So I was just chatting at my cowriter BorealisBlast for our story “Becoming a Bird-Family” and I suddenly had Thoughts about James Rhodes and Tony Stark.
Like, I see a lot of fic where Rhodey is the Voice of Reason and honestly??? I do not believe for ONE SECOND that Rhodey always made great decisions. They met in college. At their youngest, Tony was fourteen and Rhodey was maybe seventeen, probably eighteen. And even if Rhodey was in ROTC (which I do headcanon), he’s still a teenager/young adult. Nobody is making smart choices. And what eighteen-year-old is going to take great care of a fourteen-year-old that’s way too smart and way too young for his surroundings? He probably just tried to keep an eye on Tony because honestly at least if he’s there he can try and help.
“Hey I’m gonna go get smashed wanna come?” Rhodey asked. Tony agreed because he didn’t want to be alone and drank everyone under the table. Rhodey cheered him on. They played beer pong and then were banned from playing beer pong. (No hard feelings though. Lots of engineering students were banned from regular beer pong. Engineering once got together to play beer pong and everyone got alcohol poisoning so they gave it up.)
I bet that Rhodey and Tony stayed at school over a holiday weekend and went on a bender those entire three days inventing a robot that could cook them breakfast when they were hungover. It happened more often that either of them would have expected for a fourteen- and eighteen-year-old and neither of them wanted to be the ones to cook in the morning. When the robot finally shorted pouring orange juice they both mourned its passing.
You what what? Rhodey was probably the one that started Tony’s coffee addiction and he’s not even sorry about it. In fact, I bet Tony was that student who accidentally fried his hard drive with his final paper on it and Rhodey told him, “I know a Turkish exchange student that can caffeine you up enough to redo it in two days but to be honest it might punch a hole in your stomach” and then he watched Tony redo his final exam paper and then, still hopped up, have several conversations with various inanimate objects in Italian, French, and Spanish. “You didn’t tell me he was fourteen years old!” Turkish Exchange student shouted at him, horrified. “I thought he was an adult! That was way too much caffeine! He’s still growing! He should have died!” Both Rhodey and Tony wonder if this incident is why Tony is so short.
Even as adults, when they’re together, the probability that they’re going to do something stupid actually SKYROCKETS, not plummets, because Rhodey has enough rules and regulations with the military. He doesn’t need to worry about that kind of shit while he’s off duty with his best friend. Tony has spent thousands of dollars to bribe people into silence so that some of the stupid shit they do doesn’t make it back to the brass and get Rhodey kicked out of the Air Force. Pepper loves to see Rhodey but she’s also extremely anxious when he comes to visit because last time they got drunk and decided to try and invent a new type of rocket fuel and accidentally blew a hole right out the side of the workshop, through the rest of the house, and the model rocket finally landed in the ocean, and all they had to say for themselves was “that was probably not safe but at least we know that it worked.”
Like I love the serious military man trope but honestly a lot of my extended family is former military and when they’re home they are WILD.
St. Patrick’s Day, the feast of the great patron Saint, an indentured servant who became one of the greatest symbols of Irish Catholicism in history.
Cygnus hailed from German heritage, but on this day, he might as well have been a full blown Paddy. He wore a green tuxedo t-shirt and his best pair of jeans as he prepared for his annual tradition of “The Great Irish Pub Crawl”, a yearly practice he’d taken part in since he was sixteen years old.
Of course, one should never drink alone, so he invited none other than Harker to meet him at the first location of the night: McSorley’s Old Ale House, a New York institution.
The bar served only two things, so Cygnus turned to Harker and asked that most important of questions:
Imagine:Everyone’s having lunch in the Cortex and you and Cisco can’t help but get a little nerdy…
“Hey Cisco,” you said, holding up a square cup. “D’you want a beer?”
He blinked, surprised. “Um…sure?”
Everyone looked at you confused as you handed the container to your best friend, who took the cup hesitantly. No surprise, considering it was still early for alcohol.
At least, by S.T.A.R. Labs’ standards, that is.
“What kind of beer is it?” He sniffed the liquid, checking for its alcoholic content. “I can’t smell anything.”
“Just try it,” you gestured, eager.
The four of them - Barry, Cait, Cisco and Harry - shared a look of curiosity before turning back to you expectantly. With one eyebrow raised, Cisco raised the cup to his lips and took a quick sip, swished the beverage around his mouth a couple times and gulped it down.
His brows furrowed while he tried to discern the flavor.
“I don’t get it,” he said, setting the cup down on the counter. “That’s just regular root beer.”
“Actually,” You beamed, a lot more prideful than you should have. “It’s beer. See, it’s root beer in a square cup and because the function cancels out the exponent, you are simply left with beer.”
You settled back in your seat, your hands imitating the movements of a small nuclear explosion going off as you lip-synched a ‘BOOM.’
Your mind-bomb motion, as you’d like to call it.
Everyone stared at you, mouth agape; though, it was an expected reaction. Your joke, by far, had probably been the cheesiest thing they’ve heard in…well, forever.
Cisco cast you amused look. “Are you…are you talking nerdy to me?”
“Of course,” you grinned, taking a bite out of your Big Belly Burger. “Don’t you find it a-peel-ing?”
Beside us, Barry and Caitlin hung their head in shame, completely rejecting the idea that they could associate with someone so pun-oriented. Harry, on the other hand, took the worst of it all, and immediately stood up, grabbing his food.
“I’m not dealing with this,” he muttered, rushing out of the lab before he could hear any more of your genius witticism. “You kids have fun.”
Cisco couldn’t help the goofy grin on his face.
“Oh my god, ______,” he sputtered, barely able to contain his laugh. “You got Harry to leave!”
“Some people just donut understand,” you added dorkily. “I love to turnip the jokes.”
“Stop!” he said, face turning red. “You’re kiwi-ing me!”
“But I’m so egg-celent!” you pointed out.
He nudged you. “I guess you’re kind of a big dill.”
“That’s what cheese said!”
The two of you burst out laughing, and you felt a small, prideful glow light inside of you. When it came to Cisco, it was one thing when you got the mechanical engineer to laugh; but, it was an entirely different matter when you got him to join you in your stupid stunt act.
Beside you, Barry and Cait seemed disturbed.
As if their internal selves were doing the best that they can not to cringe, or have their face cave in so much and explode out of the back of their heads. Simultaneously, the two got on their feet and collected their lunchware.
“Sorry, guys,” Cait apologized, her nose wrinkling uncomfortably. “I think I’m just gonna go. It’s getting a little weird in here.”
“Same,” Barry added, dashing out the door.
Any faster and that man would’ve been rushing at the Flash’s speed.
Now, it was only you and Cisco who remained in the room.
At this point, both of you couldn’t suppress your fully spread smiles. Reaching across the table, past his Big Belly Burger wrappers and cup of beer, the mechanical engineer held your hand.
“You are amazing,” he stared deeply in your eyes. “And not to mention, completely adorable.”
“As are you,” Tightening your fingers around his, you leaned closer to him across the table. “I guess you could say, we make a great pear…”
It’s the first night Castiel has had free in
what feels like forever. It doesn’t matter if it’s a Thursday, but with the rocket
launch getting closer management has had all engineers on staff 24/7 for the
last two months working on the Elysium-1 set to launch within the year.
Zachariah’s riding Castiel’s ass for everything since Cas is the head of the
engineering for the astronaut suit and training program, so for Cas to have one
day off is a miracle that he will gladly spend in Harvelle’s just down the
street of the center. Ellen offers free beers for all the engineers since Ash
is a part of the program.
Today Castiel was in the back end of
the booths in a secluded area, affectionately termed “Castiel’s Corner” since
Cas enjoyed the privacy of a quiet beer and a good book, but that doesn’t mean
the corner isn’t also the home to the perfect eavesdropping location in the
entire place. Cas could hear everything,
for better or for worse, and this is how Castiel found himself listening in on
the end of Dean Winchester’s current affair with Lisa Breaden.
Castiel didn’t know Dean personally,
but Jo, Ellen’s daughter, sure did. She spoke often enough about how things
were going south between Lisa and Dean, but for the most part Castiel barely
paid attention to the gossip. It wasn’t his place and Dean was straight, but that
didn’t stop him from angling his ear to hear that Lisa was asking Dean to find
“You and I both know we work better as
friends,” Lisa had been saying, “I just think maybe it’s time we took off the
label and you found someone else.”
“What label? We never really had one to
begin with,” a somewhat annoyed Dean responded. “I get that you wanna see Matt,
and I’m not gonna stop you, but I don’t need to be in a relationship to be
happy you know.”
At this point Lisa was pouting. Castiel
gathered she was a sensible woman that only wanted the best for what apparently
was becoming her ex-boyfriend. “I’m not saying you need to be in one right away
or anything, I just don’t want to you wallow in your wounds. I know you. What
I’m saying is let me find someone for you.” Castiel didn’t hear any response
after that, causing him to peer over the booth veranda to look at the couple.
They were towards the center of the
place, Dean in a red striped plaid shirt and Lisa in a sensible yet elegant
shirt and jeans. It had all the makings of a romantic dinner if you didn’t
overhear their conversation. Dean was looking down when Castiel peered over,
but before Castiel could retract his obviously staring eyes (damn, Dean was a
looker), green eyes locked with blue. Castiel had been caught.
Dean looked confused, be it because a
rather mysterious man was staring at him or he’d just lost the longest
relationship he’d ever had, he doesn’t really know. The minute-long stare
didn’t get past Lisa though, who promptly turned in Castiel’s direction as
Cas cursed under his breath. Way to go rocket scientist, you just got
busted. He quickly withdrew into his seat and continued sipping his Blue
Moon beer. I’m an idiot.
“Who was that? You looked like you knew him.”
Castiel cringed as Lisa brings him up.
There’s a perception that most craft beers are owned by bearded hipsters trying to engineer a beer so hoppy it can start nuclear fission. While that may be true of the 1,700 small breweries cataloged by the Brewers Association, you haven’t heard of 1,697 of them. That’s because you (understandably) don’t want to sample hundreds of beers made in the basements of Linkin Park fans in order to find one good one. You just want to go to the grocery store and grab a six-pack that will make your brother-in-law respect you.
Gigantic beer companies are aware of this, so they’ve tried to get into niche markets. Budweiser tried making more specific types than simply “beer,” but got lackluster results. So instead they have been buying up the competition, turning once-beloved breweries into pod people versions of their former selves.
Today, most craft beers that get distribution are drone brands controlled by one of the beer giants. For example, Anheuser-Busch InBev owns 200 brands and has a controlling share in many of your favorites. They’re a company so big that they categorize Busch as a “local brand.” The only way Busch is a local brand for you is if your address is “every frat house in America.”