#and alcohol and general

[pencilofawesomeness]

htryds: Tower Trio Shenanigans

because I'm using @ft-platonicweek as an excuse to post htryds stuff, here's another microshot~ (nevermind that it's 2k. it's just a random scene promise)

For Day 5's Prompt: Poison

-

Early X784

Jellal sat at the bar and tried not to noticeably grimace every time he became aware of the layer of sticky grime on the surface. Not everywhere, but there was a spot near his arm that he kept hitting by accident. He vaguely wondered if it would help or hinder his goal to ask the barkeep for a wet cloth to clean it. 

He decided against it. Instead, he nasally sighed into his drink and nearly finished the last of it, much to his chagrin. One glass and not much progress to show for his presence here—and Jellal really didn’t want to have a second. He didn’t care for the taste but he didn’t mind it either; the potential effects, however… Well. Jellal had, as his therapist would put it, “an understandable discomfort with activities that lower his mental awareness,” so he made it a point never to drink to the point of getting drunk. 

If only the Black Rose guild wasn’t so entrenched in this town and equally difficult to find. They scared off easily, as they discovered, and not even Erik had much success in rooting them out. The best lead they got was that travelers who stopped at this tavern had a chance of going missing, and concerned locals blamed the dark guild. But, since they were an awfully careful lot, they decided to be as subtle as possible. Which meant partially splitting up. 

Partially. Jellal could rest assured that both Erik and Erza were nearby. Erik initially offered to take point at the bar and be more exposed, since he could drink literally anything, but they all agreed he would catch more if he lurked on the outskirts of the establishment, in order to hear a wider scope. That left him and Erza to act normal inside the tavern, like normal patrons. Either to lure out any of the members or to get any information at all without scaring these poor townsfolk away. They were jumpy enough, and for good reason. The rumors of this guild’s victims were… unpleasant, to understate it. 

Erza didn’t mind drinking but she, somehow, was a lightweight. And not a quiet drunk. So she reluctantly agreed to hang out around the billiards table instead, among the more social locals and travelers. Jellal, then, would haunt the bar and glean information from the barkeep himself. At least Jellal’s magic and constitution, for some reason, burned through alcohol like it did caffeine and calories. Theoretically. Acnologia surmised that it was because of the high energy cost, and the way it interacted with his body not entirely unlike a dragon slayer’s. Too bad it didn’t literally give him magic lungs or a magic stomach like them. That might be convenient. 

He finished the last of the ale. He didn’t feel too different, which was nice, but he asked for a lighter brew on purpose. If Jellal thought it wouldn’t be suspicious, he would have gone pure seltzer, but the barkeep already lightly scoffed when he specified blond ale over the standard stuff. The most Jellal got out of him was that he made no effort to be friendly and he never used anyone’s name, but some people came up to the bar and he handed them an order without a word. There were regulars here and Jellal kept note of their faces—and who stayed, who left quickly and quietly, who came alone, and who only came in groups. The groups of people were not the ones with memorized orders, and they didn’t hang close to the bar. 

Jellal watched a woman with long, dark green hair and pale skin slink into a seat near him, with one empty in-between. She looked down the whole time, and when the barkeep ambled over, he slid her something clear—gin?—and she slid money across the countertop. A local who planned on staying, but only long enough for one drink. She had that general air of nervousness about her that many of the locals had, but she wasn’t altogether unwilling to exist in public. Maybe Jellal should try asking something casual, just to gently check the overall atmosphere. 

“Refill?” came the vaguely impatient voice of the barkeep. Jellal looked up to see him gesturing to Jellal’s empty mug with his chin. 

Jellal pushed it forward with a nod, and the barkeep took it without another word. It was the easiest way to stay here unbothered long enough to ask what he wanted. 

He couldn’t parse much of anything through the generic din of the tavern, not like Erik could, but a burst of Erza’s triumphant laugh cut through the noise. He glanced to the side to see she was playing some guy with a decorative shoulder tattoo at pool and clearly not holding back. She had that group’s attention, and Jellal fought down a fond chuckle. That could either be a good thing or a bad thing, but Jellal settled for good, because nobody looked close to a fight. 

The barkeep brought his glass back from the tap. As expected, it was the same thing Jellal had ordered before. Not that it should be surprising. If Mirajane and Chico had taught him anything, it was that all barkeeps and baristas had impeccable memories. 

“Thank you,” Jellal offered. 

The barkeep rolled his eyes with a huff as he moved on to the next customer. 

To his fortune (how pleasantly rare), the lady next to him spoke first. “Traveler?” she guessed. 

Jellal nodded. “Yeah, passing through to get back home,” he lied vaguely. “How’d you figure?”

“Aside having never seen you before—and you’re quite the standout—no local ever thanks that grump. I think it gives him hives.”

“Ah, my mistake, then,” Jellal chuckled good-naturedly, but he took careful note of it. “You come here often?”

“Sure. It’s the only damn place to get some decent booze ‘round here.” She knocked back the rest of her drink. “Though I’m sure a traveler such as yourself has seen better.”

He didn’t need to be Erik to hear the unspoken warning. Like most people, she was careful not to say anything blatantly. The walls surely had ears, or at least the locals believed it so. Another thing to take note of. “Probably,” he replied, to answer the question at face value, “although I can’t say I’m a connoisseur in the slightest.”

“Yeah? Well I suppose you look too young to be, unless you’re some fancy capital brat.”

Jellal chuckled with some real amusement. “Oh, definitely not.” He did, however, add this to the mental tally of how many times someone wondered if he had noble blood in him, despite Jellal very emphatically not. He and Mystogan kept score. (Mystogan, a born prince, delighted in losing, although Jellal thought that was a foregone conclusion when Mystogan rarely engaged with the greater public except to be stand-offish, usually on purpose; not many people would ever know that he knew what all twenty variations of silverware was for.) 

“Is that so? Shame,” she said without heat, but maybe, arguably, disappointment. Before he could parse what they might mean, the woman knocked back the rest of her drink and pushed it away. The noise caused the barkeep to glance over at the both of them, but he didn’t move yet. 

It reminded him that he should probably touch his refill. A few sips in and it shouldn’t be strange for him to ask for water to go with it, right? With everyone so on edge, he didn’t want to do anything to look out of place or suspicious. His identity as an outsider was already obvious, apparently. However, no sooner than he picked up his glass again, a presence over his shoulder interrupted him. 

Erik appeared out of nowhere, with that careful flat look on his face that betrayed how pissed he was to anybody who knew him well enough. 

“Uh, can I help you?” Jellal asked to keep up the facade of being strangers, while loudly thinking, ‘What happened? What do you need me to do?’ in case Erik had a way to indicate what was going on. 

He made no move to answer either question. Instead, Erik reached over and plucked Jellal’s glass straight out of his hand and took a large drink of it, pausing only to swish it around his mouth with a scowl.  

He slammed it back on the counter. “Don’t drink that.”

Ah. Well, shit. Okay then. That was… very disconcerting. Of all the ways people have tried to kill him before, nobody had ever attempted to poison him. That he was aware of, at least. “Thanks.”

Erza must have spotted Erik emerging from his hiding and she abandoned her game immediately to stalk over to them, frowning and with her cue stick still in tow. “What happened?” she asked, a little too loudly and obviously for his taste. They still had a narrow window to be subtle with. 

“Rohypnol,” Erik growled, dragon-style, deep in his chest. 

…That was worse than Jellal imagined. Fantastic. He’ll unpack that later. 

Erza looked positively murderous. “Who?” she demanded lowly, almost dragon-like herself. He hoped Erik knew how to de-escalate her, because Jellal knew he didn’t have a chance when he had been in the line of fire. Erza was much too protective.

And Erik was too, so maybe Jellal should have seen this coming.

“The pair in the back left corner,” Erik started, likely knowing full well what was bound to happen next.

No sooner after he responded, Erza hefted the cue stick like a javelin and threw it straight at the aforementioned pair, who looked no different from the other patrons. The cue stick jammed into the wall by one guy’s head, who predictably jerked away with wide eyes. The tavern jolted along with the pair, but there was still a (small) chance at stopping an all out brawl and dismissing the crazy show of prowess as drunken behavior. Maybe. (Jellal was kidding himself, he knew this.) 

“Guys,” he pleaded.

“Barkeep actually did it,” Erik continued, ignoring Jellal’s attempt at not making a big deal out of it. “Switch.” 

Erza didn’t need to be told twice. In a flash of light, she wrapped herself in armor and leaped over the countertop to swiftly grab the barkeep by the back of the shirt. He cussed loudly as she slammed him face first into the counter. 

Now, the brawl was inevitable. At breaking the unspoken rule of not aiming for the barkeep, they gained all of the patrons attention. Some looked ready to come to the barkeep’s aid and some—like the green-haired woman—started to run. Jellal sighed; there had been an attempt.

“This was your idea,” he said, somewhat petulantly, even if Jellal wasn’t really that upset over it. Erik would know what he meant.

“I’m flexible,” Erik quipped back. “The asshole in the purple shirt is mine, by the way.” 

Erik jumped into the fray, catching the two Erza had aimed at before they left and slamming his promised quarry against the wall with a flash of dark red magic Jellal knew meant to hurt. Jellal, in turn, did not (for the sake of his sanity) consider what Erik heard to make him this upset. Instead, Jellal simply took comfort in the fact that nothing would come to fruition with both Erik and Erza like this. The only thing Jellal had to worry about now was making sure nobody got caught in the crossfire, and maybe ensuring they had someone to question that wouldn’t be concussed, but he would take what he could get. Regardless, Jellal had no doubt that Erik and Erza would accomplish what they set out to do. Which… he would be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate it. A lot.

A glass flew by Jellal’s head. He dodged it easily and shot a star arrow at a man trying to bludgeon a fleeing younger man with a broken bottle, and then swung it back around to blast a woman trying to approach Erik from behind. In turn, Jellal heard the schling of flying metal and a shout of pain from Jellal’s blindspot.

The chaos of jobs was always made safer by having friends by your side, after all.

[frownyalfred]

Okay, another little lesson for fic writers since I see it come up sometimes in fics: wine in restaurants.

When you buy a bottle of wine in a (nicer) restaurant, generally (please note my emphasis there, this is a generalization for most restaurants, but not all restaurants, especially non-US ones) you may see a waiter do a few things when they bring you the bottle.

The waiter presents the bottle to the person who ordered it

The waiter uncorks the bottle in order to serve it

The waiter hands the cork to the person who ordered the bottle

The waiter pours a small portion of the wine (barely a splash) and waits for the person who ordered it to taste it

The waiter then pours glasses for everyone else at the table, and then returns to fill up the initial taster's glass

Now, you might be thinking -- that's all pretty obvious, right? They're bringing you what you ordered, making sure you liked it, and then pouring it for the group. Wrong. It's actually a little bit more complicated than that.

The waiter presents the bottle to the person who ordered it so that they can inspect the label and vintage and make sure it's the bottle they actually ordered off the menu

The waiter uncorks the bottle so that the table can see it was unopened before this moment (i.e., not another wine they poured into an empty bottle) and well-sealed

The waiter hands the cork to the person who ordered the bottle so that they can inspect the label on the cork and determine if it matches up; they can also smell/feel the cork to see if there is any dergradation or mold that might impact the wine itself

The waiter pours a small portion for the person who ordered to taste NOT to see if they liked it -- that's a common misconception. Yes, sometimes when house wine is served by the glass, waiters will pour a portion for people to taste and agree to. But when you order a bottle, the taste isn't for approval -- you've already bought the bottle at this point! You don't get to refuse it if you don't like it. Rather, the tasting is to determine if the wine is "corked", a term that refers to when a wine is contaminated by TCA, a chemical compound that causes a specific taste/flavor. TCA can be caused by mold in corks, and is one of the only reasons you can (generally) refuse a bottle of wine you have already purchased. Most people can taste or smell TCA if they are trained for it; other people might drink the wine for a few minutes before noticing a damp, basement-like smell on the aftertaste. Once you've tasted it, you'll remember it. That first sip is your opportunity to take one for the table and save them from a possibly corked bottle of wine, which is absolutely no fun.

If you've sipped the wine (I generally smell it, I've found it's easier to smell than taste) and determined that it is safe, you then nod to your waiter. The waiter will then pour glasses for everyone else at the table. If the wine is corked, you would refuse the bottle and ask the waiter for a new bottle. If there is no new bottle, you'll either get a refund or they'll ask you to choose another option on their wine list. A good restaurant will understand that corked bottles happen randomly, and will leap at the opportunity to replace it; a bad restaurant or a restaurant with poor training will sometimes try to argue with you about whether or not it's corked. Again, it can be a subtle, subjective taste, so proceed carefully.

In restaurants, this process can happen very quickly! It's elegant and practiced. The waiter will generally uncork the bottle without setting the bottle down or bracing it against themselves. They will remove the cork without breaking it, and they will pour the wine without dripping it down the label or on the table.

[prlssprfctn]

Bruce: I never got to see Dick's first reaction to the alcohol, because he tried it before as a kid. Same with Jason, he drank it without me being around. Tim got on his first party with alcohol behind my back.

Bruce: But at least I have Damian. Can't wait for his 21st birthday.

Dick: Yeah, I bet he would have a funny reaction, too!

Jason, sweating nervously, because he made little Damian sip on beer back when they were in the LoA: Y-yeah. C-can't wait.

[99redragons]

did the drawing, bill in full breakup hibernation + drunk crying

text says: ROCKY PLACE - Drown your feelings!

I. Want. SIXER! & O'Sadleys - "you'll be back"

inspired by the 'shave your grandma' code passage

[ciderjacks]

Chilchuck is one of those special characters where you learn about his past and you go “ohhhh that explains a lot” except where for most characters this happens like once or maybe twice, with Chilchuck it happens literally any time you learn anything at all about him, and every time it’s explaining a different thing he has going on.

[triple-pupil]

‼️APPEREANCE OF A HARD DRUG UNDER CUT + ALCOHOL‼️

Imagining the contrast between Game and Show Dices.

And idea that My Game Dice drugs his own drinks recreationally.

[ominouspuff]

Trading jedi-general shenanigans with the squad

Another what-if AU where order 66 gets outmaneuvered and they all get to wear cozy sweaters together

[leonardalphachurch]

i think sometimes when ppl talk about caboose infantilization (or really any problematic depictions of characters in fandom works) they get bogged down by the details of what is and isn’t “allowed” instead of tackling the actual issue with the infantilized depictions.

someone will say “caboose is a grown man he drinks alcohol saying otherwise is infantilizing him” and someone will reply “um actually i have a very good reason for him not drinking and how dare you say not drinking is childish” and the conversation turns into an argument about whether or not caboose drinks when like. the point isn’t about whether or not he drinks alcohol, it’s about whether or not you’re treating him like he’s an adult who can make his own decisions about alcohol consumption.

what do you think the reason is that giving him a juicebox in fanart where everyone else is drinking is such a trend? that depicting him with stickers and crayons is? that writing him as asexual— not only asexual, but as a grown man completely unaware of what sex is— is? there is a reason that these trends exist, and the point isn’t to litigate whether or not any individual instance of these things really counts as infantilization. it’s to notice that these patterns exist, to understand why caboose is often treated as childish, to interrogate how you’re depicting him in your own work so that even if you do decide to have him be sober or abstinent or anything along those lines you are doing so with respect and without infantilizing him

[choccy-zefirka]

Survived the Queueing Hell with Jae yesterday

[spiders-and-swords]

In addition to anime I’ve been watching, I’ve started the original FMA over again.

Also, I can’t believe I forgot about October 3rd this year. I kid you not I was watching the show and wearing my fullmetal shirt as well.

[jamiesfootball]

One of the things that hurts the most about Roy smacking the fork out of Jamie’s hand at Ola’s — aside from the show wanting to play for laughs what was an incredibly jarring moment. Like, there would have been other ways to accomplish the same joke of ‘haha, Jamie doesn’t know what he’s getting into’ without resorting to as violent a gesture that Jamie — with his known history of abuse and habit of flinching away from sudden potentially violent gestures — had to flinch and protectively cover his hands against his chest, reminding us, the audience, of that history of abuse. Roy could’ve pulled the plate and the fork away. He could’ve eaten the meatball Tom Wambsgans-style. He could’ve even glared him into putting it down.

But no, what hurts the most about that scene at Ola’s isn’t Roy snacking the fork out of Jamie’s hand. Or the waitress admonishing him like making a mess and wasting food was the problem. Or Roy apologizing to the waitress and then telling Jamie to clean up the mess

What hurts the most is in the next cut to him, Jamie actually has cleaned the mess off the wall

[randomnerd737]

I was thinking about the 5 year anniversary video and

it is interesting to me how Patton kind of decided for Logan what his role in the "family" would be. all the other sides chose it themselves, but he didn't get to.

even when he actively objects it's played for laughs and never addressed. this happened too when Patton revealed his name for him, and I just think it's interesting to note that after all these years, Logan still never gets to decide anything when it comes to Thomas, or even himself, to an extent. it's just kind of decided for him and he is expected to just go along with it, similar to how it was when Thomas dyed his hair.

ik it's mainly a "haha wine mom" moment, but that doesn't take away from how angsty it gets when you think about it.

[enemywasp]

I HATE tiktok and the Internet in general rn for the obsession with "oh this person's smellyyy" "Brother it STINKS over here" "BOO 💧🧼🧽🚿" and stuff like that. I wish I could put into words how demeaning and patronising that whole idea is and people implying anyone they don't like doesn't wash.

For one there's something grating about being insulted in a manner like we're in nursery again. But also WHY is that the go to insult. Why do you associate these things? Especially to those you deem "chronically online". Like I don't want to sound pathetic but it feels so nasty to me.

is it extreme to say this feels tied to ableism? And classism too?

[payaso-pop]

idk lmao i think itd be cool.

[hiddenonigiri]

I'll prove to you that we can have fun without drinking.

[tetrabytez]

Part Two

Reblog if you vote for sample size, please!

Part One