things i loved and hated about each country i visited

  • sweden (stockholm): safe, clean, organized, fresh air, aesthetically pleasing / expensive, boring landscape
  • norway: beautiful, safe, clean, quiet, lovely fishing villages, nice people / VERY expensive, people hard to get to know
  • france (south): stunningly beautiful countryside, great food, cheap wine, amazing history and architecture, people are nice if you speak french / marseille is super hot and dirty, some of the food sucks
  • spain: beautiful landscape in some parts, people are open and talkative, food can be great, lots of history, good museums, very lively atmosphere, people in the street all night, lots of things are very cheap / people can seem incredibly rude and aggressive if you aren’t used to spanish culture, no one ever knows what’s going on, everyone is always yelling, everyone is always late, everything is disorganized, so much fried food, some people make it really hard to practice spanish by responding to you in english or not slowing down so you can understand
  • morocco: amazing landscape, some of the most wonderful people, mint tea, fascinating history, incredible architecture, super cheap, best hospitality ever, always an adventure, hammam culture, great beaches, top-quality hash, rooftop cafés / endless unwanted attention from men, people trying to scam you and rip you off, street harassment, very disorganized, people never leave you alone, people trying to get as much money out of you as possible, everyone trying to sell you something 24/7, not being able to trust anyone
  • england: beautiful countryside, people are really funny and friendly, lots of amazing history, world-class museums, pub culture, the best candy and sweets, free doctor visits even for tourists, / expensive, weather is the WORST, everything is depressing in the winter, some of the food is awful, very strict laws about everything
  • scotland: landscape is indescribably gorgeous, people are the friendliest, accents are great, food is amazing, really interesting history, wonderful architecture / expensive, horrible weather, dark in the winter
  • ireland: beautiful nature, lovely people, cool history, great pub culture / atrocious weather, very depressing winter, very expensive
  • czech republic (prague): amazing food, amazing architecture, fun and friendly people / language is very difficult, extremely touristy
  • austria: vienna is beautiful, people are friendly, great museums, grottenbahn, pub culture is very fun / nasty weather, smoking allowed inside, food isn’t great, people seem close-minded sometimes
  • switzerland: more beautiful than any postcard, extremely safe / sinfully expensive, culture is very wealth-oriented, a bit too clean and organized, people very hard to get to know, culture is very closed-off, felt like a fake country
Did You Know Large Wine Bottles Have Special Names?

Wine bottle names are… odd. Once you get large enough, the wine holders become named after biblical kings:

  • 1.5 L Magnum: Equivalent to two standard 750 ml bottles.
  • 3.0 L Double Magnum: Equivalent to two Magnums or four standard 750 ml bottles.
  • 4.5 L Jeroboam : Equivalent to six standard 750 ml bottles.
  • 6.0 L Imperial: Equivalent to eight standard 750 ml bottles or two Double Magnums. Why they stopped using kings here I don’t know.
  • 9.0 L Salmanazar: Equivalent to twelve standard 750 ml bottles or a full case of wine!
  • 12.0 L Balthazar: Equivalent to sixteen standard 750 ml bottles or two Imperials.
  • 15.0 L Nebuchadnezzar: Equivalent to twenty standard 750 ml bottles.

Interestingly, I looked around and could not find why the names are what they are. The names just appeared, I guess, and everyone agreed to use them.

GoPro cameras capture action all over the world, from Olympic ski jumps in Sochi to cuddly lion hugfests on the South African savanna. Now, Food & Wine’s new site FWx is putting GoPros somewhere even more extreme: behind the controls of super-tricked-out espresso machines in the country’s top coffee shops. In this clip, barista Erin Meister straps a GoPro to her head for a first-person view of how a cappuccino gets made at Counter Culture Coffee’s New York Training Center.

Nominate your favorite coffee bars on Twitter using #FWx @foodandwine. Your dreamy barista could wear the Cappuccino Cam next.

Suga Daddy: Part 8

Suga Daddy: 8

Word count: 8.3k

Genre/Warnings: angst, dirty talk, language 

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Yoongi tells you about his past but is terrified of how you’ll take it.

This came a little early than expected. Anyway, enjoy and thanks for reading.

Parts: {playlist} one | two | three | four | five | six | seven 

Everything felt like it was playing out and slow-motion and all you were doing was twirling the flowers in your hand. You were nauseated and your mind was racing with every possible scenario. You knew that Yoongi couldn’t have a squeaky clean record. Especially with his attitude and the way he talked to you sometimes. For some reason you still loved him, despite that.

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the hockey team doing Adult Things™️

essentially i’ve recently turned 18 and i’ve experienced what life truly is as an adult 

  • chowder bringing home a goldfish one day because they went past a pet store and had the $3 to buy it. 
    • he got it home and realised that he didn’t have a fish bowl so he had to use one of bitty’s glass mixing bowls until Dex finished his homework and agreed to drive Chowder back to the pet store
  • ransom and holster doing one another’s makeup and arguing over what pattern to put ransom’s rhinestones in and then ransom just muttering “i’ll just copy yours because they’re pretty” 
  • losing all of the forks under a couch 
  • nursey and lardo sitting on a street corner at 1am reading poetry to one another
  • shitty getting in an argument with straight white boys while very drunk and having all of his friends just blindly back him up 
  • jack and shitty arguing over whether to listen to jazz or pop in the uber
  • bitty being forced to go on 12am grocery store runs to get tortilla chips and hummus because “you’re the least drunk” 
  • everyone sitting in a circle and sharing the songs that make them cry the most while also all high
  • going to late night lectures for film majors so they can watch a free movie and then leaving before the discussion starts because they all know they’ll get into a fight with the professor
  • eventually hanging up a sheet in the yard and projecting films onto the side of the Haus as they all snuggle in blankets on the grass
  • Bitty starting to cry in the grocery store because it’s the middle of exams and they’ve moved the shelf where the m&ms are usually kept
  • group trips to food and wine festivals because of the free samples 
  • Holster finding hula hoops on sale and buying one for each member of the team 
  • team bonding sessions can also just be putting puzzles together as a group
  • going to the art gallery together and just watching Lardo break down in tears in front of an Ai Weiwei piece
  • Lemonade Mouth is almost constantly playing 
    • everyone thinks that nursey is the one who keeps putting it on 
    • it’s dex
    • he’s not even ashamed of it, it’s just that no one has asked him 

Making picture-perfect swirl-topped cupcakes might seem like something you should leave to the pros. But F&W Test Kitchen frosting maestro Justin Chapple has an easy shortcut. All you need is two colors of frosting, plastic wrap and a pastry bag—no artistic skills needed. Watch this week’s episode of Mad Genius Tips to learn how to make the most beautiful cupcakes ever.

Nesta’s First Starfall

Requested by Anonymous 102: “To the night you’ll never remember.” 

Nessian - Starfall

It’s Nesta’s first Starfall and Cassian has taken on the responsibility of watching her. He eagerly volunteered to do it though he would never tell her that. He told her to dress nicely and that he will pick her up at nine to go out and join the festivities. Nesta grumbled a reply and had stalked off to the library.

Now, Cassian stands outside her room, a fist prepared to knocks on her door, but he pauses. He’s not sure what’s going to happen tonight, not sure what he wants to happen tonight. After all, the whole Inner Circle knows how Starfall had helped to open Feyre’s eyes to her feelings for Rhys, who knows what kind of affect tonight would have on Nesta, who was already so close to realizing what was between them. With a sharp intake of breath, Cassian knocks.

His fist is still in the air when the door opens less than a second later. Nesta stands on the other side, one eyebrow raised, and Cassian lets out a low whistle at her appearance. Looking utterly breathtaking, she dons a floor length dress that hugs her form until flaring just above the knee. It is dark blue and incredibly elegant.

“You have to stop hanging about like this, it’s unnerving.” She mutters, slipping her hand into his own outstretched one and allowing him to lead her down the hallway.

Cassian chuckles a bit. “Forgive me, you’re a little unnerving.”

Nesta surprises him by letting a small smirk flit onto her lips, lifting her skirt as they descend the stairs. “So, what is the plan for the evening? Dancing? Food? Wine?”

Cassian places a hand on the doorknob, pausing to give her his own smirk. “Oh, no. Starfall holds something a little more hardcore than that.” Then he opens the door and watches as Nesta’s eyes widen in delight.

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between the clinking silverware, the flickering candles and warmth that came from several drinks and fingertips dragging over thighs, magnus felt like everything was soft focus. outside it was pouring, sheets of rain spilling over new york, but here in this restaurant, surrounded by their friends and candlelight catching on full wine glasses, cascading down alec’s cheekbones, it was all gold tipped and hazy.

it had been happening all night, if he was honest with himself. this urge, this need, this desire, to kiss alec. it had been happening in all of these little warm pockets of time that pushed themselves in between the two of them. moments caught in shifting fingertips and alec’s breath close to his skin. moments caught in laughter that made magnus’s cheeks hurt and tears prick at his eyes. moments caught in watching all of the people who meant the world to him around this table interact with the man he was deeply in love with.

it just kept hitting him, this desire to kiss him. this hungry feeling of wanting more than anything to push his lips up against alec’s mouth. and there was no issue with that. they had kissed. several times, in between bites of food, sips of wine. when alec got up to slip off to the bathroom, when everyone else was talking and it was just the two of them murmuring. but they were soft kisses, light kisses, magnus’s arm draped over alec’s shoulders, the kinds of kisses meant for public places.

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anonymous asked:

So i have this headcannon going on in which Nesta is actually a massive flirt and insanely charming when the situation calls for it,growing up with her parents always throwing parties and all she just had to

2. can you write the inner circle being in shock and Cassian not knowing if he should handle his boner or his jealousy first?

Not sure if this was meant to be one prompt that accidentally got split in my ask box, but I’m putting them both together! Hope you don’t mind!

Glasses clinked together in cheers at the long tables in the Day Court. Helion orchestrated the event and invited the inner circle of the Night Court to join in the festivities.

For the most part Rhysand, Feyre and their small group lingered together. A few Day Court fae met them near the entrance, which prompted formal greetings and laughs meant to ease any awkward tension.

Nesta remained silent during the conversations. Promptly looking about the open interior of the room with a critical eye.

Helion approached them and made his regular flirtatious remarks. Of course he couldn’t resist reminding Azriel, Cassian and Mor of his offer to which all three declined with politeness of their own degrees.

And then Helion noticed Nesta’s gaze straying to the tables filled with food and wine.

“Perhaps I could interest you in a drink?” Helion asked her.

He wasn’t expecting much with his innocent suggestion. Nesta was perhaps the only creature who ever turned away from his stunning looks with such disinterest. It surprised the High Lord of the Day Court, but then again it made him appreciate Nesta even more. To know that she was not swayed by attractive bodies…or at the very least would not be interested in any other fae when her eyes were set solely on the Illyrian Commander.

Nesta tilted her head toward Helion. Finally acknowledging his presence and gave him a warm smile that stunned everyone around her.

“A drink sounds lovely,” she answered. “In fact I wouldn’t mind a couple of glasses if that wine is from your famed vineyards. I believe it is called “Golden Ambrosia”?”

Helion blinked before recovering. “It is indeed. I’m glad that you are a woman of such fine tastes.” Helion held out his darkly toned arm for Nesta to take. With poise of years of training that her parents paid for before they fell to poverty, Nesta placed her hand on Helion’s elbow and walked through the parting crowd toward the beverages.

In no time it seemed as though Nesta fell into this role that neither Feyre nor Elain had ever seen before. Rhysand shot Feyre a questioning look as the eldest Archeron began to strike up conversations with complete strangers.

Cassian couldn’t take his eyes of the scene before him. Nesta in a pale grey gown that was sheer down most of her legs and sleeves. Beside Helion it was as though Nesta was the she the moon to his sun.

Clearly the High Lord of the Day Court was enjoying himself. Far too much for Cassian’s liking as he saw Helion place his hand on Nesta’s back.

But seeing Nesta smiling at these fae…it did something else to Cassian. She drank wine among the dark toned fae who greeted her with open arms. And Mother above – Nesta laughed at something one of those fae said. Her head tilted enough that her hair took on a dark golden sheen in the sunlight and her eyes were clear of stress.

Then Helion whispered something in Nesta’s ear.

Cassian could barely control himself as Nesta gave Helion a bright smile and nodded in agreement to whatever he offered.

At that moment Cassian stilled. What if the High Lord had openly requested that she join him in his bed?

In mere seconds Cassian’s question was answered. Helion took Nesta’s hand and they glided out to the dance floor.

The crowd hushed and waited in anticipation. Cassian held his breath.

The musicians, following some unspoken command, began playing a soft tune. It was music that none of the Night Court visitors had heard before nor were they familiar with the dance that Nesta and Helion were following the rhythm to.

Quickly the soft tune turned lively and immediately Nesta matched Helion’s quickened pace. Others followed suite and began around each other. Matching the moves of their High Lord and the Night Court’s human emissary.

Cassian kept a watchful eye on the duo in the midst of the dancing. To his relief most of the time the dance did not require much physical contact, but those brief moments where Nesta almost brushed against Helion set Cassian ablaze.

Nesta moved so effortlessly. He never imagined the stiff postured and strict female he knew could be so fluid in her movements. Cassian couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Each passing second Nesta twirled with that small smile on her face flamed a heat in Cassian.

Jealousy and desire warred against each other as he fought to restrain himself from going out on the floor and taking Nesta far away from the eyes that now watched her. Or better yet out of earshot since he wanted to hear Nesta laugh and make noises that would be reserved to a much more intimate space.

Too soon, or perhaps it couldn’t be soon enough, the musicians played the final trilling note. Signaling the finale as partygoers applauded the performance and the dancers promptly parted ways.

Nesta approached the Inner Circle as Helion went to greet new guests that had arrived near the entrance.

“What was that?” Feyre asked when Nesta reached them.

“Surely you know what dancing is,” Nesta replied. “When we were growing up Mother had us attend lessons. Though you and Elain were never quite fond of it as I recall.”

The Inner Circle looked at each other with varying ranges of confused glances.

“So you will take dancing lessons, but you won’t accept combat training from me?” Cassian questioned with crossed arms.

He tried to reign in his emotions of both envy and desire. He also made an effort to clear his minds of the thoughts that made his cock stir in his breeches. Cauldron boil him if Nesta ever found out he was turned on just by a mere dance that wasn’t even with him.

Nesta raised a lone brow. “Perhaps if you can keep up with the next dance then maybe I will consider your offer.”

Cassian blinked. “The next what?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “If you can’t handle it then perhaps Helion would be more than happy for another round –”

Cassian stepped forward into Nesta’s space. Stopping her words with a smirk and hazel eyes igniting with a challenge.

“Trust me Nesta. By the end of tonight you won’t even be able to stand after we’re done.”

“Is that so?” Nesta ignored the hidden innuendo. But the gleam in her eyes made it clear she understood him. “Let’s see if you have the stamina to keep up Commander.”

As the band began striking the next tune, Cassian led Nesta out onto the floor. And so began a battle unlike any other before. One in which all eyes followed them as they spun and were wrapped in each other’s arms. Yet Cassian’s burning hazel eyes did not stray from the cool steel ones that focused on him. And Nesta’s fingers never stopped stroking the muscles that flexed underneath Cassian’s warm skin.

They were answering a song that rang deep in their bones. And no one, but them alone could hear it.



Solitude.  The sound of her voice her only company.

Days passed.  Simply.  Easily.  Quietly.

Sometimes she was very busy, the drawers full.  Sometimes it was quiet enough for her to get her work done, and the paperwork filed.

She’d been able to add what she could to her notes to help the officers at Scotland Yard.  A flash revealing the cause of death, or gender of the perpetrator, and she would search the body for the evidence to point the police in the right direction.  A long blonde hair from a jealous wife. The scratches from an angry lover.  Sometimes the entire scenario would play in her head, and she would invite the detective who caught the case into the morgue to “run something by him”.  She was very good at making the officers think they’d worked out the evidence.    

Except for one.

Detective Sergeant James Fraser.  

He watched her like a hawk.  Which made her nervous.  Part of her nerves came from the fact that his eyes lingered a little too long on her. 


She couldn’t remember the last time a man looked at her like that.  Not even her husband.  

He made her feel.  And after Frank’s death she didn’t want feelings.  Feelings hurt.  Feelings like betrayal, and disdain. She’d had enough of those feelings to last a lifetime.

The detective aroused different feelings, though. Feelings long buried in Claire. Longing.  Lust.  He was too damn good looking, that was the problem.  The way his hair curled at his nape.  The small scar at the base of his throat just begging for her lips.  The scruff after a long day.  And the way he breathed the word ‘Aye’ when he was thinking something over  

Aside from the obvious attraction, he was extremely clever.  And he seemed to enjoy bantering ideas back and forth with her.  Claire always was attracted to a keen mind.  

“Do ye think it could be connected?”  They both stared down at yet another victim in a drawer.

Claire pursed her lips.  Oh, it was connected.  But she hadn’t found the tangible evidence yet.

“Could be,” she said, noncommittally.  

“Och, come on, Claire,” he said, tucking his note pad away.  His head hurt from over analyzing. It had been a long day.  “I’m starving.  Let’s get some dinner.” 

She looked up at him.  “No, thank you.  I’ve got some tidying up to do here yet.”

James looked around the morgue.  There wasn’t a thing out of place. Not a paper on her desk.  “Oh, aye.  I can see that.  Swamped, you are.”  He raised an eyebrow.  She was avoiding him.

Claire laughed. “Okay.  You caught me.  It’s just, I don’t do dinner with people I work with.”  

He threw her a look.  “It’s work, Claire.  No’ a date.”  He took two steps toward the door and stopped. Turned back around to face her, cat eyes narrowed. “Although, I wouldna mind one of those, as well.”  

The vision slammed into her brain.  Heavy breaths.  Moans.  Sweat.  Skin.  Legs gripping his hips.  Big hand cradling her breast.  His mouth hot on hers.  And the feel of him pulsing inside her.  

And just like that, it was gone.  

Claire blushed.  God, she hated this.  Because her visions were never wrong. She was headed down this path like a freight train on its track.  It would take all her strength to thwart it. 

She took a deep breath.  “I suppose it will do us good to talk about the case.” She avoided his eyes.  “Just let me grab my coat and purse, okay, Jamie?”


He watched her walk towards her desk, pulling open a narrow closet to retrieve her things.  Jamie.  No one called him Jamie, save his family.  

He never let anyone at Scotland Yard give him a nickname.  Ever.

Yet, she had just called him by the name he’d had as a wee lad.

He watched her tuck into her fourth slice of pizza. He liked a woman with an appetite. Reaching for the wine bottle, he topped up her glass.

It may have started out hesitantly, but they’d had a good night. Claire loosened up after a couple of glasses of Merlot, and some good, generic conversation. She was born in Oxfordshire, only child, parents died in a car crash when she was five. Raised by an Uncle, who’d also passed.

He shared his family tidbits, the deaths of his parents and brother, the sister he did have and her family. You had to give in order to get from Claire. Once she got some food and wine in her, the conversation became easier. They spoke of work and why she became an M.E. She liked to work alone, she said. She got tired of losing patients, and since she was damn good at diagnostics it seemed like a good next step.

“And why no partner for you, Jamie?”

“Interesting nickname ye’ve given me,” he said, grabbing another slice for himself.

She froze.

Shit. Shitshitshit. “You mentioned it,” Claire mustered her bravado. Looked him straight in the eye. No blinking.

“I did not,” Jamie said, returning her stare.  Just a hint of panic in those amber eyes.

“You did,” she said. “You said your nephew was Wee Jamie, named after you.”

Jamie hesitated. So he had. Two hours after she first used the nickname, but he’d let that go.

For now.

He inclined his head in defeat.  “So, why do ye think my latest victim is tied to the last one?”

An abrupt change in topic was in order. He didn’t want to lose her. He was having a good time. Claire was good company. She was gorgeous.  Sexy.  Now he found himself being attracted to her sharp mind and quick humour.

“They both died of some sort of poisoning. I haven’t determined what, yet. I’m waiting for toxicology to come back for the latest victim, but what I haven’t told you is that their stomach contents seemed similar.  That should give you more information.”

Jamie set his slice down on his plate.  “Interesting.  So I know where I’m starting tomorrow.  On the street retracing their steps.”

They finished dinner sharing stories, some gory, some embarrassing, some hilarious.  Claire couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this much fun in a man’s company. Being married to Frank was not easy.  He was fastidious. Predictable.  Controlling.  He never liked it if she laughed too loud, or talked to much.  

In the beginning they’d gone out to dinner like this, and then with other academic couples.  Those were never fun.  She’d see the grimace cross his face when she said something he didn’t find intelligent enough, or he’d give her the “For God’s Sake Claire Quiet Down” tap on her leg under the table.  

The worst outing was when she spontaneously went along on the dinner where he was “treating his research assistant” as a thank you.  She knew immediately that they were sleeping together.  Sparked quite the argument when they got home. The first of many.    

None of that absolved her from her sin, though.

Jamie seemed to like her laugh.  She could tell.  He’d watch her mouth then grin from ear to ear.  His eyes would get even more cat-like as he enjoyed her mirth.  

He paid the bill, amid protests.  He helped her on with her coat.  He escorted her to his car, not letting her walk home at this hour.

He pulled up smoothly in front of her townhouse.  He was out of the car and around the vehicle just as she climbed out.  

“Thanks for dinner, James.”  She stuck out her hand.

Jamie looked at her hand as if she had the plague.  “James, is it now?”

He reached out and took her hand.  The way a man takes a woman’s hand.  A woman he’s been on a date with.  

Hands.  Stroking.  Wound in her hair.  Tugging.  Heat filled her chest.  Panting. Passion.

She found it hard to breathe.  She could feel the arousal, the heat blossom between her legs.

She twisted her hand out of his and fell back against the car.  

Jamie turned, concern mingled with shock on his face.  He knew immediately what had happened.  

He waited until she caught her balance. And her breath.

“Ye’ve seen us.  Haven’t ye?”  He bent his 6′ 4″ frame down so he could look Claire in the eyes.  

Claire was terrified.  How to answer?  God, dare she tell him?  She didn’t need to, apparently.  Bastard already knew.  She could see it in his eyes.

“We’re good together, aren’t we?” he whispered, eyes dark like a hurricane.

“Yes,” she hissed.  “Yes, we are.”

To get you to buy a bottle of champagne, M. Cole Chilton, the face who was always behind the counter of my neighborhood wine store in Brooklyn, would send out emails with elaborate descriptions: “I taste like sunshine, and I tell of brighter days ahead. I will make you forget that three people cheated on you last year. I will make you forget that you didn’t contribute anything to your 401(k). I will make you forget that dog sitting is not as easy as it sounds.”

Rarely have I gotten so much enjoyment from a newsletter, but also, rarely have I been so confused. Did I want to buy these wines that smelled like “Bing cherries burnt by a flaming walrus tusk and washed down with gulp of bitter Iron Goddess tea?” Yes, yes I did. Did I know what any of that meant or what to expect when I opened a bottle? God, no.

This is a common problem with the average wine consumer. In her new book, Cork Dork, writer and certified sommelier Bianca Bosker says you can teach yourself to taste.

Oaky, With Notes Of BS: Why Wine Tasting Struggles To Get It On The Nose

Photo: Charles O'Rear/Getty Images