#restaurant style French fries

[keventeragro]

French Fries Cooking Tips | Veg Snacks | Keventer

Quick tips to remember when you cook French fries at home

Read More - https://www.keventer.com/media/blog/make-perfect-french-fries-at-home-every-time/

[rabbitcruiser]

National French Fries Day

French fries are a staple of fast food restaurants and diners, often being paired with hamburgers and cheeseburgers. A simple food consisting of potatoes—and maybe some salt—they are one of the most popular side dishes in the world. They are celebrated today by being made at home or eaten at restaurants.

French fries were most likely invented in Belgium, not France, but potatoes are native to South America. In 1537, Spanish explorer Jiménez de Quesada found them in a village in Colombia. They were soon brought to Spain, and became known as “truffles.” They were small and bitter at the time, but better versions were soon cultivated. There was some resistance to potatoes in Europe, but they eventually caught on.

By most accounts, French fries were created in Belgium in the late seventeenth century, in the valley of the Meuse River, between Dinant and Liège. It was here that small fried fish were often eaten. When the weather was especially harsh, the river froze to a thickness that made it difficult to catch fish. It was then that potatoes began being cut in long strips similar to fish and were fried in their place. This story is aided in that Spain controlled some of Belgium at the time, and it was Spain who had introduced potatoes to the continent. Some believe that French fries weren’t created in Belgium until the eighteenth century.

Another theory posits that French fries were indeed created in France, but most believe this was after the Belgians had already invented them. Antoine-Augustin Parmentier was taken captive during the Seven Years’ War (1756-1763) and had been given potatoes while in prison in Prussia. Although potatoes had long been used as hog feed in France and had been thought to cause disease, even being banned in 1748 because of a belief that they caused leprosy, Parmentier found them to be an enjoyable and healthy food.

After getting out of prison, Parmentier advocated for their culinary use. They were legalized in France in 1772, but Parmentier still faced resistance when he promoted them. He began hosting dinner parties with dignitaries such as Benjamin Franklin, King Louis XVI, and Queen Marie Antoinette and served them potatoes. Finally, after a famine in 1785, potatoes became more popular throughout France. Fries, or “frites,” soon were being made. They were particularly popular in Paris, where they were sold by pushcart vendors. This was about a century after fries are thought to have been invented in Belgium, and it is unknown if France came up with the idea on its own, or got the idea from Belgium.

It is believed that it was from France that French fries made their way to the United States and the United Kingdom. In 1802, Thomas Jefferson had the White House chef, Frenchman Honoré Julien, make “potatoes served in the French manner.” He described them as “potatoes deep-fried while raw, in small cuttings.“ This is an early instance of them being referred to as “French.” According to the Encyclopedia of American Food and Drink, “French” does not refer to the country, but instead to a method of cutting called “frenching,” where potatoes are cut into narrow strips. In America, fries were usually called “French fried potatoes” until the 1930s, when they started being called “French fries.” It was through American fast food restaurants that French fries were introduced to the non-European world. In France they are known as “pommes frites,” in Spain they are “patatas fritas,” and in the United Kingdom they are known as “chips.”

There are many variations of French fries, such as curly, waffle, crinkle-cut, and steak fries. They can be made Cajun-style, be covered with chili and cheese, or be used to make poutine. Fries are usually fried in lard or vegetable oil, but they can be baked in the oven as well. Commercial fries usually come frozen, precut, and partially cooked. French fries are often eaten with condiments. Ketchup is preferred in America, while mayonnaise is popular in parts of Europe, and malt vinegar is commonly used in Britain.

How to Observe

Celebrate the day by eating French fries! You could make some at home, or grab some at a restaurant. You could have them at a fast food restaurant such as McDonald’s, or eat them at one of the best places to have french fries in the country.

Source

French fries are a staple of fast food restaurants and diners, often being paired with hamburgers and cheeseburgers. A simple food consisting of potatoes—and maybe some salt—they are one of the most popular side dishes in the world. They are celebrated today by being made at home or eaten at restaurants.

French fries were most likely invented in Belgium, not France, but potatoes are native to South America. In 1537, Spanish explorer Jiménez de Quesada found them in a village in Colombia. They were soon brought to Spain, and became known as “truffles.” They were small and bitter at the time, but better versions were soon cultivated. There was some resistance to potatoes in Europe, but they eventually caught on.

By most accounts, French fries were created in Belgium in the late seventeenth century, in the valley of the Meuse River, between Dinant and Liège. It was here that small fried fish were often eaten. When the weather was especially harsh, the river froze to a thickness that made it difficult to catch fish. It was then that potatoes began being cut in long strips similar to fish and were fried in their place. This story is aided in that Spain controlled some of Belgium at the time, and it was Spain who had introduced potatoes to the continent. Some believe that French fries weren’t created in Belgium until the eighteenth century.

Another theory posits that French fries were indeed created in France, but most believe this was after the Belgians had already invented them. Antoine-Augustin Parmentier was taken captive during the Seven Years’ War (1756-1763) and had been given potatoes while in prison in Prussia. Although potatoes had long been used as hog feed in France and had been thought to cause disease, even being banned in 1748 because of a belief that they caused leprosy, Parmentier found them to be an enjoyable and healthy food.

After getting out of prison, Parmentier advocated for their culinary use. They were legalized in France in 1772, but Parmentier still faced resistance when he promoted them. He began hosting dinner parties with dignitaries such as Benjamin Franklin, King Louis XVI, and Queen Marie Antoinette and served them potatoes. Finally, after a famine in 1785, potatoes became more popular throughout France. Fries, or “frites,” soon were being made. They were particularly popular in Paris, where they were sold by pushcart vendors. This was about a century after fries are thought to have been invented in Belgium, and it is unknown if France came up with the idea on its own, or got the idea from Belgium.

It is believed that it was from France that French fries made their way to the United States and the United Kingdom. In 1802, Thomas Jefferson had the White House chef, Frenchman Honoré Julien, make “potatoes served in the French manner.” He described them as “potatoes deep-fried while raw, in small cuttings.“ This is an early instance of them being referred to as “French.” According to the Encyclopedia of American Food and Drink, “French” does not refer to the country, but instead to a method of cutting called “frenching,” where potatoes are cut into narrow strips. In America, fries were usually called “French fried potatoes” until the 1930s, when they started being called “French fries.” It was through American fast food restaurants that French fries were introduced to the non-European world. In France they are known as “pommes frites,” in Spain they are “patatas fritas,” and in the United Kingdom they are known as “chips.”

There are many variations of French fries, such as curly, waffle, crinkle-cut, and steak fries. They can be made Cajun-style, be covered with chili and cheese, or be used to make poutine. Fries are usually fried in lard or vegetable oil, but they can be baked in the oven as well. Commercial fries usually come frozen, precut, and partially cooked. French fries are often eaten with condiments. Ketchup is preferred in America, while mayonnaise is popular in parts of Europe, and malt vinegar is commonly used in Britain.

How to Observe

Celebrate the day by eating French fries! You could make some at home, or grab some at a restaurant. You could have them at a fast food restaurant such as McDonald’s, or eat them at one of the best places to have french fries in the country.

Source

[elinorasims]

Build | Strangerville | Ziggy's Diner

Lot Info

Type | Restaurant Lot Size | 30x20 World | Strangerville Value | 94,857 Baths | 3 CC | No Packs | Unrestricted Ziggy's Diner is a classicly retro mashup of Googie and passenger train inspired styles situated in Strangerville Plaza.

Ziggy's is a compact restaurant and bar combo with a Strangerville twist: classic red booths and an elongated mid-century modern bar layout meets sci-fi inspired and 50's-kitsch inspired cluttered decor..

It's giving the diner from the movie 'Paul'. I hope. lol

Ziggy's has a fully customised menu featuring some Mountain States inspired comfort dishes and some American classics (full menu below the cut).

DOWNLOAD >>

Interior Tour

Bar

Staff Areas

Floor Plan

| hi my loves

hopefully you like this one- it was super fun to build and I'm finding my feet a bit more building for this save, i think!

it's been playtested (briefly lol) and should be fully functional and a smooth enough restaurant experience for your sims to enjoy.

i love Paul so much aha we watched it this past weekend and i was immediately like 'yup. gotta go do a strangerville build now.'

| dag dag fn. <3

Ziggy's Diner Menu

Drinks water ; lemonade ; milk ; orange juice ; coffee ; cream cola ; fizzy fruity drink ; pitch black ; root beer float ; soda ; tang and zing ; boiler room ; eapa ; juice on the rocks ; wrench ; galactic vita-water ; silent film ; sour punch ; sunset valley ; alien juice ; cupid juice ; space energy drink ; jet juice

Appetisers chips and salsa ; mac and cheese ; bowl of olives ; bread roll ; french fries ; whole wheat bread ; popcorn shrimp ; garden salad ; cheesy bread ; grilled plantains ; seafood chowder ; soft shell crab cake ; empanadas ; watermelon salad

Mains mac and cheese ; chicken nuggets ; popcorn shrimp ; baked potato ; hot dog ; lobster roll ; veggie burger ; chicken and waffles ; fried chicken sliders ; mushroom waffles ; sausage and peppers ; scrambled eggs with bacon ; seafood chowder ; tofu dog ; fish tacos ; hamburger ; fried fish ; pancakes ; aubergine Parmesan ; sweet corn pizza ; mushroom steak ; french toast ; vegetable chilli ; egg white omelette ; mushroom soup ; bbq ribs plate ; blackened bass ; gumbo ; steak

Dessert neapolitan ice cream ; rainbow sorbet ; vanilla ice cream ; alien fruit tart ; cream filled donut ; cream snack cake ; honey cake ; plain waffles ; rainbow brownies ; hamburger cake ; chocolate chip cookie ; apple pie ; banana cream pie ; pumpkin pie ; simcity cheesecake ; fruit cobbler

[inoreuct]

i actually desperately need 40y/o zoro with reading glasses. thin wire frames with teensy rectangular lenses perched on his nose as he peers down at one of sanji’s french romance novels to see what all the fuss is about— after so many years with his husband he’s picked up a bit of the language and sanji has a stack of them on the nightstand and he’s bored, alright? sanji has something to wrap up at the restaurant and he might as well. he’s farsighted and squints at everything near him and it makes him look even grouchier than usual and the fact that he’s graying at the temples doesn’t help. he looks terrifyingly severe with all his scars and his frowning, until he smiles— he’s been doing that a lot more lately, and then people realise that’s why he has crow’s feet around his eyes. i need him to have a collection of bottles that he’s fiercely protective over; they’re all empty and the labels are faded to hell, but point to any one and he can tell you where it had been drunk. there’s a beer bottle from the first night he’d sailed with luffy. a sweet rum they’d popped to celebrate usopp’s return. the champagne from when he and sanji had gotten married.

i need 40y/o sanji with long, long hair that he ties and pins and styles differently every day. sometimes he makes decorative sourdough and he matches his braids to the patterns. i need him taking on protégés in his restaurant, guiding a new generation of culinary genius even though teenagers are fucking terrifying and annoying and argumentative, because he remembers being exactly like them and at the end of it they’re good kids. they listen to him (…to an extent). they’re sweet and talented and they do absolutely crazy shit in the process of trying to push their boundaries; sometimes they trip and fall, but it’s fine. that’s how they learn. that’s what sanji’s for, as their safety net and their mentor— he’ll give them shit for it and pick them up anyway, nag them while brusquely brushing off their knees. but sometimes, sometimes, they come up with something extraordinary, and sanji gets so proud he could cry. zeff drops by and nags at him for everything under the damn roof. sanji doesn’t mind it.

i need them in their kitchen, in the morning, when sanji’s far too chipper and zoro’s not awake enough, nursing a cup of coffee and half-asleep again at the table as sanji fries their eggs. i need zoro to have one of those old man rocking chairs that he settles into to watch the sunset and drink tea, because sanji’s managed to get him into tea of all things. he’d have never imagined liking matcha a decade ago. i need that rocking chair to be big enough for two so that sanji can curl into his side and thumb through yet another of his novels. i need zoro braiding his hair and falling asleep halfway. i need sanji pulling his glasses off when they slip down his nose and dragging his husband to bed so that he doesn’t bitch about his back hurting the next day. i need them at sanji’s restaurant, teaching the kids about food and liquor pairings— they’re a little terrified of zoro until he squints and pulls his specs out to read the labels, after which they’re running around calling him old man and grandpa roronoa. zoro fumes because for fuck’s sake, he’s forty, not ninety. he’s not old. he brings a bottle of wine three inches away from his face and sanji does nothing to stop the kids at all.

just— zoro with reading glasses. sanji with long hair. doing mundane, boring things that make them happy because they never expected to live this long anyway. zoro’s down to two earrings and sanji has one. their rings are woven straw pulled from luffy’s hat. they have a little motored dinghy out back that franky made for the times they need to go haul their captain’s ass out of trouble (as usual), but none of the crew are ever very far from each other. they stay at sanji’s restaurant in the all blue and occasionally fend off people from their past looking for revenge. or money. or to eat them out of the house and home, in luffy’s case, which then leads to zoro den den-ing the rest of the lot and sighing that they might as well come over for a cookout.

they’ve all gotten older; a little banged up and scruffed around the edges, but alive and well. nami’s making bank as a mapmaker who caters to the wealthy/insurance agent/financial advisor— zoro scoffs and calls her a swindling witch, to which she smiles at him all sweet before stomping solidly on his foot with her red-bottom heel. out of their conjoining workshops, franky and usopp have started a wildly successful demo-smithing company that specialises in custom explosives and bespoke carpentry. robin owns and maintains the most extensive archive of books any of them have ever heard of, and it’s pretty much lauded as one of the greatest libraries of all time; brook does gigs in jazz lounges and bistro bars, jinbei’s a diplomat who’s well-respected for campaigning for equal rights, and chopper runs his own medical practice. luffy, as usual, is doing whatever he wants, which is a little bit of everything. y’know, taking down corrupt governments and all that.

sanji feeds them like he’s always done and zoro brings out the good alcohol to pass around.

life’s good.

[yridenergyridenergy]

Die's Food Diary in Europe (March 2024 tour)

For the magazine Weekly Shinchou April 25th 2024 issue, Die wrote a blog of what he ate on Dir en grey's trip to Europe. Their flight lasted 14 hours.

March 18th – After landing in Warsaw, he went to a seafood restaurant but seeing as he doesn't like seafood or raw food, he ordered a beef steak, which he was satisfied with.

March 19th – Die ate breakfast at the hotel. The buffet typically contains ham, scrambled eggs, salad, bread and coffee. There were sausages and bacon, but they seemed oily/greasy and he was concerned about how much fat they contained. By the third day there though, he started getting bored with that menu.

The lunch is catered by the venue for the concert. It had ham, cheese, bread and minestrone. Because it was the first day and that preparations were hectic, he actually went on stage for that first show without eating dinner. After the show ended, he enjoyed a traditional Italian risotto with mushrooms.

March 20th – Before the second show, he ate pierogi for dinner. He commented that it looks like gyoza but that the taste is "modest"? He also highlighted how it was difficult to get used to the time of day because of how late the shows start in Europe.

March 21st – The band and the staff left on a double-decker bus toward Paris. Die bumped his head on the ceiling of the second floor because it's really low. The bunk beds are narrow for his height but they're decent once he got used to them. They all ate from a service area/stop along the way but Die, not wanting to succumb to the temptation of eating fast food, ate leftovers of a burrito prepared the previous night... which he then realizes can count as fast food too hah.

March 22nd – He ate from traditional French home-style meals that appeared to have been cooked in-house at the venue. Die was excited to try the food out but all the names were in French... The only meal that he could recognize visually was a quiche. I think he ended up trying a few regardless of not knowing what he was eating and he was satisfied.

Die was a bit nervous before going on stage because of the Bataclan's tragic event in 2015 (terrorist shooting). After the show, he had take-out bolognese pasta with thick noodles.

March 23rd – Apparently a fan from Japan gave them takoyaki, which was however heavier than pure takoyaki. He found the taste powdery. All the band members stuffed their faces with takoyaki. The band always receives a bunch of instant food from Japanese fans when they tour overseas, it seems. If someone on the bus starts eating something like ramen, the others are lured in by the smell and they will likely indulge as well. He doesn't usually take (instant?) ramen in Japan, but he finds it tasty on tour overseas.

For dinner, he had kebabs before the show, and pizza afterward. In the end, he did succumb to junk food.

March 24th – Breakfast was served on the ferry boat's restaurant. He took fried eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes and bread while looking out at the sea. At night, he went to a local yakiniku-style restaurant with his American friends. While the atmosphere was similar to a Japanese yakiniku, he felt sorry for his friends about the taste of the food.

......... A menu critic highlighted at the end of the diary that Die had not eaten any fruit or vegetables hahah.

[crabsnpersimmons]

Crabs this is Noa you need to help me I'm in love with your restaurant AU I need more I love food and you combined it with the dca I can't I ca

Uhh what's in the menu? :D

HEHE ME TOO NOA!!

legit every meal i have is inspiration for this AU 😂

as for the menu, welllll most of it is based on Hong Kong style cafe foods (because that's what inspired me at first), but the specials change regularly and go into many different cuisines.

the boys also specialize in different things too:

Sun specializes in healthy, nutritious meals. he’s also the most interested in learning all about food, from farms to cooking methods. if you ask him to surprise you, he’ll discretely scan you and determine what your body needs and will cook something accordingly.

You are surprised as a bowl of soup appears in front of you, held by a gold hand. You follow that hand to it’s owner—meeting Sun’s blank eyes staring down at you.

“I… didn’t order a soup,” you stutter.

“You appear to be low in iron today,” Sun responds in his monotone voice before turning away, then adding, “There is more if you need it. It's on the house.”

Without a further word, Sun returns to the kitchen.

The smell of the soup wafts to your nose and you decide to dig in. It’s a fairly clear broth yet surprisingly flavourful—the kind of soup that takes more than a day to properly steep and simmer to extract all the flavours from it’s ingredients. Despite that, the soup was clear of any dregs at the bottom—just the way you like it.

You feel your face warm—from the soup or from the attention, you’re not entirely sure.

You might take his offer for seconds.

Moon specializes in everything indulgent! juicy fried chicken? the cutest pastries? he loves them all and he’s always experimenting with new recipes. sure he recognizes the importance of a healthy meal, but sometimes you just need a boost, yknow? food is more than fuel, it can be something to be enjoyed.

When you stepped into the restaurant that morning, Moon could already tell you were off to a rough start. He watched from the kitchen window as you ate your breakfast, staring dryly at your phone.

And then he had an idea. Ooooohoohoohoo, clever Moon!

“Gooooood morning, starlight,” Moon walks over to your seat at the bar table. “How’s your breakfast? Would you like some dessert with it?”

You groggily look up from your phone, and nod, barely registering what he said. Then before you know it, Moon is gone and back again with a warm plate of french toast.

Moon wasn’t kidding when he said dessert—the toast is thick enough to be a cake! When you cut off a manageable bite, you realize it’s actually two slices of toast, sandwiching a gooey filling.

You take a bite and you’re surprised by how delicate and rich it is. The toast melts in your mouth and leaves behind the aroma of butter and eggs and the delightfully chilled sweetness of condensed milk coats your tongue.

Your expression must betray your reaction, because you see Moon smiling back at you so sweetly.

Eclipse is the main front of house, waiting tables and charming customers. and he’s also the barista, preparing a variety of drinks (and sometimes putting on a bit of a show while doing so). he can cook as well, but he leaves it mostly to Sun and Moon.

You have no idea how you got here. You decided to stop by the restaurant, only you forgot that today was their day off. However, you’ve learned that the chefs live in the apartment above the restaurant, which explains why Eclipse found you and let you in.

Now you were seated at the empty bar table, while the charming barista prepared you a drink.

“Here we are,” Eclipse gently places a glass in front of you.

Based on the colour, the ice, and the straw, you take a guess, “Iced coffee?”

“Half correct,” Eclipse chuckles and pours himself a glass as well. “It’s one of my old boss’s favourites. It’s called ‘yuenyeung’, a mixture of milk tea and coffee.”

“Oh, so ‘yuenyeung’,” you grimace at your butchered pronunciation, “means ‘tea-coffee’, I guess?”

Eclipse smiles. For the short while you’ve known him, you have learned you do not trust that smile. “No, ‘yuenyeung’ refers to a pair of mandarin ducks that look very different, male and female. They’re a symbol of conjugal love—a pair of two different elements coming together as one.”

You freeze as Eclipse chuckles and clinks your glass with his. “It’s more fragrant when it’s served warm, but it’s too hot for that today. I’ll save that treat for a day you need the warmth.”

He’s right. It is too hot for this today. You take your glass and sip on the straw, Even chilled, the aroma of black tea, coffee, and smooth milk is strong on your tongue.

Even after downing your entire glass, you still feel too hot.

[mariacallous]

Offal, aka organ meats, are about to make a comeback. Yes, I predict that brains, livers, spleens, tongues and testicles will feature heavily on the menus of Israel’s (and the diaspora’s Jewish/Israeli-style) hottest eateries by this time next year — if they aren’t already. Why? Because young chefs are increasingly inspired by traditional Jewish dishes, driving a return-to-roots style of cooking. And these old-school classics are notably innard-heavy.

Offal is an oxymoron; it’s both a poor-person food, which is why it was so popular in the shtetl, and a celebratory food, eaten on Shabbat and festivals. Many Sephardic cultures consider it a delicacy. Read on and decide for yourself.

Let’s start with an old Ashkenazi classic: chopped liver. While for me, it will always be in style, many of my contemporaries don’t feel the same. Luckily, young Jewish chefs have already set their sights on it, and may well have the power to convert millennial diners. Take Anthony Rose’s recipe in “The Last Schmaltz,” which sears the livers, then deglazes the pan with arak before blending, serving the chopped liver with thyme-scented caramelized onions.

Another well-known offal dish is the Jerusalem mixed grill. Made with chicken giblets and lamb parts, and seasoned with onion, garlic, black pepper, cumin, turmeric and coriander, this classic street food is believed to have originated sometime between 1960-1970 at one of two (now feuding) restaurants in Jerusalem’s Machaneh Yehuda Market. While the Jerusalem grill is far younger than most Jewish offal dishes, it originated in a similar way: Butchers had a surplus of unwanted offal so they sold it off cheaply, then some savvy chefs turned the offal into a desirable dish. The mixed grill was one of the first offal dishes to receive multiple modern makeovers. At his restaurant Rovi, Yotam Ottolenghi adds baharat onions and pickles, while Michael Solomonov included a Jerusalem grill-Southern dirty rice hybrid in “Israeli Soul.“

Of course, this is not the first dish based around grilled offal; Tunisian Jews liked to throw a selection of lamb or veal innards onto the grill, which they called mechoui d’abats, and Baghdadi Jews sought a similar smokiness, which they achieved by cooking chicken livers on the tandoor.

Roman Jews preferred their offal battered and fried, rather than grilled. Few know that their famed carciofi alla giudia (deep-fried artichokes) was often served alongside fried sweetbreads, livers, and — most notably — brains. North Africa’s Sephardi communities loved their brains, too, commonly serving them in an omelet called a meguina or menina on festive occasions. Meir Adoni referenced this love in his brain fricassee — a North African-French fusion dish of veal brains inside a croissant with harissa and preserved lemon — at his New York restaurant Nur.

Offal was also commonly used to add a depth of flavor to a soup or stew. Yemenite Jews — one of the few communities who continue to cook traditional offal dishes — make a soup with bulls’ penis and cows’ udders, while Eastern European Jews, particularly of Polish descent, continue to add kishke  — a sausage made of stuffed beef intestine — to their weekly Shabbat cholent. A slow-cooked stew called akod is one of the better-known dishes of Tunisian Jewish cuisine, where tripe flavored with cumin, garlic, harissa and tomato paste is the star of the show. Moroccan Jews eat a similar dish on Passover, which ditches the tomato paste but adds liver, heart, and beef dumplings.

Admittedly, there are some offal-based dishes that may find it trickier to stage a comeback. Ptcha – an aspic that reached its height of popularity in shtetl-era Ashkenazi communities — is arguably top of the list. However, it’s not without hope; ptcha was actually born in Turkey in the 14th century as a peasant soup made with lamb’s feet, served hot. This, I’d wager, is a more palatable gateway (it’s basically bone broth) to the Eastern European version, which opts for calves’ feet and allows the soup to cool and set into a jelly, thanks to the gelatin in the hooves.

It only takes one dish to change your view of offal from weird and unappetizing to tasty and versatile. If livers, brains and tripe were good enough for our ancestors, not to mention famed chefs, who are we to turn up our noses? Happy eating!

[danganphobia]

Laishuro College AU prompt, and notes:

-first note, we’ve seen in casual doodles in the adventurer’s Bible that Toshiro seems to have an eye/interest for art and aesthetics. My gf for this AU is that he knows how to draw people and plants pretty well, but not animals or buildings. -second note, I’m using a chuck of Lokh’s own college AU idea where Laios is actually a online, novel writer on the side.

Toshiro, less interested in the DM campaign than he is staring at his surroundings, especially when said sessions took place at the old Touden House, he’s always looking around at the family pictures and nicknacks. Half-hoping he’d eventually see Falin’s childhood room, though having the sessions there was as rare enough.

So Toshiro isn’t super happy when the opportunity of exploring the home does arise, it’s to help Laios with his part of their assignment. When Toshiro looks around (reluctantly) Laios’ room, he notices all the bugs inside frames, and shelves full of animal parts like feathers and bones. So much so that even Laios notices Toshiro is distracted, and so he shows Toshiro his rarest souvenirs from going around the forest as a kid.

Toshiro is shaken to see a feather with similar patterns and colors as it was described in one of his favorite indie novels. Inside a rusty lunch box was also a few rocks and ores, but that feather stood out. Laios puts it all away before Toshiro can form the right question, a part of him also thinking it could just be a coincidence. The seed has been planted though, and so he can’t help but seeing the other similarities in Laios and the descriptions in the novel. Even notices his style of narration whenever they have a DM session after that.

Just a slow burn of Toshiro connecting dots and felling super frustrated yet enamored by the similarities, while planing to find a way to figure it out without anyone, especially Kabru (bc he would eventually just make fun of him anyways lol) finding out. So he has no other choice… Toshiro is going to have to get Laios all alone to confirm his suspicions and perhaps even… Admit his admiration for Laios work. If that’s all he’s found himself to enjoy about Laios that’s is.

This got my brain juices going. Drabble under the cut.

It never felt like it was the right moment to catch Laios. It was only fair, he was a busy guy outside of club meetings. So, Toshiro decided to do things the old-fashioned way.

When the class they shared together ended, he turned to Laios, opening his mouth to speak, but then he was bombarded by their peers sitting nearby in the neighboring rows.

Realizing that it was yet again not a good time, Toshiro stood from his chair and grabbed his things, leaving the classroom. As students flooded out of the door, someone else came rushing after him.

"Hey! Toshiro!"

Startled by his name being called, Toshiro turned around, meeting with Laios face-to-face again.

"Sorry it took me so long," he panted, catching his breath. "Did you wanna talk to me about something?"

Feeling put on the spot, Toshiro wanted to flee. Then he remembered, he needed to speak to Laios for a reason; a really good one. But he needed more time to gather his bearings about this.

"Can you meet me at the restaurant later tonight?" Club sessions weren't tonight due to everyone's schedules being packed, so they'd have a table to themselves.

"Sure!" Laios nodded. Another friend of his presumably called after him, catching his attention, but he made sure to properly say goodbye to Toshiro first.

Then, it was back to being invisible again.

Later, Laios met him at the restaurant as promised. He was on time, which wasn't unusual, but Toshiro was expecting him to postpone because something had come up.

Toshiro just had a coffee, because he had assignments he preferred to stay up late completing after this. He let Laios order whatever he wanted, though. He even offered to share some of his food with Toshiro, one of which was a gigantic plate of french fries.

Toshiro gave into trying just one, dipping it into the glob of ketchup on the side of the plate. It was incredibly salty, but it tasted incredible.

"Good, right?" Laios grinned. Toshiro smiled back. Okay, here goes nothing...

When Toshiro vouched to change the subject, Laios picked up another fry. "Try another!"

Seeing Laios dangle the salty fry at his face, Toshiro took it from him, taking a bite. Laios' smiled brightly, and then he began to talk to Toshiro about plans for their next campaign.

It was impossible to get Laios to stop when he was on a passionate tangent, so Toshiro let him. He paid for their check, insisting it was his treat and not Laios', and then they left the restaurant. Thankfully, judging by the silence, Laios must've run out of steam.

"Laios," Toshiro began, ignoring his racing heart as he continued. "Do you... do you remember when you showed me your collection at your house?"

Laios perked up. "Oh. Yeah, I do. Why?"

Toshiro stopped walking. Laios stopped a few steps ahead of him, noticing Toshiro wasn't moving anymore.

"That feather I saw in your lunch box," Toshiro said after, "I noticed, that it was also mentioned in one of your novels..."

Laios was quiet for some time, making Toshiro panic, wondering if he said the wrong thing. Then, he heard a chuckle come from the other man.

"So," he started, hands in his pockets as he approached Toshiro. "I'm guessing you figured it out, huh?"

Toshiro could only blink in utter confusion. "What?"

"I thought I was being subtle, well, kinda." Laios said with a bashful smile on his lips.

"I don't-" Toshiro shook his head, frowning. "Understand..."

"You basically just told me you read my novels, only someone that does would know this at all," Laios said, being more direct this time. "I haven't shown anyone other than Falin that feather."

This must mean Laios wanted to show him his collection, just Toshiro, and only him.

"Are you serious?"

Laios laughed, ruffling the back of his head. "Yeah. Y'know, it really makes me happy knowing you like my work."

Toshiro walked past him, pink coloring his pale cheeks, and it wasn't from the cold weather.

"Wait, Toshiro! Where are you going?!" Laios chased after him.

"Far away from you." Toshiro muttered.

"Just hold on a second!" Laios grabbed his arm, shifting in front of him on his feet. "I'm not trying to make fun of you about it!"

"The similarities between you and your writing made me feel like I've gone insane, and I've been keeping this in for weeks and weeks without saying a word about it," Toshiro confessed. When he saw that Laios wasn't reacting, he came to a disturbing conclusion. "How long have you known?"

"Hmm..." Laios hummed, taking his hand off Toshiro's arm. "I just had a feeling, I guess? Besides, you were kind of acting off since then. At first I thought you were freaked out, but that can't be the case. Then there was the possibility you knew about my work. I didn't want to ask you outright. I thought it was a stretch, so I was hoping you'd come to me about it."

There was no reason to try to fight this. Laios had him cornered.

"I'd have to admit, you are a remarkable writer," Toshiro said begrudgingly. "You and your protagonists have some things in common. Brash, insatiable, oblivious, surprisingly perceptive to other's emotions." And those just happened to be the traits that drew Toshiro to Laios in the first place. "But their resolve..." Laios stared at him intensely as he continued, hoping he could ignore his nerves, "is nothing like I've ever seen, I can't believe I'm saying this, I feel as if if they keep going on they could rule the world someday and succeed."

Laios' smile was warm, hearing Toshiro's feedback. "Yeah?"

He was suddenly closer than before, close enough for their lips to touch if he had taken another step.

"Yes." Toshiro whispered, a breath away from feeling Laios' lips on his, a hand on his chest, tilting his head up slightly.

Just as Laios was about to grant that wish, stirring Toshiro's gut, he snapped out of it last minute, stepping away.

"I should, uh, get home-" Toshiro blurted, eyes darting from Laios.

"Oh," Laios coughed, covering his mouth with his palm. "Okay. Sorry, I know you have an exam tomorrow morning. Can I walk you home?"

Toshiro waved his hand. "You don't have to do that-"

"Please." Laios begged, coming closer again. Toshiro stumbled back, because if he were in the same position as he were in before he was going to do something he'd regret in the morning. "Can I?"

Laios was just walking him home - an innocent gesture of kindness he'd been doing for some time now. It shouldn't mean anything, should it? He practically confessed that he idolized Toshiro and how happy it made him to know Toshiro was a reader of his novels. It was sure to affect their relationship in some capacity; but maybe if they pretended otherwise, it wouldn't make things weird between them.

Toshiro nodded. When he walked, he slowed his pace for Laios to catch up. Somehow, their arms couldn't stop brushing on the entire walk back, but neither of them could bring themselves to look at each other, far too embarrassed to.

Who were they kidding, they couldn't be subtle about their feelings on the situation to save their lives.

[marikosenwrites]

"happy birthday, osamu." - june 19th

a/n: unfortunately no nsfw...also, sorry this came late! i was busy with school, it's almost ending!

all of the agency (not including kunikida) wanted to surprise dazai with a not-so-surprise birthday party. they needed someone to stall him in order to prepare for it. you, his girlfriend, would be the best choice, wouldn't it?

"osamu!" you happily woke him up, although knowing how much he hates being woken up from a good night's sleep. "happy birthday!!"

"bella! oh, yes, it's my birthday today!" he's fairly happy, honestly- being able to spend his birthday with his loved one? for the first time ever? yeah! of course!

"i have a surprise for you- but it's at the end of the day," you smile brightly at the man.

"bella...why can't you tell me now?" he begs, looking up at you with puppy eyes.

you almost fell for it- but knowing dazai, it was mostly just a play to have his way. "nuh-uh," you wag your finger at him, "but let's go out to celebrate your birthday."

"yayy!" his laugh is almost childish, if not just excited. "now i'm happy that you woke me up."

the two of you get ready for the day ahead and leave for the streets of yokohama early. you suggested going to chinatown first for the food and the unique chinese traditions that are performed there, and dazai agrees that you two should go.

"oh, oh, let's go to that restaurant! last time i went with atsushi-kun, and it was delicious!" he mentions the weretiger boy, who's always tortured by the suicidal man.

"oh, how i pity atsushi-kun," you joke. "looks like there's a table already. let's go."

he follows you to the said table and looks at the menu. "ne ne, what's this? french toast? have you heard of it?"

"mhm," you nod as you scan the menu, "it's bread dipped in egg yolk and fried with condensed milk. sometimes, there's peanut butter in the middle." (it's actually one of author-san's favorite dishes!)

"woah...sounds good!" dazai calls over a waiter and orders the french toast and you order an egg sandwich special.

"would you like a drink?" the waiter asks, notebook in hand.

"oh, milk tea please. osamu?" you gesture to the man.

"same with what they're ordering!" he replies. the waiter nods with a content face and leaves, leaving you two alone. "this looks really china-style. where's this based on?"

"i believe it's from some hong kong tea restaurant. it's everywhere!" you exclaim.

"how do you know so much?" you've got dazai fascinated with the facts that are beyond his knowledge. his knowledge belongs on the battlefield, not restaurants. that was your job, to show people which good restaurants to go, and which ones that you should go out of your way to avoid.

"online research exists, you know?" you laugh. "the agency just doesn't make much of it."

"aha." he scratches his head.

the food arrives less than five minutes after ordering. dazai and you finished your breakfast quickly - or should i say brunch - and headed to other shops.

your plan was to bring dazai back to the agency for lunch, and party there for the rest of the day. you had talked with the rest of the members, and they all agreed on it. it didn't matter if everyone got drunk.

soon enough, it was already two in the afternoon and both of you were getting a bit hungry. "osamu," you start, "let's go. the surprise is ready." you had just gotten a call from ranpo saying that the party was ready.

his hand in yours, and you two headed back to the agency's building. before you could go in, you told dazai to close his eyes, checking at least thrice before leading him into the elevator and into the agency's office.

as you told dazai to open his eyes, the agency members shouted,

"happy birthday, dazai!"

dazai looked so happy, he could cry. "bella- is this the surprise?"

"yes! happy birthday, osamu."

and in that moment, he couldn't ask for anything more than to spend his time in the world with his friends.

©marikosenwrites 2023-2024 all rights reserved. please do not repost my work on other platforms, or translate it and repost without credit. likes, reblogs, and comments are welcome! <3

[reasoningdaily]

16 Black Innovators Who Changed Food Forever

Macaroni and cheese. Ice cream. French fries. Jack Daniel's whisky. Frozen foods in general.

We wouldn't have any of the above foods, plus many others, were it not for Black food innovators and figureheads that have made significant contributions and altered the way we eat and make food today.

Below are just some of the stories of these incredibly talented and inspiring individuals. Some of these names came from research via the New York Times and Food and Wine, but we've also included historical sourcing and context for each person as well. You can click on their names to view those original pieces.

Nathan "Nearest" Green

Known as "Uncle Nearest," Nathan Green was a skilled distiller who mastered the "Lincoln County" process. This method of distilling is thought by food historians and whiskey experts alike to have been brought in by slaves, and uses charcoal to filter and purify foods. The "Lincoln County" process, in particular, uses sugar maple charcoal to filter bourbon.

Green trained hired hand Jasper Newton Daniel (known to the world as "Jack Daniel") while working on a priest's distillery in Lynchburg, Tennessee. Daniel eventually made him the first master distiller of Jack Daniel's, the famous Tennessee whisky many people drink today.

While Jack Daniel's shares the story of Green on their website, an all minority-led whisky brand named "Uncle Nearest" continues to build upon his legacy with spirits that use the same distilling technique, but feature Green's name on the bottle.

While Thomas Jefferson is sometimes credited with bringing foods like mac & cheese and ice cream to the United States, Hemings was the one who actually learned to make them. A slave in the ownership of Jefferson prior to his presidency, Hemings traveled with him to France in 1784 specifically to learn the art of French cuisine.

Hemings became the first American trained as a French chef in history as a result, bringing back several dishes to the United States. French fries, ice cream, macaroni and cheese, creme brulee, French meringues, and French whipped cream are just a few examples. These dishes and others would be incorporated in Hemings' signature half-French, half-Virginian style of cooking he became renowned for.

Hemings would later also cook one of the most famous dinners in American history: the one between Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton that settled who would pay for the Revolutionary War and established Washington, D.C. as the United States' capital. He eventually was freed by Jefferson in 1796.

Zephyr Wright

Zephyr Wright was the personal chef for President Lyndon B. Johnson and his family for over twenty years. It was her cooking that made the Johnson household a popular one for D.C. dinner parties.

Wright would follow Johnson to the White House during his tenure, and was in charge of the home cooking in the White House kitchen. She would also temporarily cook all meals, including VIP ones, in between the tenures of two White House Executive Chefs.

Wright is thought to have heavily influenced Johnson's support for the Civil Rights Act of 1964,. Wright was known to have spoken up to the President during his time in Congress about the injustices she faced road tripping between Texas and D.C. during congressional recesses, saying that she was not allowed to use the bathroom in areas she was driving through, and couldn't stop off and eat at restaurants. President Johnson reportedly used some of her stories to convince Congress to sign the bill. He would also give her a White House pen when the act was signed into law.

Leah Chase

The Queen of Creole Cuisine, Leah Chase was the heart and soul of Dooky Chase's restaurant in New Orleans across seven decades. Known for her fried chicken, red beans and rice, gumbo, and other classics, Chase started out in the 1940s when she got a job as a server at a restaurant. She eventually took over the helm and made it a safe haven for anyone to come and eat at.

Dooky Chase's was known as one of the few places that it was publicly okay for races to mix at, since the cops wouldn't bother activists inside the restaurant. Thus, leaders of the Civil Rights Movement, including local leaders and national ones like Martin Luther King Jr., would often strategize while eating there.

Chase would go on to serve presidents like Barack Obama and George W. Bush, along with Associate Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall and other influential figures. Disney has even made a movie with a character inspired by her: Princess Tiana of Princess and the Frog.

Abby Fisher

Around the early 1880s, Abby Fisher was known for her award-winning pickles and the Mrs. Abby Fisher Pickle Company in San Francisco. She had at least 35 years of cooking experience, some estimates had it, and the awards she won for her food reflected that.

However, Fisher is probably best known for publishing one of the first cookbooks ever authored by an African-American woman. The book, called What Mrs. Fisher Knows About Old Southern Cooking, contains over 160 recipes and uses the dictated words of Fisher herself.

The cookbook surged in popularity in the late 20th century when a publisher began reprinting it in 1995. Today, it offers a window into these early recipes that places like museums try to recreate for guests to sample.

Edna Lewis

Edna Lewis became a legend while she cooked at Cafe Nicholson in Midtown Manhattan starting in 1949. Her fame and Southern recipes led to guests like Marlon Brando, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Salvador Dali showing up for dinner. After stepping away from the chef's role (as an active partner) in 1952, she would lecture at the American Museum of Natural History while working as a chef and private caterer.

Lewis would later become inspired to write her first cookbook as demand for them grew in 1972. She was one of the first African-American women from the South that would publish a cookbook that did not hide her name, gender, or race. She would go on to publish more in the future, eventually becoming known as the Grand Dame and Grand Doyenne of Southern cooking.

Larry James and Jereline Bethune

The Bethune family, to this day, runs Brenda's Bar-Be-Que Pit in Montgomery, Alabama. Open since 1942, the restaurant would become an important hub for those in the Civil Rights Movement.

After Rosa Parks infamously refused to give up her seat on a Montgomery bus, Larry James and Jereline Bethune were instrumental in using their restaurant to organize bus boycott efforts around the city. As the movement continued and literacy test laws (meant to curtail the Black vote) were introduced, Jereline would also quietly hold lessons teaching other African-Americans how to read. They were then able to pass these literacy tests and go out and vote.

Alfred L. Cralle

Ice cream today would not be the same without the work of Alfred Cralle. Born just after the Civil War, he had an affinity for mechanics as a young age, and would go study at Wayland Seminary, a school set up after the Civil War to educate newly freed African-Americans.

Cralle would go on to work as a porter at a drugstore and a hotel in Philadelphia, and developed the idea of the ice cream scoop while watching people struggle using two different spoons to get the ice cream into cones. Cralle's mechanical inventional, which is the basis of how ice cream scoops work to this day, was invented in 1897.

Cralle would also become a successful promoter of businesses in Philly, and was the assistant manager of the Afro-American Financial, Accumulating, Merchandise, and Business Association in Pittsburgh.

Ever heard the story of how potato chips were invented to spite a customer at a restaurant? George Crum was the chef at said restaurant, the Moon Lake Lodge resort in Saratoga Springs. A customer came in around the summer of 1853 wanting extra-thin French Fries, frustrating Crum to the point he sliced them as thin as possible, fried them in grease, and sent them out.

The chips became a big hit, eventually becoming known as "Saratoga Chips." While Crum never patented the dish, he did open his own restaurant, "Crumbs House," that served a basket of them at every table.

Chips wouldn't become a grocery product until 1895, and the concept of bagged chips didn't show up until 1926.

Joseph Lee was one of the most influential people when it came to industrializing the way we make bread.

Having worked in a bakery from a young age, Lee eventually became the owner of two restaurants in Boston, as well as a hotel and a catering company. Looking to find a way to minimize bread waste, he eventually invented a machine that would convert day-old bread into breadcrumbs. Patented in 1895, he later sold the rights and the breadcrumb maker would spread across the world.

That wasn't Lee's only invention, however. He would later patent the idea for an automatic bread maker that mixed and kneaded the dough, the basis to the same devices (think, stand mixers) that we still use in our kitchens today.

Lloyd Hall is considered to be one of the pioneers in the world of food chemistry. A pharmaceutical chemist for Griffith Laboratories in Chicago who completed graduate school, Hall would be awarded over 100 patents and received multiple honorary doctorate degrees for his work.

Hall's main area of work came around the development of techniques to preserve food. Some of his most revolutionary patents included using  "flash-dried" salt crystals that revolutionized meatpacking. He also introduced the use of antioxidants to prevent the spoilage of fats and oils in baked goods, and developed a process known as "Ethylene Oxide Vacugas," which could control the growth of bacteria and molds in food.

John Standard was an inventor instrumental in modernizing two pieces of kitchen equipment that virtually every household has today: stoves and refrigerators.

Refrigeration was a concept that was being researched as early as the 1830s, but mainly focused on using some sort of power. Standard's improvement to the fridge, patented in 1891, was an unpowered design that used a manually filled ice chamber as the central cooling unit.

Standard also made significant upgrades to the oil-powered stove, patenting one with a space-saving design in 1889 that could be used in applications like buffet-style meals on trains.

If you've worked in the food industry or any commercial transportation that required keeping stuff cold, you've likely seen the Thermo King brand somewhere in your lifetime. Frederick McKinley Jones was the founder of that company, and inventor of the first automated refrigerated system for trucks.

A skilled and gifted electrician and mechanic, Jones had patents for sixty different inventions across a wide variety of fields, including the portable X-ray machine, motion picture devices, and even medical storage units.

He's most known for the Thermo King, the refrigerated system he invented, because it allowed for fresh goods from around the world to be transported and sold in stores. Jones is essentially responsible for not just all refrigerated transport globally, but also the entire frozen food industry.

Known as the "Oyster King of New York," Downing was most known for his 19th-century restaurant, Thomas Downing's Oyster House. His oyster hall was legendary, with prominent figures like Queen Victoria and Charles Dickens having dined there.

Downing was born a free man, as his parents were freed by plantation owner John Downing. He grew up and was educated on Chincoteague Island in Virginia, and eventually made his way up to New York following the war of 1812. Like many other African-Americans in New York, Downing eventually went into the oyster business, opening his own oyster cellar in the 1820s.

Oyster cellars were the universal food of New York at the time (similar to hot dogs today), but many establishments weren't as trusted as Downing's. That's because he specifically catering it towards the fine dining clientele, with a large dining area, carpet, and chandeliers gracing the hall. Elaborate dishes like oyster-stuffed turkeys and a pan roast made with wine and chili graced the menu.

This, at the time, meant that African-Americans couldn't eat Downing's restaurant, but few were aware of the double life he led. Downing's basement was a key stop in the Underground Railroad, and as an abolitionist, he helped many that were escaping the South in search of freedom. He also led political efforts, funding schools for African-American children and leading the fight in desegregating New York's trolley system.

Downing was so regarded in New York that when he passed away in 1866, the New York City Chamber of Commerce closed so that its members could attend his funeral.

The sugar industry in the United States has Norbert Rillieux to thank for allowing them to become so powerful. Were it not for his inventions, making sugar would still be a time-consuming and dangerous process.

Originally, the sugar refinement process, known as "The Jamaica Train," was dangerous and expensive. Laborers (usually slaves) would transfer ladles of scalding hot sugar case juice between open boiling kettles, often resulting in scalding and terrible burns (anyone who's worked with sugar knows how painful it can be). The result was a dark syrup that was molded into cones and dried before being sold.

From  1834-1843, Rillieux developed a system for refining and crystallizing sugar using a much safer and controlled method, allowing the United States to eventually dominate the sugar market. His process is still used today for freeze-drying food, pigments, and other food products.

Many people know George Washington Carver for the myriad of products he invented that utilized peanuts or sweet potatoes. As an agricultural scientist working in the South, he was also a man responsible for helping revitalize much of the economy in that region.

Working out of the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama, Carver was a teacher and a researcher from the late 1890s until his passing in 1943. An early pioneer of crop rotation, he encouraged farmers to plant peanuts in the soil after harvest to replenish lost nutrients, helping farmers improve not just their livelihoods, but their diets as well.

Carver's research and work focused on revitalizing soil and maximizing plant production while keeping costs to a minimum. Outside of agriculture, he was a massive promoter of racial equality, and massive advocate of peanut oil as a potential treatment for polio. While never proven, the claim was widely circulated in media, and eventually turned into a "Peanuts for Polio" fundraising effort that helped raise money for medical care and benefits for children affected with the disease.

Following Carver's passing, then-Senator Harry S. Truman sponsored legislation that would lead to the construction of the George Washington Carver National Monument. It was the first-ever national memorial to an African-American.

[childofsardior]

What do you think of the versions of the koopalings from Super Show? I usually hc them as just younger versions of the current koopalings

Thanks for asking! This is an interesting question.

I'll start saying that I've recently finished re-watching the Super Mario Bros. 3 Super Show with my sibling and we wanted to re-watch the Super Mario World one, too. So I saw their show version very recently and have a fresh memory of them all.

Short answer: (in my HC) The Super Show ones are not the younger version of my Koopalings, but I took some charateristics from them to give to my current (or younger) Koopalings!

Long answer: I personally like to think about the Super Show whole universe as one of the many alternative timelines/versions of the Super Mario World, so I see the show Koopalings too as alternative versions of the games/current ones. For my HC/AU, I am working on my personal view of the Koopalings + Jr. as kids. Most of them are quite or totally different from their Super Show versions, but I wanted to take some inspirations from details I liked about their personality in the show, too, as little references!

For example, Larry cheats a lot. I think he started cheating when he was little, considering the amount of older siblings he had to fight to impose himself. And being the youngest - exception made for Jr., that being the official Heir is a spoiled brat and will be always protected by Kamek or one of his careteakers - he could not win a single fight without finding the smartest (or dirtiest) way to do it. I want to think he was especially unsufferable when he was younger, while now he only cheats when needed (that's still often). I took this from his Super Show version and from Super Mario Kart 8 description.

Wendy is another example. Right now she has style and everything but it's not hard for me to think about a child version of her being extremely bratty and demanding as Kootie Pie is in the Show. I also love the idea of her being (or thinking herself as) Bowser's "favorite" when she was little, along with Junior probably, being the only girl and everything. But I also see my younger version of Wendy being actually cute and affectionate to her adoptive father in a sincere way.

(BTW Kootie Pie is probably my fav from the Super Show Koopalings, NGL)

I can kinda see Bully resembling a younger version of Roy, to be honest. But I personally was mostly inspired by his Super Show name. In fact I mostly headcanon kid-Roy as a tiny Dragon-Turtle that wanted his indipendence most of all and fighted a lot with his siblings, even before being adopted by Bowser, and resembling an actual "bully" for the most time he had to spend around younger siblings or underlings.

For my HC Ludwig, I actually took two details from Kookie in the show: one being baby/kid Ludwig HATING brushes and totally refusing to cut his hair, resulting in a blue mess of wild hair running around until he was like 12 or so; the other one is the French Fries joke in the last episode, when Kookie can only think about the Fries when King Koopa goes to France. Well, you can guess who is the one that always, casually and classily, orders French Fries at restaurants among my HC Koopalings.

I do not have much to say about Morton, Iggy and Lemmy compared to Big Mouth, Hip and Hop, except for the fact that I am saving the characters of Hip and Hop (or, to be honest, an inspired, fan-made version of them with the same names) to be future twin sons of Iggy - when all the Koopalings will be adult, with their own domains and everything and some of them with their own new families and kids! But this is a very long story and who knows, maybe I'll tell you in a distant future ;3

[heavenlyyshecomes]

Cha chaan teng means ‘tea restaurant’ in Cantonese (cha canting in Mandarin) but these places are much more than that. There is one in Shanghai, hidden on a quiet street that splits off from chaotic Huahai Zhong Lu. The neon sign hanging in the window, “茶餐厅”, spills pink and green light onto the wet pavement. There is always a queue, and you will always have to share a small table with people you don’t know. The walls are a pale greenish-brown, with retro screens of yellow and blue glass tiles separating smokers from the non-smokers. It’s like stepping into Chungking Express, Wong Kar Wai’s film set in 1990s Hong Kong, with its cool palette of jade green and soft aquamarine. When I first saw the film I recognised the colours instantly, and the way the characters always seemed to be looking at each other through a haze of steam and city smog. At the back of the restaurant, where plates of food arrive clattering from the kitchen onto steel counters, the shelves are stacked with tins of condensed milk, Bovril, soup and packets of instant noodles. The menu is what you might call ‘Canto-Western’ or, as it’s known colloquially, ‘soy sauce Western food’. When Hong Kong was a British colony, cha chaan tengs emerged as a cheap option for those wanting Western food, which was usually only available at high-end restaurants. As a result, here are all the wondrous comfort foods of my childhood somehow listed on a single menu: fried noodles and fried rice, soy sauce chicken and roast goose, pork buns and fried wontons, along with spaghetti, macaroni, tinned soup, corned beef, sandwiches and toast of all kinds. Peanut butter toast, sugar toast, condensed milk toast, and Hong Kong-style deep-fried French toast.

—Nina Mingya Powles, Tiny Moons: A Year of Eating in Shanghai

[sweetsreverie]

any and all könig headcanons you have 🥹 relationships, literally anything you think of!!

oh man.. thank you for letting me indulge here 🫶🏼

he’s the definition of a gentle giant. he has a giant, hulking frame, but he’s really a sweetheart.

he has an anxious attachment style with his partners. this wasn’t caused by his upbringing with his parents, but rather.. just his anxiety

he seeks reassurance from his partners, and he really fears rejection; he has a need to please

he’s a giant man, so he lives in the big & tall section of every clothing department. finding clothes that fit him well is difficult

when he goes to the supermarket, he’s not surprised anymore when someone asks him to get something from the top shelf - he doesn’t mind it though

he has a heavy weighted blanket; the pressure is soothing and it helps with his restlessness

he likes mulled wine when the weather gets cold

he really likes animals! he had a dog as a kid, and at his current apartment he has a bird feeder outside his window

it takes a lot to get him drunk

the quickest way is to do straight shots with him

he's a pretty good cook, and he really enjoys pasta

while he’s mostly introverted, once he warms up to someone, he allows himself to be a little outspoken

he’s very attentive to others, and he’s a great listener. if you’re telling a story or something and others seem to not be listening, he’s always the one to tell you to continue because he’s listening

he definitely has a journal of some kind, writing down his thoughts and he draws little doodles

he’s a very clean and tidy guy; he finds peace in cleaning up his space at the end of every week

he likes sweet and savory combinations, someone showed him french fries and ice cream and he immediately took to it

he can’t handle spicy food at all

quality time is his biggest love language

he has a tough time fitting in cars and plane seats; he can never get enough leg room

he really likes to read, he has a huge e-book library since it’s easier to have with him than a physical book when he’s away from home

if his food is wrong at a restaurant he’s absolutely not going to speak up about it, he’ll just deal with it

he was taught how to play chess as a kid, and he only got better as he gets older

he doesn’t like strong smells when it comes to cologne and things like that. he smells like laundry detergent mostly; he just smells clean

his hair is really messy when he takes off his helmet at the end of the day

[lilyoffandoms]

Hey there! No pressure to do this, but if you want to indulge me... it could be a scene, quick dialogue, or a full fic if you wish (or you can toss this! lol)

AU where Gabirel and Trystan meet for the first time at a bar after both of their blind dates stood them up.

Crimes Drabble AU - Trystan x Gabriel

Warning & A/N: None other than drinking. Decided to write in the style I’ve come to for this book/pairing. Thanks much for this. It was fun!

Quote edit by the lovely @aallotarenunelma

I look out across the crowded pub.

Stuffed to the brim.

Across the room, sweaty bodies grind against their dance partner and everyone else on the packed floor as music pumps from the speakers of some wanna be deejay that the bartender’s brother’s cousin’s neighbor probably convinced the manager to hire on for the night.

The tables in the back of the place that constitutes the restaurant portion this bar slash wanna be pub, are full of couples feeding french fries to each other and groups of raucous friends laughing over some stupid joke told every time they go out together.

Each seat at the rail is occupied by a mix of drunks drowning their sorrows. Or drunks hoping beyond hope that the answer to all their troubles is at the bottom of their next glass. Or drunks hitting on the poor soul next to them, spewing some cheap pick up line that never works but maybe it will this time, they think, if only the person they use it on is drunk enough to find it endearing through the filter of all the alcohol.

I knew I shouldn’t have bothered tonight. It felt wrong the minute I said sure, why not.

Why fucking not indeed, I had thought in the moment. Ruby wouldn’t set me up with anyone she didn’t think I’d hit it off with. She convinced me and I convinced myself that it would be good for me.

I toss the last contents of my glass back and look for one of bartenders. One mixing drinks, another restocking, and yet another flirting for tips.

Well, this, this right here was why fucking not. A text promising to make it up to me and reschedule soon.

I’ve met enough people, hell I’ve interrogated enough people to recognize a lie when I see one.

I attempt to flag the bartender down again. Any of them. I just want another drink.

I look down into my empty glass. Maybe it can tell me why I was this stupid. Stupid enough to accept his blind date set up and even more stupid to actually show up.

The promise of love was really just one disappointment after another.

I try to wave anyone down at this point. I need another damn drink because this empty one is providing me no answers.

What a fucking joke!

I stand on the rail and glance over the bar that at one time was polished. I see the bottle I’m looking for and stretch out to reach it while trying desperately to avoid touching the sticky bar.

“Here,” an accented voice smiles as a hand reaches beyond my own grasp to snag the bottle and pours me another glass in one incredibly fluid motion.

The woman next to me, that the stranger has reached around, doesn’t seem the least bit annoyed by this person pouring drinks across her own space at the bar. In fact, she seems quite please with the entire situation as she smiles stupidly at my bartending savior.

She lifts her glass to him and he obliges in pouring her another drink with a dashing smile and some flirty words judging by the blush that creeps down her neck to engulf not only her cheeks but her entire chest on full display.

I shake my head and grin at the exchange. I should have known this blind date was a horrific idea the minute my date suggested this place.

This is so not my scene.

“Thanks,” I mumble absentmindedly, sure that he’s moved on to entertain the woman beside me.

I take a sip and close my eyes wishing I was back home as the man shoves his way past her, making his excuses, and stands beside my bar stool.

“You are most welcome,” he grins as he picks up the conversation I was foolish enough to initiate. “I’m just pleased I could buy you a drink.”

“Technically you didn’t. You stole one,” I say with little emotion as I stare straight ahead into the mirror and watch him.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off me, not even acknowledging the woman still trying to regain his attention beside him.

“What?” I ask sharply and turn to him as he continues to grin at me.

“Hello.”

He smiles at me, that same brilliant smile he’s tossed at just about everyone that has paid him any attention since he walked into the place tonight.

“Hi,” I respond.

Smooth, I chastise myself.

I wish I hadn’t noticed him. I wish he hadn’t walked over here. I wish-

I wish he would tell me his name.

“Trystan.”

I narrow my eyes at him, it’s like he’s read my mind. I don’t like it. I don’t trust it.

I look at his hand extended in the little space between us and finally take it.

“Gabriel.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Gabriel.”

His voice is honey and I’m stupid enough to want nothing more than to hear my name on his lips again. I simply nod in response and turn back to the mirror across the bar.

Anything to distract myself and avoid him.

“What brings you out here tonight?” he asks.

I can’t help but chuckle. “That line ever work for you?”

His laugh is bright and genuine as he answers, “It’s not a line. I am simply trying to start up a conversation with the gorgeous, albeit brooding, man at the bar, who is drinking alone.”

“That line ever work for you?” I grin

“You tell me.”

I turn back to him and take my time looking him over, deciding whether he’s worth the time or effort.

Sharply dressed, even for a bar, even for a New York bar. Expensive, tailored suit. Manicured nails. Hands that have probably never seen a days hard labor. A ring with a snake on it. Gold, large, expensive. Sculpted brows and neatly trimmed facial hair. Product in his hair and cologne that undoubtedly costs more than my month’s rent.

Maybe worth it for some fun but definitely not for the heartache that will inevitably come from messing with the likes of him.

Nope. No way. This would be a disaster before it even started.

“Tempting, but I don’t mess with,” I pause and look him over again, “with…,” I trail off unsure how to put ‘rich snobs’ nicely.

“With what?”

“With whatever you are,” I gesture at him.

“And what am I? Beyond the given.”

“And what’s the given?” I’m stupid enough to ask.

“A mysterious and handsome stranger that came to your rescue,” he winks.

I chuckle and shake my head. “You’re not my type. I don’t go for rich flirts.”

“Rich flirt?” his laugh rings out across even the din of the pub. “What makes you think I’m that?”

“Your suit and overall appearance tell me you are wealthy. Money has never been an issue for you. More than likely, you have more than you know what to do with. Your smiles, winks, and overall demeanor with everyone in here tells me you are a serial flirt. Too smooth and confident in how good looking you are. Those looks have seen you through life, and I’d wager, into plenty of beds.”

I watch as his smile grows with each of my words. Not what I was expecting, but I stand by my evaluation and my resolve to not let him flirt his way into anything with me.

“Should I continue?” I ask to distract myself from getting lost in the brilliance of that smile.

“Please do,” he laughs. “But only over dinner.”

He stands and holds his hand out to me.

“I don’t think so,” I say as I swallow the last of my stolen drink. “But thanks.”

“You are really going to let me dine alone? I have a table over there and a date that didn’t show up. Join me and tell me about all my other faults while I convince you I could be exactly your type.”

“Or my next mistake,” I say.

“Maybe,” he shrugs with a grin. “But, either way, I’m bound to be way more thrilling than sitting alone.”

“Fine,” I sigh as I stupidly let myself be talked out of all reason and into whatever brand of madness he is.

——————————

All Choices Tag: @storyofmychoices @peonierose @aallotarenunelma @inlocusmads

Other Tags: @choicesbookclub

[liliansilverstuff]

Prequel Drabble - The Whole Story

I asked for writing prompts of location/object/line of dialogue. My friend Amy (who, incidentally, inspired the OC character of the same name in my fic) said:

the location is a 50’s diner, the object is my thumb, the line is “don’t ask me if you don’t want my answer”

The following is a prequel. It has two original characters, who are Hermione’s (Muggle) college roommates in NJ. —

Hermione shifted uncomfortably on the seat of the sparkling red vinyl booth, scowling at Amy who wasn’t even looking at her, just giving her a thumbs down as she continued eating her french fries.

“I hate it when she does this,” Hermione said to Jenna, who was seated next to Amy.

Jenna merely cringed by way of reply, looking nervously between her two roommates.

“You know what? Fine,” Amy said, retracting her arm and reaching for her chocolate shake instead, “but in future, don’t ask me if you don’t want my answer.”

“It’s not even an answer!” Hermione cried, then jumped slightly as the waiter appeared next to her, sliding into view across the black and white checkered floor. His grin was as gaudy as the chrome accents peppered throughout the restaurant.

“Alrighty-roo, I know you cats ain’t been hollerin’ but I thought I’d swing on by the check on ya! Anything else I can do ya for?” he said.

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said, I find myself at a loss for words,” Amy replied, deadpan. The 50’s-style diner on Route 17 had the most flamboyantly stereotypical decor, as if an actual diner from the 50’s had drank ceremonial plant medicine, and then vomited out an interior design scheme. It also had the waitstaff to match.

The waiter seemed not to take in Amy’s words, because he just smiled and said, “Sounds good, toots, I’ll bring the check over in a jiff.” Then, he slapped his pad of paper onto his left palm, spun around, and walked jauntily away, elbows swinging.

Jenna giggled. “I should get a job here.”

“Jenna, nooo!” Hermione cried.

At the same time, Amy turned to her and said, “You’d be perfect.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, refocusing on Amy. “So you’re really not going to tell me why you so strongly object to Leon? I mean, god’s sake, Ames, all I said was I thought he was cute.”

“He’s a pig,” Amy replied, with such a matter-of-fact tone that Hermione had to narrow her eyes in suspicion.

“You say that as if you’ve had some experience with him.”

Amy scoffed loudly, throwing her head back as she did so. “Here’s the thing, girls,” she said, turning in the booth so that she was also facing Jenna. “When you get fucked over by one too many boys, you start to have radar for the ones who are gonna be total asswipes. And I, unfortunately, have an incredibly fine-tuned radar, okay? Which is why I am telling you that Leon is exactly the type who will waste years of your life, only to get bored eventually and move on to someone else!”

“Fine! Okay! I believe you, but could you just say that next time instead of shoving your thumb in my face?”

“I’ll consider it,” Amy said, taking a bite of a fry while holding eye contact with Hermione.

“Wow,” said Jenna, “I wish I had radar for that.”

“No worries, Jen. That’s what you have me for,” Amy said with a rare sweet smile.

Jenna sighed. “Well thank goodness for that. I certainly don’t wanna get mixed up with someone who’s gonna waste years of my life.”

“Your man’s on the way, Jenna. Someone who loves, or at least supports your Disney obsession, and makes you laugh like he’s tickling you every time he talks.”

Jenna stared over at Amy, open-mouthed. “How do you know that’s exactly what I want?

Amy shrugged. “I’ve lived with you for six months now, but I probably could have told you that after one.”

“Oh really?” said Hermione with a challenging smirk. “What is it that I’m after, then?” she said, then sat back, crossing her arms over her chest, extremely intrigued to hear Amy’s take on what she wanted.

Amy had just begun to sip her milkshake, and so held up a single finger as she finished and placed the tall glass back onto the table. She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin, then crumpled it and tossed it onto her plate as she began to speak.

“You want an intellectual equal. Someone who’s as big of a fucking nerd about school as you are, but not in an obvious way. He’s intelligent and refined, and he does have a sense of humor, but it’s very dry. The shit he says goes over a lot of people’s heads, and he doesn’t even care. Furthermore, he is enamored with you, and possessive in a way that makes you feel safe, not trapped.”

She picked up her milkshake as she finished this little speech, sucking up the dregs at the bottom and emptying the glass before placing it down once again.

Quirking an eyebrow at her friend, Hermione said, “Well I’m not sure about that last bit, but otherwise… you seem to have been reading my journal.”

Jenna gasped, turning to Amy in alarm. “Did you read our journals?!”

With another scoff, Amy said, “Please, I don’t have to. Everything I said is written all over the both of you.”

Hermione and Jenna sighed in unison, then became contemplative and quiet while Amy handled the check.

Once everything was taken care of, Hermione piped back up with, “I just wonder if someone like that even exists, you know?”

At this, Amy smirked in that all-knowing way she so often did. “Patience,” she said.

That was the last thing that was said on the matter, as they exited the diner and headed back to campus.

[direwombat]

Crime boss au for sybeli 👀

ahhhhh thank you gen this was such a fun little exploration of the quasi formed "mobster syb" au i have floating in my brain. eli strikes me as too much of a hermit to be an effective mob boss, but in an au where syb gets involved in organized crime to pay off her daddy's gambling debts...well...i think she'd be able to run hope county from the shadows :)

also lmao whoops this ended up being almost 2k (but then again, as i always say...anything under 5k is "short" for me).

[SEND ME A PAIRNG + AN AU SETTING]

The great part about living in Middle-of-Nowhere, Montana, Eli finds, is that there usually isn’t a soul around for miles. 

The bad part about living in Middle-of-Nowhere, Montana, is that when an uninvited soul does come knocking, there isn’t anyone around to help.

He’d been disarmed of his rifle so swiftly that he didn’t even notice the other man circling behind him to throw a burlap sack over his head. His hands were forced behind his back, the zip ties quickly snapped into place around them, and he’d been shoved into the backseat of a vehicle. 

Blind as he is, he has no idea where they’re going, and he knew better than to ask. The kind of people who kidnap a man from his home aren’t the kind to answer his questions. He sits silently, shifting his weight uncomfortably, desperately trying to keep his hands from going numb under his weight. His jaw is clenched and his ears strain for any familiar sounds that might give him a clue of where they’re taking him. 

The purring of the engine. Soft chatter, some of it in a language he doesn’t understand but thinks might be French. The crunching of gravel as they trundle along the dirt roads of the Whitetails. 

And then traffic. 

Traffic. Other cars around them. Civilization. Town. 

They have to be heading towards Falls End. He hasn’t been sitting long enough for it to be anywhere else. 

He guesses it’s about twenty minutes later that the vehicle pulls to a stop and the driver cuts the engine. The second he’s pulled from his seat, Eli is hit with the stench of beer, stale cigarettes, and deep fried food, and while muffled, the distinct sound of classic rock blares from a jukebox nearby. A heavy hand shoves between his shoulder blades and he stumbles forward. Every step he takes is hesitant, fearful he’ll walk himself straight into a goddamn wall.

But his handlers guide him with gruff instructions. “Keep going straight,” and, “face right,” and “stop.” A door creaks open and the overwhelming sounds and smells only get stronger as he’s ushered inside what he assumes is likely the Spread Eagle. The sack is pulled from his head, hair lifting in a staticy mess. 

It doesn’t take long for his eyes to adjust. The bar itself is dimly lit and the halls behind it, just past the restrooms and kitchen, are even moreso. A single lightbulb flickers unsteadily overhead and he’s guided once more towards another door. He’d only ever been back here a handful of times -- back when Casey had been kind enough to let him store the game he caught in the restaurant freezers, before he built his own -- and had simply assumed this particular door was to the Fairgrave's office, where they kept their books and receipts. 

But as one man pushes the door open, it isn’t any of the Fairgraves he sees occupying the space. 

Instead, there stands a woman he’s never seen before. A woman with short, dark hair, dressed in a crisp white button up and black pinstripe vest and slacks. Garters wrap around her biceps and her cuffs are rolled up to her elbows -- not that it prevented blood from flecking and spattering onto it. She leans against a heavy mahogany desk in the center of the room, smoking a cigar and filling the room with clouds of smoke. Her hands are bruised and still adorned with brass knuckles while jazz plays quietly from a record player off in the corner. 

The room itself is warm, almost cozy -- styled like an antique library. Dark wood bookshelves line the walls. Heavy curtains, deep red in color, are drawn over the window, blotting out the light, or, more accurately, preventing anyone from seeing what’s transpiring inside. The space is adorned with antique, velvet clawfoot couches and chairs, and at the center stands a heavy mahogany desk. A plush carpet covers the hardwood floors, and laying on that carpet is a man whose face has been reduced to paste. 

Eli’s blood goes cold and he swallows thickly. He feels like he just walked back in time or stepped foot on the set of a film about 1920s gangsters. 

The woman’s gaze flicks over them before settling on one of the men standing behind him. “Clean that up, would’ya?” she says, less of a request and more an order. Then, she looks to Eli and tilts her head towards one of the chairs. “You. Sit.”  He freezes for a moment, deer in headlights, and it isn’t until she shoots him a glare that clearly says Don’t make me repeat myself that he shuffles forward and takes a seat. 

The other two men grip the unconscious body by his arms and legs before dragging him off, leaving a red smear across the hardwood floor. 

The door then shuts with a damning click, and the woman’s attention is solely on him.

“Little birdie tells me you know how to build things where they ain’t supposed to go,” she says, gingerly letting her brass knuckles slide off her hands. She tucks them in her pocket. “That true?” 

He swallows thickly. The bunkers he’s built for himself and a few others are violating zoning laws and he maybe bribed a friend in Falls End to help him get permits regardless. Are the structures technically illegal? Yeah, but it isn’t like he’s hurting anyone with them. “Who’s asking?”

“Someone who’s willin’ to pay you a lot of money for comparatively little work,” she says evenly. 

Alarms, sirens, and all other manner of warnings go off inside Eli’s mind. Getting involved with a woman like this one can only spell bad news for him. It’s never just one job for people like her. “I’m good,” he grits from between clenched teeth. 

Her brows lift in surprise. “Are ya now? ‘Cause that ain’t what I’m hearin’.” She grins. Smugly. Knowingly. Cruelly. “Those alimony and child support checks are a real bitch, ain’t they?”

Eli’s jaw clenches even tighter, the vein at his temple throbbing in anger. Not only does she know about his finances, she also knows about his ex-wife and kid. “What do you want?”

“I want you to do a job, Mr. Palmer.” 

“And if I say no?”

“Don’t see why you would,” she shrugs. “Like I said before, you’ll be handsomely compensated. But, I s’pose if you really ain’t wantin’ to play ball, maybe I let my good friends over at the sheriff’s department know that one of your bunkers is storin’ a helluva lotta oxy. Hell, maybe all of ‘em are.” 

Something in her smile shifts at the threat -- her expression hardens to stone and the teasing glimmer in her eyes fades. She isn’t fucking around. He believes she can and would frame him for drug crimes. But then a question scratches at the back of his mind. Is one of the bunkers he built being used to store drugs? He’s not proud of how his voice shakes. “This is extortion,” he says, as if the moral judgment behind it means anything to her.

She barks a laugh and it's one of pure, and utter amusement. “Of course not Mr. Palmer. This is just blackmail. I’m askin’ ya nicely.” She tilts her head to the side, drinking in the sight of him tied in front of her. She then quirks a brow. “Whether or not it turns into extortion is entirely up to you.” Her gaze then slowly rakes over his body appreciatively and Eli barely suppresses a shudder. “Though I must confess, it’d be a shame to do anything to that face of yours.” She regards him, considering. “How do you feel about your kneecaps?”

“I like’em as they are,” he says hoarsely

She hums and nods. “So you understand what I’m askin’ of ya, then.” 

Fuck him. Either he says no and ends up in the hospital or worse, in prison, or he says yes and ends up in the employ of someone who definitely isn’t on the right side of the law. And while the thought of affiliating himself with someone so casual about violence makes his skin crawl, at least the latter option means that his kid is still taken care of. 

Slowly, he nods. “Think so.” 

“Glad we could come to an agreement,” she smiles, as if she hadn’t coerced and threatened him into it. Setting her cigar down and pulling a butterfly knife from her other pocket, she circles behind him and cuts the zip-tie binding his wrists together. “You’ll get half your payment up front along with detailed instructions of what it is I want you to build. You’ll receive the rest upon completion. Understood?” 

Eli rubs at the chafed skin around his wrists. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good.” She goes to sit at her desk and she takes another puff from her cigar. “Now, you strike me as a smart man, so consider this a courtesy rather than a warnin’: don’t go gettin’ any stupid ideas. You take that down payment and run, and I promise you, y’ain’t gonna make it very far. See, I got a hound who takes his job very seriously and he’s been beggin’ for me to take him huntin’. I’d hate to see you end up between his teeth. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Good,” she says, already moving on to the stack of files piled on her desk. “Someone will contact you within the week.” There’s a beat of silence where Eli remains where he is, unsure if he’s been dismissed and too afraid to assume. She glances up at him after a moment and says, “The hell’re you still doin’ here.” Her jaw juts out to motion to the door. “Get.” 

With a nod, Eli hastily rises and shuffles to the door. He takes one last hesitant glance over his shoulder only to find the woman engrossed in whatever she’s reading. Quietly, he opens the door and shuts it behind him. He half expects the two men from before to throw a bag over his head again and drive him back to his cabin, but the hallway is empty. 

Exhaustion hits him like a ton of bricks and the siren song of booze and greasy bar food calls his name. He shuffles out into the bar, ducking and weaving between drunk patrons and wearily slides onto a barstool. “Whiskey, on the rocks,” he says when Mary May stops by to take his order. She pours him a glass and he spends the next hour or so nursing it before knocking the rest of it back in a single go. 

When he places the cash down on the bartop to pay, Mary May shakes her head. “You’re drinking on the Boss Lady’s tab tonight.” 

He blinks in shock. “That so?” he says slowly. Well, in that case, he might as well order something nice. “What’s her favorite?”

The corners of Mary May’s lips quirk into a smile and she pulls a laminated cocktail menu from underneath the bartop. Placing it down in front of him, there’s a drink called ‘Sazerac de La Roux’. Cognac, absinthe, a sugar cube, and two dashes of Peychaud’s Bitters.  

Eli considers for a moment, and then says, “I’ll take one of those.”