#cheerio!sam

[jauntilyplacedcaps]

[emmedoesntdomath]

“you don’t have to make everything gay”

oh, I’m sorry, but I can’t hear you over the sound of the intense eye contact that’s happening over the third grade level insults that if said by a straight couple would be seen as playground banter and the extreme posturing and the smug smirks and oh my god why the fuck are you looking at their lips my dude

but yeah, maybe you’re right, maybe it’s me, that’s my bad

[inkyucu]

Finally, a long needed redesign

It's a wip still but it's fine

(Seriously look at this goofy ass dude)

(What did I do to him)

Finished version of the redesign

[crucifysam]

changing channels sam and dean in glee being forced to sing with new directions. hello is this thing on

[timmurleyart]

A bowl of Froot Loops. 🥣🦜🟠🔴🟢🟣🥛

[euesworld]

"Let me give you the BIG ⭕, screaming oh no.. I could eat you like a BIG bowl of Cheerios."

Breakfast is served thick, hot, and wet, just the way I like it - eUë

[zepskies]

Headcanon: Sleepwalking

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader, Jason Teague x Reader

AN: @jackles010378 This one's for you, hun! 😘

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Mainly fluff, implied sex, nakedness

HC: How Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Jason would react to you sleepwalking.

Dean Winchester

At first, Dean can't understand why you hesitate to sleep with him after, well, sleeping with him.

Did he read you wrong? Is just this something casual for you? The thought makes him swallow, jaw clenching, but if that's how you want it...he can try to be okay with that.

Seeing the hurt he's trying to bury behind his eyes, you settle down beside him in bed and stroke his cheek. You assure him that you're staying. Even though in the back of your mind, you're hoping and praying.

Please, God. Not tonight...

It happens around 3:00 in the morning.

Dean feels you stir on your side of his bed. He's a light sleeper at the best of times, so he turns to see you tossing the covers off your half-naked body and getting out of bed.

"Where're you going?" he says, playfully trying to grab your hand. But you slip right out of his hold without answering him, padding to the door and leaving the room.

Still half-asleep, but now thoroughly bewildered, Dean's brows furrow, and he gets up to follow you. You would never walk out of a room wearing just his shirt and nothing else, your bare feet slapping the floor with every step. He hopes Sam isn't up and about at this hour.

It takes him a while, but Dean finds you in the kitchen. There you seem to be trying to put together a bowl of Cheerios. The box is already on the counter. You're opening cupboards and leaving them open, your hands searching for a bowl.

"What'cha doin' sweetheart? Little midnight snack action? I can get behind that," Dean says.

You don't even seem to hear him. Dean watches you grab a mug instead of a bowl...and the orange juice instead of milk.

It all goes downhill from there.

"I did what?" you exclaim the next morning. "See! This is why I didn't wanna tell you."

You cover your face in your hands in mortification while Dean rubs your back, chuckling so hard he can't even breathe. You smack him in the stomach, but it doesn't stop his wheezing. He kisses you on the cheek to placate you.

"It's okay, baby. I didn't know coffee grounds and O.J. went so well together."

Beau Arlen

The first night you stay over at his air stream trailer, you warn him ahead of time while you sit beside him on the narrow bed.

"Just so you know, I um..." Getting out the words are difficult. You give him a wan smile in embarrassment, but he's listening intently, waiting for you to finish.

You sigh and decide to bite the bullet. "I tend to sleepwalk."

Just as you predicted, Beau's brows shoot up in surprise.

"Really?" he says, a smile starting to curve his lips.

Your lips twitch at a smile as well. "Yes, so I don't wanna hear any wisecracks. It runs in my family, unfortunately."

"Wow, a whole family of sleepwalkers, huh?" he muses, rubbing a hand over his bearded chin. "Gotta say, I'd like to see that--"

You cut off his chuckling with a shove of his shoulder.

But that night, Beau is startled awake when you trip over his shoes left on the floor, beside a small pile of his clothes and yours that you two hadn't bothered to pick up.

You aren't hurt too badly -- just a bruised forehead and very confused the next morning.

But from then on, Beau takes your condition more seriously.

Every night, he makes sure his place is clean and organized so you don't trip on anything.

He puts a child lock on the door in case you try to open it while sleepwalking, and he keeps the sliding door to the bathroom open in case you need to get in there.

Most importantly, he locks his guns away in a safe inside his nightstand.

His objective is making sure you're safe and comfortable whenever you're with him.

Though he can't help teasing you a little bit (a lot) when you rearrange his entire sock and underwear drawer in your sleep, perfectly folded and color coded.

"Well, thanks very much, darlin'," he grins.

You shake your head, covering your warm, blushing face.

"Shut up."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

"What the fuck?" Ben wipes his bleary eyes, but he still can't believe what he's seeing.

He watches in bewilderment when he finds you in the kitchen in the middle of the night. Completely naked. Frying up some bacon to go with your toast, apparently.

Not that naked cooking doesn't appeal to him. In fact, the sight of you from behind -- your hair loose over your shoulders, the curve of your waist and the gentle swell of your hips, bare ass and legs, and the hint of side boob while your hands move deftly with the pan and silver utensil...

It's arousing, even erotic, making his cock twitch in his sweatpants.

And it actually fits pretty well with one of his fantasies that he's been wanting to try out with you.

But this is also more than a little fucking strange. You're usually dead to the world until at least 9:00 a.m.

"Sweetheart, what're you doing?" he asks. He approaches you from behind and rests a hand on your lower back as he peers over your shoulder, but you don't answer him.

When a large spark of grease pops in the pan, you barely even flinch when it hits your arm and burns you.

Instinctively, he knows something's wrong. He grabs the pan out of your hand and hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you away from the crackling grease. He turns off the stove and steps back with you in his arms.

"Hey, are you hearing me? What the fuck's going on here?" he asks.

Your eyes seem glazed over, until he (gently) slaps at your cheek.

"Hey."

Finally, you blink faster a few times, take a deeper breath, and glance up at him. "Hey..."

Your brows furrowing, you look around the room in confusion. Your eyes widen when you look down at your naked body. You gasp and cling to his arms. "What the hell?!"

"Were you fucking sleepwalking?" Ben asks, his lips twitching in amusement and incredulity all at once.

"Oh my God, you tell me!" you exclaim. This has never happened to you in your life! What the hell is going on?

He leads you back to the bedroom, and after putting your pajamas back on, you inspect the pill bottle on your nightstand. Ben gave it to you to help knock out the spell of insomnia you've been having.

After reading the list of side effects, you toss the bottle at your man's chest, even knowing he'll barely feel it.

"This is the last time I let you give me Ambien!"

Bonus! Jason Teague

What the hell did you take? Jason wonders, as he tries to keep you from unclipping your seatbelt.

The two of you are on a plane halfway to France on vacation.

You're a nervous flyer, but you just woke up from a dead sleep after taking that little pill an hour ago.

And you're apparently "feeling happy," in your words, your head rolling onto his shoulder with a giggle.

"Jase," you stage whisper (loudly). You raise a finger and swirl it around the air. "My face is hot. I'm hot. I'm hot for...you."

You tweak the tip of his nose.

He laughs a bit nervously, despite his genuine amusement. A mother looks their way with a raised brow. She puts a pair of headphones on her little boy and gives him an iPad to focus on. Jason shoots her an awkward smile and wave. Then he focuses back on you.

"Okay. Sweetheart, I like the enthusiasm, but I think you just need to sleep off the rest of whatever this is," he says. He grabs a blanket to cover you with.

"Hmm, okay."

Eventually you settle down and snuggle into him. He smiles in relief, soothing a hand over your hair and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He soon falls asleep himself.

When he wakes, you're no longer sitting beside him. His eyes popping open wide, he sits up and leans out of the aisle. He doesn't see you at all in the first class cabin.

Jason shoots up out of his seat and hurries down the other way, through the curtain where business and economy sit.

Sure enough, a flight attendant is following you up and down the aisle trying to get your attention, but you don't even seem to be hearing him.

"Ma'am? Can you hear me?" the attendant tries. He seems to be getting frustrated. "There's turbulence, miss. It's not safe for you to be--"

Jason hurries to you and grabs your arm just as the plane begins to tremble and shake. He knows there's something wrong if you're not freaking out right now. You should be clinging to him like a koala, not wearing a blank expression on your face as you glance up at him.

"Aw shit, you're sleepwalking," he realizes breathlessly. What the hell did you take?

He knows you told him, but now he feels guilty for not really listening as he and the flight attendant help you back to your seat.

Once you're clipped back into a seatbelt along with him, Jason sighs in relief now that he knows you're safe and sleeping more peacefully. Looks like you two are going to have an adventure before you even get to Paris.

He fishes out the little bottle from your bag and reads the label.

Xanax. Jesus Christ. One thing's for sure, Jason is throwing it out when you guys land.

You'll thank him when you wake up.

AN: 😂 I had more fun than I thought with this one! Let me know what you think, and if there are other characters you'd like to see the next time I do one of these headcanons. 😘💜

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@whimsicalcherry @samslvrgirl

[wilwheaton]

Who is the most punchable cereal mascot, in your opinion?

Well, after spending more time than I ever thought I would considering cereal mascots and their relative punchability, I have to honestly tell you I don't think I dislike any of them.

Like, all they wanted us kids to do was eat a regular (excuse me, "balanced") breakfast with an added bowl of cereal, and have fun while we were doing it. Some of them wanted to give us prizes, even!

And that poor Trix rabbit! He's obviously got a real addition problem, is constantly crying out for help, and every kid he encounters is like "Lol get the fuck outta here while I eat the thing you're addicted to as part of this balanced breakfast, you silly rabbit."

Now I wonder what the support group looks like for Cap'n Crunch, the Qwisp alien, Count Chocula, the bee from Honey Nut Cheerios, and Toucan Sam. Does anyone else really understand them and their lives? They're all alone, even when they are together. And it never ends.

How could you want to punch any of them? You monster!

[spn-lesbian]

Sam: I’m going to the store do you want anything?

Gabriel: yeah, gay cheerios

Sam:

Sam: fruit loops?

Gabriel: that’s what I said

[mukuharakazui]

NOTE 1: This is assuming they kill exclusively within the United States while based in the United States.

NOTE 2: Captain Horatio Magellan Crunch is disqualified, as his murders would not legally amount to serial killings due to his status as a member of the United States military.

[jauntilyplacedcaps]

[according2thelore]

Does LS/ES Sam or Dean have conversations with their respective selfs about their partner like, "So, Sammy *still* does that thing in his sleep?" or "Please tell me LS!Dean grew out of that WildWest fixation".

GAHHHH ANON AHHHHH!!!!!!!!

LS!Dean sits at the library table, and ES!Sam & LS!Sam are sitting at the table in the corner, helping translate some more obscure lore. LS!Dean is tapping his pen on the table, and they can both tell it gets on their nerves as the incessant taptaptaptaptaptap of whatever metal song dean has stuck in his head echoes in the room.

"so discouraging to know he still does that," ES!Sam says, mouth twisted down in disgust, and LS!Sam hides his snort behind his palm. ES!Sam turns to LS!Sam, and sees the familiar judgemental, gleeful glint in his eye, and asks,

"does he still insist on keeping all his socks that are way past their expiry date?"

ES!Dean has a nasty habit of keeping his socks from the fruit of the loom six packs that are now grey or beige with age and have so many holes they could be used as leg warmers. they're perfectly good, sammy, dean insists, even as he wears blisters into his toes from his boots.

"turns out he doesn't just do it with his socks," LS!Sam says, somber, "it's his boxers, too."

ES!Sam recoils, but realizes unless dean put them in the laundry pile, he'd have no idea. LS!Sam gestures for him to get closer, and ES!Sam bends closer to hear him.

"i've had to start sneaking them out of his dresser. i found boxers last week that was just a square of fabric held to a triangle of fabric with one string. it was basically just a thong at that point."

ES!Sam bursts into laughter, shocking them both, and they talk for an hour about the dumb thing that their brother did, still does, and will in all likelihood continue to do.

yes, unfortunately, dean still has his wild west obsession. sam has found it is most productive if he can get dean to vent all his obsession for it into sam wearing a cowboy hat and/or assless chaps during sex once a month and let him spit-fuck him, and ES!Sam's jaw drops comically. no, actually, dean doesn't put that much sugar in his coffee anymore. he drinks it black. they both look a little uncomfortable about it before they confirm that indeed, dean still sneezes without covering his mouth--it's gross.

and yes--the tips of LS!Sam's ears flush when he says it--dean still flirts with people using that facial dumb expression of his but uh...he mostly uses it on sam, now. unfortunately, it usually works.

a week later, ES!Dean shuffles into the kitchen clearly exhausted, and when LS!Dean asks him what pissed in his cheerios, ES!Dean tells him ES!Sam was snuffling and muttering in his sleep again and the noise from the bed over kept waking him up.

"ugh!" LS!Dean says, "what's he stressed about?"

ES!Dean is kinda taken aback but yeah, it makes sense that he also picked up on the pattern, i mean, hell, it's him. ES!Dean shrugs.

"ionknow. but i'm two seconds away from taping his mouth shut. he keeps smacking his lips and it drives me nuts."

"two words," LS!Dean says, going to pour himself another cup of coffee, "oral fixation."

ES!Dean almost falls out of his stool. "fucking pardon??"

"yeah." LS!Dean shrugs. "he just wants stuff in his mouth. for a while he'd sleep with his face pressed against my shoulder, i think just to feel something on his mouth. he sleeps better when you start sharing a bed, though, so..."

ES!Dean looks like someone just hit him over the head, dazed.

"whenever he starts mutterin, i just roll over and throw an arm over him and he sleeps like a baby." LS!Dean takes a long, satisfying sip of his coffee, too pleased by the gobsmacked look on ES!Dean's face to care that it scorches his tongue.

"does..." ES!Dean clears his throat, shaking his head. he almost wants to say Stop Talking About Him Like That but stops himself in time. he forgets it's him he's talkin to. "does he still do that thing where he pushes his mouth up when he's concentrated."

LS!Dean softens. "oh yeah, he does. and he looks like a toddler every time." a pause. "i...uh, keep expecting look up and see him sitting there with bunky."

ES!Dean lights up. "oh shit!! bunky! i forgot about that raggedy thing."

bunky, of course, being a stuffed rabbit that pastor jim gave sam, and with which sam was obsessed for a few years. their talk is a bit more nostalgic, talking about things baby sam used to do that they notice adult sam doing now, including rub his eye with the back of his fingers when he gets tired.

"does sam ever get that stick outta his ass?" ES!Dean asks, and they're both grinning so big, high off being able to talk about sammy with someone who gets it, who knows him.

"nope." LS!Dean beams. "he stays our little pain in the ass forever."

they both kinda freeze, then turn to look at each other. our.

huh.

i had so much fun with this one omg your mind is so HUGE ANON AGHHHHHH!!!!!!!! thank you so much for sending it in mwah mwah mwah

-lizzy <3

(ES/LS verse masterlist)

[pculrstate]

snow angels.

The boys are on either side of him, their body heat like a furnace in the cold room. Dean on his left, Sammy on his right, and they’re holding hands across his stomach. Sam’s in a phase. Needs to be touching someone all the time. In the bathroom when John’s brushing his teeth Sam hangs on his elbow and climbs his feet up John’s leg. Dean, ten years old, pretends to be annoyed by it but John sees the way his eyes soften whenever Sam asks for a piggyback ride. Sometimes when he wakes up in the middle of the night to check on them Sam’ll be draped full-bore across Dean’s chest. When John was little, really little, barely old enough to remember, he had a kitten that slept on him the same way.

“Why’s there gotta be sooo much commercials,” Sam says. “I just wanna watch Rudolph.”

“Cuz they need people to buy stuff,” Dean says.

“Why?”

“Cuz they gotta make money.”

“Why?”

“Cuz.”

“Who does?”

“The people who make everything. Apple cinnamon Cheerios.”

Sam breaks into giggles. “‘The 7-day stain stick from Spray ’n Wash!’”

Mostly John stays out of these conversations. He likes listening to them, their rapid-fire back and forth. Likes listening to them figure things out. It gets so damn quiet, those long hours in the car after he’s left the boys with Bobby for a few days so he can pick up a longer job. He’ll turn on music and it’ll sound like noise and then he’ll call Bob to “check in” but really he just wants to hear their faraway voices battling for the phone.

“Is it gonna be snowing on Christmas?” Sam asks Dean. Two days out from the 25th and it’s been snowing the past three. “I’ve never even seen that.”

“Yeah you have,” Dean says. He turns his cheek up against John’s chest. “Right, Dad? In Detroit.”

“Two years ago,” John says. “Sammy might not remember.”

Sam pushes up and lets go of Dean’s hand. He sits back on his heels and looks at John, little face so serious. “How old was I in two years ago?”

“Hm,” John says. He holds up six fingers. “You’re six now.” He puts two fingers down. “Take away two.”

Sam studies his hand for a second. John watches as he mouths one, two, three, four. “Four! Oh yeah! I remember the snow when I was four in Detroit.”

“Do you?”

“Uh-huh.”

The likelihood of that is low, John knows. They were only in Detroit for a night, Sam asleep for most of it. When they’d woken up in the morning, Christmas Day, there was an inch or so on the ground and the sky looked heavy with more to come and Dean had said, Can we stay? But they couldn’t, because Detroit was a bad fucking taste in John’s mouth and he didn’t want to be there any longer than absolutely necessary. Only reason he’d stopped in the first place was because the motels were the cheapest of anywhere in the entire Great Lakes area and he’d been so goddamn tired. Sorry, dude, he’d said. Dean had nodded, guided Sam into the back seat, helped him put on his seatbelt, and tried to keep the disappointment off his face. John gave them their present—an Etch A Sketch found on the shelf of a Goodwill—before pulling out of the lot.

But he lets Sam have this. “Pretty sharp memory, kiddo.” He bops the tip of Sam’s nose.

Sam beams. “Yeah. I always remember lots of things.”

“Shh, it’s on,” Dean says.

They settle back in and Sam grabs Dean’s hand again. For a few minutes they watch the special, Sam laughing when Dean laughs, and then John notices that Dean is trembling very slightly. He leans down to his ear. “Hey. Alright?”

Dean shrugs. “Yeah.”

“You cold?”

“I don’t know. A little.”

John nudges Sam’s side. “Sammy, go get the blanket from your bed for your brother.”

“Dad, it’s fine.”

“Shit heating in this place.” He shakes his head as if this surprises him. “Gotta be the coldest day of the year.”

“I’m okay,” Dean says. But when Sam comes over with the blanket and lays it across Dean’s whole body, including his head, Dean slips down further on the couch and buries his face in John’s armpit.

Sam waits for Dean to pull the blanket down and when he doesn’t, says, “Aren’t you gonna watch anymore?”

“I am,” Dean says, muffled.

“You can’t see anything under there.”

Sam’s wearing ankle socks and basketball shorts and a long sleeved shirt underneath a short sleeved shirt that says Whitesboro High School JV in block letters. His nose is red. Jesus. “Are you cold, Sammy?” John asks.

Sam looks at John, then looks at Dean under the blanket, under John’s arm, then seems to decide something. “Yes. I am so so so really cold.”

“Better get under here, then.” John lifts the corner of the blanket and catches Dean’s eye roll.

“There’s not enough room, Sam, stop.” Dean tries to push him away but Sam climbs on top of him and then shoves between them and he pulls the blanket over his head and over John’s.

He bought them socks. He’s sure he did, last winter, not the cheap kind that wore down to holes within a month, either. Nice ones. Thermal. He scours the memory of that day. Ice on the windshield of the car. A stop at Bass Pro. Being in that store made him nervous, huge as it was, but the boys had loved it. Even when he’d gotten on them hard about screwing around with a crossbow they’d pulled from a display on the wall. He bought the fucking socks. He had.

And then all the sudden he remembers the kid behind the register handing him his card with an embarrassed frown. Um, I’m sorry? It says it’s declined? I could try again, it’s probably the machine— But John had grabbed the card from him and shook his head and said, Can you hold onto these? I’ll be back. I just need to—I’ll be back. Later today. Hold them for me.

“Woah,” Sam whispers. “It’s really hot under here. It’s like a fort.”

“You’re missing Rudolph,” Dean says.

“Well I’ve seen it before anyway.”

Their words hum against his skin. He’d completely forgotten to go back. How the fuck had he forgotten? He screws his eyes shut. His boys. His little boys. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Dean shushes Sam, who's describing what happens at the end of Rudolph. “What d’you say?”

“Sorry…” he mumbles, “sorry it’s so cold in here. Shoulda got a better room, one with—”

Sam shakes his head. “Dad, I was just kidding. I’m not cold. I just wanted to come under the blanket fort and be cuddled with you like Dean.”

Dark under the blanket but John can feel Dean’s eyes heavy on him. Sometimes he hates how Dean watches him. Every second, feels like. And he doesn’t miss a thing, ever. Wears a man down, never being able to hide from his own son.

“It’s not a big deal,” Dean says. He’s got a hand around John’s wrist, vice-like. “We’re fine, right, Sammy?”

“Right! I’m burning up hot actually. Actually can we go make snow angels?”

“Not tonight,” Dean says, still watching John.

Sam’s voice is smug. “You’re not in charge when Dad’s here.”

John sits up and the blanket falls to the floor. The boys don’t let go. Outside the cocoon of their mingling breath the room feels even colder. “Tomorrow,” John says. “We’ll make a run. Thermal socks. New coats too, if we can find ‘em for cheap. Tomorrow. First thing.”

Long time before Dean nods. “Okay.” He looks near tears.

Sam tugs John’s arm with one hand and Dean’s arm with the other. “Hello? Snow angels? Can we?”

John manages a laugh around the aching pull in his throat. He nods. “Just one. Wear my coat and your sneakers and make it quick and then it’s right into the bath.”

Sam bounds toward John’s duffle. Dean cradles his elbows with his hands.

Tomorrow.

[cantfightmoonlight]

@lunarcovestarters

"Alright," A soft sigh broke from her lips as she slide down next to the stranger on the curve just a few feet over from the hedge maze. She had only been in town for a hot minute and, don't get her wrong, she was more than thankful that her daughter had finally seemed to perk up at the mention of a fall fair. The teenager disappearing off into the crowd the second they had reached the start of downtown. But, she couldn't quite put her finger on why the vibes had seemed to be off from the moment she had gotten here. "Now, I've gotta ask and I ain't tryin' to stir no pot, but what in the sam hill is goin' on here? Since I've waltzed into town, it's like... like someone's gone and pissed in ya'll cheerios, no offense or nuttin', but isn't a fair supposed to be, I dunno, fun?"

[brucesterling]

All the booze in all the gin-joints in this crazy world

Bruce Sterling Jan 22, 2019 9:04 AM

*Boy, they drink a lot in the classic movie "Casablanca." Granted, they've all got plenty to drink about, but gee whiz.

*I tried to keep up while watching. I had to do some research.

“CASABLANCA,” a classic movie set in a number of cafes and bars

Wine – English couple in the opening scene are drinking wine at the outside cafe when robbed by a sly pickpocket.

Cocktail – A desperado is waiting, waiting, waiting and drinks while lamenting that he will never get out of Casablanca.

Cocktail – Man tries to negotiate a passage out of Casablanca.

Wine – Man buys passage on a fishing vessel

Wine – Women trying to get more money for jewels

Cocktail – Englishmen are served by Sascha in Rick’s bar, and toasting cheerio.

Wine – Women gambling at Rick's while drinking

Champagne glass (already empty) – In front of Rick as he is toying with a chess problem

Wine – Ugarte drinks while bargaining with Rick.

Brandy (Boss’s Private Stock) – Sascha serves the good stuff to the spurned Yvonne, because Yvonne is Rick’s private stock.

Brandy – Captain Louis Renault drinks at Rick’s. He's a steady customer, since the bar also has loose women.

Brandy – the Italian Fascist Captain Tonelli drinks while harassed by Lieutenant Casselle in Rick’s.

Brandy – Rick gives some free brandy to Renault in Rick's office.

Veuve Cliquot 1926 – The top French champagne that Renault recommends to Strasser as the Nazi crassly gobbles caviar.

Wine – Ugarte has a glass when arrested

Wine – Resistance member Berger drinks wine at the bar as Laszlo and Ilsa walk into Rick’s.

Cointreaux – Laszlo orders two for himself and Ilsa as their first of many drink orders in Rick’s.

Champagne – Captain Renault orders “a bottle of the best” when invited by Laszlo to join him and Ilsa at their table.

Champagne Cocktail – Laszlo orders one as he joins Berger to conspire at the bar.

Champagne Cocktail – Renault orders for himself and Laszlo at the bar as Berger flees.

Champagne – Renault orders some for Rick when Rick joins the Laszlo party.

Bourbon – Rick drinks American bourbon to console himself for his former mistress Ilsa somehow walking into his gin-joint, of all the gin-joints in the world.

Champagne – Rick opens a bottle of champagne in Ilsa’s flashback room in their happy liaison in Paris.

Wine – Rick and Ilsa drink in Paris at the Cafe Pierre.

Champagne – Rick, Ilsa, and Sam hastily guzzle three bottles of Mumm Cordon Rouge as the Nazis occupy Paris.

“The Bourbon” – Ferrari demands his special bourbon in his own bar, the Blue Parrot, when Rick arrives to negotiate. Somehow, Rick refuses the bourbon, saying he never drinks in the morning.

Wine – The pickpocket toasts another sucker in Rick's before he robs him.

Brandy – Rick is drinking heavily on the second night in his club and Renault joins him for a brandy.

French 75s – The cocktail Yvonne orders when she comes in as the brand-new floozy of a German officer. A “French 75” is an American drink named after a caliber of French artillery in World War One.

Recipe of the “French 75” cocktail 2 oz French cognac 5 oz of chilled champagne 1.5 oz lemon juice 1 tsp. superfine sugar

Champagne – Strasser and fellow German officers are joined by Renault while living it up for the second night in Rick’s.

Brandy – Carl serves brandy to the Leuctags to salute their escape to America.

Brandy – Rick offers brandy to Annina (Bulgarian refugee girl) as she prepares to prostitute herself to Renault to save herself and her husband.

Cognac – Laszlo orders for himself and Ilsa the second night in Rick’s.

Brandy – Rick continues drinking recklessly at his own bar.

Champagne – After the publicly defiant singing of the Marseillaise, Lazslo and the French officers toast the humiliation of the Germans.

Champagne – Ilsa and Rick drink in Rick's room the second night.

Whisky – Rick doses Laszlo with medicinal whisky after Laszlo gets roughed-up while escaping a police crackdown on the Resistance.

Vichy Water – Renault pours himself a non-alcoholic drink of this after Rick has shot Strasser, but in a symbolic act drops Vichy into the trash.

THE END