I expect to do a few variations on this sort of post as alternate ideas are presented or folk recommend modifications to the recipes. These are all alcoholic and therefore not intended for fans under 21. There is one in the works for some of our alien characters as well.
These are strong drinks because that’s how mod likes her drinks. Please feel welcome to tag @vldquizsnacks or submit pics to us if you make these and take pictures!
You can’t serve an Old fashioned in a coupette glass and you can’t serve a Mojito in a margarita glass. Don’t be an ass, and know you glass. Here is a list of the glassware you have or should have in the bar you work in or your own home bar. Let’s start with the basics…
1. Martini Glass- Used to serve drinks straight up without ice. Most common would be a Martini where the name comes from or the Manhattan.
2. Margarita Glass- A glass stylized like an upside down sombrero should only be used to serve the margarita or any type of margarita variation and nothing else.
3. Pint Glass- Beer and Beer/Cider based mixed drinks. example Black velvet, shandy or Black’n’Tans.
4. Rocks Glass/ Old-Fashioned- Used to serve liquor like good quality vodka or whisk(e)y, and cocktails with ice or neat.Examples of different drinks that go into a rocks glass: Negroni, Old Fashioned, Margarita on the rocks, Sazerac (Neat).
5. Shot Glass- The name itself says it. Used for shots! I imagine everyone knows this and at this point I’m just covering basics for the sake of it.
6. Highball Glass- Used to serve long drinks, aka spirit and mixers, aka highball drinks. Examples are: Screw Driver, Cuba Libre, G&T.
7. Collins Glass- Slightly shorter and wider than the Highball glass, this one is used to serve a good Collins, Fizz, or Rickey.
8. Brandy/ Cognac Glass- Used to serve Brandy/Cognac.Just make sure to swirl hot water inside it before pouring in the spirit. It should be served in a hot glass.
9. Wine Glass- There are different types for white or red wine but this is the standard everyone should be familiar with.
10. Champagne Flute- Used to drink sparkly wine, champagne or serve the following cocktails: French 75, Champagne cocktail.
11. Hurricane Glass- For blended frozen drinks and exotic drinks.
12. Irish Coffee Glass- Thick Glass with a handle used for hot drinks such as the Irish Coffee, Hot Toddy or Hot Buttered Rum.
13. Coupe Glass- The coupette is another great glass with a stem used for ‘straight up’ cocktails like the martini glass. I like to use this one for cocktails containing egg whites.
14. Grappa Glass- Used to enjoy Italian grappa.
15. Absinthe Glass- Thick and beautifully designed glasses used to drink Absinthe. Served with the iconic Absinthe spoon for the sugar.
16. Tiki Glass- There are many types of these glasses around and this is just one of them. They are ceramic and usually depict imagery from Melanesia, Micronesia or Polynesia. They are especially used for ‘Tiki’ style exotic cocktails based on rum blends and fruit juices.
17. Buck Mug- Copper mugs used for Buck style cocktails, the most famous being the Moscow Mule.
18. Julep Cup- Iconic metal cup used only for the Kentucky Mint Julep.
19. Sour Glass- These are not used that much anymore, but they were the official ‘Sour’ glass for sour style cocktails.
20. Tasting Glass- Used by spirit connoisseur’s for tasting fine Scotch or Gin for example.
If you enjoyed this article share it with people and hit that like button! Also if you have any questions or want to share your thoughts please comment below. - UM. Thanks guys!
Candlelight flickered across the table, the dim light casting dark shadows across Vegeta’s sharp features. His dark brows were pulled together, fingers drumming restlessly on the wooden dinner table. The waiter had long since kept his distance, especially after he’d asked Vegeta if he was ready to order for the fourth time. If looks could burn holes the waiter would probably be nothing more than a pile of ash. He was waiting for his business associate. She was late. As always. Of course.
Punctuality was not Bulma Briefs strong suit. She was the most gorgeous thing on two legs (and he’d be damned if he EVER admitted that out loud) but hell did he hate how she always kept him waiting. They had an important business dealing to discuss and already forty minutes had been wasted. Growling, he pulled out his smart phone to see if she’d returned his last text. She hadn’t.
“Woman, I swear on everything in me I will go to your house and drag you out screaming and naked.”
He’d thought it at least made his point. Surprisingly, as he was watching the screen the response icon appeared, the tiny bubbles of her incoming text taunting him. The phone pinged with its arrival, and her answer made him roll his eyes:
“Is that a promise hot stuff? ;)”
Vegeta groaned. He HATED when she did that. He furiously text back, “Damnit Briefs you’re almost an hour late. I’ve got shit to do tonight.”
“Oh really, like what?”
His fingers stilled over the screen. She had him there. He lived alone and truth be told he would probably just watch tv and head to bed after jacking off. Bulma didn’t need to know that though. “Since when is my personal life any of your business? Just get your late ass here already. I’m fucking starving.”
“Rude. I’m speak-texting from my cars bluetooth. I’m parking right now. Order me a drink okay?”
“Gin and tonic, extra lemon.”
“You know me so well ;)”
Vegeta was slightly unnerved that he knew her favorite drink by heart. He told himself it was because that’s all she ever ordered; but that was far from the truth. Over the past year that they’d worked together, he found himself paying far much attention to her. More than he had any woman. He’d been hired as Capsule Corps private lawyer, and over the past year had worked pretty much solely with Dr. Briefs and his pesky daughter. Dr. Briefs was planning on retiring within the coming year and wanted to make sure that all of the I’s were dotted and T’s were crossed. Bulma was to be his successor and she’d be a damn good one in Vegeta’s opinion.
That is if she could be on time for once in her life.
He waved the waiter back over, the young man turning a shade of green at finally being addressed by the dark haired stranger at the corner table.
“Gin and tonic, extra lemon,” Vegeta muttered, “and make sure it’s here within the next three minutes.”
“I-I’ll see what I can do-”
A twenty dollar bill was shoved into the waiters sweaty hand, “Three. Minutes.” Vegeta punctuated, “Times ticking.”
The poor server was practically trembling, “A-anything else for you sir?”
Vegeta pondered a moment, “Whiskey, on the rocks. There’ll be another twenty if you can get those here in the two minutes and thirty-four seconds you have left.”
Quicker than Vegeta had seen anyone move, the young man dashed towards the bar, nearly running into the blue haired woman who had just walked in the door.
He would tell himself it was because he stood up to quick that his heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t the tight fitting, knee length red dress she was wearing. It also wasn’t the black shawl with fur lined hood framing her face. It wasn’t the way she was shaking off her wet umbrella. And it CERTAINLY wasn’t the way she looked around the restaurant, finally catching his eyes and grinning at him.
Nope. Not those things at all.
He put on his best scowl as she approached him, the gawking stares of other men in the restaurant unabashedly watching her rear end sway with every step she took in her black heels. To his secret, guilty pleasure however she paid them no mind. She was walking towards him alone. Her sky blue eyes locked on his black, full lips still smiling just for him-
“Bout fucking time.” He snapped.
And the spell was broken.
Bulma’s face fell, that tiny line he adored appearing between her eyebrows, “Well hello to you too, grouchy.”
Inwardly he cursed himself. Having no filter was often more a curse than it was a blessing. Even though she was still frowning at him he edged around her to pull out her chair, “Was there traffic?” He asked gruffly.
“Some,” she said, removing her shawl. Vegeta took it from her and laid it on top of his coat, “I got caught up in the lab earlier. And then I wanted to make sure I looked nice for our date.”
Vegeta froze, mouth slacking. Bulma however was far more interested in the drink being placed in front of her, “Thank you!” She smiled at the server.
The whiskey was slid over to Vegeta, the waiter looking like he’d just run a marathon, “Sorry it’s a minute late sir-”
Suddenly, Vegeta could hear again. He blinked, mumbled a few choice words and handed the man another twenty dollar bill.
Bulma sucked on the lemon wedge garnishing her glass, watching the exchange with great interest. After their server was gone, she raised a brow and asked “What was that about?”
“Just making sure we got the drinks quickly.” Vegeta could feel his cheeks flushing, “Look, I’m sorry but did you call our business meeting a date?”
“Mmmhmmm,” she mumbled around the lemon wedge she was still sucking on.
Suddenly Vegeta’s neck felt hot, “Look Briefs, I don’t known how you’ve deluded yourself into thinking this was anything but a meeting between two coworkers, but this is so not a date.”
He was never quite sure how she did it, but Bulma always had this way of looking right through him. Being a good lawyer meant having a good poker face, and Vegeta always had believed his was the best in the business. It’s how he acquired his own law firm at 25 and had been successful ever since. But this infuriating woman could see through him as easy as a pane on glass.
She removed the lemon wedge from her lips, smirk causing the corner of her mouth to turn up, “Really?”
“Yes woman,” Vegeta hissed, “not every single man in the world has to fall at your feet. Your imagination is almost as big as your ego.”
Frowning, Bulma dropped the drained lemon wedge on her napkin, “Hey no need to get nasty. Usually when you call me to a business meeting it’s at the lab. Not some swanky restaurant. Forgive me for assuming this was supposed to be something else.” She dropped her eyes back to the table, grabbing a complimentary piece of bread from the basket.
Vegeta exhaled through his nose. He and his big mouth. She had him there. When he needed to talk to her about something he would usually catch her in the lab. He wasn’t lying when he said he had business things to discuss, but well…
He sighed, then reached out and grabbed the back support of her dinner chair, dragging the whole piece of furniture and Bulma closer to him. It made an obnoxious scraping noise, but he really didn’t care. When she was within whispering range, he leaned over and muttered, “Sorry.”
Her eyelashes were so long he realized as they blinked at him, the crinkles beside her eyes betraying her smile, “It’s alright tough guy.”
Vegeta allowed himself a small lip twitch. That is until a shaky voice on the other side of the table asked, “Are you ready to order-”
It was Bulma who spoke when she realized Vegeta’s jaw muscle had tensed, “Just get us whatever the specials are tonight; he will have a beef item, rare and I’ll have chicken if it’s available.”
The waiter, as if sensing his impending doom slowly backed away, not fully turning until he’d reached the kitchen.
Bulma pinched Vegeta’s cheek, “Could you please try and not eat the wait staff? Poor guy looks like he’s about to pee his pants.”
Vegeta pulled his face away from her fingers, “it would serve that obnoxious little shit right. He’s worse than a flea.”
“Vegeta,” she warned, “please be nice. For once?”
“Tch.” He scowled and pulled out his phone, pulling up the business documents he needed to go over with her, “Whatever.”
Bulma sighed, and then took a sip of her gin and tonic, “In any case, you look nice. I like you in navy. I’ve never seen that sweater before; is it new? Sure this isn’t a date?”
Vegeta felt his blood pressure rising, the sweater was in fact new, “Woman please…”
“Just saying, you invite me to dinner which you’ve never done before…”
“Briefs I swear-”
“And you’re dressed like a GQ model with that tight navy sweater and black pants…”
“Please stop talking now-”
“And you took my shawl for me…”
“I am never being nice to you again.”
“You even know my favorite drink,”
“It’s all you ever have when you drink alcohol.”
“Pretty good memory if you ask me.”
Vegeta scowled, cheeks burning bright red, “Anyways, here are the documents your father wanted you to look over.” He slid his phone to her, “when you stop talking maybe we can actually get some work done.”
Bulma sighed, then picked up the phone, “Fine, fine. Maybe you should start drinking. You’d be more fun then.”
Eyes narrowed, Vegeta picked up his highball and took a sip. Bulma’s gaze danced across the screen of his phone, finger brushing up so she could read the rest of the document. They were both silent for several minutes when he saw Bulma’s eyes widen.
“What?” He asked.
She flipped the phone around, and Vegeta was horrified to see she was in his pictures folder. The image now on the screen was her, bent over in the lab studying a blueprint. Her long blue hair piled on top of her head and held in place with a pen, face concentrated on whatever she was looking at.
Vegeta paled. He’d taken that the other day and obviously without her consent. She’d called him to say she’d bought him a sandwich and invited him down to eat. Vegeta never turned down food, or a chance to be with her whenever possible. She’d soon forgotten her own sandwich, getting wrapped up in her own brilliant mind and began redesigning a space pod. He watched her in content silence and thought she’d never looked more beautiful. So he secretly took a picture, obviously never imagining she would see it.
And now Bulma was staring at him with a confused expression and he guilty snatched the phone from her hand, shoving it in his pocket and looking away, “We’re done here.”
He made a movement to get up, but stilled momentarily when he felt her grab his hand, “Vegeta, stop it.” She insisted, “Can you quit trying to run away and talk to me?” The fingers on his hand tightened, and he slowly felt his resolve waning. What was he supposed to say? What did she want him to say? That she was right? Because she was, partly. He’d wanted to impress her, not necessarily on purpose but he figured having her alone for once might help. However, he was just a lawyer and former street kid. He’d brought himself up from nothing; had survived by the skin of his teeth doing less than legal things and the only thing that spurred him on was his pride.
She was the complete opposite. Bulma’s family was wealthy and she was used to the best things in life. She could have anyone she wanted. What chance did he have with her? Why was he even trying? Eyes closed tightly, he made the hardest decision of his life and snatched his hand away and stormed out the door as Bulma looked on, hurt; the food just being brought out and laid onto the table.
The channels on the television flipped robotically, Vegeta not really watching anything. It had been a bad night. Already stripped out of that new sweater, he sat on the couch shirtless and in sweat pants. How could he face her in the morning? He’d already drafted a resignation letter, more than prepared to walk in and slam it down on her desk right when he walked through Capsule Corps door.
Temper flaring, he pitched the remote into the wall. The flimsy plastic broke apart, batteries flying across the room. He was such an idiot. He’d just ruined the best thing in his life in less than an hour. Vegeta supposed he could easily open his firms doors again and pray his reputation wouldn’t be too soiled, but the promise of a paycheck was the furthest thing from his mind. All he really wanted was her, pressed up against his side as the two of them watched television together. His damn pride was his biggest asset and hinderance sometimes.
A light knock came on his front door.
His head turned slightly, brows furrowing. Who the hell would be knocking on his door at ten o clock at night? Beside him, his phone buzzed, the preview of a text flashing across he lock screen:
“Hey, open the door.”
It was Bulma’s name. His jaw tightened, hand twitching as he fought the urge to reply.
Bzz: “VEGETA, come on. Please?”
He exhaled through his nose and stormed to the door, throwing it open. There she was. Still in her red dress and shawl, a takeout bag in hand and his coat draped over her arm. She blinked, eyes roaming over his heavily muscled bare chest, “Oh, uh, hi.”
Forearm pressed against the doorframe, he sighed, “What is it Briefs?”
Bulma cleared her throat, trying in vain to take her eyes off his muscles, “Uh, you forgot your jacket. And I got the food to go. Maybe we can eat it here and talk?”
Scowling, Bulma pushed past him and into the living room, “Please, can we not play this game anymore? It’s getting old.”
Vegeta rolled his eyes, but followed her to the couch where she had already started laying out the food on his coffee table, “Woman, this really isn’t neces-”
“I didn’t know you did jujitsu!” She interrupted, skittering off to look at a picture on his wall, “Wow! That explains the muscles. It looks like your standing with a big trophy! But who’s that spikey haired guy with the bigger trophy -”
“Bulma,” Vegeta hissed, “what the fuck are you doing here? It’s late. I’m tired. And we have work in the morning.”
She turned, hands on her hips, “You should have thought about that before you ran away from our date!”
“For the love of…Bulma it wasn’t a date.”
“Who do you think you’re fooling?” Within a few steps she was in front of him, blue eyes burning into him, “Why would you invite me out to dinner? Why would you buy a new sweater? It still had the price tag on the back collar, so don’t even pretend like you’ve had it forever. And why was there a picture of me in your phone?”
“Why the fuck were you going through my pictures anyway?” He growled, “You’re looking far into it Briefs.”
Bulma’s sighed, “You’re hopeless. You know that right?”
“It’s for the best.” He said coldly, “I have nothing to offer you anyway.”
Small tears were beginning to brim in Bulma’s eyes, “There’s you. You’re smart, and cunning and even funny in you’re own weird way. I see when we’re in public places and you look only at me. And when we’re in crowds you put your hand on the small of my back because you know I’ll get lost.”
Vegeta swallowed, suddenly feeling a stirring within himself. An uncomfortable, ripped open sensation.
Bulma continued, reaching out and touching Vegeta’s sharp cheekbone, “I know how much work you have, but still you come visit me in the lab. You let me drunk text you and you always answer, even at three in the morning. Even if it’s snarky I don’t care, because it’s you. I wish you could see what I see when you look at me. Because it’s wonderful; you’re wonderful.”
Vegeta stood frozen, mind playing catch up with what she was saying, “So, you…think I’m tolerable?”
Choking out a laugh, Bulma nodded, “More often than not. But even when your an asshole I like you.”
“You, like me?”
Vegeta blinked, “So…”
Bulma rolled her eyes, “Geeze Vegeta, do I have to spell it out for you?”
Bulma wrapped both arms arms around his neck, and dragged his face down to meet hers.
炊きたて鶏釜めし // Kettle-Cooked Chicken Rice Kamameshi is a rice pilaf cooked in an iron kettle called a kama. The rice absorbs the flavor of the seasoning and ingredients, and also picks up a toasty, crunchy aroma from being scorched. This restaurant brings you the kama and a timer so it can cook tableside, which takes half an hour–enough time for a pretty pink sakura highball!
Tbh I hate all these headcanons about how Russel, 2D, and Murdoc are over-protective father figures. Like, these guys are living the rock star lifestyle so they are not really going to be A+ parent material.
For starters, they know damn well that Noodle is perfectly capable of kicking the ass of anyone who tries to hurt her. Second, they probably would have been super liberal and encouraged her to try anything and everything because she’s got to see what the world is like for herself.
“You wanna try smoking? Okay.”
“What does a highball taste like? Here you go.”
“What do you mean ‘what’s the sound in Left Hand Suzuki Method’? Well…here.“
“You think that person’s hot? Okay, here’s a condom.”
“We’re going to a strip joint and we don’t have a babysitter. You’re coming with.”
Considering Hewlett’s cynicism, I think this is a more accurate portrayal of how he’d have Noodle grow up. It’s more realistic if you think about the way a lot of child stars grow up.
Otherwise, how does your sweet and innocent baby doll grow up to be the snarling, smoking, machine gun-toting babe she is today?
Can I get a scenario with Ignis and his s/o dancing to a slow song? ❤️ btw;; you complete me, 😚
Aww, you’re so sweet.
You’ve been waiting for this little break in Lestallum. The days
and on the road, fun as they were, left you strung out and exhausted. You
adored the four blokes you travelled with but, by the Six, you needed a break.
You found what you were after in a small bar, crowded with
working women, the air thick with music and chatter. The fans were going, the
drinks were cheap and for once you looked good enough to eat. Nursing a
highball cocktail that was half ice and half something bright green, you leaned
against the bar and watched the crowd. You felt a little over dressed and
soft compared to the half-dressed power workers, definitely an outsider at a
glance, but it was like watching a water current flowing past, somehow relaxing.
The company helped.
Beside you, Ignis was noting something down in his little black
book, lips pressed into a line. He’d made a comment about the loud music when
he arrived, twenty minutes and two drinks late. Loud music was the point, you
told him, lips by his ear, breathing in the smell of his cologne, herbal and
fresh and working in tandem with the cocktails and heat. The sharp focus on his
eyes as you pulled back made it all the worse.
He bought you a drink and one
of his own and slipped into a seat beside you. During lulls in the music you
spoke heads craning close, sharing tastes of each other’s cocktails. You rocked
in time with the music, watching a crowd of dancer’s shimmy and twist.
A hand on yours pulled you
from your daze, a bare thumb and gloved fingers gliding over your skin. You
looked, meeting Ignis’ gaze. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, brows
lifting. He gave a slight nod towards the dance floor in invitation. You smiled
in reply, a little excited thrill squirming up your spine. Tangling your fingers in his, you nod and
slip off your stool.
The crowd is easy to slip through, people parting for the stranger in the room.
The music changes, slowing as you find a clear space and turn to your dancing
partner. Ignis seems to have eyes only for you. The hand holding yours gives
you a gentle squeeze before urging you closer. His other hand finds your hips,
and yours finds home against his chest.
“Did you plan that?” You asked
following his sway. It’s still crowded and hot despite the fans blowing across
the dancefloor and the goose bumps on your skin. Ignis was just as warm against
your front, a teasing smile on his lips.
“Would it help if I did?” He
replied over the crooning voice of some singer, fingers pressing gently through
the fabric of your top. You smiled, helpless, unable to look away even as he
turned you both around the floor.
“Maybe?” You said, losing his
gaze as light flashed over the lenses of his glasses. The music swelled and you
shivered, heart aching. You loved this song, dreamed of dancing to it one day
in white. For a moment you could almost pretend you were anywhere but a crowded
Ignis’ hand slipped around to
your back. “Are you alright?” He asked. You nodded, shoving your thoughts away
to focus on the man in front of you.
“Nostalgia.” You leaned in
closer. He was so warm and real, arms looping around you. It was almost too
warm to be held but you leaned in closer. “I love this song.” He chuckled, the
sound vibrating against your cheek.
I’ve been taking a hiatus writing fics, but after reading so many others and obsessively playing the game (I’ve gotten quite good at fishing. Caught the Vespar Gar and the MF-ing Leige!), the bug bit like like a fish to a lure.
Anyway, here’s a thing for you to read. If it’s popular/demanded enough, I’ll continue writing it. This was my first stab at writing a reader fic, so the (Y/N) here is female, but feel free to change it to whatever you want in your head ^_^;
sighed heavily into his highball glass of whiskey; wine wouldn’t
cut it after today. The light-brown haired man picked up his glass
and sipped from it, letting the peaty, hot spirit coat his the
insides of his mouth and throat. His attention then turned to the
opening of the door, seeing a familiar face.