door.

Josephine smiles. Hopefully he’ll be alive enough to go for lunch later, she thinks. No guarantees, though.

[ripeteeth]

Hi!! First: congrats on becoming a sommelier! And relatedly, for the three q’s meme, in your opinion:

1) Best bottle of white and/or red under $50

2) best bottle of white and/or red under $30

3) the wine that’s tickling your fancy the most right now

Thanks! And god, it’s so hard to single it down to best, but here are some that I’m loving right now!

1. Under $50

2020 Au Bon Climat Sanford & Benedict Vineyard Pinot Noir, Sta. Rita Hills, California

As a general rule, I don’t think you can ever go wrong with Au Bon Climat. A truly iconic winery founded by the legendary Jim Clendenen, Au Bon Climat has been instrumental in influencing the style of California Pinot Noir away from the overly jammy and blowsy big fruity alcohol bombs to something a lot more refined and elegant, similar to those made in Burgundy. In fact, Au Bon Climat is the only winery where I belong to their wine club and get regular shipments, all because I’ve never had a wine I’ve disliked from them, but I have had many I love. They’re my go-to for introducing someone to getting more serious about wine, and this particular Pinot is a beautiful example from a famous vineyard in Sta. Rita Hills, Sanford & Benedict, and from a parcel of vines over 50 years old, imparting a ton of flavor and character. I get notes of cherries and rosemary from this.

2. Under $30

2022 Greywacke “Wild Sauvignon” Sauvignon Blanc, Marlborough, New Zealand

I’m a complete slut for New Zealand Sauvignon Blancs. Truly, they are just SO fucking good. Sauvignon Blanc is such a fun vibrant grape and the NZ climate brings out the best in it, with a moderately cool climate that preserves the acidity well, but also with a lot of sunlight that brings out notes of tropical fruit, green bell pepper, and jalapeño. (One of my favorite wine facts is that Sauvignon Blanc grapes have pyrazines, which are the same aromatic chemicals that give bell peppers and chili peppers like jalapeño that characteristic green vegetal flavor. So there’s a good reason you’re tasting these things in wine, even if the peppers have never been in the wine! Science, baby!)

My current favorite is 2022 Greywacke “Wild Sauvignon” Sauvignon Blanc, Marlborough, New Zealand. It’s vibrantly green and lush and tastes almost athletic to me. Lots of papaya and green mango, something grassy and herbal, this is a perfect summer wine. I like to bring it down to the beach near my dad’s place and just drink it all day at the lake. I think Total Wine frequently carries this, so it shouldn’t be hard to find.

3. Wine tickling my fancy most!

2019 Left Foot Charley, “Gitali” Blanc de Blancs, Old Mission Peninsula, Michigan

If there’s something to know about me, I’m deeply passionate about Michigan wines. Michigan is where I grew up, not far from the Fennville and Lake Michigan Shore AVAs (American Viticultural Areas) and all of this pursuit of wine knowledge is in the hope of starting my own vineyard and winery there. Michigan has always had some great sleeper wines that you can get for a goddamn steal, since many people aren’t aware of how good they can be (to be fair, there is also a lot of really really bad wine), and Left Foot Charley is one of my two top favorite producers in the state (the other being Mawby). These two producers are really serious winemakers and they fully believe that Michigan is ideally situated for becoming the sparkling wine capital of the U.S., something I fully agree with and support. That said! This is a really delicious dry sparkling wine made from Chardonnay and in the traditional method, which is the same method used in making Champagne. The bubbles are very delicate, small, and explosive, and it has beautiful notes of yellow apple, toasted brioche, and yellow cherry.

[lost-lycaon]

The menu, an embarrasment of riches.

No cocktail is boring. My son loved the dry ice effect, a non alcoholic martini with raspberry.

Followed by truffled cherry parfait, sweet potato bread, Malay style snoek (common fish found on the Western Cape), and beetroot tartare. Paired with Klein Constantia Sauvignon Blanc.

End of post 2

[leemalkovich]

@audrasmythe

The once white shirt under his vest is now all red. Everything's sticky, a mixture of dry and wet blood coating Lee's skin from the side of his neck and down his upper chest.

It stings, more than it hurts. He would have liked it to hurt.

Infiltrating the party again, Lee had dragged Audra away and into a suite with a city view. Shock rock plays over the room speakers. Lee mindlessly sings along, while uncorking a fresh bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. The whirl of running water fills the gaps of silence, filling the bathtub slowly to the brink.

"Not as bad as it seems, darling." Lee can sense her eyes on him, even if his gaze is focused elsewhere. Wine, offered. "Here."

[etherealacademia]

hello! i was wondering if you drink wine? and if so do you have any recommendations?

yes!!! and i used to work at a wine store (although it only sold canadian wine). i really enjoy dry, citrusy whites and rich, full-bodied reds. my favorite varietals are sauvignon blanc, chenin blanc, merlot, and baco noir.

some i've liked recently: rosewood 'looking glass', the audacity of thomas bright orange wine, and saintly 'the good' sauvignon blanc