hard whiskey

i had a flashback to the above exchange after reading the most recent tweets-

fuckin mr planned out practical and concise boy whiskey vs “uhhhhh idk sure ok sounds fun” tango

like whiskeys just “im gonna do things This Way Specifically because that is The Most Sensible and Works”

tango: im gonna wing it

whiskey: [short circuits] [cannot Deal w/tango’s casual approach to life] [steals last of the pie]

also bitty with the relatable content-

Team Voltron themed drinks!

In light of season 3 releasing soon and planning a viewing party with some of my friends, I recently started thinking about making themed drinks after certain characters and what-not (seeing as I’m the designated bartender of my friend group lol). There’s obviously TONS of different drinks you can make to fit a character, but I took a bit of liberty to fantasize what drinks I’d love to make (had I the time and money); these aren’t arbitrary choices either. I primarily chose drinks that I thought reflected certain character aspects, so I’ve included a small analysis along with each drink choice.

note: for practical reasons (like if ppl actually wanted to make themed drinks) I’ve included both a simplified mixed drink alternative (which, let’s be real, that’s what I’m actually making) AND a non-alcoholic alternative (which are super basic im sorry but it’s the best i could do)

Let’s get mixing!


Shiro – “Boulevardier”

This is one of the few drinks I chose based more on personality than appearance. Most purple cocktails just didn’t quite ring true for Shiro’s full-bodied character, so I went with my gut feeling and started browsing some bourbon based drinks. After going through a few classic recipes, I settled on a Boulevardier. What it contains:

  • 1.5 oz Bourbon
  • ¾ oz Sweet vermouth
  • ¾ oz Campari
  • Orange or cherry as a garnish
  • Served over ice optional

Shiro, as a character, radiates a sense of maturity and warmth. He is kind and caring, but knows when to take charge of his team and push harder. The subtle sweet undertones in bourbon and the warmth of dark liquor, I feel, reflect these aspects of his character very well. Sweet vermouth, like bourbon, has those husky, herbal undertones; it’s basically a wine spiked with brandy and slightly sweetened. Campari is a liqueur made from infused herbs and fruit, a sweet and spicy flavor. This is, in essence, a darker drink, and one that is probably an acquired taste; aka, this is not a beginner or casual drink. It’s a drink I think is well suited to our beloved enigmatic leader, the Head of Voltron, pilot of the Black Lion. It has warmth and depth, a complexity of flavors that matches Shiro’s nuances in character.

Practical party alternative: any type of whiskey and coke (though I still recommend bourbon, it tastes better imo); you can also do a spiced rum and coke if you’re not a whiskey person.

Non-alcoholic alternative: honestly? cherry coke or like…diet coke with lime strike me as very Shiro for some reason lol.

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A Visit To The Past (Part II)

It’s been requested many times so here it is. Hope you enjoy it. x 

(Part I)

 "It’s on September 21st.“

  Harry can’t quite put a finger on the way his sister looks at him. Her thick brows pulled together and she’s biting the inside of her cheek. Anne’s asleep in her room, it’s 2 am in the morning and two siblings are having a heart to heart session. Gemma sighs after taking a little time to think about all the things Harry said. "How do you even know the date Harry? I’m sure she hasn’t send you an invitation.” Harry is a little taken aback, he is not expecting her first reaction to be this.

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leahlisabeth  asked:

“i’ve been travelling a lot and somehow you’re in every single city i go to seriously what the fuck who even are you how are you doing this” au

Kay, so I know you were thinking Andreil and them meeting under different names - or at least with Neil having different names. Don’t ask me why that lead me to think “spy au” when it really should have been a soulmate au. (Also don’t ask me about this spy au I have no idea what I was doing, I don’t even know if they’re actually spies or it’s just a mobster thing, I don’t *k n o w*)

=====

There was something off about the whiskey in this city.

It didn’t seem to matter which pub he stepped into – any local brew here in Bornholm had a certain… something in the taste of it. Perhaps something to do with the cask the brew had been aged in… but he couldn’t be sure…

“What do you know of Danish whiskey?” Andrew asked, to seemingly no one. The bartender, bored of cleaning glasses, tossed him a curious glance and then scanned the room, seeing only distant guests chatting quietly by the windows. She might have answered him if he had spoken in Danish. But his question had been voiced in Russian and it was intended for the man looming behind him in the shadows.

The bartender startled when the man sat down beside him. Clearly, she hadn’t known he was there. Typical, Andrew thought, for one of Riko’s Kingsmen.

“Very little, I’m afraid,” the man answered, somehow not making any creaks or squeaks in the aged wooden bar stools. “I never grew the taste nor the interest.” A small wave of his hand dismissed the bartender, who had come over in anticipation of an order to break the monotony of her day. Disappointed, she let them be.

“Not going to run?” The man asked, curious but not thrown off-balance by the abrupt difference in their regular routine of international cat and mouse. Such grace was probably expected when running in Riko’s inner circles.

“You always seem to find me,” Andrew mused, swirling his off-tasting whiskey in its tumbler. “How is that, exactly?”

“You are stupid enough to think Riko cannot find you.”

Andrew chuckled to himself. “Riko cannot find anything I don’t want him to find.” He took a sip of his drink, then turned to his companion and looked him up and down. Grey, non-descript clothes and a wool trench coat, revealing nothing about his build, style, wealth, or loyalties (national or otherwise). He was as inconspicuous as ever. “I meant why is it you who always comes? You’ve hardly been effective at bringing me in.”

The man said nothing, did nothing, and Andrew almost laughed. “Who is it who’s found me this time? Alex, Alfons, Sven? I’ve lost track the number of aliases you’ve given to me to burn.”

“Call me Joseph.” Andrew scowled, pretending that barb didn’t dig under his skin. It was a stinging reminder that he knew next to nothing of the man Riko kept sending to pursue him – whereas Andrew’s life story was parceled somewhere in a neat little file folder and Joseph had read it. Probably more than once. “He won’t play this game much longer, you know. You’ll have to fight back eventually.”

“Will I?”

“You’re running out of cities to hide in and Riko knows it.”

“Does he think he’s running me into a corner?” Andrew finished off his whiskey, letting the burn of alcohol remind him to hold his tongue as much as possible. For Aaron’s sake. “You know the fun thing about traps? When they go off, it doesn’t make a difference who fell into them.”

“…You mean to turn Riko’s own plans against him?”

“I plan to let Riko orchestrate his own downfall and laugh from Hell when he joins me there.”

Joseph fell silent, a hand brought to his chin as he contemplated this new information. Andrew’s eye caught on the tattooed ‘4’ on his cheek and he almost reached to itch at the ‘5’ mirrored on his own face. Instead, he motioned for another drink, trying not to worry that he had revealed too much. Let Joseph scurry back to the Raven King with this warning. Let Riko be on his guard, let Riko grow suspicious and paranoid – whatever it took to keep Moriyama eyes following the wrong twin.

Even if it made his skin crawl to be made prey again, made his hair stand on end every time he felt eyes follow his movements behind his back.

Hell would be an eternal rest compared to this hunt.

Joseph’s ice blue eyes flickered back towards Andrew when the bartender brought over his second drink. Smoothly, Joseph plucked the drink from Andrew’s hand and took a quick sip of it himself. Setting it back he merely said, “Tastes like wine.”

Andrew peered in the glass, as though he would be able to see what Joseph meant by merely staring hard enough. Wine in whiskey…? After his own sip, he began to debate whether he was curious enough to google about Danish whiskey later on. He decided he wasn’t.

Joseph stood, again in such a way that no sound was made, even though the chair was pushed back against the floor. “When he sends Drake,” Andrew ignored the impulse to flinch, “you’ll know he’s done preparing.”

“Drake, huh?” Andrew drawled, remembering that the name would mean nothing to Aaron. “Will that be another alias of yours?”

Joseph violently gripped the back of his chair. Andrew had the crazy idea that Joseph would have preferred to seize Andrew’s own hair. Or maybe his neck. “Drake will know you when he sees you.” Carefully, Joseph leaned in close to Andrew’s ear and whispered, “Like I did, Andrew.”

Now that was surprising.

Andrew took a minute to stare Joseph down, scrutinized his every feature for recognition that must be there. Black hair, he thought, eyeing auburn waves. Merryhill Elementary. Sacramento, he remembered, memories of keeping his distance from all the other students and watching one other boy do the same.

“Abram…” He didn’t say it so much as the name simply escaped his mouth, running along his exhale the same way Abram had run all those years ago, in the middle of October. Everyone had called him William back then, but Andrew had noticed he never responded to it and had bullied him into telling his real name. Andrew had never told anyone else and he had never actually spoken the name aloud before now.

Not even six years after Merryhill, when he had spotted a boy bearing a striking resemblance to Abram that he almost called out. They were in Phoenix then, his foster family roaming some mall or other on the only vacation Andrew had ever seen as a child. He might have said hello, just to investigate, but the boy’s mother was yanking him away, scolding him for reckless behaviour and calling him Casper.

His eyes were brown then, Andrew thought, wary of the pale blue that barred Abram’s soul from him.

“You need the Queensguard,” Abram insisted, unshaken by Andrew’s remembrance. “Let Kevin help you.”

Andrew scoffed, unconvinced. If Andrew had heard the rumours of the Queensguard, an inner group rebellious to Riko’s Kingsmen, then Riko already knew about it. “Kevin is the one who needs help.”

“Why do you think he kept sending me to find you?” Abram finally relaxed his grip on the chair, seeming to relax now that their games and deceptions were done with. How long had he been waiting for Andrew to realize? Did he think he already had? “I told Kevin after the first mission that you weren’t Aaron and it only made him want you worse.”

“Should I be flattered?”

“You are of invaluable worth to Kevin, much more so than your brother is to Riko. Aaron is Riko’s grudge and his betrayer but you? You could be Kevin’s answer.”

Andrew glared and pressed a knife to Abram’s thigh in one quick move. “I am nobody’s answer.”

Abram pushed on, “Kevin’s Queensguard has all the pieces but he’s no match for Riko as a mastermind. You? You’ve already outsmarted Riko a dozen times over, toying with him on this wild goose chase. But Riko’s gonna tire of playing the game by your rules and when he sends Drake for you and discovers the truth, there will be nothing you can do to protect your brother.”

The knife dug two inches into flesh. Andrew wondered if he expected Abram to react with more than a blink of surprise. As one of Riko’s Kingsmen, Abram was probably used to knives, used to torture.

Aaron had been.

“You need bigger toys,” Abram insisted, backing away and off of Andrew’s now-bloody knife. Abram, to his credit, only shifted his weight and pulled his coat tighter, ensuring no bloodstain could be seen. “Come to Paris eight days from now. Meet Kevin yourself and see if you can do better on your own.”

And then, before Andrew said anything else, Abram laid some Euros on the bar and left, no limp apparent to any eye less discerning than Andrew’s. He wondered if he ought to demand more specific details on where exactly in Paris he was supposed to meet Kevin but he decided not to worry.

If he was in the city when the time came, Abram would be sure to find him.

Memory.

Requested by Anon: Could you please do one that Agent Whiskey and reader were both Statesman and they were a thing, but the reader has had a headshot and didn’t remember she was with Whiskey, and there is no way to bring her memory back, so Whiskey tries hard everyday to make her fall in love with him again?? Maybe go her through sth the same as what Whiskey has done in the past when they were dating?
Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader
Fandom: Kingsman
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1941.
A/N: I’ve just realised that I misread this as Whiskey going through things they did in the past to try and bring her memory back, instead of him trying to make her fall in love with him again. But, still, it’s one of my favourite things I’ve written and I hope that it’s okay anyway, even though it isn’t exactly what you wanted.

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anonymous asked:

what kind of offerings are good for gathering graveyard dirt? Should you leave an offering even if it isn't from an actual grave (just a cemetery)? Should you leave an offering at a crossroads if you take dirt from there? I'm genuinely curious

Let’s start from the end and work backwards here. X3

Firstly, crossroads are different from graveyards and cemeteries in that they might not have spirits that need to be appeased. However, if you choose to leave or take something from a crossroads (such as dirt), leaving a little something is probably a good idea. Hedging one’s bets is usually wise when it comes to such things (translation: always cover your ass).

Secondly, if you take dirt from anywhere inside the gate of a graveyard or cemetery, whether from a grave or not, it is likely considered consecrated or “hallowed” ground and thus, it’s a good idea to leave something as a thank-you. There are some unconsecrated burial grounds, such as potter’s fields and possibly some family burial plots (not a good idea to take earth from there unless it’s your own family, since these are usually private property), but most of the public ones you see have been consecrated. If you see a chapel or a church anywhere on the property, it is DEFINITELY consecrated ground. And as graveyards go, the older the grave, the more oomph in the dirt.

Before you go about collecting your graveyard dirt, you may want to make a quick obeisance at the gate. Let the dead know what you’re there to do, that you intend to make payment, and that you mean no harm or disrespect.

If you take dirt from a grave, it’s a good idea to know something about the person who’s buried there. You don’t have to look up their life’s story, but it’s good to know who you’re dealing with. Generally, saving the name and dates from the stone will give you something to go on. Some stones will also list professions.

Whatever grave you pick, make sure you ASK PERMISSION FIRST. Call the person by name, ask politely if you may take some earth from their grave, state what you want it for and what you’ve brought them in return, and then WAIT. If you don’t get a prickly go-away feeling after a minute or so, you should be all right. Manners count for so much when you’re dealing with the dead or with spirits of any kind, especially since taking dirt from a grave is asking for the assistance of the person buried there. As in life, a good first impression can make a big difference.

Thirdly, there are lots of offerings you can leave in exchange for graveyard dirt. Here are some of the most common:

  • Coins (preferably silver-colored and reasonably shiny)
  • Bread (any kind will do)
  • Fruit (apples are preferable, but most any kind will do)
  • Milk (any kind, and local is nice if you can get it)
  • Liquor (some spirits may like wine or beer, some may like hard liquor like whiskey; use your best judgement)
  • Incense (a cone or stick burned graveside; practice fire safety)
  • Tobacco (especially in the American South)
  • Flowers or Potted Plant (any kind will do; you can dig a hole and plant the potted item and use the pot to carry the earth away if you’re concerned about strolling off with a baggy of dirt)

If you can’t afford anything listed above, you can leave your own saliva. However, if you choose to do this, spit into your palm and lay it gently down on the earth. Spitting directly onto a grave is incredibly disrespectful and will more than likely garner a bad reaction if the occupant takes offense. Also, any bargain where your own bodily fluids get involved is a much more binding one, so be sure that you’re up for that beforehand.

For addition information, raven-conspiracy has an excellent post here detailing how best to approach the gathering of graveyard dirt.

Carmilla Thought:

I honestly hope Carm and Mel are buds in the film…


They match each other so perfectly in the dry, sarcastic, “totally done with everyone’s shit” department, which is why I totally get why they both irked one another in the beginning because (for them) it was basically like arguing with their reflection. But I feel like now they’d totally be cool with one another and could even be drinking buds on occasion.

Can you just imagine them at a bar? Even better can you imagine them in a bar fight? With both of them having each others backs.

I can totally picture them chilling in the back, probably playing some pool (both obviously having bet money on who will win) with Carm decked out in her leather and Mel in some rockin’ hard looking outfit. Their whiskey and beer sitting on the edge. Both are exchanging dry sarcastic remarks towards one another since 99% of their relationship is just seeing who can roast the other the best (you know they totally text each other with “hey fucker” as the starting sentence).

Then, at one point, there pool game gets interrupted and they end up getting into a bar fight with some drunk punks and manage to successfully beat down the entire group. And afterwards Carm ends up taking the money they had bet because she “clearly beat down more guys” than her so, therefore, she gets the money.

However, when Carm makes it home that night Laura is still up, in some animal print pajamas, arms crossed and looking angrily at Carm. And she’s like “So how did your night out with Mel go?” And Carm, looking guilty af (since she distinctly remembered Laura texting her “no fighting” before she met up with Mel) mumbles that it was fine. Only for Laura to grab her phone and be like:

“Oh really? So this text that I got from Mel that says ‘Laura, tell vampirella that she should use some of that empty space in her brain to learn how to count since I clearly knocked out more guys than she did. So she owes me $50 bucks.’…sooo, how exactly am I suppose to interpret that?”

And Carm is just silent since she knows she’s busted. Then all of a sudden she feels her phone vibrate and she looks down at it and it’s a text from Mel and it’s just a simple middle finger emoji.


Anyway, just a thought…



Originally posted by endingthemes

Flirting has always come naturally to Charles.

It’s inevitable really- Charles is friendly, and charming, and tactile, and his telepathy gives him somewhat of an unfair advantage when it comes to winning other people over. Charles tries not to be so lazy as to rely on his mutation all the time, but when he’s had a few drinks it’s easy to get complacent, and to take certain shortcuts.

Of course, when it comes to Erik, flirting is never that easy…

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