6-8 tablespoons butterscotch sauce (depending how sweet you like it)
3 cups apple cider
1 cup bourbon whiskey (optional)
2 cups ginger beer
Whipped cream, for garnish
Heat cider, bourbon and butterscotch syrup in a medium saucepan until the butterscotch dissolves and the mixture is steaming hot. Remove from heat and stir in the ginger beer. Ladle into mugs and serve with loads of whipped cream on top.
If two tumblrers meet up and fail to document it with a picture, did it really happen? I tell you, bourbon/sushi/beer and amazing conversation with @kfedup will fix whatever ails ya. She is a magical person.
These articles that laugh at machines learning how to name colors and tell knock-knock jokes are going to come back to haunt us, you watch.
I told you I cycled out my winter clothes on Wednesday, and I predicted snow. It was 40º when I left the house today. Close enough. #fuckthis
Trend: American TV networks hiring British people to read the news. They do sound smarter. But remember they voted for a fascist assclown, too.
Tomorrow, weather permitting, I take the reins as head coach for the first time this season. Is it over the top to put eyeblack on? today? at work?
Requested by anon: Can you do an imagine where you are a bartender in a trendy night club and Sidney Crosby awkward-flirts with you when he and the teams come to celebrate after a win and the rest of the team just chirps at him? Thaaaanks
A/N: Hello! I’m sorry it took so long, but I hope it is good enough. Thanks for requesting it!
Whiskey sour… margarita… sex on the bitch…
bourbon on the rocks… vodka martini… bloody Mary? Who the hell has a bloody
Mary at midnight? Tonight has been frantic so far and I have three hours until
“C’mon girl, we are almost there” Luke
yells at me from the really far end of the bar while he pours a drink for a
“If by almost there you mean another three
hours then yeah, we are almost there” I laugh, leaning on the bar to ask for a
His arm is resting on the bar, but he is
turned and looking at a large group of guys that have just arrived in the bar.
They probable have waited forever to get in, since the line to get in is
“Hey, what can I get you?” I ask him and he
turns around. I know who he is, everyone in Pittsburgh does, but I try to keep
my cool as good as I can.
“Um hey, can I have fifteen beers, eleven
bourbons on the rocks and a diet coke” he says and I grab a coaster to write it
“Bud light? Jack Daniels? Eh… I’d say if
diet pepsi was ok, but we actually have coke” I joke around, walking towards
the big beer fridge.
“Sure and sure, but not diet pepsi, Phil
wouldn’t be happy” he responds and I give him a quick nod.
I open up the door of the refrigerator and
grabbing four bottles on each one of my hands and bringing them to him,
repeating the trip until all of the bottles are in front of him. I pop up all
the bottle caps and push them in front of him.
“Guys, just come grab them” he yells and
suddenly fifteen men are reaching for the glass bottles, taking them and
palming the other man’s back.
I wait until all of them are gone and start
setting short glasses for the bourbon.
“Do you want me to separate bills?” I
inquire and he laughs.
“What kind of captain would I be?” he asks.
“I don’t know, Crosby. I have never been
anyone’s captain” I answer and he just shrugs.
“It’s their lucky day, I’m feeling quite
splendid today” and I just smile and nod.
“Big win” he assures me.
I have been working during our short
conversation and I have ice in every single glass and I’m reaching for the
bottle of Jack Daniels on the display behind me. I push the glasses together
and start pouring the liquor. I love pouring drinks straight to the glasses,
waiting for one to fill up and moving over to the next one.
“You are good at this” he affirms and I
“It is easy, it isn’t like hockey” I brush
it off, filling up the last glass.
“Hockey is a team sport, you rock it all by
yourself” he compliments and my cheek heat up.
“Diet coke and you are good to go” I say,
grabbing a taller glass and filling it with ice and a slice of lime, “glass
bottle or can?”
“Coke is always better from a glass bottle”
he says and I can’t help but agree, getting it for him.
“Phil doesn’t drink?” I wonder, working on our
“He wanted a margarita” he confesses and I
raise an eyebrow in confusion, “he wanted a margarita, but we love messing up
with the Stanley Cup champion”
“You are a Stanley Cup champion” I say,
handing him the bill.
“Touché” he reaches to the inside pocket on
his jacket and pulling of his wallet, handing me a credit card.
I work on the little machine, swapping his
card and turning it around so he can punch his pin code. The machine beeps and
a bunch on receives come from it.
“There you go” I give them to him, keeping
the copy that is supposed to be for the bar, “I’ll help you bring all of these
to your booth”
I pull a tray from one of the cabinets and
start getting all the drinks on it. I walk around and get on the side of the
bar, standing next to him. I give him his drink and pick up the tray, heading
straight to the booth, Sidney following me.
“There you go, guys” I start handing over
drinks to the guys who don’t have one in his hands, leaving the coke for last,
“and a diet coke for the Stanley Cup champion”
“Pretty and funny, no wonder why it took
you so damn long, Kid” Evgeni Malkin chirps at Sidney and I look down so they
don’t see the smirk playing on my lips.
“Fuck off, Geno” Sid just says and the rest
of the team howl and whistle, “fuck all of you, I’m never buying you drinks
I rest the tray on my hip and turn around,
ready to come back to my place on the bar. The club is packed and I’ve spent
way too much time on the Penguins so my coworkers have had to work a hell of a
lot faster to serve everyone. I’m about to get to work again when I feel a hand
wrapping around my wrist.
“Hey… I just…” I turn around and see
Sidney, stumbling upon his words, “you never told me your name”
“(y/n)” I just answer.
“(y/n)” the way he says my name makes me
shiver, “this is going to sound extremely inappropriate, but the assholes were
right. You are stunning and funny and nice, and I would love to get to know you
a little more”
I think about it for a second, trying to
figure out if it was worth it for me to get to have my life exposed to the
public eye for just a guy. Sure, he was extremely good looking, and good at
hockey, and he seems nice and charming.
“Some risks are worth taking” I murmur to
myself, before grabbing another coaster and writing down my number, “don’t be
I give it to him and just turn around, back
to work, but I can’t help it but to smile when I hear the chirping his
teammates are putting him through.
So this isn’t a prompt, but I watched this STUNNING video and fell in love with the song, so this is a little (or long ish) song fic based on the song, which is Four Walls by Broods.
Alex pulls open the fridge door a little too forcefully, wiping the sweat off her forehead; she definitely shouldn’t have gone for a run; it was too hot to run comfortably even late in the evening, but she’d needed to go. To clear her head, to stop the tears from falling, to stop her mind from remembering everything. Remembering the way Maggie’s skin felt soft against her own late at night, the way her eyes sparkled, first thing in the morning albeit full of sleep, the way she tasted like mint and fresh air, the way her hair smelt like the ocean, reminded Alex of home. And where was she now? What did she have now? Her apartment didn’t feel like home anymore because home had stopped becoming a place a long time ago. Home had become the way Maggie would walk up behind her, place her chin on her shoulder, and kiss her softly on her neck. Home had become the steady feel of Maggie’s breath against her as she slept. Home had become that smile, those dimples, and the promise that Alex could be herself now, that Alex didn’t have to pretend. Maggie had become her home, and now Alex realises that that was foolish, to make a person a home. Because homes were permanent, solid fixtures, and people were not. People leave, people leave and never return and you can’t make a home out of a heartbeat. She knew that now. She knew that too well.
Alex sighs, more to steady her breath than anything else, opening her beer, the condensation cool and damp against her skin. She takes a gulp as she opens her laptop, clicking on a random Spotify playlist for something, anything to distract her mind because this apartment was becoming too much to bear. The walls seemed to close in on her and everything reminder her of Maggie; her well stocked fridge, the amount of cooking utensils she’d collected, the pine body wash Maggie used in the shower, the leather jacket she’d left behind when she’d rushed out the door, tears in both of their eyes and too many words left unsaid.
Alex knows she should shower, should make some food and not drink herself to sleep like she’d been doing most nights since Maggie left, since Maggie said- well since Maggie hadn’t said anything really. Since Maggie had shaken her head lightly all those nights ago and Alex had known. Alex had known from the look in her eyes, and the way her lips didn’t curl upwards more to the left when she smiled, that nothing was going to be the same anymore. That perhaps she wouldn’t get her happy ever after after all.
She heard some upbeat song fade and another take its place, knowing from the soft voice and the melancholy piano undertones that she should get up, switch it over but she doesn’t because she wants to feel and she wants to cry, so she sits down, swigging the last of her beer and closing her eyes, letting the music fill her senses.
Bravo Brown is a American #BrownAle style #beer brewed by @firestonewalker. in Paso Robles, #california with a 95 out of 100 on @beeradvocate. Pineapple for scale .
Firestone Walker brews the 2017 Vintage of Bravo, an Imperial #BrownAle aged in retired American oak bourbon barrels. A single-hopped strong brown ale brewed using the hop variety Bravo. This beer is then aged for up to a year in circa 1990’s used Heaven Hill bourbon barrels.
Deep cherry brown which has a very thin creamy head with a good carbonation. Aroma of coconut and bourbon. Tastes similar to the nose. Mouthfeel is smooth with a lot of alcohol warmth. Overall it’s a good bourbon barrel aged beer.
Hi Kristi! I adore your blog! It’s so amazing! Could you please please please make a one shot with Damon where he says “Baby it’s cold outside” and you end up having sex in front of the fireplace? Thank you!!! – Anon
Pairings: Damon x Reader
Word Count: 2701
Christmas is around the corner so… oh, and, I kinda changed it so you’re the one saying “Baby, it’s cold outside” since he does’t really get that cold anyway.
(gifs not mine, credits to owners)
“Damon, baby, let’s decorate please it’s December 1st.” You pouted as you rolled around the bed, looking up at him. “Okay, why don’t you ask your lady friends to do that?” He asked. You pouted. “Please don’t give me that look.” He said and knelt down. You hung your head to the edge of the bed and pouted even more. “Pwease.” You murmured and he sighed, nodding. He kissed you and stood up again.