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oh-for-fic-sake · 3 years

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Fearfull Proposal

Summary: henry plans a romantic proposal... and instead of coming clean about your secret fear of heights and ruining his romantic plan, you put on a brave face... well until your nearing the top of the london eye.

Warnings: fear, fluff, swearing, typos.

You quivered as you rose higher and higher over londons skyline.

Fuck why? Why the fuck had you got in this dangling glass death trap. A faulty few bolts and you'd be plummeting into the fucking thames!

Henry was standing by the window looking out at the glittering lights in awe.

You were standing with your back turned to the houses of Parliament hands clutching the rail eitherside of you knuckles white. Knees knocking.

God this was the stupidest thing you'd ever fucking done! And it was your own fault.

"Babe, look! God big ben looks soo small never been on this at night"

You hummed nodding but continued looking to the floor.

Henry paused when you didnt correct him with the whole 'big ben is the bell' you usually countered

He turned looking back to you and his stomach dropped.

"Babe? Whoa are you okay there love?" He asked frowning as he saw your eyes clenched shut almost as if you were in pain.

You were trembling and pale to the point he fearded youd pass out.

"Here come sit down and relax, i packed some snacks-" he said placing the specially packed bag of snacks and screw top mini wine bottles.

"No! No I'm fine... I will just stay here... By the saftey bar" you said giggling nervously sparing him a glance and patting the metal you were holding onto for dear life..

Henry faltered and really took in your apperance unsure what to do. It wasn't like he could get you off, you had to ride the ride.

"Babe? Are you scared of heights?"

"Nooo dont be sillyeee- OH MY GOD IM GONNA FUCKING DIE!" you began laughing him off then screamed as the ride stopped.

Instantly you ducked crouching whilst wrapping your arms around the silver bar shouting bloody murder.

It didn't help you were bathed in purple light so couldn't see shit.

Henry got up and rushed to you standing over you arms rounding you holding you securly.

"No, no its fine love... shh its fine baby, they said it could stop to let people on poppet remember?" He said quickly rubbing your sides as you cowered trying to fend off the temptation to look at the thames below.

"Y-yeah fuck hen- im sorry i just..." you mewled turning towards him tucking your head to his chest.

"Scared of heights huh? Why didnt you tell me?" He sighed pressing kisses to your head as you whimpered adn the ride began moving once again.

"Because you went to all this trouble, you planned this surprise and i didnt want to ruin it, you were soo excited" you sniffled blinking at him.

"Hey shh you silly girl, you should have told me. You wouldnt have ruined anything you silly sausage" he cooed winding himself around you tighter.

He was actually annoyed at himself, how the fuck had he not known his girlfriend of a year and a half was scared of heights?

He'd suspected a fear of heights when you both went on holiday for your birthday, but youd managed to convince him it was a fear of flying and planes... not heights.

And come to think of it you didnt even like the glass lifts in shopping centers, you ran to the corner and held on eyes locked onto the doors the entire time.

So this was the worst surprize he could of planned for tonight. Things weren't going to plan. Fuck.

"Babe im sorry" he apologised feeling like an asshole.

"No no dont be, this was extremly sweet bear" you said quickly not wantin to make him feel bad fpr your own short commings.

"Theres noting sweet about terrifying you"

"Do... do you want to sit down? Ill hold you the entire time" he offered peaking to the central bench where both your bags sat.

"I.. yes okay i think sitting will be better" you said then yipped as he prompty scooped you up and placed you in his lap securly.

"Im so sorry love, I just wanted to make this special and romantic" he muttered holding you as close as he could letting you know that you were safe and sound.

"It is! It is love really im just a baby" you said quickly grasping his face pulling him closer before peppering his face with kisses.

"Your not a babe we all have our fears" he said quietly pressing his forehead to yours.

"You dont" you sighed closing your eyes trying to ignore the snails pace of the pod that still rose over london.

You could barely feel it, but your fear amplified it.

"Oh but i do~" he replied peering at you, as yur eyes fluttered open.

"Like what?" The questionnescaped before you could think.

"No" he said eyes now becoming worried, anxiety clouding them.

"No?"

"Yes, at the moment thats my biggest fear" he said releasing a shakey breath as you frowned at him not following but didnt dwell as your ees darted to the side seeing the houses

"You see, i was trying to be all romantic and wait untill we got tp the top, but i think you'll be too terrified"

"Henry?" You said leaning back unsure about the serious tone he seemed to take.

"I brought us here, to the spot we met two years ago today..." he said drawing deeper breaths as the reality of what was about to happen hit him.

"Was it really?" You asked surprized he'd remember something like that. Anniversary? Definitely. But the day you first met? And asked for a selfie with a series of embarrassing squeaks? No you didnt think he'd remember.

"Yep. I remember doing a promo and shoot on this thing, then got off and was sat next to you in wagamama"

"And i squeaked for a selfie" you groaned with a small giggle.

"Im glad you did, i scanned instagram for days after- scouring my hashtag trying to find you... i kicked myself for not getting your number~"

"I still cant belive you did that... but im gld you did henry"

"Who'd have thought the nervous little thing trying not to even breath in my direction would be my girlfriend six months down the line"

"Or that we'd last this long?" You quipped at him trying to reme,ber to breath.

"And.. hopefully a lifetime? Despite me dragging you intoyour actual living nightmare- which i promise to never do again! Not even lifts"

You scowled and tilted your head to him not sure if you heard him correctly.

Untill he pulled the small velvet box from his pocket.

"Henry?! What? You cant be serious?"

"Oh but i am love, as much as i want to do this right and drop to one knee i doubt you'll thank me for releasing you?"

"Dont you dare let me go!"

"I think you'll find im trying to do the opposite~" he chuckled opening the box revealing the simple elegant ring three tiny diamonds.

"Im trying to marry you..."

You gasped eyes glazing over as you locked on to the dainty ring pinched between his fingers.

"I love you y/n, and i want to know if you'd become my wife and share your life with me. Will you marry me?"

"Oh god yes of course its a yes henry i love you bear!" You cried throwing your arms around him making him grunt and quickly clench his fist arohnd the ring before he dropped it.

He groaned into you rocking from side to side littering your head with kisses before peeling you away to sit the ring on your finger.

You looked at the glittering stones on your finger weeping. You may have been cursing yourself for getting into this godforsaken glass bauble in the sky.

But now you were he happiest woman alive.

"I love you bear"

"I love you too"

"Would you like some wine? I brough the little cute bottles you like" he offered nodding to the bag of snacks.

"Err lets not push it hun" you whined not sure wine at this altitude was a good idea.

You kept glancing at him still sniffing and giggleing unable to look from your ring for long.

"Gotcha, no wine"

"You look surprized i said yes?"you quipped needing to talk and take your mind off the fact your at the tippity top.

"I made you face one of your nightmares i thought you'd slap me silly when i ask" he scoffed pressing a kiss to your cheek unable to stop.

"Never love... but please never ever get on this thing again okay?" You pleaded fluttering your lashes at him pleading.

"I swear. Never again, but seeing as this is our one and only ride we should take a few selfies? Mark the occasion?" He said standing letting your feet hit the floor but never once did he let go.

"Absolutly, gotta show off my new fiancé" you hummed rising to share another kiss with him not really paying attention to the height you'd now reached, you had more important things to think about. Like sharing the rest of your life with this glorious man.

"My thoughts exactly" he grinned pulling out his phone aiming it at the two of you, makeing sure to have the hand that rested on his chest donning his ring in shot.

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #oh for fic sake headcannon #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n

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gh0stlyfixation · 6 years

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Godmother Part two

Requested: i!! May i request a Klaus x reader? I was thinking it could take place after he escaped marcel after the 5 years and when he comes back he falls in love with hopes godmother? She met haley while klaus was away and is a witch or werewolf you decide😁. She immediately bonded with hope and became close with haley and is super nice. He falls for her kind heart blah blah blah 😂 Maybe she even helps train hope and helps her bond with klaus idk you can mix it up Thanks so much love 💖💖💖

Part one

When you were young you had five siblings. Tabitha, Roman, Elizabeth, Henry, and Julius. You were the second oldest in between Tabitha and Roman. Your family lived liked the Mikaelsons. Your father was like Mikael but he was much worse than Mikael.

As much as your father loved his two oldest girls, he was set on punishing anyone who crossed him or misbehaved. He was known to kill. He was known to beat. Even his own kids. You never witnessed any of it for yourself as you behaved and did anything told.

People would pay him to kill anyone they wanted. He was a powerful man. A warlock. You were the only child to inherit the power of a witch. Your siblings were more of a nonsense to him.

He chose you to perform spells. You believed the balance of nature shouldn't be tampered with, but your father had his own plans. Your father was using you. With his powers and yours, you two were unstoppable.

He wanted to be immortal and the only way was to kill his own. He chose the weakest one, Julius. The youngest and you're favorite.

Your father had him in chains against the wall and with a knife against your throat, you had no choice but to kill him, silently wish a terrible death on your father. Since that night you never saw him again until just recently, outside a shop in the city you lived in.

In sighed loudly at the thought as you sat down in the chair next to the bed you and Klaus shared.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Asked Klaus

"Just reminiscing on memories." You said with a frown.

"I assume it's not good. Darling, what is troubling you?" He asked

"Father is back in town. I don't know his motive or if he even has one." You said throwing your hands in the air.

Klaus smiled at your dramatics, "maybe he doesn't. You haven't seen any suspicious activities, have you? We live in a small town in Kansas. What would he do?" Klaus asked.

Just then you heard the doorbell ring and by the powerful magic, you sensed you knew. "We're gonna find out. No one opens that door!" You yelled at the family.

You ran down the stairs to the front room to open the door. You looked up to see you father standing there. Nothing about his look changed but you hope his views have.

"Daddy." You quietly said. You were excited yet terrified and you knew he could sense it. He was family and the only other with powers.

"Y/N." he said as well.

Al the Mikaelsons stood behind you carefully watching his moves. You looked behind you, slightly annoyed at there overprotection.

"Let's speak outside." You said hastily pushing your father out the door.

"It's been a while, don't you say." He says.

"Over 1500 years." You said crossing your arms.

"I came to tell you your mother is sick. She is dying. There is a curse on her. A hex. I heard you are the only one with the cure." He said.

"How do I know that you're not lying? You killed Julius. You're heartless. Why would you care about mom?" You asked.

"Because I've changed." He said. He sounded sincere.

You looked at him blankety before sighing and letting your arms unfold, "I'm making dinner tonight for them. You may come, bring mom and if my siblings are still alive, bring them I guess. I only talk to Tabitha but lost connection a few years ago." You told him.

"I'll be there and I'll try to gather them up." He said, he sounded hopeful.

You walked back in the house as the Mikaelsons stood where you left them, "I hope I don't regret this." You said walking to the kitchen to find something.

later that evening you had everything set on the table ready for them to come inside. But you waited for what seemed like hours.

"Relax, your gonna create wrinkles on you," Klaus stated, knowing full well you cant age.

"Funny." You said with a frown.

The doorbell rang and you froze in your spot.

"Calm, deep breathes," Klaus said rubbing your back.

"This man is literally THE oldest vampire in the world. Not you and your family or your father. My father, Alexandros Rada, is here." You stated.

"Why are you afraid? You live with vampires that kill. What did he do?" Klaus asked

you looked at him then back at the door. You walked away. You didn't want to talk about it.

The first person you saw was your mom. She looked drained of energy, clearly, something was wrong. Maybe your father was telling the truth. She smiled slightly at you. then you noticed your father was holding onto her arm, she need support to walk.

"Mom?" You asked.

she nodded, o weak to talk.

"I figured if you saw, you could decide for yourself. I changed many centuries ago." He told you as he let your mom sit down at the table. Then the idea comes to you. You knew a spell to see if he was lying. Your mother wasn't, you could sense her pain.

"Sit down." You demanded to your father. He looked confused but he listens and sat down in the chair you had pulled out.

"Hands."You said holding you out so he could place them on them. You said the spell.

"what is she doing?" Elijah asked Freya.

"It's called lying spell. She is seeing if he is telling the truth. Another spell Y/N had made." Freya told them.

"You're not lying about needing my help, but you're lying about something else," you stated slightly annoyed.

"And what would that be?" He still had the sad look on his face.

"You haven't changed a bit and I bet my lovely siblings could tell us that. I know you guys can hear me, come on out." You yelled.

"You found me out," he said with a smirk.

"Ill help mom but she isn't going anywhere. I have been sure that someday you'd come back. Once an evil person always an evil person. Do you think I'm dumb? Your no longer a witch. You may be old but you certainly are not strong. You lost it all the moment you killed Julius." You yelled in anger.

You heard your siblings gasp and saw your mom look up at your father. "Oh, you didn't tell them? I'm sure they also know you stripped away their chance of having powers." You said as you circled your father. You were still fearful, after all, you were taunting him.

"What do you think this is doing?" Asked Alexandros.

"Absolutely nothing. Let's have dinner shall we." You asked.

"Why is her family just like ours?" Kol asked.

"The fight started before dinner, not during." Stated Klaus

"Impressive," Rebekah said.

"Shut up." You glared.

As the dinner went on, it was silent to your surprise. Your siblings didn't let a word slip out.

"It's a lovely place you have." Your mother said quietly.

"Thank you, we built this ourselves," Klaus said.

"Reminds me of our mansion." Your father said.

"Ah yes, the mansion of fears." You grumbled as Klaus put his hand on your leg.

"How long have you and Klaus been together?" Asked your sister. You were surprised to hear her speak.

"Uh, about a year?" You said, looking and asking Klaus. Klaus nodded with a smile.

"How sweet." Your father said.

"You are the same person. After thousands of years, you are the same. I'm glad I left when I had the chance because of look at them." You stood up motioning your hand towards your mother and siblings. Klaus put a hand on your back to sit you back down but you weren't having it.

"No, this is ridiculous. They are staying with me. You may think you are strong and powerful but honestly father, you lost that when you wanted to be a vampire. All your power is in me, combined with mine I am the strong person in this world. You idiot." You said slamming your hands down on the table making your power come out and shatter the chandelier.

Your father's eyes darkened and the Mikaelsons became fearful of what was to happen and tried to intervene, until you said "don't, you don't know what he's capable of. But go ahead father suck the blood out of me. You'll only regret it." You stated.

Klaus and Elijah eyed each other not knowing what she meant. "Do it!" You yelled.

He did it not thinking twice and has you heard the yells of your sisters and mother, you just smirked. You had created a poison which can kill your father and had drink it. You slowly felt his teeth loosen there grip and soon he dropped.

"I have no remorse over this. You killed Julius. You deserve the worse death ever." You stated.

That night you checked on your sisters and mother. They slept in yours and Klaus master bedroom. "I should've taken you guys with me. But just know I didn't leave you behind. I followed you guys, as creepy as that is." You stated.

"So that's who my shadow was? It was you?" Stated Elizabeth. You nodded with a smile as you sat down on the bed with them.

"What happens to Rome and Henry?" You asked.

"They left went father tried to kill Henry. He wanted to test his new vampire skills." Said your mother.

"He wanted to end us one by one." Said Tabitha.

You heard a faint knock at the door and saw Klaus standing there holding a bottle of wine with five glasses. "When Y/N is upset she drinks a lot. We have plenty more to go." Klaus Said.

"You found a keeper," Elizabeth said with a smile.

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guidetoenjoy-blog · 5 years

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Flint Lives Matter: residents say Hillary Clinton coming for the entertainment

New Post has been published on https://entertainmentguideto.com/must-see/flint-lives-matter-residents-say-hillary-clinton-coming-for-the-entertainment/

Flint Lives Matter: residents say Hillary Clinton coming for the entertainment

While some praise the candidates visit for bringing attention to the city as its water crisis continues, others see a candidate plying a cause just to get votes

Hillary Clinton has made every effort to make Flint her own. The water crisis afflicting this predominantly black Michigan city ignored by Washington politicians for years has become another battlefield in a progressive war between Clinton and Bernie Sanders. Race, class and the environment matter again in an issues-based, neck-and-neck race for the Democratic presidential nomination.

Looking past Tuesdays primary in New Hampshire, where Sanders is tipped to win, and toward the March primary states where she will be counting on African American support, Clinton made a symbolic campaign stop here on Sunday.

I feel blessed to be here but I wish it were for a different reason, she said, as she took to the stage at the House of Prayer Missionary Baptist Church, flanked by purple-robed members of a choir and surrounded by a sea of nodding heads.

But I am here because for nearly two years mothers and fathers were voicing concerns about the waters color and its smell, about the rashes that it gave to those that were bathing in it. And for nearly two years Flint was told the water was safe.

Her words drew applause and shouts of amen. But though Clinton supporters turned up for Sundays service, simply identifying the problem was not enough for some.

Hillary Clinton poses for a photograph at the House of Prayer Missionary Baptist Church. Photograph: Paul Sancya/AP

Not everyone in a city where the words FLINT LIVES MATTER appear next to bullet holes in windows wants the lead in their childrens drinking water made into a photo-op, a kind of Hurricane Katrina for a more liberal nations eco-justice age.

Interviews with residents before, during and after Clintons visit revealed fear of a candidate helicoptering in on the campaign trail, attempts to salvage a modern economic and environmental crisis that is Flints own, and few answers for a city being abandoned by its residents.

Dont jump on a cause just to get votes, said Flint Lives Matter organiser Calandra Patrick, as Clintons jet arrived in town. It doesnt matter to me if she makes an appearance or not it doesnt matter to me one bit.

Arnette Rison III, a 47-year-old independent contractor, put Clintons visit in starker terms: If shes bringing 35,000 hydroelectric filters, Ill love her for it. But thats not what shes about to do.

At the church, though the topic was serious, the mood was jovial and warm. Clinton stood before a packed audience and spoke emphatically about the moral imperatives of the situation, saying: The children in Flint are just as precious as the children in any other part of America.

The introduction she received was light, the pastor joking that the baptismal water was from the Flint river but he had experienced no rashes, only a little ash. The audience response ranged from lovingly enthusiastic to fierce.

A little after the changeover I noticed the smell

Calandra Patrick (closest to water), with Maurice Ratcliff and Tameka Thompson. Photograph: Lucia Graves for the Guardian

It was the spring of 2014 and something wasnt right with the water. Officials had switched from Detroits water system to the Flint river to save money, and though Patricks tap water was still running clear, she knew something was amiss.

A little after the changeover I noticed the smell, Patrick said. Every time she turned on the shower, there it was again. So she did what anyone worried about being alone in her feelings would do: she posted about it on Facebook.

Its funny: when you just put stuff out there and start asking questions, other people are like, Yeah, I noticed it too!

Almost two years later, the 41-year-old Flint native turned to Facebook once again to help set up the Flint Lives Matter Tailgate, a bottled water giveaway at city hall on Saturdays for the needy, aimed at supplementing the work of fire stations and local churches.

We dont have a limit, said Kevin Palmer, another organizer. We ask people what they need and we give it to them.

But there remains an element of political protest of rebellion to the new cause clbre of progressive Democrats.

A man piling water into his car erupted into chants decrying Rick Snyder, the Republican Michigan governor on whom Sanders has called to resign: Hey hey! Ho ho! Governor Snyder has got to go! A woman sold Flint Lives Matter T-shirts. The events online invitation page drew a straight parallel to Hurricane Katrina: Both abandoned by the government and left to die from dirty water.

An unconscionable and infuriating situation

A typical water resource station. Photograph: Lucia Graves for the Guardian

Clinton may have come late to Flint, but she came strong.

After lead levels were determined to far exceed environmental regulations, people beyond Michigans borders knew the water could cause permanent brain damage in children.

On 11 January, Clinton called the Flint water crisis unconscionable; a few days later, she appeared on Rachel Maddows MSNBC show to call the situation infuriating. She was the first candidate to bring the subject up in presidential debates and she even suggested one of the four additional Democratic debates should be held in Flint, in order to shine a spotlight on whats happening there and in places like Flint around the country.

That will now happen, in March.

On Sunday, Clinton seemed at pains to emphasize her lasting commitment to the issue, saying: I will fight for you no matter how long it takes, and, This has to be a national priority, not just for today and for tomorrow.

It was perhaps a pre-buttal to the attacks she expects to receive for supposedly appearing to care so much about Flint when the optics for doing so are so good.

This is no time for politics as usual, she said. Flint should start making the repairs you need to restore safe water as soon as possible.

For 32-year-old Lorenzo Lee Avery Jr, though, it was a disingenuous visit: Honestly, she not coming to help, he said. Feels like she coming for the entertainment.

His mother, Patricia Torrey, was standing over his shoulder. She strongly disagreed: Its a beautiful thing! said Torrey, 54, adding that she was a Clinton supporter, all the more so heading into Michigans 8 March primary. Its nice to see shes committed enough to come here.

Casey Lester, 31, who lives in Flint but runs the restaurant Max & Ermas in Detroit, was unimpressed by Clintons commitment. His wife, Marcella Lester, a 28-year-old applications analyst at Henry Ford Health Systems, took the campaign bait.

Though like her husband, she typically votes Republican, and may well do so in this election, Marcella Lester said she was pleased by Clintons hastily scheduled trip.

I think its good to get the attention, she said, because we need as much as we can get.

Nothing lasts, not even marriage

Carolyn Harper: This aint going to last, she says of bottles at a water treatment site. Photograph: Lucia Graves for the Guardian

Most people you talk to around Flint just want to know how politicians like Clinton and Sanders intend to help them. Because they do need help.

Kevin Palmer, a Flint Lives Matter organizer and father of five, pulled up a sleeve to reveal a surprisingly pale and scaly inner elbow. He avoids the water as much as he can, but the rashes persist. Worse than the physical harm, he said, was the financial. Having bought his house for $190,000 in 2012, Palmer said it was now worth nothing.

His brother Eddie Palmer, who runs a car audio and stereo repair shop, has fallen on tough financial times, too, to say nothing of the rashes and boils. Audio Unlimited had lost 40% to 50% of its clientele in the two years since the water was switched, he said, and he doesnt have it nearly as bad as the restaurants, at which he wont even eat.

Every month, he said, people tell him theyre leaving moving to Ohio or Arizona or even California. While he had no intention of shipping out himself, Palmer said he couldnt blame them.

Carolyn Harper, 77, is planning to move to South Carolina to be closer to her son. In the meantime, she is stuck in Flint, depending on bottled water that is too heavy for her to carry home.

That aint going to last, she said, gesturing at bottles at a water treatment site near her house. Nothing lasts, not even marriage.

She has outlasted three husbands now, and just about all of her friends have skipped town. Her house, on West Pulaski, has a bullet hole below the front window, a reminder of when there was a dope house across the street. But now the biggest problem is the water that flows from her taps.

She poured a glass, to hold up to the light. It was a pale shade of yellow, and slightly frothy. Asked if she thought it smelled faintly of minerals, she laughed Harper cant smell a thing.

Calandra Patrick, the Flint Lives Matter organizer, sees the combination of crises in starker terms.

Its genocide and gentrification. The inner city of flint is predominantly black. I dont know where they get these 57% figures, but the inner city of Flint is 90% to 95% black. It is.

Rison, who has two daughters and a grandchild, just wants to leave. But he finds moving financially impossible. He hasnt even had his house appraised, because he knows it wont be worth anything.

Nobody wants to come to Flint, he said.

Except, apparently, Clinton.

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us

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trendingnewsb · 6 years

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Dr. Daves Field Guide to Bad Cocktails

If the idea of sitting in a dark, elegant bar, lapping at a small, icy pool whose waters have a way of smoothing the furrows in your brow and oiling the trunnions of your tongue appeals to you, then as dark as these times may be there is at least one recompense. It is now possible to get a perfect cocktail, or close enough, in every city in America. Ten years ago, it was not. That is a positive good, then, and sometimes a very positive one indeed.

But it doesnt always go that way, though, does it? You do your part OKgetting to the bar, finding a seat, putting your damn phone away, ordering a drink, looking expectantand the bartender does a stylish job of picking bottles, measuring and mixing, and pours your drink into a steaming-cold glass with a precise, crisp flourish. Then you take a sip. Oh no. The drinks list billed this Transitive Nightfall of Diamonds as a subtly-accented take on the classic Dry Martini. What you got instead is potpourri-tasting gin, cilantro-infused vermouth and aggressive splashes of bitter gentian aperitif and crme de violette, with a huge swatch of bergamot peel squeezed over the top. It smells like Victorian hand soap. It tastes like Victorian hand soap. It costs $15, before tip.

The expansion of the Cocktail Renaissance (as its aficionados have come to call it) from a few bars in New York, San Francisco, Seattle and a couple of other places to hundredswho knows, thousands?of bars practically everywhere has depended on a concurrent expansion in the amount of bartending and mixological talent and knowledge. But good bartending has expanded not as air does when filling a balloon, where theres an equal amount of it in every part, but more like how Legos fill a hallway when, on your way to the bathroom in the middle of the night, you kick over the huge tub of them your kid left out. Although it doesnt happen with every step, every part of the hall holds the danger of putting your foot down on something fun that has turned diabolical.

What I mean to say is, not all tattooed young bartenders are the modern-day Jerry Thomases they think they are, and not every cocktail they make is the nectareous, brow-smoothing trunnion oil you hope for when you order it. Some, alas, are just plain bad.

The badness of many modern cocktails has been discussed widely and often, and by discussed I mean ranted about. Its easy to go off on the excesses of eager young mixologists who apparently watch too much Adventure Time and let its deadpan randomness infect the drinks they come up withlamb-fat washed rye-corn-barley eau de vie, citrus colloid, Indonesian palm sugar and brick dust, finished with a beet-Malibu foam; like that. What we need, however, is not more rants, as fun as they might be, but some basic science.

Before we can solve the problem of bad cocktails, we need to know the different ways a cocktail can go bad. We need a botany, a zoology, a classification. Every creeping thing that slideth over the bar must be known by his kind, that thou mayst order him no more. (I think it said that in the Bible somewhere, although I might be getting some of the words mixed up.)

Thats not a simple task. At first glance, it seems like cocktails follow Dostoyevskys happy-family rule; that the good ones are more or less all alike, or at least fall into a handful of common patterns (bitters-sugar-booze; bitters-vermouth-booze; sugar-citrus-booze, etc), and the bad ones are each awful in its own peculiar way.

Upon soberish reflection, though, one can identify two main realms of error, each with its inevitable subdivisions. The Strategic and the Tactical. Here, then, is a subjective, preliminary and open-ended attempt to sketch out the different ways mixed drinks can go bad. In this, Ive left out the main one, statistically speaking, which is the old Garbage In-Garbage Out: shoddy, artificial ingredients mixed sloppily together will rarely yield anything drinkable. Fortunately, most modern cocktail bars are out of that phase, at least. These, then, are higher-order errors, the kind you can make with booze that costs more than $20 a bottle and mixers that dont come out of a gun or a #5 can.

But before I get into the details, let me just say that as a mixologist Ive made drinks that fall into just about every one of the following categories and foisted them on the general public, whether at bars Ive consulted for, at charity events, at parties, during my occasional bartending shifts, or via the printed or pixelated word. I write, in other words, from inside the House of Bad. Its partly from making so many wrong drinks that Ive learned to make the occasional right one. Bearing that in mind, Im going to give examples here, some of mine, God help me, but many drawn from actual bars, lightly disguised (the purpose of this isnt to assign individual guilt, of which there is plenty to go around).

STRATEGIC ERRORS

Drinks with strategic errors will never be right because theyre wrong from the get-go; not even an Audrey Saunders, a Jim Meehan or an Alex Kratena, some of the top bartenders out there, could make them taste good without major surgery to the recipe. Here are a few of the most common mistakes.

Historical Errors

Warning signs: David Emburys recipe

Bad drinks, like disease, have always been with us. Some of them have interesting backstories. That does not mean they should be revived. Some of the most respected mixologists from the past, including Charles H. Baker, Jr., author of the legendary, and damned amusing, Gentlemans Companions, and particularly David Embury, the great theorist of mixing drinks, did not know how to balance a cocktail. Even the great 1930 Savoy Cocktail Book has far more wretched drinks in it than brilliant ones. Some whole periodsthe shockingly booze-forward 1950s; the sweet and sticky 70sare largely devoid of good drinks (the 70s ones, for instance, tend to require major surgery to make them drinkable, such as Jeffrey Morgenthalers addition of 125-proof Bookers Bourbon to the Amaretto Sour). You fish in these waters at your peril.

I learned this lesson back in 2005, when I was asked to provide an opening cocktail for a dinner featuring a few of New Yorks top French chefs, including Jacques Ppin and Andr Soltner, two of my culinary idols. I chose the Henri Souls Special, a drink recorded in Ted Sauciers 1951 drinks compendium Bottoms Up. Soul was the formidable presence behind Le Pavillon, New Yorks leading French restaurant in the 1940s and 1950s, and since Ppin had gotten his start in the city there I thought it would be an appropriate tribute.

Here, however, was the drink: 2.5 ounces Cognac, 1 teaspoon sugar, half a teaspoon lemon juice and two pieces of orange peel, shaken with ice and strained into a cocktail glass. OK, perhaps a trifle strong, I thought, but that was how they liked em then. That may have been true, but it was not how they liked em now: Ppin took one sip and left his on a convenient shrubbery-pot, and few people got through more than a few sips. They were right: the drink tasted like California jug wine fortified with rubbing alcohol. A good story does not fix a bad drink.

Also, see below under tactical errors.

Thematic Errors

Warning signs: garnishes fashioned to resemble known objects

A very fertile source of bad drinks is the idea that the drinks name should determine its ingredients. This can make for perfectly lovely drinkstake the Rob Roy, a Manhattan where Scotch whisky has been substituted for American ryebut it is risky, as it can lead to the choice of ingredients for reasons other than flavor and texture. A prime example is the drink I came across recently called the Indian Itch, where a few slices of the little, blisteringly-hot green Jwala pepper so common in Indian food were muddled in Indian rum, shaken with pineapple juice and a hearty pinch of curry powder (thats right, curry powder), strained into an ice-filled glass and topped with ginger ale. Yes, it conveyed the idea India. No, it did not also convey the idea drinkable.

A great deal of modern mixology flirts with this error: many modern drinks are thematic, and use unorthodox ingredients, from distilled dirt (seriously) to pigs eyeballs (again, seriously), to reinforce their themes. Are such drinks always bad? No. Should you be wary? Again, pigs eyeballs.

Volume Errors

Warning signs: bartender is either unenthusiastic or too enthusiastic at your order

By volume here I mean not the amount of liquid in the drink, but the amount of flavor. Some drinks have too little, but given the choice between, say, light, blended Irish whiskey shaken with lemon juice, simple syrup and a dash of elderflower liqueur, and Navy-strength gin, green Chartreuse, Fernet-Branca, Pimiento Bitters and rich, concentrated and sweet Pedro Ximnez sherry, Ill take the dull one. Two or three strong-flavored ingredients played against each other can work well, but with each additional one you risk the whole thing falling apart.

Unclubbable Ingredient Errors

Warning signs: herb garden behind the bar

The unclubbable ingredient is the one thing you add that refuses to get along with others, either by being loud and bullying and entirely blotting them out or by being passive-aggressive and persistent and speaking through all the silences. Smoky Scotch, Chinese baijiu, some mescals, absinthe, Fernet, and some pot-still rums all are dangerous in this way. But so are herbs, such as tarragon, chervil, and the like. They dont drown out the other flavors like the big spirits do, but they have a persistence that makes them linger when all the other flavors are gone. Thats not to say they cant be used well, just that they very often are not.

Brown Drink Errors

Warning signs: over 5 ingredients

Just as all colors, when blended, create brown, theres a flavor profile drinks tend to take on when theyve got too many ingredients. Sorta sweet, sorta bitter, sorta herbal, a little bit fruity, maybe sourish, too. Inexperienced mixologists, faced with a drink that doesnt quite work, have a tendency to keep adding ingredients until the thing tastes OK. Eventually, almost any drink, as long as it doesnt have an unclubbable ingredient, can be made to taste OK if you add enough stuff. But just mediocre isnt worth $15. For that, you want a drink that is focused; that doesnt taste like a little of this and a little of that, but rather has a point of view and a harmonious identity. The only way to get there is to strip away ingredients and start over with different ones; ones that get along well together. Knowing what those are takes experience. The older the mixologist, the fewer ingredients he or she tends to use. As the great jazz trumpeter Roy Eldridge once told Dale DeGroff, dean of American bartenders, when I was younger I used to play all the notes; now, I just play the right ones.

So much for strategic errors.

TACTICAL ERRORS

Drinks with tactical errors are fundamentally sound, but something has gone wrong in their execution. Here, Im not going to bother with simple incompetencereaching for the wrong ingredient, under-stirring, pouring fruit-fly infested liquor or spoiled lime juice, serving a drink in a warm glass, things like that. Thats just bad bartending, not bad mixology.

Historical Errors

Warning signs: Imbibe, by one David Wondrich, and a collection of other history books behind the bar

Some drinks are bad because their makers have gotten hold of a piece of knowledge from the wrong end and are letting it mess them up. For example, a common error I encounter occurs with the New York Sour, a whiskey sour with a float of red wine and one of my favorite drinks. Sometimes when I order one the bartender will add egg white to the drink. Historically, some sours used egg white, but never this one. The egg white produces a layer of froth on top of the drink, which clashes with the layer of red wine also being added to it, and you end up with a drink topped with an unattractive, pinkish muck, rather than a visually-striking, thin red line. Here, history has trumped common sense.

Another historical error involving egg whites occurs when the bartender, following an old recipe, adds a whole egg white to a drink, not realizing that eggs were much smaller in 1918 than the supersized jumbo ones we get in 2018. A little egg white adds a nice texture; a lot, and youre tasting egg white. Nobody wants to taste egg white.

Arts & Crafts and Food Tech Errors

Warning signs: more than two house-made ingredients on the cocktail list, or bar uses purchased simple syrup

Its fine to make your ingredients if you can do them masterfully and theres no other way to get them. Alas, too many bars make theirs just to say that they did. I cant count the number of times Ive had an overly sour Jack Rose (apple brandy, lime juice and grenadine) because the bar makes its own grenadine from pomegranates and sugar rather than using the commercial stuff. Admittedly, the ingredients of the supermarket brands are fairly appalling, but at least theyre really sweet and brightly colored, which is why grenadine was called for in the first place. Nobody ever talked about the stuffs flavor. A good house-made grenadine will duplicate the heavy sweetness and intense red color of the commercial stuff, leaving out the high-fructose corn syrup, the artificial flavors and the dyes (okay, sometimes a little food coloring helps). A bad one, as one encounters more often than not, will be sour and brownish and will neither adequately sweeten nor color the drink. Then there are the clumpy orgeats, the gritty tonic waters, the weird-tasting bitters, the infused vermouths that no longer taste like vermouth. Homemade ingredients can be great, but they have to be great, so to speak. Nothing so-so should go in a drink, no matter who makes it.

Which brings us to the other side of the equation; the crappy commercial products that are mucking up a perfectly good drink. Otherwise-crafty bars that purchase things like simple syrup (sugar and water, mixed), lemon and lime juice and Bloody Mary mix should be avoided. Theyll charge you three times what the corner tap will for the same quality of drink, or worse.

Helping a Brother Out and Helping a Sponsor Out Errors

Warning signs: More than 10 bottles youve never heard of; no bottles youve never heard of

These are the booze versions of the Arts & Crafts/Food Tech errors. We live in an amazing time where literally hundreds of new, small distilleries are making every kind of spirit imaginable. Some of them are even good at it. Many of them, though, are not quite there yet. When I see a local gin I havent heard of being used in my Martini, I start to get very worried. The Martini is a pitiless drink, and it demands a tight, focused gin. All too many of the new brands, in an understandable move to differentiate themselves from whats already out there, employ wide ranges of non-traditional botanicals. These can make for a weird Martini. A Martini should not be weird.

The same goes for whiskey. Too many of the new brands are under-aged, which mean that Old-Fashioned will be hot and fumey and redolent of the wet-dog aroma of new-make grain spirit. Thats not what you want. On the other hand, if the bar carries only big national brands, or has the whole line of Large Producer Xs flavored vodkas or rums on display behind the bar, it might not be the place for a fine cocktail.

Glassware Errors

Warning signs: All the drinks look like a giant, translucent version of a kids cup-and-ball game

Many new cocktail bars, having expensive and elaborate ice programs, like to show off by putting as many drinks as possible in bucket glasses (basically, large whiskey glasses), each holding one huge ball or cube of ice. Thats fine for an Old-Fashioned. Its not fine, or even acceptable, for a vast range of other drinks that want to be straight up in a stemmed glass. If I have one more Last Word served to me on the rocks I swear I shall go to a mountain cave and speak no more.

We could go on with all this, and perhaps in the future we shall. In the meanwhile, be warned and drink well.

Read more: https://www.thedailybeast.com/dr-daves-field-guide-to-bad-cocktails

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