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kyo1n · 1 year

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Fav dish in Trattoria Zà Zà

Spaghettino allo scoglio

#firenze #study in italy #italy #italytravel #florence italy #trattoria #food #italian #spaghetti

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disneyrover · 5 months

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Trattoria al Forno Is So Good, It's Worth Making a Special Trip For!

Trattoria al Forno at Disney's Boardwalk is often overlooked for dinner. I'm here to tell you why it's worth making a special trip for.

Despite knowing a lot of information about the various resorts around Walt Disney World and many of the restaurants at these resorts, I’ll admit that until recently I knew very little about Trattoria al Forno at Disney’s Boardwalk Resort. I knew they had a character breakfast, but that was it. Unfortunately, the character breakfast is paused for the moment. Breakfast is still available, just…

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#Boardwalk Dining #Boardwalk Resort #Disney #disney boardwalk italian restaurant #Disney Dining #Disney Dining Reviews #Disney Resorts #Disney World #Disney&039;s Boardwalk Resort #Disney&039;s Boardwalk Villas #italian restaurant disney boardwalk #Trattoria al Forno #Trattoria al Forno dinner #Trattoria al Forno Restaurant #Trattoria al Forno reviews #Walt Disney World #Walt Disney World Dining #Walt Disney World Resorts

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johnwickb1tsch · 2 months

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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 12 all chapters

- Lunch is a lovely affair in a quaint little trattoria that has been making world class dishes since the turn of the previous century. It seems like every inch of this city is steeped in history. The prices on the menu would blow your whole daily budget on one meal. But the scampi alla Veneziana is out of this world, and you force yourself to eat slowly, and not just inhale the perfectly prepared shrimp and noodles with a delicate lemon olive oil dressing.

John's friend, Julius, is a kind and utterly elegant older man who accepts your presence at the table with kingly grace. They speak in a mixture of Italian and English, the latter you think is for your benefit. John very generously includes you in the conversation, telling Signor Castellari that you are an artist, talking you up to what you feel is an exaggerated degree. Julius asks to see your work, and you let him flip through your new sketch book. Your drawings are a mixture of studies and whimsical travelogue, and it feels like you’re baring a piece of your soul, but he’s so gracious you feel you can’t say no.

There is more than one sketch of Mr. Wick in those pages you did from memory with an aching heart, but the old man is kind enough not to call you out on it, or even draw John’s attention to it. You think if he did, you would simply crawl under the table and die of embarrassment.

He exclaims over an ink and watercolor pencil plein air you did in Rome of a sunset over St. Peters with the Sant’Angelo bridge in the foreground, saying it reminds him of a special day when he was a much younger man. You offer to let him keep it, and he seems truly delighted.

You watch with some surprise as John produces what looks like a razor-sharp knife from seemingly nowhere to carefully cut the page from your book. Julius accepts it like a precious treasure, and you are flattered to your toes.

Then John and Julius chat about older books, and Julius produces a very old looking volume, handing it over for the younger man’s perusal. As he runs his hands over the leather cover John’s eyes shine with an almost childish delight—its utterly adorable.

While they are gushing over the antique tome two intimidating men in dark suits approach the table, fixing John with a hard look. One of them has a gnarly scar bisecting his brow. They say something that sounds none too friendly. You catch the name d’Antonio—but John waves them off with a glare, insisting, “Sono ritrirato.”

You’re pretty sure that means I’m retired.

Julius watches the exchange with a sadness in his eyes you don’t understand.

Finally after some grumbling the tough men go away. John watches them with eyes sharp as a hawk’s, and something in the back of your brain titters a little warning. But you’re having too lovely of a time with Signor Castellari, so you ignore it.

When you part ways Julius kisses your cheeks and takes your hands in his. “Be good to him, bella,” he says with a glance to John. “No one I know deserves happiness more than him.”

You don't want to contradict him about your actual relationship with John, so you just nod.

Later you ask, “Did you tell him we're...”

“No, but even if I told him we weren't, he wouldn't have believed me. Sorry. I hope that didn't make you uncomfortable...”

“It's fine,” you say, not offended in the least.

It’s more than fine.

It's incredibly flattering, really, that he thought the two of you could be a match. You're fairly sure you look like an unsophisticated street urchin next to Mr. John Wick.

“Where would you like to go now?” John asks with a little smile, as though he knows you've been hopelessly turned around for the past two days. You’ve managed to find the big landmarks, like the Piazza San Marco and the Doge’s Palace. It’s the smaller sights that have escaped you.

“Let’s go for a walk,” you suggest, wanting to see the city, and knowing you will finally get to do it unmolested with the forbidding figure of John towering at your side.

You are standing on a bridge, watching gondolas go by, when he asks you, “If I told you I have a reservation at Casa Nova, would you have dinner with me?”

You press your lips nervously. Lunch is one thing, you know, and dinner something else entirely. Two people alone together in an intimate setting, sharing a meal over candlelight with good wine...the thought sends a thrill to the tips of your fingers that’s so intense it’s almost painful.

“I don't have anything to wear to a place like that,” you admit. You read about it in a Condé Nast magazine on the plane, and you’re pretty sure it has at least one Michelin star. “I'm backpacking. My dresses are literally all rolled up in a bundle.”

He chuckles at that, a low sound that tugs at your abdomen. He leans a little closer on the railing, and not for the first time this day you just wish he would kiss you.

“What if...I took you shopping?”

You raise an eyebrow to that. “Are you trying to be my sugar daddy, Mr. Wick?” You mean it as a joke, but suddenly there is something electric in the air between you. John's initial embarrassment sharpens to something almost…predatory.

It catches your breath in your throat.

“Do you want a sugar daddy, y/n?”

You laugh it off nervously, your heart skittering about in your chest.

“Very funny.”

You have a feeling he wasn’t joking at all.

However, like a gentleman he lets you have the out, but doesn't drop the shopping offer.

“Let's go to the Calle Larga,” he says, and out of pure curiosity you agree.

John's idea of shopping is taking you to Gucci.

The impeccable store is filled with beautifully crafted but honestly kind of boring goods, arbitrarily priced at a thousand dollars or more a piece. John fits in perfectly with the smartly dressed clientele, but you? You feel so incredibly out of place amidst the filthy rich people in the shop, and when you look at the price tag on the only dress you vaguely like you think you might break out in hives.

“John...”

You don't recognize it just yet, but you call him John when you're agitated, and Mr. Wick when you're feeling playful.

He senses the desperation in that one word, and he takes you by the hand, leading you outside.

“I'm sorry...” you say, because you feel stupid, and not posh enough by half to pull off any of the clothes in that high-end boutique. You are a bonafide gremlin, compared to the unearthly creatures in there. You do not belong, and maybe you’re a coward, but a part of you wishes John would just let you go back to your own plans for the evening. A long solo walk, a cheap slice of pizza, inevitably get lost in the maze of streets and canals, draw a little or read some of your book, before returning to your hard, lumpy hostel bed alone, where you can’t make a fool of yourself.

“Don't be,” he says with an amused little smile that makes your tide of panic recede a little. “I like it that you know this stuff is bullshit,” he soothes you.

“I just...it’s so out of my wheel house.” You could have paid nearly four months rent for what that dress had cost.

He nods. “It takes some getting used to,” he admits. “I certainly wasn't born into this.”

You wonder if he’ll ever tell you about his earlier life, but sense this isn’t the time or place to press him.

“I just don't want you to spend your hard-earned money on stupid things for me.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t work hard for my money…” he offers with a wan little smile. “But it would make me happy to spend it on you. If it would make you happy.”

You look at him for a long time. He meets your gaze, not flinching. There’s something different about him here. He’s more…open with you, perhaps? It takes some getting used to. He’d never outright admitted his interest in you before, always circling around it, and you wonder what’s changed.

Maybe not even John Wick is immune to the romantic atmosphere of il bel paese.

“Why are you being so good to me?”

“I like you, y/n. If you haven't noticed.” The corner of his mouth quirks at that.

It makes you sigh.

“I like you too, Mr. Wick.”

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat.

“You can call me John.”

“But do you want me to call you John?” you tease.

He moves a fraction closer, looming over you, and for a heart stopping moment you think maybe now he might finally kiss you?

“Depends,” he admits, his voice gone a little rough, but he doesn't elaborate further.

You feel as though you have a live electric wire sparking under your skin.

He steps back a little, and again you feel the loss of him like an ache over your heart. You continue to stroll down the street. You are not entirely sure how your hand ends up in his, only that it is there, and you are content.

None of the high fashion shops really interest you, until you pass by the window of Dolce and Gabbana, and your feet involuntarily slow as you take in the maximalist riot of glitz and color on the mannequin. You've always admired their wildly bedazzled designs, flaming hearts and candy colored jewels with copious gold embroidered trim. Maybe you’re just a crow-brained peasant who’s impressed by shiny things, but they look so fun.

John smiles a little, as though he’s finally answered some question to himself about you. “Aha,” he says teasingly, and you sigh, restraining yourself from pressing your nose to the window like a child outside a candy store.

“Can we just…look?”

You are trying to be reasonable.

“We can.”

As it turns out, you want one of everything in the store.

It's all so over the top, the designs are so artistic and ridiculous and unabashedly joyful, from bejeweled purses to crown-adorned headphones, loud floral dresses and majolica printed silk scarves, and you fight not to betray which pieces catch your eye because you're afraid John might buy them all.

He is drinking in your enjoyment, looking utterly pleased.

Even just the store itself is utterly breathtaking inside, crystal chandeliers, inlaid marble floors and stone pillars. Gilded crown moulding and inlaid wood trim. You could just sit and look at this place like it’s a museum, you reckon.

John is not looking at the building though. He watches you browse with eyes that miss nothing, and it makes you squirm a little. You feel so seen. You’re not sure you like it, like you’ve been caught in the act of enjoying something that you know is absurd.

You feel absolutely silly.

“Try something on,” he urges you. To be practical, you decide to try on a black lace dress. Just in case you might like it. And a pair of black platform wedges printed with crimson red roses…because you can actually walk in them, so it makes sense, you know...

When you exit the dressing room John's gaze darkens, his pupils blown wide with desire, and once again you sense that predatory edge in him. If you had any sense you might have been scared, or at least cautious—but all it does is give you the most exquisite chills, an aching sense of anticipation, and an excess of moisture pooled between your thighs.

“That one,” he confirms, and for the way he looks at you, like you are a bunny in the woods he'd like to eat up whole, the outrageous price of the ensemble seems like a bargain.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you #keanu reeves x reader #john wick fic #keanu reeves #bittersweet john wick imagine #john wick imagine #i couldn't find julius's last name?#anyone kno?#yandere john wick

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merakiui · 7 days

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Correct if i'm wrong, but isn't Italian Azul Canon?! Cuz i remember reading a post where Azul mentioned that his Mom runs a famous ITALIAN restaurant in the coral reef. I don't know if they did that on purpose so that Azul could fit the Mob boss aesthetic, but still!

Basically, Azul talking dirty to you in Italian isn't far off! 👀

It's definitely implied! One of his Luxe Couture voice lines mentions that his mother grew what was once a "small trattoria" into the popular, well-known restaurant it is today. At the very least, we can assume Mama Ashengrotto's restaurant is Italian-style based on Azul's line about it.

I think it's so fun to consider with the mafia/mob boss vibes the Octavinelle trio has. >:D mermafia my beloveds!!!! Aaaa but then it's also implied that the tweels' "family business" may be some sort of mob/mafia/crime family........ but in my heart, Italian Azul is very much real and true. (´▽`ʃƪ)♡ I want him to say sweet things to me in Italian. <3 oh, to be called all manner of pretty nicknames by him.......

#twisted chit chat

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cocrante · 7 months

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This morning I woke up thinking about a modern au where wriolette take a train for a romantic couples' vacation, traversing the scenic French countryside and venturing beyond the Italian Apennines, with a few planned stops along the way to briefly explore medieval hamlets and have lunch at charming, little trattorias all guided by their meticulously arranged travel itinerary

#📌 : wip #wriolette #modern au #genshin modern au #genshin impact #neuvilette #wriothesley

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daydreamthemes · 3 months

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For the 25th Anniversary of Sopranos I hear we're bringing back the mob wife aesthetic. So in honor of that, here's a Sopranos themed wedding.

Now this is a mix of obvious Jersey and Mafia vibes toned down, because Tony Soprano, first and foremost loves food. A family style Italian meal is the right way to celebrate your wedding. Red Roses but very minimal on the flowers, the aesthetic will come from your venue, if you're in New Jersey, maybe a trattoria? Or an elevated Restaurant? After party obviously must have pizza.

Red for the bridesmaids and roses for your bouquet. A Jersey Italian bride is going to be a queen on her day, and as a nod to the big white 90s veils, lets bring in maybe a flower headband or just big hair with the big dress!

My two favorite touches, custom bowling shirts for getting ready with your girls and little salt shaker ducks. I'm not a fan of violence so the only nod to Tony's business would be the little tie clip for your groom. May he be more loyal than Tony to ya girl!

#wedding #bridal fashion #wedding theme #bridal #bride #the sopranos #tony soprano #carmela soprano #james gandolfini #mob wife #mafia #mafia wife #mob wife aesthetic #25 year anniversary #HBO #New Jersey

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photoblogdujour · 7 months

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Terry here at the Ristorante and Trattoria PBDJ. We're having chicken catchatory today. But I'm not sure how good it is. The chef isn't Italian at all. He's from New England or New Mexico or New York or New South Wales. He's from somewhere New at any rate. Maybe he's from New College, where they fired all the teachers and administrators and now the students have to copy bible quotes by hand in their engineering classes, so they all left for better schools.

Oh, the chef is from Nova Scotia. That's Italian, right?

#cone flower #red flower #flowers of tumblr #photographers on tumblr #original photographers #macro photography #flowers on tumblr #inner life of flowers #macro flower #flower of the day #flower

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sassydefendorflower · 7 months

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👀👀👀

Okay so... buckle up!

It's the late 1920s! New York City!

Emily Prentiss is a burned out socialite living below her means by day - and a hitman under the name of Mr. Reynolds for the Irish Mob by night. (No, she's also not quite sure how that happened)

One of the men she frequently works with/for - Ian Doyle - has a new hit for her: Raphael. Raphael is one of the best bookies out there, and almost the entire New York underworld uses him to do their taxes, sort their winnings, and cut the loses - but Doyle suspects him of being overly loyal to the Italians, so he wants him taken care off.

Hopefully in a way that won't tie back to him - instead he would rather look forward to a gang war, an opportunity to become an even bigger fish in this pond called NYC.

Spencer Reid is a nervous looking librarian working below his intelligence level - and Raphael, the shifty and rather successful bookie. He was found by Rossi - head of one of the big Italian families controlling the East Coast - and trained by the former bookie Jason Gideon to become one of the best. And he is. His side-business pays for his mother's care - and for Rossi's silence.

(back in the day, if you wanted information you played chess against Jason Gideon in Central Park and he'd do your books for you and trade some information - Gideon still plays chess in the park, but these days it's mostly for his own amusement)

David Rossi came from Sicily to Long Island to New York City - and he brought his family's power and influence with him. Under the cover of Emma's trattoria Rossi knows how to find people, exploit them, and make them work for him. He also knows all about good food and company, and the loyalty only a family can offer.

That's how he met Aaron Hotchner after all. Hotchner used to be the only good cop on the Upper East Side and then he started investigating the Russians. One hit on Hotchner's wife by a hired French gun, and Aaron Hotchner was a widower - one well placed tip about the whereabouts of said Frenchman from Rossi and Hotchner was a murderer. Luckily, Rossi cares about family, and so he offered Hotchner a deal: become his insider in the NYPD and Rossi could make the evidence of his crimes go away.

Hotch was just desperate enough to accept it.

(this was ten years ago, by now Rossi has to admit, that they're actually friends)

One of their favorite meet-ups? The speakeasy managed by Derek Morgan, former PI, current bootlegger. It's neutral ground, no gang or mob violence allowed if you want some piss-warm whiskey and a glass of beer, so all kinds of people end up in the former hair saloon.

When Derek Morgan was young he wanted to become a cop - and then his dad got shanked and nobody cared because he's black and suddenly... so he became a PI instead. Then the recession hit his mom's small business and suddenly his family had to get creative to make some money. But his aunt had always had a knack for homemade liquor and one thing led to another...

That's also how he got his bartender: the delicate Jennifer "JJ" Jearau. Five years ago, JJ left her small town in Pennsylvania to marry Lieutenant William LaMontaigne only to reach New York and find him murdered. Going back to the hell that was small town Pennsylvania wasn't an option, so she hired a PI - and when her trusted PI turned bootlegger, she became the woman behind the bar.

They were pretty sure a mob hit had killed her betrothed anyway - and Derek knew one day soon Will's killer would walk through his doors and JJ would get her justice.

Garcia married into the Puerto Rican part of New York quite on accident, but soon found her calling in trading information and favors - nobody would ever suspect the bubbly librarian of anything uncouth, especially since Garcia worked mostly on her own. She had no aspirations to become some big fish, mostly she wanted to be left alone and comfortable, with a measure of good friends by her side.

That's probably also why she introduced Emily Prentiss to her colleague Spencer. Both were miserably lonely people, and hey, maybe they could be miserably lonely together.

(what she kick started was a beautiful friendship and also one of the biggest misunderstandings in the history of the New York mafia - you see, neither Emily nor Spencer realized that the other had some secrets of their own)

Rambles enough? I do have some plot ideas (there's enough set up for like three plots just in this backstory) and other characters to include. (Elle is definitely a member of a gang, and unlike Garcia she does want to become a big fish) (Jordan Todd is a liar, so when she needs help she finds the best liar in town: JJ) (Seaver knows things and Rossi would rather keep her silent) But so far this is all I have for an AU I will probably never write :D

AND THANK YOU SO MUCH IRIS!! <3 <3 <3

[send me a "👀" and I'll ramble about an AU that i will probably never write]

#fanfictiongreenirises #love you iris <3 #ask game #ask and answer #criminal minds #cm #spencer reid #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #david rossi #penelope garcia #jason gideon #1920s AU

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