world of whisky

Reputation + Drinking
  • End Game: I just wanna be drinkin' on a beach with you all over me / It's like your eyes are liquor
  • Gorgeous: You should take it like a compliment that I got drunk and make fun of the way you talk / Whisky on ice, sunet and vine
  • Delicate: But you can make me a drink
  • This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things: Everyone swimming in a champagne sea
  • King Of My Heart: Drinking beer out of plastic cups
  • Dress: I'm spilling wine in the bathtub, you kiss my face and we're both drunk
  • Getaway Car: I knew it from the first Old Fashioned, we were cursed

This is for day 3 of @freezerburn-week and guess what it’s another AU (I just hate writing in the canon universe i guess). Anyway this is a Noir detective AU that I may have written a couple of weeks ago whilst listening to the L.A Noire soundtrack on youtube (so if you wanna set the scene with some music then go ahead  the songs with lyrics start at the 41 mins mark and the songs before that are instrumental)

(I also may write a nsfw part two at some point if anyone would like to read that)

Warnings: T rated. Alcohol consumption, smoking, violence, blood and there is a gun. Oh and really cheesy flirting.

Pairing: Freezerburn

2436 words.


The smooth tones of a saxophone playing a slow jazz number filtered out of the front doors of the club and into the gloomy street.

Keep reading

but can you imagine the first time merlin goes on holiday? it’s honestly quite possibly the first time he’s had a proper holiday in close to 25 years?

anonymous asked:

So is Leanne going to post the interview of them drinking whisky together tomorrow for World Whisky Day or is it just a tease for something in September??

I would lower your expectations and then maybe lower them a little more. It could be a photo of the three of them holding glasses of whisky. It could be a new exclusive, limited edition, open your wallets Outlander whisky. It could be anything. It’s the teasing that gets old. Stop holding promotion over our heads and taunting us. 

Originally posted by ktxoxokt

Drowned Sorrows.

Please do one where Emily ‘dies’ and you go to Hotch for comfort and he’s the only one who knew about the readers and Emily’s secret love? And maybe the reader drank heavily with Hotch?

I was listening to Lay Me Down by Sam Smith whilst writing this and in the tender state I’m already in I definitely did NOT cry…NOT AT ALL! I’m not going to lie I’ve written this many times in my head. It’s all pretty fresh still so please don’t judge if it’s really bad aha! I hope you enjoy it!xx-Ash

You woke up with a pounding headache and the smell of alcohol still on your breath. You couldn’t help but grimace at the pain in your head as you sat up in bed.  You reached for your phone, but it wasn’t there, you reached out further for your lamp, but it wasn’t there. Whose room was this? You moved to get off of the bed and landed your feet on the unfamiliar ground.  Standing up brought back the all too familiar feeling of nausea. Running towards the door you burst out into the hallway and towards the open bathroom door, no longer were you concerned with where you were but how you could make yourself feel better.

Your hair was pulled out of your face and a familiar voice calmed you down “It’s ok Y/N, get it all out.” Hotch. It had to be Hotch’s house “I picked up your car from the bar and grabbed your go bag from the trunk. I will tell the others you weren’t feeling well. Go and visit her today?” He handed you a glass of water, an aspirin and left.  

This wasn’t the first time you’d woken up away from your house. The first time was in the hospital the day after she died. You’d managed to get from the hospital to the local liquor store and buy 2 bottles of whiskey; you hadn’t even waited until you got home to drink them, drinking the entire 1st bottle before you’d even got to your car. You sat on the bonnet of the car you shared with her, drinking and cursing out the world that forced you to be alone and took the woman you loved away from you. Tears stained your cheeks until eventually it was impossible to tell where they’d run and where they hadn’t. You didn’t remember how you got to the hospital or what exactly had happened but you woke up attached to an IV and a stern looking Hotch stood at the end of your bed. That’s when you told him about you and Emily; how you’d been in love with each other for so long and about your engagement. He’d held you, tightly, like she used to. Caught your tears on his shoulders, like she used to.

At first you’d pushed away his pity, vowing you could survive without her, vowing you could move on and you’d be fine. But now? Now was different. Now was lonely nights and empty beds. Now was waking up at 3am and panicking when she wasn’t there. Now was taking long walks in the dark hoping she’d appear. Now was half empty liquor bottles and drowned sorrows.

It had been so hard to keep it together. When she died it was like you lost your better half, the half that made you smile, made you happy and made you love. It was only 3 days after you’d proposed that she’d been killed and it broke you. It cut down to your core, to your very soul and nothing could stop the pain. Except alcohol, when you drank, it numbed it all; numbed the sadness, the anger and the love that you still felt. And that’s why you were here; In Hotch’s house hiding from the world behind a bottle of whisky and more than enough vodka.

You stood up from the toilet and dragged your soulless body back to the bed, rolling yourself up into a ball, holding your hands over your ears trying to block out the overwhelming sadness that washed over your body. Thoughts of the day she had died flooded your brain;

JJ’s face had told you everything you needed to know. Her voice held a pain you only amplified with your cries. No-one knew how you were hurting, how your heart had been ripped out and crushed. You felt your knees buckle underneath you, collapsing to the cold ground; you held your face in your hands and sobbed, for the woman you never got to call your wife. You wanted to run to her, hold her in your arms for one last time but something was stopping you, something in your heart told you to stay put, surrounded by your family.

Regret. All you felt was regret. Regret that you hadn’t gotten to her sooner. Regret that yours wasn’t the last face she saw but instead Morgan’s, something you still resented him for. Regret that you hadn’t been by her side in the ambulance. Regret that you hadn’t gone to her after she had died. Regret that you never got to show the world how much she truly meant to you.

You slept for 3 more hours until you felt the sudden urge to get up, and go visit her.  You pulled your unwashed hair up into a bun. Wrapped yourself in her old FBI jumper, inhaling what was left of her smell on the fabric, after 8 months it had started to smell less and less like her. She wasn’t buried too far away, and there was a familiar liquor store on the way that you knew always had what you needed after visiting her grave.

A short walk and half a bottle of rum later you arrived at her grave. Still decorated with the beautiful bouquets, no doubt left by Penelope. 5 months and 24 days had passed since you last saw her; since you last felt love and light.

“Hey Em, I hope you can hear me. I mean… I hope you’re ok wherever you are. It’s so hard to get through this without you. I know I need to stop drinking. But when I don’t drink, I hurt, I hurt so much.” Through the hazy fog of your tears you made out a dark figure in the distance, watching you. Maybe it was the drink, or the gut feeling something was wrong but you couldn’t help but yell “Hey! Hey! Who are you?” Stumbling around the gravestones you made a desperate attempt to get closer. Tripping over your own feet, you landed on the ground, hitting your head on the corner of a gravestone.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” a familiar voice broke through the ringing that was piercing your ears.

“Emily?” your eyes felt heavy and it was a struggle to keep them from closing.

“Hey baby, hold on, the ambulance are on their way” Her face appeared in your field of vision, her dark hair brushing against your face. Her hand snaking its way into yours.

“Emily?” your confusion faded as your consciousness did.


“No Hotch! I’m serious! She was there, at the cemetery! She called the ambulance. She held my hand, I know it was her.” You were suddenly defeated “I has to be”

Hotch looked at you with sadness in his eyes. The pity in his face was enough to make anyone cry “Y/N, you were drunk. You hit your head and had a concussion. It was just your imagination.” He was holding something back and you could tell “Emily is dead. She’s not coming back, ever.”

“Get out.” You spat, unaware of how much venom was in your voice.

“Y/N…” Hotch pleaded.

“I know what I saw.” You were so, so angry. “So please. Get. Out.”


2 months later, you and Morgan had almost cracked the Doyle case. Derek had to almost pull you off of him when you finally caught him. And then Declan went missing, the one person Emily had always vowed to protect was in danger and there was no way that was going to happen.

“Everybody have a seat.” Hotch’s eyes met yours. Something was wrong, something was very very wrong. “7 months ago I made a decision that affected this team, as you all know Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle” the mere mention of her name brought tears to your eyes “but the doctors were able to stabilise her.” The air in your lungs was knocked out of you and your jaw hung open.

“She’s alive?” your voice was barely above a whisper “She’s been alive ALL this time and you never told me?” you were yelling, angrier than you’d ever been “You saw me in the state I was in. You told me point blank she was dead and she was never coming back! When this whole time you knew, YOU KNEW SHE WAS ALIVE!”  The realisation of what was being said hit you like a tonne of bricks, knocking you back into your chair.

“As I said I take full responsibility for the decision, if anyone has any issues they should be directed at me.”

“oh my god” Garcia glanced behind you at the door. Her mouth hanging open as tears slipped down her face.  You didn’t turn around. You couldn’t.

“I’m so so sorry.” Emily’s voiced flooded into your body.

“You’re sorry?” you still hadn’t turned to face her, scared that it wasn’t real, scared that if you turned around she would disappear forever just like she had done so many times before.

“Y/N I…”

“You what? You wanted to come back? You wanted to help me? You love me? Because as far as I remember none of those things could you not have done. I was your fiancée, couldn’t I have known? We were going to get married Em! We had the venue picked out, the date, everything! We were even going to tell everyone! Do you remember? Do you remember everyth…”you swung yourself round and saw her, for the first time in a long time you were sure it was real. Your eyes met, those eyes you’d missed so much. “Emily?” you couldn’t force out much more than a whisper.

“Trinity House on 6th. On the 25th of July. We were going to ask JJ and Garcia to be our maids of honour and Hotch and Rossi were going to walk us down the aisle.” Her eyes were overflowing with tears.

“And Morgan and Reid were going to be our ring bearers.” You hadn’t noticed her closing the gap in between you.

“I came back for you months ago. I saw you that day in the cemetery and wanted so badly to tell you. I went all the way to the hospital with you but I couldn’t tell you. You weren’t well. But I have been watching you, always. I had JJ and Hotch updating me every week. There was never a day where I didn’t want to be back here holding you in my arms. I love you so much!” she pressed her lips to yours and wrapped her arms around your waist “God I missed you”

“I love you. Oh My God I love you!”

EXCLUSIVE: 'Outlander' Stars Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe Play a Whisky-Filled Game of 'Never Have I Ever!'

Bottoms up, Outlander fans!

With the premiere of season three still four months away, we know that the Droughtlander has everyone feeling especially parched these days, so we’ve got something that will make you feel practically drunk with delight.

Entertainment Tonight teamed up with Starz and traveled over to the Outlander set in Scotland to sit down with stars Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe for a series of exclusive interviews and games.

And since today is World Whisky Day, we thought the best way to celebrate would be with a whisky-filled game of “Never Have I Ever” and Heughan and Balfe spilling salacious secrets along the way!

WATCH: Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe Answer ‘Outlander’ Fan Questions About Season 3!

We’re sure you all know the rules: Following the phrase, “Never have I ever…” someone names a situation, and if anyone playing that game has done it, he/she takes a sip of their drink.

(Full disclosure: we all were feeling a wee-bit tipsy by the time our game was over!)

So has Heughan ever gone skinny-dipping? Has Balfe ever sent an inappropriate text to the wrong person? And have either of them ever danced to a Justin Bieber song? There’s only one way to find out!

Grab a glass, cozy up with Jameson, Johnny, Jack or Jim, and get ready to have some fun because, like Heughan says, “This is a dangerous game.”

Outlander’s third season premieres in September on Starz.

Dying for more goodies from your favorite Outlander stars? Press play on our exclusive video below to find out if the cast prefers cuddles or kisses!

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Dear WTT

Hope you have a lovely day.  Enjoy the fourth part of your gift!  


Dinner was never to be.  Nor coffee.  Nor meeting for breakfast.  Nor any of the plans they tried to make.  Dr. Randall had been livid to find Claire in the Lounge and ripped her to shreds.  She stood and took it, all the while seething, her eyes boring into him with all the hatred she could muster.  She tried to sidle past him without looking him in the eye.  Bloody basilisk that he was, she would have turned into stone.  

She didn’t have time to dwell on Jamie.  She was working 12 hours shifts, 3 days in a row, with only one day off in between.  Claire was numb with exhaustion, and became more gaunt as the weeks went on.  Everyone knew it was wrong. But no one dared cross Dr. Randall and take a shift for her.

Jamie, on the other hand, was crazy with frustration.  Every time his phone pinged, he leapt on it hoping it was a text from Claire saying she’d had a change of plan.  It got to the point where Jenny was making everyone put their silenced phones in a basket during a meeting.  Ian found it utterly hilarious. Three weeks had passed and he hadn’t heard her voice or seen her face.  The few times he actually called her she hadn’t answered. And when she’d called him back, it had been when his phone was in a sister-imposed lock down.  

With the holidays fast approaching, all hands were on deck to launch the new line of Fraser wines, as well as a specially matured whisky, which was why they were all at the Distillery taste testing.  

Jenny and Jamie’s Uncle, Dougal Mackenzie was COO of the Distillery.  A brother to their late mum, he was world renowned in the whisky business. His taste buds were legendary, and his nose was sensitive to every nuance that swirled up from his glass. They all agreed the whisky was perfect. Smokey, with a hint of oak, and pear, it slid down the throat smooth as silk.  

“It’s a gem!” exclaimed Dougal. “No question.  It’ll win awards, and bring lots of attention to the House of Fraser.”  

Jamie closed his eyes as he rolled the alcohol around in his mouth savoring the flavours and texture.  It was delicious.  He felt the warmth in his throat on its way down, and the warm blush it created as it settled in his stomach.  He held his glass up to the light and felt his gut tighten.  The new batch was the exact colour of Claire’s eyes.

“Now.  On to the wines.” Dougal announced.  He cleansed his palate with water and a few bites of cheese and crackers.  “I’m surprised at the two of ye,” he said, taking in his niece and nephew. “Scotland isn’t known for its wines.”

“Ye know well why we’re doing this,” admonished Jenny.  “That vineyard Murtagh found in Wales is just the right size for what we want to do. Won’t produce very many bottles, but what it does produce we’ll be able to get top dollar.  The grapes are excellent.  And we need to grow the business.”  

Murtagh smiled.  He was Jamie’s godfather, and had been involved in the company for a long time. He oversaw all of the farms that grew the barley, rye and wheat needed for the whisky and when he stumbled upon this vineyard on holiday, Jamie and Jenny trusted his intuition regarding diversifying into wines.

The afternoon continued with the tasting, and assessing. It was excellent wine, and they all left the meeting feeling good about holiday sales.  But instead of going back to the office, Jamie grabbed a bottle of the red and decided to go home.  

Lost in his thoughts on the way to his flat, Jamie dug his house key out of his pocket.  It took a moment for the strange sound to register.  It sounded like….was someone crying?  As he rounded the stairs he noticed keys and a wallet on the landing.  At the base of the stairs lay what looked like a lipstick tube.  Looking up he noticed the bag that had been upended with its contents scattered.  

And there, on the stairs, head on her arms, sobbing, was Claire.  

He flung his backpack from his shoulder, heedless of his computer and the wine bottle inside, and bolted up the stairs two at a time.  

“Claire.  Sassenach, what’s wrong?  Did ye fall?”  He placed a hand on her back and felt the bones of her ribs.  Christ, she was thin.  Was she sick? Sitting on the stair below her he stroked her hair, and gently placed his hands on her shoulders, rousing her enough to lift her head. God, she was pale with dark circles under her eyes. 

 And she was burning up.  

“Shhhhh,” he whispered. “I’m here.”  She dropped her head to his shoulder and let loose a gut wrenching sob that broke his heart.  

“Ah, mo graidh” She sounded so forlorn.  He wrapped his arms around her, rocking slowly.  And then, without really thinking he picked her up in his arms and carried her down the stairs.  Key still in his hand, he unlocked his flat and carried her through to his bedroom.  

He set her down long enough to throw back his covers (why had he never picked up his room?) then helped her sit. He untied her trainers, and pressed her back so that she lay down.  When she rolled away from him and curled up into a tiny ball, his heart shattered. He covered her up, left the room leaving the door ajar so he could hear her, and went back out into the hall to recover their things.  

He was watching a rugby game he’d recorded from the weekend.  The sound was off so he could listen for Claire.  He glanced at the clock on the wall, 11:00 p.m.  She’d been asleep for 4 hours.  He checked in on her a couple of times and she still felt warm to the touch.

Her phone rang around 8:00 and he’d had a long conversation with Mrs. Fitz. After listening to Jamie she assured him that Claire would have the next four days off.  He was ordered to keep her there, give her plenty of fluids as she may be dehydrated, let her sleep whenever she wanted and to make her eat. He hung up and texted his sister to say he’d be working from home for the next few days.  No need to fill her in.  He’d rather avoid the inquisition that would come his way.

He was just settling himself on the sofa with an extra pillow and blanket when he heard her stir in his bedroom. He was at the doorway in seconds. She was sitting up, eyes glazed from fever, and her hair a glorious mass of curls.  She seemed disoriented until she caught sight of him.

“Hi, Jamie.” she whispered, and pushed her hair back.

He smiled at her child-like voice. “Sassenach.  How do ye feel?”  A Dhia, she was beautiful.

“Cold.”  Still had a fever then.  “And kinda hungry.  And I need to pee.”  

He showed her to the bathroom, and then went to make her something to eat. When he came back with some butternut squash soup that Mrs. Crook, his childhood housekeeper had made for him, she was crawling back into his bed. He had just enough time to notice she had taken off her scrubs.  She was wearing a tee shirt and a pair of hot pink panties that hugged her round arse before she flipped the covers over herself.  

Focus, Fraser.  Setting down the bed tray he handed her the cup of soup.  She sipped it and smiled.  “Mmmmmmm. Warm. Delicious.”

“Mrs. Fitz said to keep yer fluids up.”  

She flinched at that.  “Oh, God.  My job.  I’ve missed my shift!” 

“Easy, Sassenach.  Ye’ve been removed from the schedule for the next four days.  She said it would give the other nurses a chance to earn a living.”  

She visibly relaxed at that, and took another sip.

She rubbed his comforter. “This is a nice coverlet.  It’s cozy.”

“Fraser colours.” he said. “It my family’s tartan.”

Claire closed her eyes and handed him the half empty cup.  “I’m so cold!”  She leaned back and burrowed under the covers.  He took the tray to the kitchen and returned with some fever reducer.  Helping her sit up to take the pills and drink the water, he took a moment to brush the hair from her face.  She grabbed his hand and tugged.

“Help me, Jamie.  I’m cold.”  She really was shaking. Hard.

“Claire.  I don’t have another blanket. The only one I’ve got, I need for sleeping.”  Maybe he could run to her flat and grab one.  He was casting about for her keys when he heard her speak.

“Body heat.”  

He froze.  Of course.  That would work.  Mary, Michael, and Bride what the hell was he getting into. 

“Please.”  She sounded close to tears.  

So, weak as he was, he slid under the comforter.  Jamie, lad, just until she falls asleep. 

She was burning up, but feeling him behind her she turned and tucked herself under his chin. Her breath was warm on his throat, and her legs tangled with his.  His reaction was immediate.  He tried to scoot his hips back so as not to assail her with his juvenile reaction to her closeness, but she whimpered and took hold of his tee shirt in her delicate hands.  Her fingers twisted into the fabric to hold him close.  

Ifrinn. Jamie swore.  This is going to be a long night. 


Chris Pratt gives acting lessons while drunk on Fireball whisky

The Scots are famous for their whisky, but will be licking their wounds this week after a Japanese single malt was named the best in the world.

Yamazaki Single Malt Sherry Cask 2013 was given the title by the 2015 World Whisky Bible, which is compiled by whisky expert Jim Murray.

He praised the whisky as “near indescribable genius”, with a “nose of exquisite boldness” and a finish of “light, teasing spice”, giving it an impressive 97.5 marks out of 100.

This year marks the first time in the book’s 12-year history that a Japanese whisky has landed the title.To add insult to injury, not a single Scotch managed to make the final five shortlist.

The winning whisky comes from Japan’s oldest malt whisky distillery Yamazaki, which was established in 1923.

The drink, of which only 16,00 bottles have been made, is aged in Oloroso sherry butts for around 12 to 15 years, giving it what Murray called a “nutty, thick, dry [taste]… as rounded as a snooker ball”.

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Must taste. Immediately.