#I think I just prefer ales to lagers

[mabthefairyqueen]

a fun part of being a young adult is getting to decide which alcoholic beverages I think are tasty!! Like I have opinions on beer now!!! I don’t think it’s all just gross nasty. But tbh I still prefer a cider when available…

[bakedbakermom]

Enough.

Rated X / 4800 words / tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr / posted on ao3

Summary: Dana Scully has had enough.

Author's Note: This is the first fanfic I have written, in this or any other fandom, for almost 20 years. It felt great to stretch the old muscles, and I hope you enjoyed it. Comments will be printed, laminated, and hung on the wall <3

_________

God, I only meant to kiss him, Scully thought, gasping, before Mulder’s tongue swirled around her nipple and she lost the ability to think.

And it was true - thoughts of kissing Mulder had been brewing deep in her core for weeks, crowding out her ability to think of much else. She had found herself watching his mouth when she should have been listening to his words, and feeling vaguely envious of everything that touched his lips. He brought them some truly terrible vending machine coffee during an all-nighter at a crummy hotel in the midwest, and the way his tongue had toyed with the little opening on the lid as he waited for it to cool made her thighs clench. In yet another rental car on yet another nameless backroad, she watched his jaw work as he split the shells of his favorite sunflower seeds, wondering how that sharp tongue that worked them so deftly open would feel in her own mouth, if he would taste of salt and beer. He licked barbecue sauce from his fingers at an all-night diner in the middle of nowhere, his tongue swirling around tips, and she had nearly choked on her iced tea.

Oh yes, thoughts of kissing Mulder had been occupying her more and more. And from the way he would catch her eye, sending her an almost imperceptible smirk each time he saw her watching, he knew exactly the effect he was having on her. She kept waiting for him to stop being such a gentleman, to take that first bold step the way he so often did. But each time she felt that line rising up to be crossed, he pulled away.

And Dana Scully had had enough.

She’d decided tonight, as she rode up the elevator for one of their not-a-date-nights that had become their post-case norm of late, that she was ready - or more accurately, that she was so far past ready that she might actually die if she didn’t kiss him soon. She brought wine - nothing too fancy, nothing that would be out of place in the mismatched glasses he kept in the cabinet, but a step up from the usual ales and lagers they usually shared. And she wore a soft v-neck sweater cut just a tad lower than she would usually wear, the better to show off the enticing cleavage her new bra presented. 

When she had slipped into the matching panties, she had very firmly told herself it was simply a personal preference for symmetry, and not any sort of statement about where this desperately-needed kiss would lead.

From the moment he popped Tarantula into the VCR (for the fourth time, “It’s a classic, Scully!”), she had begun planning her move. She drained her first glass of wine faster than she should have, before he’d even finished making the popcorn, letting the liquid courage percolate through her system. He settled in beside her with a large bowl in his lap, loaded with butter and salt just how she likes it, just the way he’s talked her into liking it; and she eased herself slowly closer to him on the worn leather couch until the heat of his thigh pressed against her own. By the time Leo G. Carrol’s assistant went up in flames, she was nestled quite cozily against him. She watched him from the corner of her eye, and saw with some satisfaction that he was watching her as well. 

She had never let herself get quite this close to him before, or at least not without some life-threatening context. (Except for that time on the baseball diamond, when she thought maybe this was it, but he had done nothing more than flirt and hit pop-flies and leave her flushed and frustrated).

But there were no invisible forest men now, no cultists armed with rifles, no bees or beasts or black-suited thugs. Just them, and a cheesy sci-fi movie, and a bowl of popcorn in his lap so that each time she reached for a handful she was acutely aware of just what lay beneath it; with each bite he would slowly lick the salt from his lips, and something in her heart would sputter. She had the sudden sense he was doing it on purpose - that he knew exactly what she was thinking, and as always, their minds were traveling down the same road together.

When the giant spider crested the dry scrubby hills surrounding Desert Rock, Arizona, to devour the hero, he had draped his arm across the back cushions, the very picture of a nervous teenager at the drive-in. She took the chance to move more closely still, the heat and the scent of him nearly overwhelming. Her heartbeat seemed to thrum through every inch of her body, and she felt certain he could feel it through her skin. She had stopped watching the screen entirely, unable to concentrate on anything but the pounding of her heart and the body of the man beside her. When she couldn’t stand it another second, she took one last breath for courage, turned in the circle of his arm, and tilted up to press her mouth to his.

The first brush of their lips was tentative, soft, toe-curlingly tender and if he tasted like wine and popcorn instead of seeds and beer, well, she was absolutely not complaining. When his tongue brushed against her lower lip, she opened for him, and the way his tongue slid into her mouth felt like coming home. Scully had thought that it would be enough just to kiss him, just  to sit together on the creaking leather of his old couch, under the warm, scratchy weight of the Navajo blanket he kept there more for her sake than for his, and languidly lap at the font of his mouth until morning. 

What she hadn’t anticipated, but in hindsight should have known based on years of observing his oral fixation, was that Fox Mulder would be an absolutely amazing kisser. He was slow and exploratory and unrelenting, running his tongue along her teeth and her lips and the roof of her mouth as if he could read her desires written there in braille. He nibbled at her lower lip and suckled at the upper and still she really could have just kissed, just necked him like a teenager for hours, until he cupped her jaw with one wide hand and his thumb brushed against the pulse point in her throat and she whimpered. Actually whimpered, a wholly unexpected, desperate, animal sound that she would have found utterly embarrassing had he not answered with a soft growl that reverberated down her throat and straight into her pelvis, and it was all bets off from there.

A whirl of hands and mouths and somehow she is lying half beneath him, his shirt gone and her sweater pushed up and that pretty new bra pulled down to expose one rosey-peaked breast to the dual pleasures of his hand and his mouth. When her knee brushes against his growing erection, he bites her nipple just hard enough to make her gasp. He chuckles into her skin and looks up to meet her eyes, delighted to find her pupils blown out with lust and her cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink. Her fingers curl in his hair and pull; he releases her nipple with a sinfully wet pop and crashes his mouth into hers with a force that clacks their teeth together.

He rolls her over his body until she’s straddling him, heat blooming everywhere they touch. The soft springy hairs of his chest tickle her oversensitive skin, and he runs his hands from her shoulders, down the fine curve of her waist to grip and knead at the firm flesh of her ass. She scratches her nails across the broad plains of his shoulders - softly at first, then more firmly when he hums his assent into her mouth. The muscles of his back flex beneath her hands, and his whole body shudders as she moves them to his front, his nipples pebbling beneath her touch.

He pulls her down against him and presses up at the same time, trying to find some relief for the near-painful ache in his groin. She moans into his mouth and he does it again, and she arches against him in pleasure.

Mulder uses this distraction to pull her top off all the way, unclasping her bra with one hand and bringing his mouth back to her breast before the fabric has even hit the floor. She writhes above him, panting and gasping as he learns the right combination of lips, teeth, and tongue to make her shudder. Always such a curious mind, single-focused and driven, now turned to uncovering the mysteries of her body, and she revels in being the object of his obsession.

“I want you, Scully,” he whispers as he moves to the other breast. She arches into his mouth but doesn’t answer.

He stills, eyes wary, that lost little boy inside peeking through. Waiting for rejection, waiting for her to say it was all a mistake and walk away. With their height difference, their eyes are level now even with her straddling his lap. He brushes a lock of hair out of her eyes and gently thumbs her cheekbones. The sadness in his voice is palpable.  “Do you want to stop?” 

She shakes her head just slightly, her brows knitting together and her mouth moving into a particular smirk that, in the complex language of Scully Microexpressions, means I need a second to find the right words. His hands skim along her sides, walking the line between comforting, tickling, and arousing. It takes a few deep breaths before she remembers how to speak; the last one comes out on a shudder as she presses her lips to his forehead. 

The credits are rolling on the TV across the room, the monster immolated and the town safe; shadows flicker over their faces as she looks into his eyes, unsurprised to find a sheen of unshed tears there that matches her own. She had thought that meeting his gaze after they had kissed - or, more accurately, after he had her nipple in his mouth and his erection pressing against her - might be awkward, but like everything else between them the last seven years, it somehow feels natural. They’re stepping across this line together.

“I don’t want to stop, Mulder,” she whispers, nuzzling along his nose, “I’ve just been thinking about kissing you for so long, I never really let myself think about what might come after.”

“Mmm,” he hums into her skin, peppering her face with kisses before moving down her neck and along her collarbone. “Good thing I have.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrow lifts; he can hear it in her voice even though his face is buried in her hair.

“Often, and in great detail.” His lips find that same pulse point, right where her jaw meets her throat, and he grins as her thighs squeeze his. One hand cups the back of her head, tilting her this way and that so his mouth can reach every possible inch of skin; the other hand comes up to her breast, kneading and rolling. She is soft and pliant above him, allowing him to explore, making soft sounds each time he finds a sensitive spot, and his profiler’s mind is tucking each one away for later.

“Tell me,” she pants as he presses a kiss to the hollow of her throat. She slips her hand between them and presses her palm against the thick ridge of his erection, grinning as he moans into her skin. “Show me.”

"Christ, Scully. Where should I begin?" Mulder presses another kiss to her lips, so soft and tender she forgets how to breathe for a moment. He sips at her like fine wine, savoring each taste of her tongue, her lips, the ivory ridge of her teeth. By the time he pulls back she is shivering, aching to see what happens next.

"There is one thing I fantasize about quite frequently," he husks close to her ear. The scratch of his stubble is intoxicating. "I can't stop wondering what you taste like." He reaches between them to cup her, hot and throbbing, through her slacks, and her blushing nod is the only answer she can manage.

All she can do is moan in anticipation as he leans her slowly back, supporting the full weight of her in his arms, until her shoulders come to rest on the arm of the couch, his body nestled hard and hot between her trembling thighs. 

She will never again be able to smell leather without remembering this moment.

He kisses his way down her body with a slow deliberation that borders on agonizing, nipping and sucking and licking every inch he can reach. When his tongue swirls into the dip of her navel she nearly cries with pleasure. He runs his teeth over the ridge of her hip bones as he parts the zipper on her slacks. His mouth leaves her body only long enough to shuck the pants to the floor, and then he is nosing along the hem of her panties. 

"Fuck, Scully, I can smell you." He runs his fingers over the lacy fabric, scraping his nails along the gusset until she shakes. "You're so wet, you're soaking through."

With anyone else she might have felt embarrassed, but Mulder's words only enflame her further. She rolls her hips, shamelessly rubbing herself against him. "Please," she pants, "please touch me."

He laughs darkly, continuing to run his fingers slowly up and down the length of her slit, and rubs his stubble against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He licks her, once, over the lace, and she bucks desperately towards his mouth. “Easy there, G-woman,” he murmurs, pressing her back down with one firm hand on her hip. “I’m living my dream, here.”

She laughs, a short huff that eases some of the tension in her gut, and tries to relax into his ministrations. He smiles as she softens beneath him, and rewards her by sliding one long finger under the sheer scrap of fabric, just barely grazing her entrance. “So wet,” he says again. 

He looks up to see that her eyes have fluttered closed. “Look at me,” he says, and when she finds enough will to meet his eyes, he lifts his finger, glistening with her wetness, into his mouth and sucks deeply. "You're just as sweet as I imagined."

“Fuck,” she whimpers, and knows she is dripping. “More. Please.”

Apparently he renders her monosyllabic.

“How much do you love these?” he asks, appraising the delicate lace, the tiny stitches along the seams.

“Not at all. Hate them. Please.” She is gasping, writhing, and when he rips her panties off she nearly keens with pleasure.

He stares at her for so long she begins to feel nervous, and a flush creeps up her chest and floods her cheeks. He takes in the auburn thatch of curls between her thighs, the dark pink swell of her labia, the tiny freckles sprinkled across the creamy expanse of her skin. He drags his fingers down the length of her slit, marveling at the way her lower lips spread for him, at the moisture leaking from her sweet little cunt. “Beautiful,” he breathes.

“Mulder,” she huffs, squirming, “if you don’t quit staring and touch me soon, I’m going to shoot you. Again.”

A quick grin and then his mouth is on her, his tongue lapping at the entrance to her sex, and the first brush of his lips over her clit nearly sends her over the edge. 

If the way he kissed her felt obsessive, he eats her out with something that borders on worship.

He slides one long finger inside her, then another, curling them against her front wall until he finds the spot that makes her gush and shake around him. He flicks his tongue over the hardened nub of her clitoris - slow, fast, gentle, hard - and she fists her hands in his hair when it’s just the right combination. He presses the hood back with his thumb and suckles directly on the little bundle of nerves; her belly coils tight with pleasure and she manages to gasp, “Yes, there, I’m so close, oh -” before she can’t make sense anymore.

He swirls and suckles on her clit, pumping gently in and out with his fingers, and experimentally runs his little finger down her perineum to brush gently over the tight pucker of her asshole. She shudders and her whimpers reach a new, higher pitch. He hums his satisfaction into her dripping sex, and that’s all it takes - she is gone, shaking and gasping and making strangled little cries that might be his name.

Mulder continues to lap tenderly at her sex as she comes down, riding out tremors and trembles until she is heavy-limbed and boneless beneath him. Her smile looks almost drunken as she cards her fingers through his hair. “Good, Scully?” he asks, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh.

She nods and hums, riding a cloud of oxytocin. He eases out from between her legs; her smile begins to fade into confusion until he slides one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her easily, and carries her down the hall to his bedroom.

His sheets are softer than she had expected, as if he had been hoping for company; she wonders if this is the first time he has prepared a bed for them, how many movie nights he has slept alone on these soft sheets after the door snicked shut behind her without so much as a kiss. The thought strikes a surprisingly sad chord in her heart.

The bed dips as he settles in beside her, and she curls into his open arms with a happy sigh. “A girl could get used to this,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to his bare chest.

“I sure hope she does,” he answers.

She drapes one of her legs over his and - “Oh.” She lifts the sheet and sees he somehow still has his jeans on, and is still sporting a rather impressive tent. “You appear to be overdressed,” she teases.

“Don’t worry about me, Scully. This has already been so much more than I -”

She puts a finger over his lips and shoots him one of her more serious looks. “Mulder. Shut up.”

And, for perhaps the first time in his life, he does.

Scully’s legs are still a little weak as she climbs on top of him, rubbing herself shamelessly over the bulge in his pants. She’s wet again already and hungry for him in a way she hasn’t felt in years. Her hair falls around them in an amber curtain as she leans down to kiss him, long and slow and deep. He’s grinning like an idiot by the time she pulls away, and she decides that looking down on Mulder may be her new favorite place to be. 

She grinds down harder with her hips, the seam of his jeans pressing right where she wants it the most. He moans, trying not to buck beneath her and throw off her rhythm. He has to clench his fists in the sheets. She’s making a wet spot on his pants; he’ll have to wash them - and the sheets, and the couch - in the morning, but he couldn’t care less about any of that because Scully’s breasts are bouncing just in front of his face and she is writhing on top of him like an animal in heat. He reaches for her hips, trying to get just a little more pressure, but she grabs his wrists and holds them down.

“Nuh-uh,” she huffs. “You made me beg. Now it’s your turn.” She waits until he stops trying to lift his hands, then rakes her nails down his chest, leaving little streaks of pink in their wake.

“Fuck, Scully,” he moans, throwing his head back and thrusting up with his hips, which only makes her lift herself away. “I don’t know how much of this I can take.”

She only casts him a wicked grin before lowering her mouth to his, plunging her tongue deep inside and moaning. He is the first to break away, gasping for breath, and she waits for his eyes to find hers before she leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses down the length of his torso. He is not as sensitive as she had been, though he does jump when she runs her tongue across the firm plains of his stomach. She finds the fine trail of dark hair beneath his navel and nips and sucks her way down it until it ends at the waist of his pants.

He expects her to undo the fly and pull them off, but instead she rubs her cheek against the stiff bulge of his cock, as if to mark it with her scent. She catches his eye again, to make sure he is watching, and then runs her tongue slowly over the full length of it. She can taste herself on the fabric and is surprised at how erotic it is.

“God, Scully. Please.”

“Mmm,” she hums against him and thumbs open the button on his fly. “Begging. I see the appeal.” She slides one hand under the waistband and scratches through the coarse hair just above his cock.

“I would get on my knees but I think something might break off.”

“Then allow me.”

She kneels between his legs, pulling down his zipper and shimmying his soft jeans down the length of his legs. She has a moment to wonder at the fact that he doesn’t appear to be wearing any boxers - does he go commando in general these days, or, like the sheets, was he hoping for something to happen tonight? - and then her eyes land on his cock and she forgets how to think.

She’s seen him naked before, of course, but always under the guise of a medical professional. Glimpsing his body while treating injury or disease is one thing. Never has she seen him hard, and now faced with the full monty - or rather, the full Mulder - she is only slightly more impressed than intimidated. She takes him in her hand, pumping up and down slowly, and a small bead of precum leaks from the purple tip. Her heart jumps, her mouth begins to water, and she licks her lips as she realizes it’s all for her.

“Oh Christ, don’t do that,” he moans, eyes glued to her mouth. “I’m trying to be cool here.” So of course she stares into his eyes, parts her lips, and then very slowly runs her tongue in a full circle around them.

He’s about to say something else but it cuts off with a gurgle when she takes him into her mouth. He’s too big to take in too deeply just yet, but she licks the tip of him like an ice cream cone, her tongue moving in lazy circles as she pumps him languidly with one hand. The other comes up beneath to cup the soft weight of his balls. He is salty and tangy and strangely sweet, and she moans as the taste of him floods her senses. She is so aroused it’s almost painful, and she wishes she had a third hand so she could touch herself as she sucks him. She takes him deeper, surprised at how much she enjoys this - the twitching of his thighs as he tries not to thrust, the way he is moaning her name between strings of curse words, the startling way his cock bumps against the back of her throat.

She’s just beginning to wonder if she can relax her throat enough to swallow him further down when Mulder’s hands land suddenly in her hair, pulling her mouth away from him with a wet and undignified slurping sound. “Hey,” she protests, donning an exaggerated and teasing pout. Her mouth and chin glisten with a mix of saliva and precum. “I was enjoying that.”

He sits up and slides his fingers between her legs. “I can tell,” he says, circling her clit and making her gasp. “And don’t get me wrong, I was too. But…”

He pulls her up the length of his body until she is nestled in his lap, her thighs braced on either side of his and his cock only inches from the wet heat of her cunt. “Please, Scully.”

“More begging?,” she purrs as she takes him in her fist again. She shifts so she can rub the tip of him between her wet and swollen folds until he moans. She positions him right against her entrance, his tip just barely inside. “Is this what you want?” she pants. For all the playfulness in her voice, she is trembling with want, and shudders as she feels herself dripping around him.

“Yes,” he hisses into her ear, crushing her tight against him and pressing his hips up. He slips another inch inside her. “Fuck me, Scully, please.” Another small thrust, another inch of her clenching around him.

Enough teasing, she decides. Enough begging. Enough waiting.

She doesn’t trust her voice not to break, so she only nods and kisses him as if she could devour him whole.

She slides down onto him slowly, adjusting to the width of him until he is buried to the hilt. They are both shaking now, their panting breaths a humid cloud between them. A long moment passes before she can move, before her body can handle the way he stretches and fills her. She is slow and deliberate, rising until he nearly slips from her body, then easing down to grind her clit against his pelvis. Waves of pleasure wash through her with each stroke, and she drops her head to his shoulder, overwhelmed.

He reaches down to cup her ass, spreading her wide and taking some control over her motion. They moan in unison as he begins to thrust in counterpoint to the slow roll of her hips.

It doesn’t take long before Scully begins to feel the flame of another orgasm kindle deep in her belly. The moan that comes from her throat belongs to another woman, one who is wild and wanton and apparently capable of coming more than once in a night; and oh how she wants to be that woman.

“Mulder,” she pants, “I need - I’m -” Another moan, and the coil inside her tightens further, closing off her ability to speak.

He understands, he always understands, licking his thumb and then sliding it between their sweating bodies to press hard against her clit. “Fuck, yes, Scully,” he says as she grinds down on his hand. “I want to feel you come.”

His mouth seeks out that same damn spot on her neck that started this whole thing, sucking and nibbling with the same rhythm of his thumb circling her clit. “Come for me, Scully,” he growls into her skin, and then bites down hard enough to bruise.

She shatters around him, bucking her hips wildly against him and muffling her cries of “Mulder, oh God, Mulder,” into his shoulder until she is hoarse. He tumbles over the edge right behind her, hot and pulsing, and the feel of his cock twitching as he fills her with his cum is nearly enough to set her off again.

They stay entwined for a long time, shudders passing back and forth between them, until their sweat cools and their mingled fluids begin to leak onto his thighs. 

Mulder leans back first, brushing damp hair from her face so he can look into her eyes. “Hey.”

Her answering smile is almost bashful, but there’s not an ounce of regret in it. “Hey.”

“So. Wine. Fancy underwear. That sweater.”

“No boxers,” she counters. “Clean, soft sheets?”

She quirks an eyebrow, he tilts his chin and smiles.

And just like that they are themselves, again, still, always, but now with a new layer of togetherness to explore. He moistens a washcloth in the bathroom sink and tenderly cleans them both, and they curl up on the soft - if rumpled and damp - sheets together.

They do not share “I love you”s. Not tonight. Not yet. But they both feel it in the brush of the other’s fingers, taste it in the tenderness of the last kiss they share before falling asleep together.

And that is enough.

[glorious-spoon]

Five Drinks to Get to Know me

Tagged by @faejilly! :D

1. Coffee. I go through about a pot a day, and also I’m cheap, so I usually just make my own. My preference is rocket-fuel strong with cream and no sugar. I’ll drink it black if it’s really good coffee, but otherwise I use half & half (heavy cream if I’m feeling really decadent or I happen to have it on hand). 

2. Beer. I don’t really like lagers; they taste thin and flavorless to me. I’m generally a fan of dark ales, but I can enjoy a good IPA. I don’t drink a ton of beer because it makes me very full, and I’m picky about it.

3. Scotch. I’m kind of a snob about this, which is unfortunate because good Scotch is expensive. I tend to like the really smoky ones, but my spouse doesn’t so I don’t buy them often. This is an occasional treat, and something that people consistently get me for Xmas when they can’t think of anything else, which works out great for me.

4. Flavored Seltzer. I usually get the unsweetened citrusy store-brand flavors. I don’t really like soda (wayyyy too sweet), but I enjoy the mouthfeel of fizzy drinks.

5. Tea. Or tisane, technically, I guess. I don’t like actual tea, but I drink a lot of herbal teas. I like the spicy ones - as a general rule, I like very strong flavors, because I don’t have much of a sense of taste. 

No-pressure tagging @pizzaqueen, @alessandriana, @hmslusitania, and @lynne-monstr! :D

[nitewrighter]

Oh!Speaking of alcohol, Mun! What sort of alcohols and liquors would the fankids drink if they partake and if they would have a drink named after them what sort of cocktail or drink would they be? :0c

Samir's preferred cocktail is a negroni but he'll drink a dry cider in more casual settings. Dry pear cider if it's available.

Rei has a fondness for those ice cold, perfectly light and clean Japanese lager beers typical of Izakayas, preferably with some tsukemono on the side for an extra bit of acidity and crunch. It's more about socializing and setting for her. She thinks sake is mostly "just okay" and has broken her uncle's heart in saying so. But she actually has a surprising palate for Japanese whiskey which is like a double betrayal to Hanzo and Cassidy is so fucking insufferable about it.

Rajeev developed a liking for those amber ales that get served in tulip glasses. Reinhardt is trying to steer him towards the righteous path of the Giant Fucking Stein filled with foaming lager, but Rajeev prefers the amber ales. "They're cute."

Akasha doesn't like to drink--like, get more disoriented? No thank you. I mean she drank barley beer in Mesopotamia during her Teleporter Hell Years but like that's because it's actually really hard to get safe-to-drink-water back then.

Aedan has betrayed his Irish roots because his favorite drink is a nice chilled Sauvignon Blanc. It's really refreshing in a classy but hot-as-balls city like Oasis.

Seye's not super big on drinking (kills muscle mass and disrupts metabolism, you know), but he will occasionally deign to toast to Talon victories with Don Rumbotico's top shelf stuff, or order a white rum-spiked agua de jamaica in a social situation.

Marti's favorite cocktail is a tequila-spiked agua de jamaica, and yes, it does piss her off that Seye orders an obnoxiously similar drink.

Jaime introduced Txakoli wine to Ashe and now she has crates of the stuff shipped to the deadlock hideout. Bob really appreciates the touch of class.

Andrea doesn't drink. CONSTANT VIGILANCE.

Faustine's signature drink is an Italian Greyhound with a sprig of rosemary and a lemon peel-rubbed rim. But she's also a surprisingly accomplished sommelier and whiskey sommelier on behalf of the casino.

[coffeeandspentbrass]

How are you making mac and cheese then?

Okay buddy strap in.

You need: elbow noodles or shell noodles of your choice, I prefer shell myself.

Three cheeses: cheddar, mozzarella, and some Parmesan. Pre-Shredded or not doesn’t really matter. If it’s not grate that shit in equal amounts. Mix.

Half a stick of butter, room temp, cut up into medium sized pads

One to two cheap beers - lager works best

Salt and pepper

Garlic - minced or diced, at least two cloves

Paprika and Cayenne

Preheat oven to 375 and have a medium sized baking pan ready. It’s not a bad idea to spray some non-stick cooking oil in the pan or wipe it down with olive oil.

Now, cook your pasta until it’s al-dente, strain (don’t rinse!) and set aside.

Add one beer to a pan on medium low heat. Once that starts to heat up add your butter and garlic and slowly stir until the butter is all melted in. Now add your salt, pepper, cayenne, and paprika - I like about a 1/1 mix of the peppers and about a third of that amount in salt. I usually wing this part so I don’t have exact measurements.

Reduce heat, now start slow adding your grated cheese a little bit at a time, continue to stir as they start to melt into the beer and butter mixture. Reduce heat more if necessary to make sure it doesn’t start burning on the bottom and keep stirring and adding cheese until it’s about the consistency of thick pancake batter. If it gets too thick, add some more beer from the second one. Too runny? Add more cheese. Continue this process until you feel like you have a good cheese sauce to pasta ratio. Again, I eyeball this. Always err on the side of too much cheese. Taste the sauce as you go adding salt and pepper as necessary.

Now mix your pasta and cheese sauce together in a big ass mixing bowl. Add to baking pan, cover with a thicc layer of your remaining cheese mix, some more cayenne and paprika, and pop that bitch in the oven for around twenty minutes or until the cheese on the top is starting to brown and you see it bubbling around the edges of the pan. Allow to cool for about ten to fifteen minutes and serve.

Side note: You can also add pretty much whatever you think sounds good to this: bacon, sausage, jalapeños, diced onions, bell pepper. Just prep your veggies and meat while your pasta cooks. Cook your veggie meat mix in a little olive oil and butter. You want your veggies just starting to get soft around the edges but still very crunchy so they don’t get too soft in the baking process.

[thehollowsoldat]

More Foods:

I’ve said before that Bucky (and Steve) are not picky eaters (Depression and Army life). Give them something edible, cup of coffee, (and Bucky some smokes) and they’re set. They do love trying all the ‘new’ foods because finally! There’s spices! Rationing is over! You don’t have to boil everything!

They can kind of get overwhelmed at the amount of choices out there. I’d say Bucky is more adventurous than Steve but Steve has tried more things, being in the modern era for longer. But if you’re like “Hey, let’s go get [X],” they’ll be there.

Russian food (such as shchi/cabbage soup) and pancakes/blini are Bucky’s main comfort foods. 

Let’s expand beyond those two things for his go-tos!

Food:

Bread: black bread, bagels, challah

Deli: One of these days, I’m going to have to order a shipment from Katz’s. Anyway. Lox bagel for breakfast. Brisket or pastrami sandwich.

Jew Food: (Cory you can’t just- YES I CAN). Blintzes, kugel (with raisins). Gefilte fish with horseradish to upset pretty much everyone. He’ll throw together a brisket and latkes for Chanukah and then pretend like he doesn’t know what latkes are the rest of the year.

Pizza: Pepperoni or supreme. Pineapple is fine. MCU is (of course) New York Style. Thinks Chicago is hilariously missing the point and calls Detroit pizza “Bread with shit on it.” 616 has no dog in this fight.

Soup: matzo ball, tomato, chicken noodle...Lobster bisque.

Living in New York and traveling the world almost freely means he can try just about any cuisine. He doesn’t consider himself a foodie but he likes about everything he’s tried so far. Chinese, Greek, Thai are his main go-tos. Has set orders for each place too. 

Spice Level: Medium; he can handle spicy but would rather taste more things than just burning his mouth off. 

Sweets: Chocolate bars, babka, pies, tiramisu 

Drinks:

Coffee: Black, strong. Shitty Army or diner coffee is also a big plus. His coffee shop orders are mainly uncomplicated. Americano, Espresso, or a flavored latte. Sometimes will go nuts and get a seasonal fancy latte with whipped cream and all that. But it’s not as big of a draw. 

Tea: Prefers zavarka (Russian black tea concentrate). Other black teas, green tea, or chai are also acceptable. Likes it strong, either no additions or with jam/honey and no milk. Depends on what’s going on in his head; he absorbed Karpov’s tea order a long time ago.

Vices:

Booze: This all boils down to “Is it drinkable and as long as it doesn’t taste like piss.” He, as you can imagine, has drank a lot of garbage. 616 can get drunk but doesn’t usually. MCU can’t get drunk and switches to Asgardian ale when he wants to get buzzed.

Beer: Lager, then ales and stouts. Not about IPAs. Not really into craft beer or anything.

Hard Liquor: His go-to. Usually Irish Whiskey, Bourbon, Gin, or Vodka. Prefers neat/straight. Will avoid certain brands. Is very indifferent to wine but he’ll drink it if it’s a pairing or for cover. 616 just has no experience with it. MCU is used to Kosher wine. Manischewitz got into wine in 1947 though.

Smokes: Lucky Strikes. He was so upset when he came back and they were discontinued until the end of 2020. Also is big into rolling his own from the Soldier years.

[myhappylittlesideblog]

Chance

A/N: Well, I have officially joined the club of writers who have a list of WIPs and still start ANOTHER ONE. Oh well. This brought me SO MUCH happiness and comfort and tinglies because of all the fluffuty fluff and that’s what matters. Sometimes you just gotta take a villain and make him soft for ONE (1) person. This may or may not continue. ;) Also I drew him because it makes me happy to make him sweet. With his little flowers!!!

Pairing: Gaston x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,181

Warnings: harassment, alcohol (but no excessive drinking), minor injuries, a helluva lot of (what could be called) misogyny that gets turned on its tail, therefore fluff ensues

Summary: After a heroic act, Gaston confronts you.

Working in the tavern wasn’t that bad. Your family didn’t have a fortune, or even a farm to their name, so you took up a tray and an apron as soon as you were of age. In the early years of your career you mastered the important skills with speed and accuracy. Recently, however, you also learned to keep your business out of the villagers’ mouths and your skirts out of the customers’ grubby hands. 

Well, you did your best, anyway.

Most of the tavern’s patrons were men and most of the men were nice to you. Some were even generous with their tips. You knew who preferred ales over lagers and how long you could refill mugs before you had to push a bowl of pretzels or a plate of bread on the table. Out of respect for you, most brawls were even taken outside. After all, you had the power to sneak free rounds or spit in their brewskies- it was really up the customers which they received.

There was one, however, who was always honored with preferential treatment. Gaston came to the tavern often, almost every evening, to be fawned over by ladies and men alike. You’d heard rumors of maidens losing their titles to him and husbands losing their wives. From the way Gaston stalked around the bar, laying a hand on every shoulder he passed, you didn’t doubt the gossip. Still, he was admired by all. He never bought a drink himself, his looming, cushioned seat by the fireplace was always empty, and every trap shut when he told one of his hunting tales. His entertainment was the reason you had customers. If he wasn’t your first priority at all times, you’d be out of a job faster than Gaston could knock a bull unconscious with his bare hands.

Which is why you delivered a second beer to his table just as he sipped the last swig of his first. He hadn’t waved, hadn’t even looked at you, and when you took his empty glass and left him with the fresh one, he didn’t thank you. He always ignored you.

Once that was done and you knew all your patrons were happy, you slipped behind the bar to clean some of the empty glasses. It was better to do some now, rather than have to stay late into the night to finish them all. You’d learned that lesson the hard way in the past.

With one bucket filled with hot soapy suds and the other with clean water, you twisted the glasses around the standing scrubber, before dipping each twice and placing it on the flat counter beneath the bar. There was real scrubbing to be done on some of them, so you leaned down and dug into your work until you heard a disturbing hum come from the other side of the bar. 

       “Can I help you, Tom?” you asked, dipping the glass in the steaming water, then the cold, before tipping it upside down in its place. It was hard to miss the lewd pair of eyes staring at your chest as you leaned forward.

       “Nah. I have everything I need right… here.” He stuck a finger down your dress and pulled your shoulders over the bar.

You slapped him hard across the face, sending him reeling backwards into the stools behind him. Unfortunately, he caught his balance before he fell flat on his rump. He flew back at you, dirty nails reaching for your neck, but you had the bucket of hot, sudsy water close at hand. As soon as his head came into your space you dumped it all over him, making his curse and cry out before the whole tavern.

       “Are you sure I can’t get you anything else?” you asked the drenched man.

Before he could snarl his answer, the bartender dragged you away by the elbow. You eyed Tom with gritted teeth until you landed in front of the kitchen door.

       “(Y/N)! What have I told you time and again?” the bartender asked, voice low for your ears only. “Hm? Anyone bothers you, you come and get me.”

       “So you can give the man a free beer?” you asked.

That earned you a good shove and a growl of “Mop that up now.” Towels were thrown your way with little grace and the mop was dropped on the floor as you reached for it. 

A hiss of “Git” slithered through the air and you couldn’t get away fast enough. 

By the time you returned, Tom had gone and the soapy water had traveled all the way to the middle of the bar until it was stopped with a dam of towels. Stanley had done it, saving you some work. 

       “Did he hurt ya, (Y/N)? Tom?” Stanley asked.

       “No,” you said. You pushed the dam down the bar, sending waves to the other end as if you were Poseidon himself. With a splat it landed on the floor, adding to the puddle you’d have to mop up. “I’m fine.”

Stanley had followed you down the bar like a little sailboat tailing a mighty ship. “He’s gone now anyway. Won’t be coming back.”

       “Why do you say that?”

       “‘Cause Gaston took him outside,” he said, pointing over his shoulder. “Roughed him up pretty good. Gaston said Tom got in his way, but I think he didn’t like Tom treatin’ you like that.”

You smiled. Stanley had always been nice to you. He was always patient and tipped you with no hidden goals of his own. 

       “I think I’ve given you too many beers tonight,” you said with a poke. “Gaston doesn’t pay attention to me. I bet he doesn’t even know my name.”

Every head in the tavern swivelled as the front door flung open and Gaston walked inside. His sleeves were rolled up and a sheen of sweat glistened along his hairline. Then a change, a sudden bright smile, and he said, “What’s with you dopes? I’ve been here all night and no one’s even mentioned the new chandelier I had made from my newest prize!”

There was a rush, a cacophony of cheering, praise, and admiration of the tavern’s new decoration. Gaston sauntered over to it, shoulders pulled back and hips rocking, and reached up to caress the smooth antlers that jutted out from the center like rays of the sun. 

       “He put up a fight, but I got him!” he said.

       “Well done, Gaston!”

       “You’re the best hunter in the country!”

       “-In the world!”

You recognized the young woman who’d followed Gaston inside, swooning over him the whole way. She spent her days walking through the hunting shops and taverns with hopes of running into Gaston as if she had nothing else in the world to do other than fall at his feet. Or apparently, sit on his shoulders. She giggled profusely as she pretended to admire the antlers just above her head, but really, she was blushing and wriggling into the large hands squeezing her thighs and bottom.

The praise and hunting stories swirled around you as you mopped up the water on the floor. Gaston had killed the buck with no help, not even from the hounds. He’d found this prey all by himself in the thickest forest around and didn’t miss a single shot. 

Before the end of his story, he knocked the girl from her pedestal and carried her as if she were a sack of flour. She squealed when she fell, which earned her a sharp smack on her bum. 

       “Then I threw the thing over my shoulder and carried it five miles home!” Gaston yelled, circling the tables in the bar with the woman laughing as she swung with his gait. You barely got out of his way as he passed the bar to show all the men the loot strung over his shoulder. 

Though the following uproar of cackles and guffaws was deafening, it was easy for you to ignore everything else that was said. You’d been a server for too long not to have learned to drown out the goons that surrounded you every evening. You wrung out the mop and replaced it in its corner, cleaned and stacked the glasses and mugs at the bar, and collected the empties on the various tables. Before you served anyone else, you brought a fresh mug of ale to Gaston’s chair. He wasn’t yet sitting, but the beer would be there for him when he returned from his own celebratory parade. Before you set the mug down, you wiped the wooden table with a rag from your apron pocket. 

       “(Y/N!)”

You whirled just in time to see Gaston rush from the bar and grab you. His arms wrapped around you, body encasing you almost completely as he pulled you away from his chair. His wide hand on the back of your head encouraged you to hide your face in his chest as he put himself between you and the loud crash that made you jerk in fear.

You hadn’t realized he’d pressed his forehead into the crook of your neck until he pulled away. Still tucked against him, you peeked around his arm to see what had crashed, what he’d save you from.

       “The chandelier!”

       “The chandelier fell.”

       “He saved her.”

You doubt you would have understood what happened if you hadn’t heard the customers’ voices. But it was true. Behind Gaston on the floor was his prized chandelier. It had hurtled to the ground and landed exactly where you had been standing as if you alone were its target. His mug of beer had shattered and spilled across the floor while branches of antlers had skidded below tables at the opposite end of the bar. Even the cushion of Gaston’s chair was pierced with the pointed metal frame of the fixture.

You stood behind Gaston, hiding as if the chandelier had a mind of its own and could plummet to the ground again at any moment. Your only movement was guided by Gaston himself when he put his hand to your cheek and directed your attention to his face, rather than the catastrophe behind him.

       “(Y/N), are you hurt?”

You shook your head. Your fingers tingled as they squeezed his arm, most of which was wrapped around your middle. “I’m fine,” you said, slinking out of his hold. “Are you? Are you all right?”

He smiled. You’d seen him smile before- more of a toothy smirk that etched itself into one of his cheeks. But this was different. It was soft and barely there, but even so, it still reached his eyes like none of his smirks ever had.

       “No buck will ever bring me down. Don’t worry.”

When you chuckled, the round of your cheek pushed a tear from your eye. You weren’t afraid of sleazy customers or wild horses, or even many other things, but this accident had you thoroughly spooked. Over Gaston’s shoulder was the table you were just cleaning, smashed completely by the weight of what was once more than half of the chandelier. It would have easily killed you.

Gaston wiped your tear with his thumb. “Come with me, we’ll get some air.”

       “No.” You straightened your apron. “I’m fine. Someone has to clean this up-”

       “Not you. We’ll take a walk and be back with plenty of time for you to throw hot water in my face if I do something stupid.”

You hummed a warning.

He led you outside with a hand on your back. You didn’t mind it. You were trembling and the touch was calming- even safe- despite your condemning thoughts of the man it belonged to. You took a deep breath of the chill air and when your lungs shook a bit from the shock, he rubbed circles into your bodice. But when you looked at him, his hand disappeared. 

       “You can’t say I don’t bring entertainment with me everywhere I go,” he said with a brow as cocked and pointed as the roof of the tavern.

       “I wish you had kept that show to yourself.”

He stopped in front of you, towering over you. “At least it got your attention.”

       “And almost killed us both.” You ducked around him, but he caught your hand and pulled you back to him.

       “I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”

You hummed in an attempt to remain unimpressed. He was playing with you as he played with the feelings of every other woman in town. 

His fingers wrapped around your hand, enveloping it as completely as his arms had done to your entire body only a moment ago. He slid his thumb down just enough for his kiss to land on your knuckles before setting his free hand on top, all attention on you. That’s when you saw the beginnings of a purple bruise on the top of his hand.

       “You did get hurt,” you said. “Is this from the chandelier?”

       “No.”

       “But it’s a recent injury.” You leaned away from his arm that had miraculously ended up around your waist again.

       “How do you know so much about silly bruises?”

       “I work in a tavern, remember? I usually bandage a few hands before I even sweep the floors at night.”

His face fell close to yours, his voice low as he said, “Will you take care of me then?”

You whipped your arm at him, smacking his chest with a hard thunk. “Will you stop it? Give it a rest!” As you backed away you felt your frustration rise higher than it ever had because of him. “For a moment I actually thought you might have cared about anything else! My mistake.”

He chased after you, which was something you didn’t expect. Usually he was the one being chased. 

       “I do care!” He blocked the door, back straight and tall against the wood. “Why else would I come to this tavern every night? There are other ones- better ones- just down the street.”

       “Go to one of those, then!”

       “I don’t want to go anywhere else! I want to see you.” His large, hot hands framed your face, forcing you to look at him. He was sincere, and even nervous. You could see it all in his face as he spoke to you. “I come to see you. To impress you, keep you safe-”

You shook out of his grasp. He’s lying! He’s playing you! You had to admit, this was a new, and even tempting tactic for him, but none of it is true!

       “(Y/N), please. I don’t know how to talk to you.”

       “Because you never have until today!”

       “Then let me try now.” He stepped toward you as if you were one of his deer that would run away at any moment. When you didn’t move, he took another step and then another until he could take your hand in his and bring it to his chest. “I have feelings for you. For a long time I couldn’t explain it. You’re different than anyone I’ve ever known- anyone I’m used to. You’re smart and you don’t depend on anyone, but you’re still so kind to those who deserve it from you. I’ve accepted that nothing I am or do is important to you- I can’t impress you with my skills or my looks. It doesn’t matter to you. But there are other things I can do for you to make you happy if you’ll let me try.” He tucked his chin to kiss your fingers that lie against the collar of his tunic. “I know you have your own life. I just want to be a part of it.”

His heartbeat vibrated against your hand. You had obviously never spoken much to him before today, but you had also never stood this close to him, had never been touched by him. You didn’t expect his hands to be so gentle or his lips so soft. You also, never in a million years expected these words from him. Yes, you often caught him watching you work, but he’d never blushed or even smiled at you. Meanwhile the other women that fawned over him received constant winks and pinches, praise and coos. Maybe the difference between those treatments meant more than you thought it did.

       “Are you saying that you bring countless women in here to impress me?” you asked, stealing his trademark high brow.

       “I… thought they’d convince you that some part of me was worth chasing.”

The wind blew around, but not between the two of you. A lock of his hair was pushed out of place and into his eyes, but his hands didn’t move from yours, not even a twitch.

       “And tonight with-”

       “The chandelier? I was angry that you would sneak over to my chair while I wasn’t there,” he said with teasing warning and a popped brow. “But when that first chain link cracked right above you, I couldn’t run to you fast enough. I’ve never been so scared in my life and I’ve fought off a grizzly single handed.” 

The glee your smirk brought him was incandescent, but it faded to a warm glow as he continued.

       “And then I held you in my arms and I never wanted to let go.” His free hand snaked around your body and you allowed it.

       “I haven’t thanked you yet for saving me from the chandelier. And as for Tom-”

Gaston snarled. “That spineless pig-”

       “He’s why your hand is cut up.”

       “Don’t tell me he didn’t deserve a beating, (Y/N). That I won’t listen to. No one treats you like that.”

       “Except you.”

He looked at you, jaw set and sharp as stone, brow no longer pointed, but low and determined. “Not me. Not again.”

With tender fingers, you pushed the stray black curl out of his eyes and behind his ear. You didn’t stop yourself from wondering what his hair looked like out of his coiffure- natural and relaxed first thing in the morning.

He leaned into your touch, eyes closing, defenses down.

       “This is a Gaston I would like to get to know,” you said to yourself as much as to him.

His eyes flew open, sparkling. “You’ll give me a chance then?”

       “Maybe. If you don’t have any more faulty chandeliers made.”

He laughed from his belly. “No, no more. We’ll just, we’ll walk together again. Tomorrow? Will you take a walk with me?”

       “Yes.”

He kissed your hand again, every knuckle and then some. They were dry, soft and respectful, extremely affectionate. 

       “You won’t regret it,” he said.

He led you back to the tavern door with one arm wrapped tightly and entirely around your waist. Before he could open the door, however, you stopped him.

       “Gaston?” You hand slid up the center of his chest and cupped the nape of his neck so you could pull his face down to you. “Thank you for saving my life.” You kissed his high cheekbone and smiled against his skin when he leaned into your touch.

       “You’re welcome.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: Rest assured there is a serious conversation had about how he treats women... there’s no way (Y/N)’s going to put up with any of that shiz! ;)

[hxpelessnurse]

I work at a liquor store and sometimes I see stuff on the shelf and think “What danganronpa character do I see drinking this shit?” (I also do this for other fandoms/rpc’s I participate in.) So I’m gonna make a list of headcanons on what the cast of DR1 and SDR2 choose as their go-to alcoholic drink. I would add the cast of V3 but I haven’t finished that game yet so I don’t know the characters as much as I know the casts of the first two games. Also most of the cast of UDG are children and shouldn’t drink and I am lazy af. There’s already way too many characters in this series lmao.

Please note that I am basing this off of Japan’s legal drinking age of 20. Though it’s well known that underage drinking isn’t really frowned upon or prosecuted like it is in the States or Canada. Also, I am based in Canada, so prices of alcohol are significantly higher here than they are in other parts of the world because alcohol sales are taxed by the government and controlled by the provincial governments. So if i say a bottle of something is expensive that’s because it is to me - a Canadian. lol.

Under a read more because I don’t wanna stretch everyone’s pages with such a long post.

DR1 Cast

Makoto Naegi: Something light or not so alcohol forward - probably a vodka soda like White Claw (probably lime flavour) or rum and coke cause its sweet and hardly tastes like alcohol at all.

Kyoko Kirigiri: White wine - specifically Chardonnay. She likes the buttery texture and tartness. I could see her drinking sake for this reason too.

Byakuya Togami: Gin Martinis specifically made with Empress 1908. He enjoys the smooth mouth feel and the distinct colour of Empress 1908 gin makes the drink feel more luxurious. It always has to be garnished with edible gold-leaf.

Aoi Asahina: Pina Coladas. The sweetness of the fruit tends to hide the alcohol aftertaste and rum adds its own sweetness to the mix that she finds delicious. Bonus if blue curaçao is added to make it look even more tropical!

Toko Fukawa: Blueberry Tea - a mixed drink that involves a cup of hot orange pekoe tea with an added shot of amaretto and a shot of grand marnier. The resulting drink tastes like blueberries surprisingly! Toko likes the warmth the drink brings.

Genocider Syo: Caesars! (Aka a Bloody Mary as its known as outside of Canada). Tomato juice is earthy and sweet while gin and vodka add their own herbal elements. The added ingredients of worchestershire sauce, tobasco, clam juice add tartness and heat that Genocider enjoys. She prefers the garnish of a celery salted rim and a dill pickle over the traditional celery stick. She also likes them extra spicy!

Yasuhiro Hagakure: Asahi Beer or Sake. He’s a simple man who likes to keep his alcoholic drinks simple too. He prefers to drink when there’s lots of grilled meat to eat alongside.

Sayaka Maizono: Moscato Rose. It’s sweet as hell and pink to boot. It looks super cute and totally fits Sayaka’s cute aesthetic.

Leon Kuwata: Stout Beer. It’s rich and creamy and a little more complex than lagers or ales. Leon likes to be unique and Stouts are interesting and complex. Like him.

Chihiro Fujisaki: Cream Liquor on the rocks. (Think Bailey’s Irish Cream.) The sweet and rich flavour of cream pairs well with the warm spice of Irish whisky. The two flavours contrast, but also blend together well. Chihiro likes it with lots of ice.

Mondo Oowada: This man drinks whiskey neat. No ice, no fancy garnishes. He likes it straight from the bottle. It’s very manly and cool. His preferred brand is Jack Daniels.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru: I feel like he would be extremely lightweight so he’d probably stick to vodka sodas like White Claw or drinks with lower alcohol content. He is usually the DD because he doesn’t actually like drinking that much.

Hifumi Yamada: Any cooler that has his favourite anime characters on the can. He doesn’t care what the alcohol tastes like he will drink it. If it’s got his waifu on it he’s drinkin’ it.

Celestia Ludenburg: Red wine - preferably Merlot or Cabernet Sauvignon. Bonus if the bottle costs more than 50$. She’s got expensive taste after all and she really, really needs to show that off with her alcohol choices.

Sakura Oogami: Sake, plum wine, rice wine. Sakura keeps it rather traditional with her alcohol choices. She prefers the interesting flavours of traditional Japanese beverages but she is also often the DD because she doesn’t drink often.

Mukuro Ikusaba: Vodka. Just straight up vodka. Straight from the bottle. No chase either.

Junko Enoshima: Our queen of despair drinks only the finest of Champagnes. Bonus if it’s gone flat because that just adds to her feelings of despair!

DR2 Cast

Hajime Hinata: He keeps things simple; he really likes Suntory Japanese Whisky on the rocks or vodka and orange juice (aka a Screwdriver). He doesn’t like to make complicated orders because he doesn’t wanna burden the bartender.

Chiaki Nanami: Strawberry Gin Soda! She likes the fruity flavour and the fact that it comes in a can makes it super easy for her to drink while she’s gaming. Though she’s not a big drinker to begin with so it’s not often she chooses an alcoholic beverage.

Nagito Komaeda: Straight Everclear. No but I feel Nagito is pretty easy going and will drink just about anything that gets handed to him. If he has to choose though I could see him drinking Ciroc or Grey Goose vodka. He comes from affluence, so he tends to like the more expensive brands.

Ultimate Imposter: Whatever drink the person he’s impersonating prefers to drink. He’s gotta sell the illusion that he’s really that person, right?

Teruteru Hanamura: He would rather cook with the alcohol rather than drink it. But he doesn’t mind a beer every once in awhile. He also loves to pair the perfect wine with whatever dish he’s making. 

Mahiru Koizumi: She is the DD. She refuses to drink alcohol because she hates the taste and she doesn’t like the smell, either. She babysits everyone when they’ve drank too much.

Peko Pekoyama: She doesn’t drink often. But she likes traditional Japanese liquor like sake, plum wine, rice wine, etc. She needs to be in peak condition to protect Fuyuhiko so she will probably only have one drink at most.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu: He drinks strong whisky. Preferably Suntory but he isn’t picky. As long as it’s strong and served neat he doesn’t care.

Hiyoko Saionji: She likes the sweetest drinks ever. Fruity cocktails piled high with candy and fruit garnishes. She doesn’t care what kind of alcohol is in them, just as long as it gives her the BIGGEST sugar rush after finishing it.

Ibuki Mioda: Same as Hiyoko. Doesn’t care what alcohol is in it. Just needs to be the sweetest and most extravagant cocktail ever. Not that she needs it.

Mikan Tsumiki: Korean Soju (preferably grape or citrus flavoured), Sake, and Rum based mixed drinks. She’s not a big drinker because she tends to get irrational and overly emotional while drunk. She’s also pretty lightweight.

Nekomaru Nidai: He’s a simple guy. He likes beer and he’ll drink the occasional glass of scotch or whiskey. He likes Canadian Whiskey! He doesn’t drink often because he prefers to be sober so he can help take care of the others. He babysits Akane mostly.

Akane Owari: She shotguns an entire case of beer the moment she arrives at the party. Thus why she needs a babysitter like Nidai.

Gundham Tanaka: Crystal Skull Vodka - specifically Crystal Skull Onyx. Black Vodka is the most hardcore goth shit man. He would LOVE it.

Sonia Nevermind: Sonia is royalty so she has grown up drinking the finest and most expensive wines. But she also really loves a good cognac or brandy. Really she can drink just about anything and she won’t mind. She’s not big on beer or coolers though.

Kazuichi Souda: Cider. Preferably dry apple cider like Strongbow. He hates the taste of beer but he likes the idea of drinking beer. Cider is a more refreshing and less bitter taste that he finds more enjoyable.

Izuru Kamukura: Because he gets bored so easily his drink of choice is constantly changing. He will try any alcohol at least once. 

[bryndeavour]

at it again 

“You know there’s not going to be a bit of bloody parking..” Max complained low as they headed along Cowley Road towards their destination.

“I didn’t pick the place,” Morse sighed. He wasn’t sure why he even felt the need to defend himself. Maybe he was defending Joyce by proxy. Either way, with Jakes ribbing him and Max griping, his mood was headed downhill fast.

“Didn’t think to mention it to them? It’s a work evening in Jericho-”

“Oh yes, of course,” Morse said sarcastically and mimed like he was typing out a text, “Sorry Joyce. Dr. Debryn will be severely inconvenienced by your choice of pub, regardless of your own preference or their ale selection-”

“Ah! Right,” Max drawled, “This is about your malted malediction.”

“Very clever,” Morse said flatly.

Strange turned that over in his mind for a few ticking seconds, “Oh, his beer thing!”

“It’s not a thing.”

Jaked piped up, “Oh, it’s definitely a thing, bruv. I thought you’d spew the first time you saw me drinking lager.”

“It’s not a thing.”

“It’s a bit of a thing, matey,” Jim tilted his head and smirked and that was enough to strike Morse silent.

Everyone fell quiet then. Morse was stewing and Max was now overly focused on the road.

Jim finally held up a finger with a valiant attempt to break the silence, “I did suggest an uber.”

“I’ve a perfectly good vehicle!” Max exclaimed just as Morse cried out, “Oh come off it!”

--- How Long We Were Fool’d - Chapter 7 ---

[sirsharp-a]

A couple niche little alcohol headcanons about Edgar because I Care Him and he’s hot with his drinking habits/preferences:

   He has since developed an understanding with himself that he no longer has to abide by his strict ‘no drinking’ policy.  While earlier on in his development, he was very anti-drink ( on a personal front ),  he’s since learned to trust himself with a glass or two, particularly when socialising.  The reason for him being so strict was the fact that he knew he was likely to slip into his past life habits and depend on drink.  He also has an image to uphold, being the Alpha of his creed;  it doesn’t pay well to appear sloppy.

   He likes whiskeys, ales, rums, rich wines and liqueurs.  He’s indifferent about lager, beer and weaker wine, and he doesn’t like gin.  For some reason or other, it just doesn’t agree with him at all;  it goes straight to his gut.  He doesn’t actually give a shit about how old a bottle is or the ‘’prestige’’ of a certain brand, he just bases it on taste.

   For some reason, he really likes alcohol that is kept in interesting bottles, and has a preference for square caps.  There is no real reason for this, he just thinks they’re Neat.

   His tolerance is  INSANE.   If we have a thread where he appears ‘drunk’ or whatever--  I can assure you he’s not.  Alcohol loosens him up and makes a little more Ostentatious, but most people never see this guy drunk.  Grace has a grand total of  twice,  and both of those times he was in an embarrassingly bad, emotionally violent way.  Edgar drunk is...  a tough thing to experience, and an even tougher thing for him to shoulder, hence he never lets himself get wasted anymore.

[sweetiepie08]

Time not Wasted (Part 2)

The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance fanfiction.

Rian, Mira, and Gurjin get a night off of guard duty and decide to spend it at a nearby tavern. As they drink and celebrate their night of freedom, they laugh, make mischief, and create memories that will warm their hearts for years to come. Time is never wasted when it is spent  with the ones you love.

Part 1. Part 2. 

[-]

Rian looked around the table. Friends from all seven clans filled the seats. All were in Ha’rar for a summit to report on the rebuilding efforts after the skeksis were dislodged and defeated. But it wasn't all business. Rarely were they all together like this. It was time for some fun. “Alright,” Gurjin, the self-appointed master of ceremonies, spoke up, “Everybody ready to drink their way around Thra?”

“Everyone took out their flagons and bottles. Rian brought one of his favorite Stonewood brews and he was excited to share it with the rest of them. He looked around the table and wondered which drink would be the best to try. The plan was to taste the drink from each of the seven clans. They had Stonewood ale, Sifa rum, Vapran liquor, Drenchen moonshine, Spriton wine, Podling lager, Dousan wellspring water (the only nonalcoholic drink of the bunch) and, most dread of all, Grotton glow spirit.

“So here's how it's going to go,” Gurjin began once everyone had their drinks on the table. “I've got the symbols of each seven clans…”

“And podling,” Hup chimed in.

“Yes and podling,” Gurjin went on, “in this bowl.” He presented a wooden bowl with several folded slips of paper in it. “I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this. Whatever I pull out, that's what we'll try. Shall we begin?”

A cheer rose from the table and Gurjin picked the first paper out of the bowl. He unfolded it, looked at it, then fold it up and put it back.

“Hey, hold on, hold on,” Naia protested. “Who was that?”

“I was Dousan, but we can't start with the wellspring water, alright?” Gurjin explained. “Deet’s got glow spirit. We’ll die. Okay, picking again.”

Gurjin reached back into the bowl and plucked out a slip of paper. “Stonewood,” he announced. “Okay, we're easing into it. What have you got Rian?”

“Alright, everyone pass your cups,” Rian said, producing a small wooden keg. He opened the spout on the bottom, filled his friends’ cups, and passed them back. “Stonewoods have brewing recipes by the thousands. Everyone's got different tastes and you can easily start a pub brawl by insisting one brew is the definitive best. Harvest Gold is generally agreed to be among the top tier of brews.”

“This Rian’s favorite?” Hup asked, accepting his pint.

“I like it alright but…”

“Oh here it comes,” Gurjin cut in.

“What?” Rian snapped, turning to his friend.

Gurjin rolled his eyes. “Here comes the lecture about what makes a good beer and why everyone else’s opinion is wrong.”

“Are you drunk already?” Rian retorted with a smirk. “When have I ever said everyone else’s opinions are wrong?”

“How many times have we argued over beer?”

“That doesn't mean I think everyone else’s opinions are wrong,” Rian shot back. “I might think your opinions are wrong.”

“Sours,” Gurjin said as if that settled things.

“Oh now you're bringing up sours?”

“I got you to renounce your opinion about sours, remember?”

“No, I renounced my opinion on people who drink sours.”

“What's wrong with sours?” Kylan asked.

“Aye, I like sours,” Onica added.

“They're just…” Rian sighed, “so bad…” He let out a long, disgruntled breath. “But you're allowed to like them.” He laughed wearily. “So anyway, I prefer a stout. That’s what I was about to say. I like the dark brews. As far as pale wheat beer goes, this one is one of the best.”

“Alright, enough talk,” Gurjin interrupted. “Let's drink. Vliya!”

“Vliya!” they answered back and they tipped back their tankards.

“Very refreshing,” Kylan said, taking another taste of his.

“Thank you.”

“Alright,” Gurjin drained his and slammed it back down on the table. “Tastes like beer. Moving on.”

“Hey, hey, wait a minute!” Rian protested.

“What? The stone Woods export their beer to almost every clan. We've all tried it before.”

“I thought it was good,” Deet put in with her sweet voice.

“Of course your mate's going to say that,” Gurjin answered. “Deet may as well be drinking water.”

“What does he mean by that?” Rek’yr asked.

Deet shyly played with a lock of her hair. “Grottons tend to be less sensitive to strong drinks than most gelfling.”

“Famous Grotton alcohol tolerance,” Grujin added. “You'll see it at work later tonight. Speaking of which, let's move on with the show. Who’s next?”

They moved on to trying Sifa spiced rum, Vapran mountain mist, and podling ale. Naturally, Gurjin felt the need to tease Rian about his beer snobbery.  “Well, I hope you’ve got liquid gold in that keg,” Gurjn had said. “Otherwise, you're not likely to impress him.”

Rian managed to surprise them by complementing the podling beer which he had to admit was very smooth. And Hup’s face lit up like a firework when he did.

As the night wore on, everyone grew tipsy and their different reactions started to show. Rian was starting to feel light and loose. Brea and Seladon became surprisingly giggly. Onica and Naia somehow decided they were best friends, despite having only met a handful of times before. Kylan stumbled through a bizarre retelling of an old gelfling legend while Hup drowsily mumbled back in podling. Rek’yr, unused to drinking in excess, possibly had the worst reaction. He leaned on the table, propping his head up with the hand, and closed his eyes. He also seemed to deeply regret his decision to sit next to Deet, who only became more talkative and she, apparently, decided it was time for jokes.

“So anyway,” she said, taking a long sip from her glass of Spriton BlackBerry wine, “so he knocks on the lady’s door and says, ‘I'm sorry. I've accidentally let out all your rock sprites and they flown away. I'd like to replace them.’ And the lady says, ‘I don't know if that would work. How are you at fertilizing glow moss?’”

“I'm sorry, I'm confused,” Rek’yr said, slowly cracking his eyes open. “Did this happen to friends of yours?”

“This didn't happen to anyone. It was a joke.”

Rek’yr nodded and closed his eyes again, though it was questionable whether or not he comprehended what she just said.

“Delicious as usual,” Gurjin said, finishing his glass of wine. “Everyone ready to move on?”

“I am,” Deet said cheerfully, passing back her empty glass.

Rek’yr just gave a slow, resigned nod.

Gurjin reached into the bowl and announced, “Dousan wellspring water.”

“Oh blessed Thra,” Rek’yr muttered.

Gurjin poured a glass for everyone pass them. “Rek’yr, if your still able to speak in complete sentences, please tell us about Wellspring water.”

“The water comes from the Wellspring Oasis in the crystal desert,” he explained. “It's a sort of home base for my clan. The water is said to have restorative properties.”

“Oh, perfect because the two hardest drinks are saved for last,” Gurjin said.

This seemed to dampen Rek’yr’s mood some, but they all took their glasses of Wellspring water. It was shockingly cool and refreshing. The best comparison Rian could come up with was catching fresh snowflakes on his tongue in the winter as a childling. Amazing that water from the desert oasis could bring snow to mind. And the restorative properties seemed to be at work as well. He could always feel his head becoming clearer.

It was a good thing too. Gurjin was right that they would need that break, because the next slip pulled from the bowl was Drenchen. That meant moonshine.

Grujin and Naia wore matching grins as they took out the clear glass jug filled with possibly even clearer with liquid.

“I don't like that I can see straight through it,” Seledon remarked, regarding the jug with some suspicion.

“Gurjin…” Rian said in a warning tone, “don't do to them what you did to me.”

Gurjin slapped a hand on his chest in feigned offense. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Rian threw him as stern a look as he could muster. “Tell them.”

“Fine…” Gurjin sighed. “Okay everyone, the secret to moonshine is tiny sips.” He passed out glasses which barely had anything in them. Having tasted this particular moonshine before, Rian thought that was for the best.

When they all took a drink, Rian was rather proud to be one of the few who wasn't coughing. In fact, it made him nostalgic for his training days when he and Gurjin would sneak a drink late at night.

He heard Deet chatting and looked over to find her talking Rek’yr’s ear off with her full drink still in her hand.

“I learned the names of all seventy-two types of glow moss when I was a childling. Moss husbandry is actually a hobby of Papa Mitjan’s. Anyway…”

“Deet,” Gurjin interrupted, “try your drink.”

“Oh right.” She tipped the glass back, emptying it into her mouth, and went back to her story. “What was I saying? Oh yes, when I was in school, I did a project on the different levels of luminescence in each type and I found…”

“Deet!” Gurjin interrupted again.

“Yes?” she asked, turning innocently to the table who stared back at her in shock.

“You're supposed to sip that.”

“Was I?” she said as she looked down at her empty glass. “I'm sorry. It was lovely anyway. Here, pour me another one so I can get a better taste.” She passed her glass back to Gurjin and continued. “Where was I? Oh, anyway there's a type called Moonlight Moss which makes your wings glow bright white and that's what the name moonshine reminds me of.” She finished her story with a pleasant smile.

Rek’yr looked at her like she was a witch. “I'm sorry do you really not feel anything.”

“Now that you mention it, that did tingle my nose a bit.”

“A little tingle?” Seladon said, aghast. “That's it? Has science looked into you?”

“They have actually,” Brea interjected, “and it's theorized the veins of crystal energy in the cave have given Grottons certain advanced abilities, such as sensitive eyes and ears, increased durability and pain tolerance, and, as demonstrated tonight, a certain degree of immunity to poisons.”

“Look at her,” Onica grumbled, “Still bright as a guiding star. She’s putting us all to shame.”

“Guys,” Rian laughed, “I guarantee you, later tonight, she's going to be up in bed reading or something, sober as a stone, and I'm going to be hunched over a bucket, crying.”

“Well then,” Gurjin said, taking up the bowl again. “Let's waste no more time.” He took out the last slip and revealed the Grotton sigil. “Time for glow spirit.”

There was a collective groan around the table, save for Deet, who smiled at the mention of her favorite drink, and Gurjin, who grinned gleefully.

“I've never seen anyone so excited to face their own death,” Rian quipped.

“If I go out having fun with my friends, how can I ask for a better death?”

“How about one in your own bed?” Rian suggested. “After living to old age?”

Gurjin shrugged. “Overrated. So Deet,” he clapped his hands together. “Show us the good stuff.”

“I hope I brought enough.” She took out two clear bottles filled with a glowing blue liquid. “This is glow spirit.”

“What gives it that glow?” Kylan asked, staring at the bottles like they were filled with magic potions.

Rek’yr looked at them like they were filled with actual poison.

“It's made from herbs and flowers in the same family as glow moss, which gives it this color. To Grottons, it has a subtly sweet taste with a bit of a bite to it. To others, I hear it's… quite strong.”

“I thought it tasted like arathim poison.” Rain added, staring down the bottles.

“No, if it were arathim poison, Deet would say ‘finally, a strong drink,’” Gruijn laughed. “Wait, you tried it without me?”

“Papa Mitjan’s birthday day,” Deet explained. “It didn't go down easy.”

“I'm insulted,” Gurjin huffed. “We were supposed to try glow spirit together.”

“It was their birthday tradition,” Rian argued. “I didn't want to be rude.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had a pact,” Deet said. “I can invite you to Papa Lath’N’s birthday, if you like.”

Grujin shrugged it off. “Hardly matters now. We're about to try it anyway. But don't think I won't take you up on that offer.”

“Any tips for surviving this?” Brea asked.

“I'm not sure.” Deet tapped her cheek thoughtfully. “We don't really think about it too much. I suppose just try to ease into it.”

“Just don't let it linger in your mouth,” Rian added.

“Alright, final drink,” Gurjin announced. “Everybody ready?”

He was met with an uncertain cheer.

“Eh, sure you are,” he dismissed. “Three, two, one, vlyia!”

“Vlyia!”

They tipped the glasses back and almost instantly began to gag. Hup spit his directly back into his glass. Onica managed to swallow it, but her face scratched up like a raison. Naia swore loudly and wiped her mouth. Brea got caught up in a coughing fit while Seladon dove straight for her water. Kylan just quietly put his head on the table. Gurjin made a valiant effort to act like he was in much less pain than he actually was. Rek’yr battled with his impulse to be polite before muttering “poison” and burying his head in his hands. Rian, having learned from last time, had his water glass in his other hand, ready to chase the burning away.

Amongst the chaos, Deet contently sipped from her glass. “This is actually quite a good batch,” she mused, taking another sip.

“Oh, is it?” Gurjin squeaked. finally reaching for his water.

“Yes, the herbs are complementing each other nicely. It has a smooth finish…”

“Smooth?” Naia coughed. “Did she just say smooth?”

“I did say it tastes different for Grottons,” Deet said, taking another pleasant sip.

“And what a difference it must be,” Kylan said in awe. “I've never tasted anything like that.”

“You know what?” Gurjin said with a cocky grin. “My favorite of the night.”

“Would you shut up?” Naia groaned.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll push you off the chair.”

“Bet you can't.”

After a short scuffle, Gurjin ended up flat on the floor. “Ha! Told you I'd do it!” Naia boasted.

This elicited raucous laughter from the table. Gurjin popped up, no worse for wear. He reached across the table and grabbed a pair of spoons. “Rian, I hope you're not too drunk to play.”

“Oh, this is later than I expected,” he answered, taking the spoons.

“My inner Bard has waited long enough.” Gurjin winked and launched into an old gelfling folk song. Then Kylan joined in, then Hup, then the rest.

As Rian played, he looked around at their smiling faces, grateful to just have them all there, safe and happy. After going through so much hardship together, it still felt miraculous just to have a fun night with his friends.

[whimsywimin]

"Naughty," Jesper said as he removed a tiny knife from Elzinger's sleeve and tossed it across the square.

"Clear," declared Big Bolliger as he finished patting down Geels and moved on to Oomen.

Kaz and Geels discussed the weather, the suspicion that the Kooperom was serving watered-down drinks now that the rent had been raised - dancing around the real reason they'd come here tonight. In theory, they would chat, make their apologies, agree to respect the boundaries of Fifth Harbor, then al head out to find a drink together - at least that's what Per Haskell had insisted.

But what does Per Haskell know? Inej thought as she looked for the guards patrolling the roof above, trying to pick out their shapes in the dark. Haskell ran the Dregs, but these days, he preferred to sit in the warmth of his room, drinking lukewarm lager, building model ships, and telling long stories of his exploits to anyone who would listen. He seemed to think territory wars could be settled as they once had been: with a short scuffle and a friendly handshake. But every one of Inej's senses told her that was not how this was going to play out. Her father would have said the shadows were about their own business tonight. Something bad was going to happen here.

Kaz stood with both gloved hands resting on the carved crow's head of his cane. He looked totally at ease, his narrow face obscured by the brim of his hat. Most gang members in the Barrel loved flash: gaudy waistcoats, watch fobs studded with false gems, trousers in every print and pattern imaginable. Kaz was the exception - the picture of restraint, his dark vests and trousers simply cut and tailored along severe lines. At first, she'd thought it was a matter of taste, but she'd come to understand that it was a joke he played on the upstanding merchers. He enjoyed looking like one of them.

"I'm a businessman," he'd told her. "No more, no less."

"You're a thief, Kaz."

"Isn't that what I just said?"

Now he looked like some kind of priest come to preach to a group of circus performers. A young priest, she thought with another pang of unease. Kaz had called Geels old and washed up, but he certainly didn't seem that way tonight. The Black Tips' lieutenant might have wrinkles creasing the corners of his eyes and burgeoning jowls beneath his sideburns, but he looked confident, experienced. Next to him Kaz looked...well, seventeen.

[jcamilov06]

50 questions game!

I was tagged by @itsjuliak5​, thank you so much :D

1) What is the color of your hairbrush? Black.

2) Name a food you never eat? Anything with celery, it’s the only vegetable I could never eat.

3) Are you typically too warm or too cold? You mean like body temperature-wise? then warm, I guess.

4) What were you doing 45 mins ago? hmm watching some nba highlights.

5) What’s your favorite candy bar? I like all of them, but let’s say Twix, sure!

6) Have you ever been to a professional sports game? no, I was planning on going to my first Deportivo Cali game, along with a friend, but then 2020 happened :/

7) What was the last thing you said out loud? “VAMOS PHILLY!! ESE ES MI QUATERBACK!!” (I was watching the eagles game, and Carson Wentz went rushing and diving for the tying touchdown)

8) What is your favorite ice cream? Macadamia, brownie, or here that is called “tropical lemon”

9) What was the last thing you had to drink? (andean) blackberry juice.

10) Do you like your wallet? It’s alright, I used to have one my mom gave me as gift, but it got stolen :/

11) What was the last thing you ate? I’m eating potato and plantain chips as I’m writing this loool

12) Did you buy any new clothing last weekend? no

13) What’s the last sporting event you watched? Green Bay Packers vs. New Orleans Saints, sunday night footballn’t

14) What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? with lots of salt, although I also like them mixed with some caramel popcorn

15) Who was the last person you sent a text to? a friend from Uni

16) Ever go camping? Yes, when I was little, with my dad and my sister.

17) Do you take your vitamins? I don’t take vitamins, but after being this long without going outside, I think I should start taking some.

18) Do you regularly attend a place of worship? no

19) Do you have a tan? no, I don’t like it, I could end up looking like a carrot or something 😅

20) Do you prefer Chinese or pizza? Pizza!!!

21) Do you drink soda through straws? no

22) What color socks do you usually wear? either black or white, or a mix of both colors (not like different socks though, you know what I mean)

23) Do you ever drive above the speed limit? I don’t drive .___.

24) What terrifies you? The realization of me being stuck on my plans, and starting to lose my closest ones.

25) Look to you left, what do you see? my bed, plus a mess of things on it I should probably organize before it’s too late.

26) What chore do you hate the most? cleaning the bathroom(?) idk, it takes sooooo long 😩

27) What do you think when you hear an Australian accent? “ohh cool 👀”

28) What’s your favorite soda? Ginger Ale, with Sprite as 2nd best.

29) Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? hmm I guess I either go inside, or order on the phone.

30) What’s your favorite number? 15, 27 and 86

31) Who’s the last person you talked to? my mom, encoutered each other in the kitchen, looking for food 😅

32) Favorite cut of beef? I guess sirloin of ribs, why is this even here?

33) Last song you listened to? “She’s Hearing Voices” by Bloc Party

34) Last book you read? Chapinero by Andrés Ospina

35) Favorite day of the week? Friday

36) Can you say the alphabet backwards? sure :D

37) How do you like your coffee? Hot and black americano, with no sugar at all :D sooo good!

38) Favorite pair of shoes? my black and grey adidas

39) Time you normally get up? 7:30 - 8:00 a.m. (I don’t know why or how 😅)

40) Do you prefer sunrise or sunset? sunsets

41) Describe your kitchen plates? white and round  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

42) How many blankets on your bed? only one, two if it is a “cold” night.

43) Describe your kitchen at the moment? pretty normal, needs to be organized in the back because my mom was cleaning up.

44) Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? Beer (lager or stout), and rum.

45) Do you play cards? I used to play poker, solitaire but not as much recently

46) What color is your car? there’s no car .___. 

47) Can you change a tire? sure, it could take me a while though.

48) Favorite state? I’m not from the U.S. but if I’d have to choose one, I’d say either Oregon or Ohio.

49) Favorite job you’ve had? It got tiresome at the end but the one as electrical maintenance in a medical products company.

50) Tagging: @buddyhollyscurls, @turnsthepages, @habemus-sea, @vodeaare, @flaneuriste, @pepgabbyiola, @hopelesscrawl and @kalykemoon (only if you want to, of course! after all, it quite a loooong tag)

[the-blind-assassin-12]

And for all of your boys...The last one in sprituality, and numbers 2 and 9 in the last section.

Oooooo! An all play! Fun!

Spirituality

10- what is their zodiac sign?

Ryan- Gemini. Ryan Brenner IS summer, and A LOT of Gemini’s attributes fit with the way he thinks and works and acts, Ryan’s birthday is June 5th and he always tries to plan his trips back to Georgia to coincide with his birthday.

Logan- Aries. I gave Logan a spring birthdate because spring symbolizes new life and change, which is what Logan needs. April 14th is his birthday and he matches up with a lot of these traits (and the stubbornness/tenacity of a ram)

Billy- Scorpio. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that because I feel like unveiling the date takes some of the magic out of his spontaneous birthday celebration.

Nick- Aquarius. It has snowed 25/28 of Nick's birthdays. Will this year be different since he’s not in Boston? Probably not. February 3rd is still pretty snowy in NJ. Sorry Nicky.

Daily Life

2- Does he have any allergies ?

Ryan- nope! No food allergies (and very few dislikes. Ryan eats everything, he’s the farthest thing from a picky eater.) No seasonal allergies (he learned from a bee keeper that he helped out once that consuming local honey helps keep allergies to pollen at bay, so in the summer he’s always on the lookout for roadside stands.) No animal allergies. Ryan loves dogs and always gives them attention when they come wagging over to him. As a kid he and his cousins were always catching mice and bringing home frogs… a squirrel once, and a few stray cats and he’s never had an issue. He’s got an iron clad immune system and rarely gets sick, too, so if you hear Ryan sneeze or cough, prepare for one HELL of a flu season.

Logan- Cantaloupe. I know, it’s oddly specific. It’s not all melons, it’s just cantaloupe, which is good because it doesn’t really limit him. Logan doesn’t appreciate limitations.

Billy- I answered this one, but it’s dust.

Nick- No allergies, but Nick has a deviated septum from taking a punch to to nose, so he gets sinus infections like every other year, and he definitely snores.

9- What is their alcoholic drink of choice?

Ryan- Ryan has scaled his drinking back quite a bit since his younger years when really anything went. He’s done enough dumb shit (like treating an entire busload of tourists to his rear view on his 21st birthday) and he’s learned from experience (his own and that of others) that it’s best to hsvevyour wits about you when you’re traveling, especially if you’re traveling alone which he’s done more of in the last couple of years. He sticks to beer now: preferably ales and stouts. But he still indulges in moonshine when he’s back home because there’s always something to celebrate and he knows he’s safe and able to let loose a little.

Logan- Oblivion/Simplify Logan doesn’t drink, but See You in New York Logan does… responsibly, of course. He’s a fan of cocktails, but not sugary ones with lots of mixers and garnishes. He likes an Old Fashioned or a Mint Julep, and in the summer he goes for a Gin & Tonic with a twist of lemon, not lime. (Brings out the subtle lemongrass flavors in the gin) Champagne is always in play, too.

Billy- I think I answered this one, but it’s whiskey and beer, specifically Makers Mark and Brooklyn Lager. Billy doesn’t love to get exceptionally drunk because he doesn’t like not being in control, so he usually skips the shots and sticks to beer… unless there’s something to celebrate or drown.

Nick- Another reason that Nick isn’t cut out for life in the mafia is that he hates traditional Italian liquors like Limoncello and Sambuca. But he does appreciate red wine when the occasion calls for it. When he’s out his drink of choice is an amaretto sour because buying the ingredients to make them for himself seems extravagant to him, but it’s actually his favorite drink. At home he usually sticks to vodka if he’s drinking liquor, or an IPA if he’s going for beer.

[midgardbrewhouse]

Brewday - Schwarzbier & Small Beer

First brew of 2020, deferred from 2019 is a Schwarzbier... I might have planned this one a bit too far in advance as when I went to start I had less Carafa II then I'd originally planned and Saaz instead of Hallertau Hersbrucker. I think it had sold out and I forgot to update my recipe. Well plenty of scribbling and an update on Brewers Friend and I'm not too far off the original recipe. Saaz & Tettnang should suffice with a bit more dark crystal to make up the lack of Carafa II, still within BJCP guidelines for the style anyway. Ended up with 44.6% Bohemian Pilsner, 40.2% Munich, 4.9% Carafa II, 5.6% Torrifed Wheat, 2.2% Acid Malt & 2.5% Dark Crystal. Mash in at 68c.

So what do you do if you accidentally run the mash too thin? Take the extra runoff, add some DME, lactose for body and more water and make a Small Beer at the same time as your main brew of course! Looking at around 10L brew with 12g Fuggles for bittering, 45 min boil with 20g coriander seeds and 29g of citra for the last 5 minutes. To be fermented with a Belgian Ale Yeast, its all I have in. No idea on stats or targets, just see how it goes.

I went with a 45 minute boil for the Schwarzbier with 10g Saaz for bittering, followed by 60g of Tettnang at what would have been the last 20 minutes if it wasn’t for the fact that my kettle cut out just shortly after adding it. I stuck to my recipe though adding a final 15g Saaz and 40g Tettnang for the final 7 minutes, just putting the lid back on my kettle and steeping it. It wasn’t the best way to start 2020, a thinner mash meant I didn’t hit my numbers but 1.048 ain't too bad for the Schwarzbier. The Small Beer came in at 1.028, quite excited to have a proper low ABV beer, should be an interesting experiment.

I’m a little calmer about the Kettle dying on the day now as it seemed to be working fine when I tested it the next day. Possibly having the Small Beer boiling next to it caused the thermal cut off to be activated? Either way I’m going to do a test run on it by boiling some water for a few hours before risking my next brew.

After a week the Small Beer is down to 1.009 but still seems to be holding some carbonation so I’m going to leave it a little longer just in case. It tastes pretty good at the moment for a beer coming in at 2.5%.

The Schwarzbier is also tasting great, the disaster brewday didn’t ruin it thank god, the lack of Carafa II on the other hand did mean it was a little less roasty than I prefer, but not too much of an issue considering what else could have gone wrong, lol. It’s down to 1.019 now so I’ve just upped the fermentation temperature from 13c to 20c for a diacetyl rest, essential for lagers. I’ve been using one of my favourite lager yeasts for this Mangrove Jack’s Bohemian Lager Yeast. After the diacetyl rest once my target is hit it’s the largering schedule for the next 3-4 weeks. It’ll be worth it if it’s as nice as my last Black Lager.

As usual more regular updates can be found on my Twitter & Instagram, give me a follow there if you like. Oh and Happy New Beer!

[midnightprelude]

Fictober: Slipping Her Mind

Prompt number: 24

Fandom: Dragon Age

Rating: Teen

Warnings/Tags: Fluffy fluff and Cullen being awkward and blush

You can read more about these silly fools on AO3!

It had been at least three weeks since their episode in the tent and Cullen was beginning to think that Josephine’s last words to him that day had somehow slipped her mind. She had asked him for a drink. He had told her give him a date and he would be there. She had promised she wouldn’t forget.

He had been able to think of little else.

Meetings in the War Council put butterflies in his stomach, because he knew who would be there, smiling, laughing at his brutally efficient methods of dealing with problems.

“Why can’t we just send in a few men? It’ll be far faster than dealing with the nobility—they’ll drag their feet for months until the problem fixes itself, in that everyone will be dead anyway, including us!”

She would tut and shake her head. “Commander, you underestimate me. They know who the request comes from. They will act quickly enough and without bloodshed. Trust me.”

He didn’t underestimate Josephine Montilyet, not for a moment. He did however, think very little of the words of nobility, having known too many of them to be false. And there she was, referring to him by his title again.

I thought we had spoken on this… She can’t have overlooked everything so quickly!

He was adjusting the tiny wooden troops on the great map in the war room one day, after a particularly long meeting. The Templars were corrupted with red lyrium. His brethren. Cullen could have easily been one of them himself, spikes of maroon crystals jutting from his back, eyes filled with an otherworldly glow. He shuddered. He liked to think he would have died along with Barris and the others trying to stop the bastardization of the organization he had once given his life to. He was not so sure. Still, he hoped.

Josephine was rearranging her parchment, cleaning up a spot of ink she had spilt upon the table. It was very unlike her to create messes; she was always cleaning them up and was very cognizant of adding more work to her pile of nonsense. She had seemed flustered that particular morning, quieter than normal and when she did speak she was short with them all. Like they were toddlers, every one of them. It was very strange, the entire display.

He realized very suddenly that they were the only two left in the room. Cassandra, Leliana, and the Inquisitor had all headed out minutes ago, discussing something about their spies and whether the Nightingale or Varric had turned up anything interesting on Corypheus’s movements. He hadn’t really been paying attention.

His cheeks turned red immediately. He did not know what to say to her.

She looked at him, her smile almost nervous. He wasn’t sure, but it really seemed like that was the case. Her eyes were darting around, not making contact with him for more than a second. He crossed the length of the table towards her.

“Commander,” she said.

He eyed her skeptically. “Cullen, remember?”

“Oh yes,” her laugh was nervous. “Of course. Cullen, I am sorry.”

“For… what could you possibly be apologizing for?” His name? Was that enough to warrant an apology from her? He always thought she apologized too much; sometimes your actions don’t need a caveat. That’s what made them different. She was always trying to make sure others felt comfortable. Cullen was mostly so preoccupied trying to maintain a semblance of comfort for himself that others would often slip his mind.

She frowned. “I hadn’t forgotten my promise. I just wasn’t sure how to ask you.”

He raised a single eyebrow. “Really? Even I could have done it. Lady Josephine, would you mind joining me…” He laughed. “Okay, maybe it is harder than I thought.”

She laughed. “You still want that drink?”

Do I still want it? If only she knew.

“Nothing would make me happier. It’s been a heavy day… I think we could both use a few pints of ale. Or… wine? Or… what do you drink, actually? I’m afraid I have no idea. You seem like a wine woman. The finest Antivan reds? Or perhaps something from Tevinter? I can’t imagine you with a Ferelden lager, but you’ve surprised me before…”

She held up a hand, grinning. “I’m flexible. No need to try and guess my preferences. I have a taste for whatever my companions drink. It’s polite. Truth be told, there is a particular spirit I’ve found since joining the Inquisition that I have fallen positively in love with.”

He cocked his head, surprised. He couldn’t imagine her with liquor, but then again she was friends with Leliana. He imagined they had their share of drunken evenings…

His cheeks turned crimson.

Best not think on that.

He couldn’t stop.

“Do tell, Lady Montilyet. I would like to know such things about you.”

She took his hand, his face growing redder at the sudden contact. “Oh, you’ll need to come with me to find out. I’m officially naming the day. Today. And the time is now. Let’s be off then,” she turned to him, winking. “Commander.”

If there had been a fainting couch nearby, he would have made full use of it in that moment, pride be damned. As things were, he simply allowed himself to be led from the castle, dazed, by a woman more beautiful and brilliant than he had any right to be drinking with.