#absinthe decanter

[absintheonthenet]

ETCHED GLASS RICARD PASTIS DECANTER

https://www.absintheonthenet.com/Ricard-Etched-Glass-Pastis-Decanter-p/dcer1.htm

[kvroii-arts]

Back when I was into calligraphy in 2020, I lettered this decorative tag for my absinthe decanter.

[edspear]

Six Non-Phyrexian Drinkable Trinkets to Contrast the Six Phyrexian Drinkable Trinkets.

Susseryinthe- Absinthe but it jackpunches you in the mage organs. Been playing baldur's gate 3 what can I say? Realizing carrying around this stuff messed with my bard was amusing.

Sad Potion- is a sad potion. And something I can't remember if I've posted yet... Its been around for a while suffice to say.

Keg of Bumblebeer- Encountered in Witchlight campaign proper.

Riverspan Wine- A nod to the first invasion, and probably something that was in stock at the Aligheiri's Inn.

Inverfeim Decanter- From the world by @socialpoison. The delightfully victorian world of phyrexians not quite run amock.

Flask of Halo- Decima met an angel. Lady (or was it Dame) Angelhair hasn't sniffed anything ominous out yet. Just *knows* something is up with her.

[geraldofallon]

Romance in the Neath: Lugubrious Seamstress

She must be tired of having only spiders and ruins for company. She might welcome an evening of drinks and conversation.

You arrange a rendezvous…

You listen to her complaints over a decanter of absinthe, and prop her up against a column to sleep it off.

[unhingedselfships]

I was advised to slap this under a cut, jic so

CW : Explicit language? But nothing happens so.

Kimi was being… weird.

She’d talked him into doing the whole absinthe production with her, fancy decanter, cold water drip, the works. And while he’d acted annoyed and put out by it, he really didn’t mind at all.

He kept her drinks light, didn’t want her passing out on him immediately, so he’d diluted her glasses heavily.

But she was still being… odd.

She couldn’t be that drunk already could she?

He’d catch her looking at him, and diverting her gaze as soon as she noticed.

The flush could be attributed to the alcohol, but not the way it would flare worse when she glanced at him.

What had gotten into her?

Eventually, his patience ran out, and he snapped.

Grabbing hold of her chin, and forcing her to look at him, he demanded, “What, exactly, is your problem?”

She squeaked at him, eyes wide, and she looked on the verge of panic before blurting, “I just really wanna give you head.”

It was barely a beat of silence, as he tried to process that, before she continued babbling.

“You told me to stop helping you, and start pleasing you, and I know it's not what you meant at all, but I can’t stop thinking about it. And that’s so stupid and selfish, because it wouldn’t really be for you at all, ‘cause, yanno, you don’t even want it but-” she swallowed, “But I just can’t- I can’t stop thinking about it, about being so completely at your service, the way you’d look above me, the view from between your knees- I just want to make you feel good, so bad, and holy shit I need to stop talking, what is wrong with me?!”

She was bordering on hysterical and his grip had loosened enough that she was successful when she tried to pull away.

She snatched his drink and chugged it down, grimacing. 

“... that wasn’t diluted like, at all, was it?”

He laughed at her, before cupping her jaw, running a thumb over her lower lip.

"Aww, poor Kimi, you must be suffering so terribly."

The playful, mocking glint in his eyes, and smirk tugging at his mouth, should have irritated her more.

Why did she like it so much instead?

"You're a very cruel man, Kadokura Kenshi."

He laughed harder.

The alcohol started to really hit her, and she swayed, much to his amusement.

She was completely out within twenty minutes.

Then he shot off a text to Daigo.

: Would you fuck your wife so she’ll leave me alone

: …. I don’t want to know

: That isn’t a yes, Daigo-chan : Kadokura-san please

[candy-floss-crazy]

Mulled Wine Cart Hire - Amazing Winter Treat

Hire Mulled Wine Carts The Hot Winter Drink For Your Event   Wine is sunlight, held together by water. You can have a great complement to hot roast chestnuts, steaming hot mulled wine the perfect warming treat for a cold winter event. Red wine with added spices including nutmeg, cinnamon, star anise, and fruit such as oranges and apples. Slowly heated up to allow the spices to permeate the wine. Then served steaming hot to your guests. You choose the style of cart to serve from , an Alpine hut perfect for serving mulled wine with, with the advantage of making your event look good. Though for smaller Christmas events it works equally well if you choose a traditional Victorian cart. Your perfect reception drink at those chilly evening events, or festive celebrations. Talk To Us About Your Drinks Needs..... An International Beverage Mulled wine, known in Germany as Gluhwein and Scandinavia as Glogg. As originally developed it was a way to reuse wine that had spoiled. By warming it up and infusing it with spices, the taste of the sour wine was hidden. Nowadays it is made using good wine, but with the same mix of spices and fruit. It is regarded as a traditional winter drink. Of course not everyone likes their alcohol steaming hot, so you can also have; •Gin Carts •Jagermeister Bars •Prosecco Bars •Pimms Carts •Absinthe BarHow Is Mulled Wine Made Our mulled wine is made from a quality red wine. Steeped in a mixture of spices consisting of nutmeg, cinnamon, star anise, lemon zest, cloves and cranberry. Its then heated (but not boiled as this destroys the alcohol). With lemon rind and orange added to the mixture before it is decanted and served to your guests. Fresh hot mulled wine has to be tried to be appreciated. The aroma is just oh so good. We can also offer a non alcoholic version, all of the great taste, but non of the alcohol, ideal for daytime events, or when religious reason prohibit alcohol.Mulled wine can be combined with spiced cider and hot Pimms to give your guests a choice of winter drinks. You can choose a cart that can also accommodate a hot  chestnut oven. Offering a complete winter reception service, just perfect for Christmas parties, or a great addition to any event. If you are planning an exhibition or corporate sales promotion contact us. You can have a custom design and build service to suit your brand requirements. Many of the consumables such as the chestnut bags can be custom branded for you. Helping promote your corporate brand. You can also have a complete service with branded vehicles and staff workwear.WHERE CAN I HIRE A MULLED WINE CART NEAR ME; We provide a range of mulled wine carts throughout the U.K., so we cover all of your requirements.JTNDc2NyaXB0JTIwdHlwZSUzRCUyMmFwcGxpY2F0aW9uJTJGbGQlMkJqc29uJTIyJTNFJTBBJTdCJTBBJTIwJTIwJTIyJTQwY29udGV4dCUyMiUyMCUzQSUyMCUyMmh0dHAlM0ElMkYlMkZzY2hlbWEub3JnJTIyJTJDJTBBJTIwJTIwJTIyJTQwdHlwZSUyMiUyMCUzQSUyMCUyMlByb2R1Y3QlMjIlMkMlMEElMjAlMjAlMjJtcG4lMjIlMjAlM0ElMjAlMjJDRkNNVyUyMiUyQyUwQSUyMCUyMCUyMnNrdSUyMiUzQSUyMCUyMk13aW5lJTIyJTJDJTBBJTIwJTIwJTIybmFtZSUyMiUyMCUzQSUyMCUyMk11bGxlZCUyMFdpbmUlMjBDYXJ0JTIwSGlyZSUyMiUyQyUwQSUyMCUyMCUyMmltYWdlJTIyJTIwJTNBJTIwJTVCJTBBJTIwJTIwJTIwJTIyaHR0cHMlM0ElMkYlMkZ3d3cuY3JhenlhbmRjby51ayUyRlNjaGVtYSUyRk11bGxlZC1XaW5lLTExLmpwZyUyMiUyQyUwQSUyMCUyMCUyMCUyMmh0dHBzJTNBJTJGJTJGd3d3LmNyYXp5YW5kY28udWslMkZTY2hlbWElMkZNdWxsZWQtV2luZS00My5qcGclMjIlMkMlMEElMjAlMjAlMjAlMjJodHRwcyUzQSUyRiUyRnd3dy5jcmF6eWFuZGNvLnVrJTJGU2NoZW1hJTJGTXVsbGVkLVdpbmUtMTY5LmpwZyUyMiUwQSUyMCUyMCUyMCU1RCUyQyUwQSUyMCUyMCUyMmRlc2NyaXB0aW9uJTIyJTIwJTNBJTIwJTIyVGhpcyUyMGlzJTIwYSUyMHBlcmZlY3QlMjBjb21wbGVtZW50JTIwdG8lMjBvdXIlMjBob3QlMjByb2FzdCUyMGNoZXN0bnV0cyUyQyUyMHN0ZWFtaW5nJTIwaG90JTIwbXVsbGVkJTIwd2luZSUyMHRoZSUyMHBlcmZlY3QlMjB3aW50ZXIlMjB3YXJtZXIlMjBmb3IlMjBhJTIwY29sZCUyMHdpbnRlci5SZWQlMjB3aW5lJTIwd2l0aCUyMGFkZGVkJTIwc3BpY2VzJTIwaW5jbHVkaW5nJTIwbnV0bWVnJTJDJTIwY2lubmFtb24lMkMlMjBzdGFyJTIwYW5pc2UlMkMlMjBhbmQlMjBmcnVpdCUyMHN1Y2glMjBhcyUyMG9yYW5nZXMlMjBhbmQlMjBhcHBsZXMuJTIwU2xvd2x5JTIwaGVhdGVkJTIwdXAlMjB0byUyMGFsbG93JTIwdGhlJTIwc3BpY2VzJTIwdG8lMjBwZXJtZWF0ZSUyMHRoZSUyMHdpbmUuJTIwVGhlbiUyMHNlcnZlZCUyMHN0ZWFtaW5nJTIwaG90JTIwdG8lMjB5b3VyJTIwZ3Vlc3RzLiUyMiUyQyUwQSUyMCUyMCUyMnVybCUyMiUyMCUzQSUyMCUyMmh0dHBzJTNBJTJGJTJGd3d3LmNyYXp5YW5kY28udWslMkZtdWxsZWQtd2luZS1jYXJ0LWhpcmUtYW1hemluZy13aW50ZXItdHJlYXQtZm9yLXlvdXItZ3Vlc3RzJTJGJTIyJTJDJTBBJTIwJTIwJTIyYnJhbmQlMjIlMjAlM0ElMjAlN0IlMEElMjAlMjAlMjAlMjAlMjIlNDB0eXBlJTIyJTIwJTNBJTIwJTIyQnJhbmQlMjIlMkMlMEElMjAlMjAlMjAlMjAlMjJuYW1lJTIyJTIwJTNBJTIwJTIyQ1JBWlklMjAlMjYlMjBDby4lMjIlMkMlMEElMjAlMjAlMjAlMjAlMjJsb2dvJTIyJTIwJTNBJTIwJTIyaHR0cHMlM0ElMkYlMkZ3d3cuY3JhenlhbmRjby51ayUyRndwLWNvbnRlbnQlMkZ1cGxvYWRzJTJGMjAyMiUyRjAyJTJGQ3JhenlfQW5kLUNvX0xvZ28ucG5nJTIyJTBBJTIwJTIwJTdEJTJDJTBBJTIwJTIwJTIyb2ZmZXJzJTIyJTIwJTNBJTIwJTdCJTBBJTIwJTIwJTIwJTIwJTIyJTQwdHlwZSUyMiUyMCUzQSUyMCUyMk9mZmVyJTIyJTJDJTBBJTIwJTIwJTIwJTIwJTIycHJpY2UlMjIlMjAlM0ElMjAlMjIzOTklMjIlMkMlMEElMjAlMjAlMjAlMjAlMjJwcmljZUN1cnJlbmN5JTIyJTNBJTIwJTIyR0JQJTIyJTJDJTBBJTIwJTIwJTIwJTIwJTIycHJpY2VWYWxpZFVudGlsJTIyJTNBJTIwJTIyMjAyMy0xMi0zMSUyMiUyQyUwQSUyMCUyMCUyMCUyMCUyMmF2YWlsYWJpbGl0eSUyMiUzQSUyMCUyMkluU3RvY2slMjIlMkMlMEElMjAlMjAlMjAlMjAlMjJ1cmwlMjIlMjAlM0ElMjAlMjJodHRwcyUzQSUyRiUyRnd3dy5jcmF6eWFuZGNvLnVrJTJGbXVsbGVkLXdpbmUtY2FydC1oaXJlLWFtYXppbmctd2ludGVyLXRyZWF0LWZvci15b3VyLWd1ZXN0cyUyRiUyMiUwQSUyMCUyMCU3RCUyQyUwQSUyMCUyMCUyMmFnZ3JlZ2F0ZVJhdGluZyUyMiUyMCUzQSUyMCU3QiUwQSUyMCUyMCUyMCUyMCUyMiU0MHR5cGUlMjIlMjAlM0ElMjAlMjJBZ2dyZWdhdGVSYXRpbmclMjIlMkMlMEElMjAlMjAlMjAlMjAlMjJyYXRpbmdWYWx1ZSUyMiUyMCUzQSUyMCUyMjUlMjIlMkMlMEElMjAlMjAlMjAlMjAlMjJiZXN0UmF0aW5nJTIyJTIwJTNBJTIwJTIyNSUyMiUyQyUwQSUyMCUyMCUyMCUyMCUyMndvcnN0UmF0aW5nJTIyJTIwJTNBJTIwJTIyMSUyMiUyQyUwQSUyMCUyMCUyMCUyMCUyMnJhdGluZ0NvdW50JTIyJTIwJTNBJTIwJTIyMzYlMjIlMEElMEElMjAlMjAlN0QlMEElN0QlMEElM0MlMkZzY3JpcHQlM0UlMEE= Read the full article

[bebemoon]

ＤＵＣＫＹ＇Ｓ ＢＩＲＴＨＤＡＹ paper dolls (outfit selections) and items, @blubbingbeautifully ~ o3 feb, 2o22 .

~ video game persona: the desert-dwelling witch known only as “ｃａｃｔｕｓ  ｃａｎｄｙ” ~ 

christian dior resort 2o18 (main)

rodarte rtw autumn 2o13 (main)

rodarte rtw spring 2o22 (main)

alberta ferretti rtw autumn 2o16 (sleep)

valentino rtw autumn 2o19 (fancy)

schiaparelli couture spring 2o19 (camo)

central saint martins rtw autumn 2o15 (camo)

rick owens rtw spring 2o21 (travel)

dion lee rtw autumn 2o21 (battle)

~ｉｔｅｍｓ ~

bottle of jacques senaux absinthe green 

régime des fleurs pour tous “cacti” parfum

aventurine, orchid gemstone, obsidian arrowhead 

blood orange, sour apple juice-filled gummy bears 

christian lacroix bull skull ring

ebonny munro necklaces (“cannibal girl” and “ghost bitch”)

beauty & the beast living dead dolls 

old west lady’s calf pocketknife 

glass potion decanters with cactus stoppers 

albino python (not a desert native but an homage to your pet:3) 

[therenlover]

Heartsick (A James Patrick March/Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: When you fall ill, James is given a forceful awakening about how he’s been neglecting your needs and what he must do to prevent harm from befalling you again

Tags: Fluff, Sickfic, Cuddling, Marriage Proposal

Rating: 16+

Warnings: Language, Potentially Triggering Mentions of the Reader Being Ill for a Long Time/Almost Dying of an Unnamed Illness, Planning Your Own Death

Word Count: 3700~

This was crossposted to my AO3 under the same title!

---------------

James Patrick March considered himself a fairly patient man. He had to be, in his line of work. Some things didn’t deserve his patience, like lazy workers or angry hotel guests, but when it came to things that did matter, he was willing to go to extremes. Murder, for example, deserved his patience. Once upon a time, the Countess did too. Yes, patience was a rare virtue Mr. March had possessed all his life.

When it came to you, though, he found his patience running short.

You had been a revelation all your own when you first walked through the doors of the Hotel Cortez with not even a suitcase to your name, radiating purity with every shallow breath. James had been excited to find you in some dark corner of the hotel and rip the life from your body. That is until you found his little nook at the Blue Parrot Lounge and seduced him with your charming personality and sweet smile. From that moment on the Countess didn’t matter anymore. The whole world was just him, you, and all of the deliciously naughty ways he wanted to debauch you.

James had insisted on moving you into your own suite on the seventh floor that very night, just a few short hallways away from his own, and given every luxury he could offer. He was nothing if not a gentleman. It just wouldn’t be right to move the one he intended to court directly into his bedroom, especially while he was still married to his previous wide. Despite the distance, things between the two of you went swimmingly. Even the murder, which James initially worried could drive you apart, was now a delightful shared activity when you chose to grace him with your presence during a kill.

That’s where the problems started.

Mr. March was a man stuck in his own time. That’s why, after 5 splendid years with you at his side, you still weren’t moved into room 78. This also meant your suite was a place he wouldn’t enter unless he was invited. Sure, you had a healthy sex life, but the Countess still had the March family engagement ring tucked away somewhere. He wouldn’t move you into his quarters or impose himself on yours until the two of you were at the very least engaged. The plans for his and the Countess’ divorce were moving, albeit slowly, when you stopped opening the door for James.

The first day he thought perhaps you were simply elsewhere, but after a week of nothing, he began to get angry. It was one thing to deny him your company, but to ignore him while he made a fool of himself banging on your door? That was a punishable offense in the March family playbook. So, he decided if you wanted to play hard to get, he would too. In his mind, James could practically envision you rushing back into his arms once you got over whatever was souring your mood. It wouldn’t be long until the whole nasty affair was behind the both of you once and for all, right?

Wrong.

A month since he last dined with you, James sat at his table in the Blue Parrot lounge alone nursing the remains of his 4th glass of scotch.

Liz was slow to walk out from her place behind the bar. “You want another?” she asked, holding out a crystal decanter, “or should I fish out the absinthe fountain a little early this year,”

“No, no I do believe I’ve had quite enough. Besides, it’s not as if I can actually get drunk anymore,” he huffed. Whether it was the drinks or his growing rage, Mr. March found his collar feeling a bit tighter. He reached up to pull at his cravat but paused when thinking about the ghastly wound it hid. In the end, he let his hand return to its place on his glass.

“Suit yourself,” Liz quickly returned the decanter to its place and began polishing glasses.

Somewhere in the distance, Iris picked up a phone and began to take an order for room service. James had an epiphany.

“Liz!” he shouted, getting her attention, “has Y/N been ordering much room service lately?”

Liz shrugged. “Only once a day for the past month. Why do you ask?”

“I find myself in a bit of a predicament. You see, Y/N began ignoring me about a month ago. I’ve been giving her a taste of her own medicine for quite some time now, and yet she has made no attempts to seek me out. Do you think, perhaps, there could be something wrong?”

The energy in the room began to still.

“Wait, Y/N hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

The dirty glasses were abandoned as Liz let out a humorless laugh.

“Damn you, woman!” James rose with a shout, slamming his glass down on the table, “what is she hiding!?”

“She’s sick,”

James’ heart would have stopped if it were still beating. He sat down again, bewildered. “What?”

“She’s sick. Fever, puking, tremors; the whole shebang,” As she spoke, Liz came back to the table and sat down on the plush booth across from him.

“But it’s been a month! Influenza shouldn’t last that long…”

“Well, it’s definitely not the flu, I can tell you that. Last time I brought down her dinner she nearly choked on her toast. She was so weak that I had to sit there feeding her soup because she couldn’t lift up the spoon long enough to feed herself,”

It was as if James’ whole world had come collapsing down on him all at once. Mortified, he let his head drop into his hands. “Why didn’t she inform me? Am I that pathetic a lover that she would rather suffer in silence than tell me she was ill?”

“Well, to her credit, you don’t exactly look like the most comforting type. When did she move in again?”

“Almost five years ago, it’ll be the anniversary of her first entering the Cortez on the 20th,”

“And how many times in the past five years have you, I don’t know, cuddled with Y/N,”

“You insolent-”

Liz lifted her arms, offering up a white flag. “I’m just asking a question,”

James opened his mouth to offer up a rebuttal but found he had no way to defend himself.

It was true that his relationship with Y/N tended to fluctuate between chaste and lecherous at the drop of a hat. Once they had made love, it was the only habit for him to leave her in bed and return to whatever was keeping him busy at the moment. Post-coital intimacy was simply something he had never experienced or needed. Unfortunately, seeing that the only time he spent with Y/N outside of their trysts were formal meetings or dinners, there had been no time for gentility or softness between just the two of them. If ghosts could blanch, he would have.

Noticing his sudden shift in mood, Liz rose, backing off. “Now, usually I like to stay out of your business, but because your little relationship makes Y/N happy I’ll give you some advice. Go down to the kitchen, have Ms. Evers heat some broth, and give Y/N her dinner personally, maybe even give her some extra attention as a little treat. That should fix the bulk of your issues. Got it?”

He was never one to take orders, but surprisingly James nodded. He stood quickly, smoothing his suit. “Thank you for your advice, Ms. Taylor, but I must depart. My paramour needs me,”

She nodded. “Any time,” James began to hurry down the stairs, but suddenly Liz shouted. “Wait a second,”

James paused. “Yes?”

“Only the living get sick, Mr. March. Maybe, after five years, it’s time for Y/N to extend her stay at the Cortez... permanently. Just something to think about,”

He gave her a sharp nod before disappearing down the stairs to the kitchen. 15 minutes later he was waiting outside your door with a rolling cart in hard. He had already been stalling there for 5 minutes when he finally, with a deep, steadying breath, unlocked the door.

The room was dark and silent, almost like a tomb.

Your voice rang out like a bell as James pushed the cart forward. “Iris?” you called weakly, “is that you?”

“No, darling,” he responded, closing the door behind him. Slowly, he bent down at turned on a small lamp. “You won’t need Iris to bring you your dinner any longer,”

“James,” You whispered, half reverent and half shocked.

He was far too taken aback by the severity of your condition to form an immediate response.

You were curled up in bed, folded in on yourself as you wheezed for breath. As Liz had mentioned your body was weak and wracked with near-constant tremors while you tried your best to prop yourself up on the headboard. James had to abandon the cart with your dinner on it in favor of rushing over and helping you sit up. As he took in your gaunt face, his heart broke.

Your soft voice snapped him from his thoughts.

“Am I dead?”

James shook his head. “No my love, not yet,”

Tears began to spill from your eyes. “I thought you’d left me, James. I thought I was going to have to rot in this awful, dark room for eternity, that maybe ‘cause I died while I was sick my ghost was too damn weak to get up,” As you spoke, you tried to grip the back of his suit, but found you were far too weak to actually hold the fabric. Your inability to even do the simplest of tasks only made you cry harder.

Mr. March was quick to pull out his handkerchief and wipe your eyes. “Oh, my dearest, that couldn’t be farther from the truth, but none of that matters now. I cannot apologize enough for my abhorrent behavior as of late,”

“Will you stay?” your words were laced with desperation, “just for a little bit?”

“Of course, my dearest. I think you’ll find it very difficult to get rid of me from now on. Besides, I couldn’t leave my beloved paramour without doing what it is that I set out to do,”

“Which is?”

James stood and quickly returned with the room service cart. As he removed the silver tray-topper, you found he had brought you a bowl of soup, a small plate of crackers, and a tall glass of ice water.

“I intend to make sure you are well-fed and taken care of,”

“James, you don’t-” you tried to argue, but he cut you off.

“Nonsense! There is, unfortunately, no way to sugar coat this, but I will try my best,” he whispered as he sat on the edge of the bed beside you, “I have neglected you, darling, not just for the past month when I found my pride and ego keeping me away from you, but also for the past five years. I ignored your needs out of a false sense of propriety by bending to rules that are long dead and considered inconsequential. For that, I fear I may never forgive myself. Things will be different from now on, though. I hope to win back your heart properly now that I have realized the severity of my mistakes. Would you…” he paused, gulping, “would you be willing to humor me?”

You offered him a soft smile. “Oh, my beloved Mr. March, there’s no need. My heart has always been yours,”

Your words soothed him, and he offered you one of his debonair grins, the kind where his little mustache scrunched before his lips parted that never failed to sweep you off your feet.

“Now where were we!” he exclaimed.

“Dinner,” you responded.

“Ah, yes! Soup!” He was quick to get a spoonful of the warm broth and bring it to your lips. “You needn’t worry, my sweetling, I watched Ms. Evers prepare this herself. Nothing but the best for you,”

It was easy to accept the spoon into your mouth. Something inside of you knew that James would be taking care of you from now on.

The rest of dinner passed in relative silence, but you didn’t mind, far too tired to take part in any meaningful conversation. Instead, you simply enjoyed the attention. James had never been shy about his affection, but that affection always tended to come in the form of gifts or sex instead of close, intimate touch. It hadn’t bothered you enough to tell him. You always just assumed he didn’t enjoy that kind of love. Now that you’d had a taste, though, of his gentle yet constant affection, you knew you could never get enough.

Too soon the bowl was empty.

James stood, returning to the door with the cart as you relaxed and rolled onto your side. “When will you be back?”

He chuckled, opening the door. “Did you think you could be rid of me so soon, darling?” The cart was quickly pushed out into the hallway as James turned back towards you.

Your face flushed. “I just assumed…”

“Assumptions, assumptions,” he tutted, “It hurts that you have such little faith in me, but I admit I haven’t given you much reason to. As I said, things will be different now,” James perched himself on the edge of the bed with a smile as he untied his shoes and slipped them off.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking off my shoes, darling, so I can join you in bed,”

Your heart skipped a beat. You had been imagining the first time James would actually stay in your bed to cuddle since the beginning of your relationship, but it had been years since you had given any thought to that silly fantasy. Could it really be happening?

Apparently, your surprise was evident on your face because Mr. March paused once both his shoes were settled neatly on the floor. “Is something wrong, my dearest?”

“Nothing, darling, nothing at all,” you were quick to explain, “we’ve just never done this before,”

James smirked like a predator who had just found his prey. “Such an innocent gesture from such a naughty little minx. I don’t recall you being so… flustered the night we met when I took you up to my suite and-”

“James!”

“Alright! Alright, my love, no more vulgarity from me until you’re fully healed and back on your feet. Well, hypothetically on your feet,” he emphasized his words with a dirty wink. Then he crawled into bed beside you as if he belonged there, scootching over until he was resting pressed against your side. You slotted into place, with your face resting in his neck and your leg thrown haphazardly across his hips as if you were made to fit his body. Holding James was like coming home.

You let out a soft, pleased sound at just how good it felt to be held.

James took this as positive feedback. As he settled in, he began running his fingers through your bedhead, combing through the loosest of the knots. Sensing something strange, he paused to put his hand on your forehead. It was uncomfortably hot. “You’re still feverish. Do you need anything? A cold compress? A wet washcloth? Some water?”

It was funny to hear him fussing over you, but it also warmed the deepest parts of your heart.

You made a negative huff against his neck. “No! You’d better not move. Your skin feels too good. It’s nice… cold. The only thing I could possibly want right now is for you to dim the lights and take your damn shirt off so you can cool more of me off,”

“I would, darling, believe me, but there’s just the small issue of the wound on my neck,”

“James,” you glared up at him, “I have literally ripped a dying man’s dick off in front of you. We have dinner with Jeffery Dahmer on your birthday every year, where I have to eat my salad as he zombifies whatever poor sap wandered into Sally’s clutches across the table. Hell, just a few months ago we fucked in that bathtub filled with some businessman’s blood. Your neck is just another part of you, James, it doesn’t bother me. Shirt. Off.”

“Have I ever told you that I adore when you take charge?”

You grinned as he undid his cravat and the top few buttons of his dress shirt. “Once or twice,” The thrill only lasted a moment, though, because before he finished unbuttoning his shirt he pulled away from your arms and got off the bed. A high-pitched whine escaped from your lips. “I thought you said you were staying?”

“I may be a ghost, dear heart, but my clothes can’t just disappear,” Always one for the dramatics, he shed his shirt and suit jacket to the floor with gusto. The sight of his bare torso made your heart beat faster. You had to remind yourself that you were sick and it would probably kill you to go for even a gentle round with Mr. March. Ah, but what a way to die…

James dimmed the lamp before returning, undoing his pants, and stripping down to his boxers. “Is this better for you darling?”

You nodded and reached your trembling arms out to your lover. “Much. Now come back to bed. You have five years’ worth of cuddling to make up for Mr. March, and I don’t intend on letting you wheedle your way out of even a second of it,”

He gave you a gentle smile as he found his way beneath the covers again. “I wouldn’t dream of it,”

Your face quickly found its way back into the crook of James’ neck. It was inhumanly cool, easing the constant burn of your fever and soothing your sore skin. The slit across his throat truly didn’t bother you. As you said, it was just another part of him for you to love, nothing more than a cosmetic imperfection.

Nuzzling closer, you took a deep inhale of his intoxicating scent. Perhaps it was the cologne he wore at the time of his death or even just what he naturally smelled like, but his pulse point radiated notes of sage and bergamot. God, how you loved him.

The pair of you were quiet for a moment with only the sound of your ragged breathing breaking through the air, but something urged you to speak your mind.

“You know, James, when you walked into my room tonight I assumed you were here to kill me,”

He chuckled. “I can’t say I didn’t think about it, my pearl,”

“Of course you did…” you went silent for a moment, “I wouldn’t have minded. This sickness is hell. I’m wasting away by the day and the pain never stops. I don’t mind dying, not when it means I get to spend the rest of time here in the hotel with you, but I don’t want to go out like somebody normal. My death needs to be special… I want to be the crowning glory of your murders, the most fantastic piece of art you’ve ever created,”

Pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your hair, James sighed. “Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but the moment I thought of you, wasting away in the darkness and succumbing to some common germ, I knew I couldn’t kill you. Not yet. I refuse to have my bride accompany me through eternity bearing a constant reminder of my failure,”

Your breath hitched. “Bride?”

Slowly, his hand made its way to your throat. There was no threat in it, he wasn’t using even an ounce of pressure. It was more of a gentle reminder of his presence; a physical conduit of his passion.

“Yes, bride. I don’t mind if you can only become Mrs. March posthumously, though I would prefer to wed you alive and enjoy your last moments of warmth in the throes of carnal delight on our wedding bed, it all depends on where your illness takes you next. Until then I will be glued to your side. No more harm will come to you. I shall nurse you back to health with my own hand so that you glow with life long after your death. Yes, Y/N, your death will come, but not until I have done my best to atone for my mistakes in your life,”

“Was that a proposal?” You gazed up at James with wide, misty eyes.

He huffed out a laugh. “I suppose it was, and a poor one at that! To think I stalled for years in the hopes of finding the perfect moment to present you with my mother’s ring only to pop the question in bed with no ring in sight. I do hope you’ll say yes. I’d be rather crushed if you rejected me after all this time,”

You nodded, small tears escaping as you pressed your face into his soft skin. “Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot. I would’ve married you if you were the poorest man in the world and proposed with a ring-pop,”

“Then it’s settled. You shall be my wife as soon as you are well enough for me to fuck you again! I quite hate that Will Drake, but I believe he’s our best, quickest option if we wish to get you a dress commissioned. I have a few ideas drawn up already waiting in my office… perhaps I should call Ms. Evers and have her take them to him,”

“Shhhh,” you smiled into his neck, pressing a kiss to his collarbone, “we can figure out the details later. For right now, though, your fiancée is sick and she needs some TLC. What are you gonna do about it, Mr. March,”

He growled. “Well, I suppose ravishing you is off the table. Hmmm... what to do to my darling girl to make her feel better?” With a gentle nudge, he tilted your head up and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips.

“That’s a start,”

-------

a/n: I hope you liked it! I’m really leaning towards writing a second part of this where the reader actually dies, so let me know if you’re interested. Also, my requests are open if you want to see any of Evan’s other characters! 

Please don’t post my work to other sites, thank you <3

[drinkacefahz]

Plain, Simple, Tailored | ABV: ~26.25% | Yield: ~3.60 fl oz | Martini, Stirred, Spirit-forward

"Truth, is in the eye of the beholder. I never tell the truth because I don't believe there is such a thing. That's why I prefer the straight line simplicity of a measured drink.”

1.5oz(45ml) Gin -- Preferably less juniper-forward. I use a Japanese one here.

.75oz(22.5ml) Bison Grass Vodka

.5oz(15ml) Dolin Blanc vermouth [feel free to use Lillet, or even Cocchi Americano/Kina L’aero d’or]

.25oz(8ml) John B Taylor’s Velvet Falernum 

.20oz(6ml) Honey Syrup

2 dropper Old Forester saline & pepper solution 

1 dropper Embitterments Ancient Trade Bitters[see below]

1 dropper Old Forester Hummingbird Bitters, or floral, citrusy bitters of choice

Small amount of Blue Curaçao decanted into small pitcher

Spritz or dash of absinthe

STIR first eight ingredients until very well chilled, drizzling in curacao until it is the shade of blue you desire. IME it shouldn’t take very much -- maybe .15-.25(1/6-1/4) ounces. Rinse or spritz chilled glass and fine strain. 

GARNISH with a ’‘needle and thread’‘ -- a spiral of your preferred peel skewered on a cocktail pick.  

So. I couldn’t resist. In “The Wire”, Garak soothes the agony of the the Obsidian Order’s implant malfunctioning after oversuse by belligerently drinking through an extensive supply of kanar at Quark’s. Now, Kanar is a frustratingly inconsistent beverage in the show -- its usually somewhat thick, varying from purple to orange to, in this iteration, blue. So this was a bit of a... disarming drink to develop. Garak makes it easy for nobody. This drink is no exception. However, thankfully for me, I had a lot of thematic inspirations. Obviously, the iconic ‘spy cocktail’ -- as invoked in later episode Our Man Bashir -- is the Martini, and I loosely built from the split base Vesper made famous by Casino Royale. However, I wanted a slight curveball and so used bison grass vodka instead of unflavored. The other drinks I drew from are another Martini variant, the Obituary, and the Corpse Reviver #2, because... well, absinthe seems right for Garak, and those also seem suitable inspiration based on this episode. However, I didn’t want it to just be a martini, so I thought a bit, looked around, and so the velvet falernum and the honey are a little homage to Dale Degroff’s Tailor Made and I think help it not feel too heavy or dry. This is still a pretty boozy drink, so, be careful. The Saline & Pepper is very interesting, though just saline works in a pinch. As I noted, the Hummingbird bitters are primarily rose and citrus, so I would go with whatever bitters in that flavor area you have. However, uh, I have no idea what you could sub in for the Ancient Trade bitters, so I’ll just list the ingredients here: turmeric, ginger root, holy basil, saffron, gentian. When in doubt, you can probably get by with a dash of a slightly vegetal bitter and a dash of aromatic bitters -- I’d pick Bitter Truth over Angostura here. I like the motif of them being trade bitters, since so much cargo goes in and out of DS9, and they layer in yet another intriguing note that feels properly characteristic to Garak. I think of the many layers to this as sort of reflecting how different all his explanations are -- but true or not, they add up to this very complicated Cardassian -- just as these ingredients add up to this very complicated drink.  

Also just like Garak, this drink is a LIAR! Ten ingredients! That’s not plain or simple at all! But it is designed very specifically, as it should be. After all, he is a very good tailor. 

[absintheonthenet]

ETCHED GLASS RICARD PASTIS DECANTER

https://www.absintheonthenet.com/Ricard-Etched-Glass-Pastis-Decanter-p/dcer.htm

[onwesterlywinds]

Raised Glasses

Content warning for brief allusions to physical and emotional abuse.

Early one evening, well before the sun had set over the city above, Ashe was struck with an urge to go deep into the limestone quarry. She entered from a hidden archway along the city's outermost walls and walked down for nearly a bell until she found the place she sought: past Aster's open sigil-gate, past a thin tunnel where the underground wind blew like whispers, into a winding crevasse along which someone had posted standing torches. That otherwise featureless path led her on and on, until at last the walls widened outward and the ceiling rose up for yalms above her and she stood in a vast subterranean chamber: an abandoned workers’ station.

Dozens of others had already gathered, bringing with their work a flurry of motion and purpose, and others still entered in behind her. Little by little they assembled an entire market - the market, the Undercity's traveling venue for wares of all kinds. Ashe watched the procession of vendors and buyers from a distance as the hall slowly filled with color and noise and activity to rival the city above. As more of the Undercity began to trickle in, merchants and musicians and ruffians and a great many others, she contented herself with wandering about, intent on nothing except sating the fateful urge that had driven all of them there to begin with. Soon each booth and stall sat attended, except for one: a chest-high bar carved directly out of the limestone wall, with a fully stocked shelf behind it but no one present to make or serve drinks.

Ashe made her way around the market three times before taking up a shift.

The only woman seated at the bar raised an eyebrow at her coming but hailed her all the same. "Grand Steward."

"You can call me Ashelia," she said. "What's your name?"

"Jas." She was a warrior of some sort, with a full bandolier of weapons draped across each shoulder. "I'll take whatever's in the barrel at your right."

Ashe lowered a glass to the tap, and it filled with a dark, heady beer. She passed it back to Jas and Jas accepted the drink with a nod, and though the woman offered no coin in exchange, Ashe somehow knew their transaction to be fulfilled.

Other orders came in, one by one, as varied as the people asking for them. Rarely did she recognize the drinks: most visitors called for a specific liquor or else a name scrawled on a bottle's label. Before long, she fell into a rhythm of shaking and tapping and pouring and serving, until the line that had stretched out from the bar slowly settled into a small and comfortable crowd, a lethargic gathering to contrast with the market's stream of people.

"Where'd you learn to tend bar, Grand Steward?" asked a broad-shouldered man with a salt-and-pepper beard.

"At the Sandsea," she said, then added, "The Riskbreakers' headquarters in Thanalan." Even now, she had little idea if her company's deeds were widely known throughout the Undercity. "Back when the XIVth Legion were setting up their castra all over Eorzea, we advertised ourselves as a tavern. It brought in a stream of adventurers, and it let us keep an ear to the ground for any imperial movements."

"Did it work?" piped up a gruff voice.

"It did." She handed off a whiskey drink to the speaker - a woman with one eye, a woman who had passed her in the Ala Mhigan Quarter only a day or so before. The woman saluted her but held on a moment for her to continue the rest of her story. "Precious few knew of us as anything more than a bar for clan hunters until we stormed the Praetorium and took down van Baelsar." Her mention of the erstwhile viceroy's defeat was met with a brief but hearty chorus of victory cries. "Even then, our reputation was so well-hidden that many Eorzeans didn't make the connection that the Riskbreakers of the Sandsea and the Riskbreakers harrying the Garleans were one and the same until much later."

Someone in a hooded robe shook their head, gesturing languidly with a hand already gripping a flask. "Explains how you practiced. Not where you learned."

Ashe rolled her eyes in what she hoped was a good-natured expression but took the correction in stride, tapping another pint of Jas's choice for a Roegadyn soldier who'd appeared at the opposite end of the bar. "Where else but Limsa Lominsa? I started by watching the barkeeps' hands, to make sure they weren't about to snatch up my purse. By the time I became a proper adventurer, getting dragged around to every backwater alehouse in Vylbrand, it was simply a force of habit."

"Who was Ludo?"

The voice was Stella's, tucked away somewhere in the crowd. Sure enough, Ashe espied a flash of white hair, though the girl crouched as if to avoid further detection.

All other chatter slowly died, and her chest went tight, even as she reached to pour out a glass of absinthe without being prompted. Something had shifted with the speaking of his name, as if he came to life so very briefly - as if she could make out his thin, pale face among the crowd and the whole of the Undercity knew him as well as she did for everything he had done. She did not dare halt the movements of her hands; as the glass stopper clinked against its decanter, the sound resonated amid the lull in conversation that had settled over their shadowy corner of the market.

"Ludo was my former partner," she replied at last. She could not find Stella again, and so she spoke to the person in the hooded cloak. "He and I created the Riskbreakers together."

"Did he die?" asked another of the children. They spoke the word without fear or sadness, as had many of the other young ones she'd known in the desert.

"Yes," she said, her voice a little firmer. "Ludo died. His ashes are buried far away on the other side of these mountains, in a place called Coerthas."

Somehow, the persisting silence that fell in response was worse than the question that had preceded it. And so she took up another pair of wine glasses, poured a hearty serving of red into each, and found her voice again, with a crowd of watching eyes upon her.

"He was... special, and charming, easy to admire and confide in - though he so rarely shared his emotions, or even his goals." It was such a facile thing to say in the Undercity, a place where hardly anyone spoke their intentions aloud. "But once we opened up to each other, I couldn't imagine being without him. Even when he lied, or kept things from me, or gambled with our safety."

Someone standing at the market's grocery lobbed an object that was brightly colored and vaguely grenade-shaped; her onlookers ducked their heads and she caught the lime effortlessly, unthinkingly, in her palm. She took up a knife at the counter, rolled the flat of its blade across the surface, and dug in deep to squeeze as much juice as she could into a shallow glass before carving up its rind.

"Twenty years," she said, watching the last bits of pulp fall over the ice. "The first person in twenty years whom I'd learned to trust, implicitly. But he coveted power over our life together. Over me. I suppose I'd always known it, deep down - I just hadn't wanted to believe it until the truth was staring me in the face."

She topped off the glass of lime juice with a rum that so perfectly matched the gold his eyes had been, and her chest went tight at the memory of those eyes meeting hers for the last time: her jaw trapped under his crushing grip, as he promised her power enough to fell the Empire.

When she slammed the drink down upon the bar, not a soul moved to claim it.

"Promise me," said Ashe, meeting the gaze of the closest of the children - a little girl in a patchwork dress. "Promise me you won't stay with someone if they hurt you, no matter who they are or how much you love them. Find a friend, go somewhere new, and don't let them get near you again."

The girl nodded, and her crowd of compatriots swiftly followed suit. Only Stella's face scrunched up in a childish display of pensiveness.

Jas cleared her throat, and Ashe gladly took the cue to refill her beer. "Anyway, the lot of you should meet my husband." The relatively offhanded quip earned her more laughs from the crowd than she'd expected. "I mean it. He remembers far more of this place than I do, on account of his being six moons older than me, and the stories he tells aren't half as morose as mine. But don't tell him I told you so; it'll go straight to his head."

The conversation shifted like a welcome breeze, and still the glass of rum remained on the limestone bar while its ice slowly thawed. Only when the crowd dispersed hours later along with the rest of the market did the last remaining patron, a stocky woman with her light hair tied up in a high bun, down it in a single gulp before hastening off.

Once relieved of that final burden, it was enough for Ashe to bask in the afterglow of good conversation and a job well done. She doubted she had any obligation to clean up the bar behind her - and many of the bar's guests had simply taken their glasses with them - but she nonetheless lingered for long enough to stack the used dishes into a single empty washbin and wipe a damp rag across the countertop, just as she would have done were she at home in the Sandsea. Stella hopped up onto the crate where Jas had been sitting and watched Ashe's movements on occasion, though mostly she carried out her own private listening. When Ashe ended her shift, Stella followed her closely out of the limestone quarry.

"I'd appreciate it if you were to warn me the next time you do that in public, you know," said Ashe. "It's rather impolite to air someone's innermost thoughts when they least expect it."

Stella gasped. "S-S-Sorry."

When the girl looked up at her, Ashe cast what she hoped was a reassuring, if teasing, smile; she gave no words of affirmation but tousled Stella's white curls, earning her a little giggle in response. Together they traipsed their way back upward and eastward to the areas under the Noble District, until Ashe came to a fork in the path and found that Stella had already vanished from her side.

[sentientclockwork]

Within the Walls

A cloudy day saw the castle aflame. In the gilded halls of light and shade, All of us spoke in a hushed whisper - For there had turned up a bottle, Of absinthe and a body without name.

The candle-lit corridors felt forlorn. Where the defendants of prestige, Argued arguing sense with a madman. For the College Dean was in pain. Upon finding, the found body his son.

Cruel is fate, and weak was the boy - Oblivious in a life of books, pens & grass. The hardships of life would have sapped His life anyway - she said as she trapped, My heart with eyes wise but still coy.

I was writing for the college paper, Of boys losing to a harmless decanter Speaking to her had been but a ploy To know more, for he'd been her toy Discarded in disregard like a leper.

But in the dark recess of her eyes deep No fear I could see, let alone shame I wondered if I would soon find my way Like that dead boy to a ruinous aim As the students and the castle drifted to sleep.

[dw-writes]

Dial Tone Devil - Chapter Two

Summary: Lucifer’s reputation of granting favors is the second best thing his known for. So when you ask for one - point blank - and offer him immediate repayment in the form of a coin he thought to be long gone, he immediately agrees. But you come with baggage, and series of suspicious circumstances, and Lucifer finds himself full invested in your story.

All because of a suspiciously familiar coin.

Interesting.

A/N: HELLO AND GOOD EVENING!!! I’m SO excited for this chapter, and for you guys to read it!! I was SO happy with the feedback and the excitement for the series, and I’m looking forward to you guys reading it!! :D So here you are!! Chapter Two!

Chapters: Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four || Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven || Chapter Eight || Chapter Nine || Chapter Ten || Chapter Eleven || Chapter Twelve || Chapter Thirteen || Chapter Fourteen || Chapter Fifteen

More Content: Dial Tone Christmas || The Keys to Lux || Quarantine

To Tag: @revinval @spotgaai2000 @measure-in-pain @kittenlittle24 @broadwayandnetflix​

“So what do I call you?” you asked as you looked around the office. Maze leaned on the door, peeling an apple with a curved knife, and eating the pieces directly off the blade. You looked over as you pulled the computer around the desk and knelt to plug it in.

“My name is Mazikeen,” she answered. She sat on your desk as you worked beneath the ebony metal contraption, making sure that everything you had ran up to your desk and sat in the right spots. As you crawled out from under the desk, you saw she was right in your face. “You can call me Mazikeen,” she added.

You nodded slowly, and rose to your feet. “Alrighty then.” You connected the phone, and sat in your brightly colored rolling chair to program it.

And she stared all the while, eyes narrowed as she watched you. “What are you doing?”

“Programming numbers?” you suggested. She scooted around your desk. “So, between certain hours, the calls from Lucifer’s number will come to this phone, and I’m programming the numbers in so that I can see who it is,” you explained, “I’m also adding a short cut to this so that when I’m out, the calls all forward to my phone.”

Mazikeen slowly lifted a piece of the apple to her mouth. “Are you a witch?” she finally asked.

You snorted. “No. I just read the instruction manual.” You held out the newspaper thin booklet for her to take. “I figured this would make life a little easier.” You finished with what you were doing, and taped a list of numbers next to the phone for your quick reference. “Actually, you’re in charge of the bar, yeah?”

“Yes…?”

You smiled. “Do you think I could have your order book? I can just order everything that you need at the same time as I order everything else. Make it easier on y—”

She hopped off the desk and stabbed the knife into the wooden side table next to you. You pressed your lips together and watched her leave. “I think I’ll like you,” she said as she reached the door.

You stuttered, lost for words as she left, and leaned back in your seat. “Okay,” you called to empty air. You heaved a sigh, and glanced around the massive office, at the blank walls and dark paint, and wondered what you could do with it all. You left the office, leaving behind a blazer, and rolled up the sleeves of your shirt as you entered the club proper. The phone behind you rang, calling for you, and you groaned and jogged back down the hall, leaving Mazikeen to stare after you and laugh.

You snagged the phone off the cradle on the fourth ring. “Lux,” you said, introducing yourself after, “How may I help you?”

There was a pause of silence. “Uh, is Lucifer…there?” a woman asked.

You wedged the phone between your ear and shoulder, and pulled a notepad over to you. “I’m actually his assistant.”

“Oh!” The woman laughed lightly. “I didn’t know…he…needed an assistant.”

“Apparently he does.” You smiled and clicked the pen. “So, what can I do for you, Ms…”

“Oh,” she said again, “This is Detective Decker. Chloe…D-Decker, I’m sorry, this is weird, is Lucifer around?”

You wrote her name down and pulled the cradle off the desk, peeking down the hall from your door. “I wish I could tell you, but I can’t see a thing from my hall. I’ve been banished to a dark corner to do all this work.”

“He needs to get a phone of his own,” Chloe Decker mused.

“You know, he has one, but I’ve been told to forward his calls to me,” you replied. You sighed and wandered back to your desk. “Detective? I’m assuming you have a case, right? Since he does the consulting thing?”

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” she finally answered. She gave you an address, which you jotted down and circled. “Can you have him meet me there?”

“Of course, Ms. Decker.”

“Oh, just…Chloe. Please,” she insisted. You nodded, and ended your call, setting the phone to forward to you, and heading out of the office.

Mazikeen leaned on the bar, pouring over a book, jotting down notes on its pages. She looked up when you entered. “Already working?” she asked.

“And you’re adding to my work, I see,” you chimed. She shrugged. “Is Lucifer here? Upstairs? Where would I find him?”

She pointed to the elevator above your head. You nodded, headed up the stairs, and entered the elevator. The penthouse button required a key, and you patted your pockets to search for your copy. As you inserted the key, Mazikeen’s head popped up above the alcove floor. “Oh, be careful. He might have company,” she commented.

You started to ask her what kind of company, but the elevator doors shut. You huffed, and picked at your sleeves as the elevator started up the building. You passed your floor, the sixth, where your FAR too big apartment took almost a sizable chunk of the floor. The furniture you had hardly filled the space, and that was from an eight-hundred square foot apartment! You heaved a sigh and watched the elevator continue up, heading to the penthouse that you knew Lucifer occupied at the top.

When it stopped, and the doors slid open, smoke wafted into the compartment. You coughed, surprised, and squinted into the room as you walked in. There were muffled giggles, soft gasps, and quiet moans that you couldn’t find the source of. As you walked in, you found beautiful crystal decanters in the shape of skulls, and a massive glass reservoir on the bar, with spouts on four sides, filled with the green liquid of absinthe.

“Lucifer?” you called into the smoky haze.

A sounds were cut short, and you heard quiet reassurances from your right as you crossed the room to the glass wall of his balcony. You pushed open the door, and coughed as the smoke was suctioned out past you, billowing into the air. Lucifer’s voice sounded behind you, a gentle purr of your name that had you turning around. He was belting a silk robe closed. “Fancy seeing you here!” he exclaimed.

“Not really, I work for you,” you replied. You felt your voice catch in your throat as men and women in various states of nudity left the room, picking up clothes from the floor. A man with full dark hair winked as you met his gaze, and you felt your face flush before you looked away.

Lucifer glanced back, and grinned. “You know, I could introduce you to Henry, he’s a marvelous fellow, very well endowed—”

“Detective Decker called!” you rushed to cut him off. You politely turned away, pressed your lips together and did everything you could stop a grin from worming across your face. You cleared your throat. “She has a case for you?”

“Oh!” You heard Lucifer turn away. “Well, why didn’t you lead with that!” You turned away, and found Lucifer had disappeared into the area sectioned off for his room. The man, Henry, was leading the rest of the party into the elevator. He met your gaze before the door closed, and smiled, waving just enough to keep your attention before the door shut. “I told you I can introduce you, he’s a good man, and very talented,” Lucifer commented. It took you a moment to look up at him, finding him completely dressed.

“Uh, no, I’m….far too preoccupied—”

“A good shag always reorders the mind, you know,” he responded. He straightened his coat, a beautiful import by the looks of it, and smiled. “You ever been to a crime scene?” he asked.

“No?” you offered. “Because it’s generally frowned upon for normal, non law enforcement people to be loitering at a crime scene.”

“We just have to fix that then,” he said. He waved an arm around your back, hovering just above touch, and motioned to the elevator. “After you, dear.”

He brought you to a massive hotel – a ritzy one, where your car had to be at least one-hundred thousand dollars or even the valet wouldn’t look at you – and helped you out from the front seat. You followed him through the hotel, down lush red carpet on sleek onyx floors, and out to an infinity pool that overlooked the cliff the hotel sat on, with a view of the Los Angeles skyline to kill for.

To one side, where the outdoor patio backed up to where the laundry and pumps for the pool would be, stood who you assumed to be Detective Decker. Red and blue lights strobed against the building as you walked closer, following Lucifer’s confident strides. The Detective looked up once, twice, and finally settled a questioning gaze on you. You shook your head, and shrugged.

“Uh, Lucifer,” she started, turning to him.

He, in turn, swept an arm around you with the largest grin he could muster. “Detective, I would like you to meet my personal assistant.” You tried to smile, you really did, but it shrank as he kept talking. “Part of the job is to be with me while I work cases, in case anything else happens to come up, of course.”

You backed up and pointed at the ground. “I’m gonna stay right here, outside of the crime scene, and keep to myself, like a good civilian.”

“What, no, what if I need your eyes, or a second opinion?” Lucifer asked.

“No, that’s a very good idea, thank you,” the Detective said over him. Lucifer scoffed, and followed her beneath the yellow tape, around the corner, and out of sight. You heaved the heaviest of sighs as you looked around the area. It was a beautiful white stone patio, massive, with gorgeous metal tables and chairs with stuffed cushions, plush towels, and an incredible view of the city. You wandered along the edge of the pool, down a strip of stone that outlined the pool, right to its edge. Below you was a small fence, just a short distance away, but far enough that someone could, at least, break an ankle if they fell off the edge. The water of the pool trickled over its hidden glass rim, down into the lip surrounding it and back into the pool.

There was a familiar sound, one that made you squint the longer you heard it. It didn’t belong in a pool area, that was for sure. You turned as you tried to pinpoint its location, listening harder, trying to think of where you had heard it.

It was water on metal, like something you heard in your sink. You inched closer to the edge, your breath caught in your throat, and you shouted, “Detective Decker!” You twisted away, felt your foot slip off the edge, and stumbled forward back to the patio. The Detective’s head popped out around the corner, and she ducked under the tape. “Are you missing a gun?” you asked through a wheeze.

Lucifer peeked around the corner as the Detective made her way towards you. “See, what did I tell you? Useful!”

[candy-floss-crazy]

Mulled Wine Cart Hire - Amazing Winter Treat

Hire Mulled Wine Carts The Hot Winter Drink For Your Event   Wine is sunlight, held together by water. You can have a great complement to hot roast chestnuts, steaming hot mulled wine the perfect warming treat for a cold winter event. Red wine with added spices including nutmeg, cinnamon, star anise, and fruit such as oranges and apples. Slowly heated up to allow the spices to permeate the wine. Then served steaming hot to your guests. You choose the style of cart to serve from , an Alpine hut perfect for serving mulled wine with, with the advantage of making your event look good. Though for smaller Christmas events it works equally well if you choose a traditional Victorian cart. Your perfect reception drink at those chilly evening events, or festive celebrations. Talk To Us About Your Drinks Needs..... An International Beverage Mulled wine, known in Germany as Gluhwein and Scandinavia as Glogg. As originally developed it was a way to reuse wine that had spoiled. By warming it up and infusing it with spices, the taste of the sour wine was hidden. Nowadays it is made using good wine, but with the same mix of spices and fruit. It is regarded as a traditional winter drink. Of course not everyone likes their alcohol steaming hot, so you can also have; •Gin Carts •Jagermeister Bars •Prosecco Bars •Pimms Carts •Absinthe BarHow Is Mulled Wine Made Our mulled wine is made from a quality red wine. Steeped in a mixture of spices consisting of nutmeg, cinnamon, star anise, lemon zest, cloves and cranberry. Its then heated (but not boiled as this destroys the alcohol). With lemon rind and orange added to the mixture before it is decanted and served to your guests. Fresh hot mulled wine has to be tried to be appreciated. The aroma is just oh so good. We can also offer a non alcoholic version, all of the great taste, but non of the alcohol, ideal for daytime events, or when religious reason prohibit alcohol.Mulled wine can be combined with spiced cider and hot Pimms to give your guests a choice of winter drinks. You can choose a cart that can also accommodate a hot  chestnut oven. Offering a complete winter reception service, just perfect for Christmas parties, or a great addition to any event. If you are planning an exhibition or corporate sales promotion contact us. You can have a custom design and build service to suit your brand requirements. Many of the consumables such as the chestnut bags can be custom branded for you. Helping promote your corporate brand. You can also have a complete service with branded vehicles and staff workwear.WHERE CAN I HIRE A MULLED WINE CART NEAR ME; We provide a range of mulled wine carts throughout the U.K., so we cover all of your requirements.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 Read the full article

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

thoughts on glasses

i’m assuming you mean the eyewear but i will also yell about the home good

not a ton of thoughts about glasses the eyewear, i’ve been wearing them most of my life. genuinely couldn’t live or work or legally drive without em. have seriously considered lasik Just In Case Of Apocalypse but honestly if the apocalypse comes i have so many more other urgent health things to worry about than if my glasses get broken and lasik has never been covered under any insurance i’ve been under.

i also think glasses as an object tend to frame my somewhat amorphous face a little better. the [redacted] family tends to run jowly early and my jawline is mmm nonexistent. i am pleased my prescription has had only minor changes for the last three years and has maybe finally settled down. i live in a very dry area/all my work is on screens so there’s about three months out of a year i don’t want to claw contacts out of my eye sockets. it is hard to find frames that fit my nose, i miss my big chunky clear frames that i broke in half at work but they were perpetually sliding down a little. fun fact my newest glasses have been ever so slightly off kilter since uhhh late feb when the kid i babysit headbutted me, and i have not gotten around to going to the optometrist bc i was all “well i’ll just take them with me when i get my yearly exam done and they’ll whack it back into alignment and in the meantime i’ll wear these glasses one prescription behind” And Then Everything Fell Apart

_

glasses the barware? i think the wide variety of alcoholic drink holders is fun and i like fancy housewares, but i was never a very good bartender. in the comfort of my own home i’ll throw whatever into whatever glass i have handy. i like the act of preparing a drink with fancy ingredients in fancy specific glasses. soothing. but alas there is very little space in this dorm room for anything more complicated that two-ingredient briefly-stirred things. i own a pint glass a lowball several mugs and a handful of shot glasses.

i have a soft spot for promotional/commemorative/stupid pint glasses, bc they’re so much sturdier than regular table glasses and i will not be caught dead drinking out of a mason jar unless the situation is dire, even though western massachusetts really wants me to be a person who drinks out of mason jars. keepin a weather eye out for a big square crystal decanter bc i think they’re pretty and i do want a fancy little barcart setup when i move. i don’t like absinthe (which makes me sad it is a thing out of sheer aesthetic i want to like) but i do think the glasses are cool, and future!me with more space to play with will absolutely snap up the next cool one i see. 

apparently wine glass shape and size is really important, but i’m not terribly fond of most wine and i can’t justify spending that much money on expensive grapes when most of the markup is for the name and the Experience, like how the perfume industry works. they are not necessarily selling you the scent in the bottle, they are selling you who you want to be while wearing that scent even if it doesn’t particularly smell great on you. likewise, wine is about the Experience of conspicuous consumption. you don’t really see anyone drinking their way through a private collection by themselves, like you never see anyone putting on perfume just for themselves. anyway those are two luxury markets i think are bullshit, along with lingerie, but that’s a whole other “thoughts about” post.