windsor bay&#x27;s resident brew babe

maeve nearly spat out her drink when danny insisted she hadn't been sleeping with her boss. the younger cousin would never have actually assumed as much, but it was deeply entertaining and endlessly heartwarming to mess with her best friend like this. spending time together again, so familiar and so natural, she could almost pretend that they would walk out of those doors and paris, or madrid, or belfast, or the yard, or amsterdam would greet them instead of the sometimes-suffocating streets of windsor bay.

"me thinks the lady doth protest too much," maeve choked out between laughs before shaking her head vigorously and holding up her hands in surrender. "no, i know, i know. although sometimes a silver fox doesn't hurt. but then how would you ever know if he was complimenting your technique or so pussy-whipped he couldn't see straight?" she arched an eyebrow slyly at her cousin, a brilliant grin consuming her facial features in short succession.

"god, i've missed this. i'm so glad you're here," she finally said after a moment, sincerity so rich in her tone that there was no chance of danny missing it. "us drinking and taking the piss, you waxing poetic about chefdom in a way that genuinely makes me think i might be able to tackle more than mac and cheese someday. you do know that, right? the way you talk about cooking is goddamn inspiring. and i feckin love every minute of it."

Growing up, their back and forths were always of a similar variety to this moment. Danny, however loud and full of life, was simply no match for Maeve's free-spirited valor. She'd always been the more cautious one, the straight-laced one, the voice of reason among chaos, the one that threw punches for defense and vengeance rather than justice or fun - whereas her cousin was like the lit end of a firecracker, unpredictable in the sanest of environments. And yet, somehow, they always managed to get one another simultaneously into and out of trouble, cause the most ruckus at family parties, find ways to raise the stakes on any given occasion. Danny didn't just feed off Maeve's energy - she lapped it up off the floor, ravenous.

"Babes, that's exactly the idea," she replied with a smart toss of her hair over a shoulder. "All compliments and worship should create a mysterious Venn diagram between food and fucking. That's basically the theory of evolution in a nutshell."

In the way only Maeve could, the conversation turned on a heel, all but giving Danny a most satisfactory form of whiplash. The tenderness of her tone left no room for quips or teasing. In fact, she found it hard to match the depth of it at all - not because she didn't want to, but because Maeve's heart was simply richer. Instead, a practical woman if nothing else, Danny reached across the table and took her hand, unspoken, knowing. "We're not allowed to live on different continents anymore," she agreed. "You don't even need to learn how to cook - you're the beer master. You can appreciate all our family's legacies in a way I just can't - or don't want to." She winced, only half-ashamed to admit it. "We're two sides of the same coin, love. And it's our time to take the helm of the O'Brien ship. You'll be the captain and I'll be your first mate. Together we're rule the fucking world."

#c: danny #danny 001 #obriens bout to be on their KNEES babes

"A mysterious venn diagram of fucking and food: the title of your autobiography," Maeve mused, smirking over the rim of her pint glass with an absolutely wicked gleam in her eye.

As far as meandering conversation went, Mae had always had a certain talent for taking a thread and twisting it into something entirely new or, quite frankly, just dropping a thread altogether and starting up a new one. Her parents tried to call it ADD, she just figured it made her an interesting conversationalist.

She placed her hand on top of Danny's where it rested on her other, creating a little totem pole of sisterhood she found surprisingly grounding. "Intercontinental cousinship is definitely for the birds," she agreed. Maeve sensed the discomfort in her cousin's admission, but it was easy to brush off, because, honestly, it didn't matter a tit to her. If Danny stood in her taproom and declared that she never wanted another thing to do with the O'Brien family business, Mae's love for her wouldn't shift at all. Where some of their other family members held the legacy so closely it was damn near a tattered security blanket, Maeve preferred to wear it like a shawl. Something that could provide some warmth or protection if she needed, but was easy enough to shed if the circumstances required it.

"It's far time the ship got an upgrade, anyway. I'm tired of old white men droning on about malt and hops and the old country without considering the absolute feckin' mecca that is beer and food pairings. We don't have to be one thing, you know? Piss off to anyone, including our dads, that thinks so. I'm not gonna go down as a one-note O'Brien, love. I refuse."

wb-javiacosta

Open Starter @windsorbaystarters Location: Morning Harvest

The sun was shining brightly in the sky, casting a warm glow over everything, and for Javi, it was undeniably a gorgeous day. He had chosen to wear a casual outfit consisting of shorts, a dark green t-shirt, and comfortable sandals as he leisurely walked through the Morning Harvest Market, taking in the diverse selection of fresh produce on display. Surrounded by a symphony of voices, some chattering, some laughing, he felt the vibrant energy of the crowd. The aroma of fresh seafood floated around him, and it made him consider buying some to cook for dinner tonight.

Javi preferred this market in the farmlands to a conventional grocery store, as he valued the higher quality of the goods and the opportunity to support local farmers directly. Without a predetermined shopping list, he decided to explore the market and let the available offerings inspire his meal planning for the week. As he picked up some tomatoes, Javier noticed that he was short on smaller bills than he had thought. Merda! He didn't want to be that asshole who went up to a vendor and asked them to break it so that he could buy something.

"Hey," he said as he turned to a nearby person, " Do you happen to have change for a $50?"

#c: javi acosta #javi 001

being back in windsor bay had been...an adjustment, to say the least. in so many ways, it was like slipping on an old cardigan again. comfortable, familiar, worn in the places she'd spent the most time. it was nice, but it was also sedative in ways that made her uncomfortable. she missed the way being in europe had been constantly unexpected, an adventure around every corner, a new city or town or country to explore if boredom ever dared to tap her shoulder.

in an effort not to be lulled to sleep by the city she called home, maeve had ventured to the farmlands for a morning jaunt around the farmer's market. the crisp early-fall air blowing in from off the ocean and the craggy hills of the cliffsides reminded her of ireland, and the nostalgia added a pep to her step that the warming rays of the late-morning sun only served to exaggerate.

normally, she would not be caught dead perusing the stalls at a market without her cousin danny by her side, and she fully expected an earful about going without her later, but her chef-minded best friend was otherwise occupied that morning, leaving maeve to her own (sometimes questionable) attempts at determining the difference between a turnip and a radish.

before she got too far, someone tapped her shoulder. when mae turned around, she was greeted with a gorgeous man, tall and broad-shouldered, the literal definition of tall, dark, and handsome. he looked oddly familiar (something most people in a town as small as windsor bay were wont to do), but she couldn't immediately place him, so she just reached into her canvas tote to pull out her wallet. "ah, yeah, i'm sure i do, last night tips were bloody good. what're'ya lookin' for? couple tens, couple fives, some singles?" she pulled a wad of rolled up cash out and started thumbing through the bills. "a twenty, a couple tens, a couple fives? i can pretty much do ya any combination ya want."

"kingdom heirs apparent," maeve echoed, nodding as she rolled the words over in her mind, "i like it. it's fancy as hell but it feels appropriate. i promise not to tell your dad you've referred to the brewery as the kingdom. secret's safe with me, love."

she swore she could feel the slightest dip in energy from her dear cousin in the short silence that followed. she couldn't blame danny. a year or so ago, she'd been in a similar position. returning to windsor bay, stepping through the doors of a place she'd tried her damndest to separate herself from. she remembered how strange it felt, how foreign the place seemed while holding an uncanny familiarity that only served to make the differences feel bigger. scarier. harder to overcome. if you'd have told her a year ago she'd be able to run cellar work without double-checking or confidently turn on a hose with a hundred percent certainty that it would be hooked up where it was meant to be, she'd have laughed in your face. if you'd told her two years ago she would know o'brien brewery like the back of her own hand, that the yeast-scented backrooms and the little walkways between massive stainless steel fermentation vessels would feel like a second home, she would have slapped you on the spot.

it was....complicated, even for maeve. mixing up your dreams with what was expected of you had its fair share of uncomfortable moments, so she could see why danny might want to steer clear. maeve would support her regardless.

"ok so obviously everything you cook is a revelation, but what has been like, the best compliment you've gotten from probably-good-in-bed chef since starting?" she asked, leaning forward with interest. mae always loved hearing danny talk about her work. the way it made her cousin light up from the inside, the way she turned something so many had streamlined the beauty right out of into something as artful and carefully thought as it was delicious? it was a goddamn inspiration, near as inspiring as the light in danny's eyes when she really got going.

a night out that turned into a morning stumbling home, red lipstick included, sounding nothing short of heavenly. "yes! i am long overdue for some deliciously dirty sex. six inch heels is a tall order though," she heard the words as they came out of her mouth, a peal of laughter following suit. "pun unintended but feckin' great so let's pretend i meant to say it all along."

Damn - she had, hadn't she. The kingdom. Whether it was conditioning or consensual, she would probably never know. A harem of crowns aloft the same generational heads for how many centuries. She often likened the O'Brien lineage to the theory of evolution - over millennia, the bits and pieces that no longer served the greater set was weeded out, discontinued, deadened. The weak were eradicated, the diseases germinated out, the cancers withdrawn. More than once in her life, Danny wondered if she was a cancer; a metastasizing tumor that threatened to bring the whole court down the more she poisoned the cup. Like her selfhood harbored an illness that had the potential and ferociousness to rip through the family line. Was it worth passing down, or cutting the gene threads at the root?

Then again, if she fancied herself so powerful, and the brewery was still standing, there was a good chance her sickness was one of arrogance more than destructiveness. Maeve's enthusiasm simply begged for the keys to the kingdom, as it were, and she hoped she never lost that light. Every O'Brien had a fire in their belly, each consumed by the flames of their own follies and fares. Maeve used hers to keep others warm, to bring sight to places that were dark, to invite people in, like the good O'Briens did. It wasn't really a matter of guessing if Danny's fire, as a chef, was more about consumption.

"Hang on, let's get something cleared up," she laughed, her voice gone raspy and coarse with the beer, "I've never slept with my boss. He's like, fifty or something. But, the best compliment he's given me so far was on my Béarnaise sauce, which is really tricky, because you've got to balance the emulsification of egg yolks, clarified butter, and the reduction of vinegar and herbs, and if the butter is added too quickly or the temperature is off by like a single degree, the sauce will split or curdle, and, I whisked it by hand, not a mixer, and he called it 'fucking majestic,' so." She popped her lips, shrugging with her palms up as if to present her word-vomit on a silver platter. "Obviously, I'm a star."

There would come a day when she was able to take all this, all this time, all these conversations, all this experience, and bundle it up and start her own restaurant, when she could be Chef proper, her own menu, her own tastes, her own stylings. A Michelin star or two donned her future crown, a new kingdom.

"I have to, I'm shooort," she whinged at the discharge of the 6-inch heel idea. "We could finally be the same height and I won't have to look like a bloody doe-eyed puppy standing next to you while you chat up some gorgeous babe at a bar. I'm going six inches. You can wear bloody Timberlands for all I care."

maeve nearly spat out her drink when danny insisted she hadn't been sleeping with her boss. the younger cousin would never have actually assumed as much, but it was deeply entertaining and endlessly heartwarming to mess with her best friend like this. spending time together again, so familiar and so natural, she could almost pretend that they would walk out of those doors and paris, or madrid, or belfast, or the yard, or amsterdam would greet them instead of the sometimes-suffocating streets of windsor bay.

"me thinks the lady doth protest too much," maeve choked out between laughs before shaking her head vigorously and holding up her hands in surrender. "no, i know, i know. although sometimes a silver fox doesn't hurt. but then how would you ever know if he was complimenting your technique or so pussy-whipped he couldn't see straight?" she arched an eyebrow slyly at her cousin, a brilliant grin consuming her facial features in short succession.

"god, i've missed this. i'm so glad you're here," she finally said after a moment, sincerity so rich in her tone that there was no chance of danny missing it. "us drinking and taking the piss, you waxing poetic about chefdom in a way that genuinely makes me think i might be able to tackle more than mac and cheese someday. you do know that, right? the way you talk about cooking is goddamn inspiring. and i feckin love every minute of it."

"there'll be no coattail riding, babes. when you join me on that family crest it'll be because we have together brought the quote-unquote family legacy to a level none of our stodgy forefathers could have even dreamed of," maeve said with a confidence that, somewhat to her own surprise, she felt deep in her bones.

it wasn't a secret that mae had grand designs in her mind for the pair of them. in fact, she was certain she'd tipsily laid them out for danny on many a night in bars all across western europe. but, like most of mae's most ardent hopes and vivid dreams, they were still vague, abstract, lingering somewhere in the distance that required nothing of her at the current moment. she liked her dreams that way best. if she didn't have to bring them to reality by her own actions, she didn't risk the disappointment of them not manifesting at all. it was....well, truthfully it made her a damn coward sometimes, but at least she was a coward who could brew a damn good beer and throw a damn good party.

"so do you have to call him chef, like, legally? is it personal preference? is it a kink thing?" maeve grinned devilishly at her cousin as danny continued explaining how windsor bay was welcoming her home. the reception, maeve admitted, didn't sound nearly warm or raucous enough for her liking. at the suggestion of a night out, mae saw her chance to right the scales on the temperature of her cousin's homecoming. "oh my god, immediately. i'm suddenly craving the feeling of sweat drying on my shoulders on the stumble home after club close." sweat drying on her shoulders, the taste of someone else's drink on her lips, glitter strayed from its original placement to a trail across her collarbones. the unabashed and unfettered hedonism of a night without expectations or obligations called to her like a siren song, and if she and danny got into it here like they had abroad, well then windsor bay was really in for something special. the girls were SO back in town, baby.

"Hear, hear!" A voice that rang of memories of playing pretend in the attic or the backyard, low and mimicking of a stuffy old man, the kind that still smoked a pipe and wore a cravat to state dinners; she held up her glass in a toast. "And I propose that we henceforth refer to ourselves as the Kingdom Heirs Apparent. No more tolerating separate testimonies of our futures from opposite ends of the Atlantic. From now on, we are a package deal. So it is law." With the authority of a powder wig, she banged the bottom of her glass on the table and downed the lot.

Small twinges made from the absence of story twisted in the pit of Danny's belly. It had been her father who'd requested her presence here - not because he felt he was due his years with her at his side, or he wanted her specifically to become ingrained in the family traditions, but because he knew she would help bring the brewery to a new level, alongside her cousin. He was a thoughtful man and did nothing without purpose and precision. The problem was she'd seen very little of him since arriving, and likewise less of Maeve than she wanted. It was odd walking in a place that bore her father's last name but to which she had little connective tissue - so she'd avoided it. The expectation lay at her feet every time she stepped through the door: be great, or go home.

A snort caught her in the middle of a swallow and she pushed the bowl to the side - it was useless trying to eat when they kept the laughter rolling through each bite. "Force of habit," she admitted with a sheepish grin, never mind the fact that the accomplishment was completely grazed over. She expected nothing less than a good ribbing. "But also, yes, highly effective in the bedroom. Can speak from experience. Real power trip, would recommend to anyone, give it a go."

At the instant pile on to the idea of a girls' night out, Danny pumped her fist and held her hand up in the air for a high five. "Yes, babes, that's what I'm talking about! We're young and gorgeous and deserve a brilliant summer getting wasted out of our head and rocked by good, old fashioned American shagging. I'm talking stumbling home with six inch heels in hand at four in the morning and a smashing red lipstick."

"kingdom heirs apparent," maeve echoed, nodding as she rolled the words over in her mind, "i like it. it's fancy as hell but it feels appropriate. i promise not to tell your dad you've referred to the brewery as the kingdom. secret's safe with me, love."

she swore she could feel the slightest dip in energy from her dear cousin in the short silence that followed. she couldn't blame danny. a year or so ago, she'd been in a similar position. returning to windsor bay, stepping through the doors of a place she'd tried her damndest to separate herself from. she remembered how strange it felt, how foreign the place seemed while holding an uncanny familiarity that only served to make the differences feel bigger. scarier. harder to overcome. if you'd have told her a year ago she'd be able to run cellar work without double-checking or confidently turn on a hose with a hundred percent certainty that it would be hooked up where it was meant to be, she'd have laughed in your face. if you'd told her two years ago she would know o'brien brewery like the back of her own hand, that the yeast-scented backrooms and the little walkways between massive stainless steel fermentation vessels would feel like a second home, she would have slapped you on the spot.

it was....complicated, even for maeve. mixing up your dreams with what was expected of you had its fair share of uncomfortable moments, so she could see why danny might want to steer clear. maeve would support her regardless.

"ok so obviously everything you cook is a revelation, but what has been like, the best compliment you've gotten from probably-good-in-bed chef since starting?" she asked, leaning forward with interest. mae always loved hearing danny talk about her work. the way it made her cousin light up from the inside, the way she turned something so many had streamlined the beauty right out of into something as artful and carefully thought as it was delicious? it was a goddamn inspiration, near as inspiring as the light in danny's eyes when she really got going.

a night out that turned into a morning stumbling home, red lipstick included, sounding nothing short of heavenly. "yes! i am long overdue for some deliciously dirty sex. six inch heels is a tall order though," she heard the words as they came out of her mouth, a peal of laughter following suit. "pun unintended but feckin' great so let's pretend i meant to say it all along."

truthfully, the concept of handmade nut rolls by the best damn chef she knew did give maeve a moment of pause. but it wasn't just the perks of a well-fostered vendor partnership that kept her at the brewery. it was the love of the chaos, the bright laughter and shouted conversations that filled the taproom every weekend and holiday. she found unexpected delight in the smallest details of cellar work, somehow managed to enjoy sani cycles (okay, maybe not enjoy but she at least tolerated and apparently that was more than she could say for most brewers).

"that's damn tempting, but you know i can't leave this shitshow up to our dads. it'll languish eventually, they're both too feckin' stubborn to try new things and craft beer as an industry is begging for reinvention." she said with a forlorn sigh, mostly dramatic, but a little bit real.

mae poured them both another glass of the fresh lager before settling down at the table across from her cousin. "of course i'll say it to her face! what kind of a cousin would i be if i didn't take the piss outta her for a life decision i'm immensely proud of her for making?" she shrugged, a knowing smirk sliding across her face. ribbing was a form of affection for the irish, especially for most of the o'briens, and maeve was certainly no exception.

"enough about me and the blasted family legacy, though, eh? how're you settling back in? how are things? i know i've been shit about getting together recently, the brew schedule's been mad yoke." she pulled her own glass to her lips, relishing the briskness of the brew as she swallowed. It was bright, almost brut-like in its effervescence, and smoother than most lagers, a quiet bite at the back of of the swallow reminiscent of sake. it was perfect. she grinned back at danny over the rim of the glass, her cousin's pride reflecting back in her own eyes. she wasn't always the best at thinking she was good at most things, but when it came to making beer, she was starting to realize maybe she really was all danny cracked her up to be.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll ride your coattails into the O'Brien family crest, you know that. They shouldn't want me anyway, I'm pretty sure Grandad will always call us the 'Dirty English' in the part of happy birthday where you say the name." Any resentment that had formed in her angsty teenage years about the invisible expectation that someone in each O'Brien family should contribute to the brewery had faded long ago, in part because she had come to see how much Maeve seemed to thrive in the environment. Stories from her adventures across Europe about how the brewing process started, what materials made for what flavors, what inventions came about to bring more nuttiness or fruitfulness or even carbonation - the undertone of it all was a romantic comedy about falling for the thing they never anticipated she would. It was impossible to harbor any sort of ill will when the contentment laid so clearly on Mae's heart.

Nor was it Danny's deliberate intention to make a mad dash from the family line. In fact, she argued that food and family were so deeply intertwined, she was only doing her part to stitch up the sewing. Raised in a household where all the good times revolved around a meal, when there was always snacks about for company or parties or movie night, when they were actively encouraged to take part in preparing dinners and packing their own lunches, what else could they expect but their children to pick up their ends of the stick?

She tucked back into her mac n' cheese with a grin as Maeve tossed the duty of storytelling back over to her. Six months had gone in a flash, and it was not lost on Danny that they hadn't spent nearly the amount of time together either of them had wanted up til now. "It's good," she nodded emphatically, continuing to eat. "Chef really likes me, I think. He was well impressed with my flavor profiles on my cooks test. My flat is cute, still getting through the last of the boxes, just old pictures and stuff to hang up. I've met a few people, but it's hard, working only dinner shifts. We should go out! I ruddy miss clubbing with you, let's find a place one of these days to get pissed and dance all night and kiss strangers."

"there'll be no coattail riding, babes. when you join me on that family crest it'll be because we have together brought the quote-unquote family legacy to a level none of our stodgy forefathers could have even dreamed of," maeve said with a confidence that, somewhat to her own surprise, she felt deep in her bones.

it wasn't a secret that mae had grand designs in her mind for the pair of them. in fact, she was certain she'd tipsily laid them out for danny on many a night in bars all across western europe. but, like most of mae's most ardent hopes and vivid dreams, they were still vague, abstract, lingering somewhere in the distance that required nothing of her at the current moment. she liked her dreams that way best. if she didn't have to bring them to reality by her own actions, she didn't risk the disappointment of them not manifesting at all. it was....well, truthfully it made her a damn coward sometimes, but at least she was a coward who could brew a damn good beer and throw a damn good party.

"so do you have to call him chef, like, legally? is it personal preference? is it a kink thing?" maeve grinned devilishly at her cousin as danny continued explaining how windsor bay was welcoming her home. the reception, maeve admitted, didn't sound nearly warm or raucous enough for her liking. at the suggestion of a night out, mae saw her chance to right the scales on the temperature of her cousin's homecoming. "oh my god, immediately. i'm suddenly craving the feeling of sweat drying on my shoulders on the stumble home after club close." sweat drying on her shoulders, the taste of someone else's drink on her lips, glitter strayed from its original placement to a trail across her collarbones. the unabashed and unfettered hedonism of a night without expectations or obligations called to her like a siren song, and if she and danny got into it here like they had abroad, well then windsor bay was really in for something special. the girls were SO back in town, baby.

#muse: maeve obrien #the app

windsorbay

THE CHARACTER.

FULL NAME: Phoebe Marie Baker

GENDER: Cis woman

PRONOUNS: She/her

AGE + BIRTHDAY: 27 + November 2, 1997

LENGTH OF TIME IN WINDSOR BAY: About 6 years

HOUSING: Coral Coast

OCCUPATION: Waitress at Sunrise Diner & content creator at OnlyFans

THE INTERVIEW.

What’s your family like? Are you still close, or have you blocked all their numbers?

“Bit of a mixed bag, really. Some of us took our heritage a little too seriously and pulled a damn Irish Goodbye on the whole lot of us, but most of us are still close. You should see the shit that goes down at our annual reunions in Belfast. Or, no, maybe it’s best that you don’t.”

If you could have any three guests come to dinner, dead or alive, who would they be and why?

“First and foremost, my Gran. She died when I was about 12 and she was just the best fecking person I’ve ever known. I wanted to learn so much more from her and I never got to. She’d have the seat of honor, no doubt. Second, Dolores O'Riordan, a goddamned legend gone too soon. Oh, shite, is there a pattern forming here? Am I just destined to crave the wisdom and spirit of strong women who left the mortal coil too soon? Anyway, her voice haunts me in the best possible ways and I want to hear every juicy backstage story she’s got in between soulful conversations about the way music can change a person. So yeah, she’s still second on the list. And third? David Bowie. Gotta be Bowie. No, I will not be providing further explanation.”

We’ve all had our fair share of shit hit the fan and moments in the sun — tell me about a defining moment in your life, good or bad.

“I’ll do ya one better. I’ll give you a defining moment that’s both. Moving back to Windsor Bay. When I left after high school, I felt so disconnected from everything. So I escaped to Europe, spent a few years in Ireland learning about where we came from as a family and what connections I still had to a homeland that technically wasn’t mine anymore. I studied alongside brewmasters all across the EU and honestly just found my own path to the industry my whole damn family had tried to shove down my throat back in the Bay. Life’s kinda funny like that sometimes, you know? You fight against something so hard because it doesn’t feel like a choice and then, eventually, you come to it on your own. I felt like a pup with my tail between my legs when I decided to move back, like somehow I’d failed in my grand mission to set myself apart. But really? Windsor Bay looks so different to me now. And I think I can still make my own mark on the O’Brien legacy, y’know, it just might not look quite as juxtaposed as I thought it’d.”

It’s the little things in life; tell me three things that bring you a great deal of joy or put a smile on your face.

“When the brew schedule actually goes to plan and the rice lager doesn’t sit in the tank long enough to no longer be a ‘sessionable’ beer. Making my own matcha latte in the morning with a homemade lavender simple syrup - it’s a ritual at this point, not a habit. And, honestly, finding the perfect pairing for someone. I’m a bit of a beer-person-matching savant, and it’s so fun to watch someone light up when I hand them a freshly poured pint of their new favorite brew. But finding the perfect pairing goes beyond the taproom for me. I love finding the just-right outfit finisher for a friend at the thrift shops or even playing a little bit of friend tetris at get togethers to make those two friends from different groups that I just know would hit it off sitting next to each other. I like to make things click, I guess. It just makes my heart sing.”

THE PERSONALITY.

— + ambitious, curious, loyal — - impulsive, short-sighted, impatient

MAEVE IS PORTRAYED BY SAOIRSE RONAN, AND WRITTEN BY TOR.

hotandfunnywomen

Saoirse Ronan and Florence Pugh

#danny x mae #soul sisters #wonder cousins

✗ ✦ ✧ cousins.

"Never above you Never below you Always beside you." Irish Blessing @maeveobrienbrews

a short, high-pitched yelp escaped from maeve's mouth at the snap of the towel at her backside, followed quickly by a litany of giggles that only dearest friends or those who saw mae drunker than a skunk ever got to hear. liadan, as it happened, fell under both of those categories while simultaneously existing in a category all her own. maeve didn't know what the right term was for a member of your family who had somehow managed to always be on the same page as you, even when your page was feeling rather tattered and ripped, had become your best friend over the course of a thousand family get togethers and twice as many sleepovers, and had been a constant part of the most tumultuous decade of her life without ever once making her feel as though she was fully off her rocker. but whatever that term was, danny fell under that category. soul sister, perhaps?

"a more respectable place wouldn't have the deal with the hopsteiner guys we do," mae pointed out. "also, the bries malt boys give us two giant nut rolls every christmas and no that is not a euphamism but yes it is as delightful as it sounds. so, really, who wants respectable when that's on the table?"

maeve understood having a complicated relationship with the family legacy. god, did she ever understand it. half the reason she'd run away to dublin in the first place was to escape the omnipresent pressure to "take up the o'brien brewery helm" and "keep the tradition going." but truth be told, somewhere along her european galavanting, she'd fallen in love with making beer. there was something exciting about it, something surprising in every brew. she liked that the ingredients were simple, but they could be combined into something that told a story. a whole story, with chapters and subtext and a fiery romance all at once. it was not unlike the way her cousin felt about food. in fact, in a lot of ways, their passions were perfectly suited for one another. but danny had the luxury of hers leading her away from the family legacy if she so chose. maeve's, occasionally to her chagrin, led her right back to it.

"right! i mean look, god bless her and the sweet oversized pumpkin of a tot she birthed," mae crossed herself like the good little irish catholic she certainly wasn't and kissed her fingers before pointing to the sky, sending a well wish to their shared family abroad. "but we're not feckin' mind readers, are we? can't expect me to just intuit that you've gone and got yourself knocked up! besides, aren't ya meant to travel with them young? it just gets harder in the middle bit when they're nothing but chaos, right?"

mae didn't even bother trying to hide that she anxiously awaited danny's approval on her latest brew. if there was one palate she trusted above all others, including (and maybe especially) her father's, it was liadan ashford's. the woman had the tastebuds of a superhuman and the nose of a goddamn wolfhound. she knew good from bad, great from good, and exceptional from all the rest. even better, she knew danny would be honest. and as maeve took on more of the recipe writing and lead brewing, she needed that honesty. the grin that spread across her face was pure sunshine and unadulterated pride. "fuck yes! i knew it was going to be a hit! uncle nick was all on edge about a rice lager, said it was too trendy, but i told him it'd be a knockout! i mean imagine it with a plate of sushi prepared with fresh fish from the bay??"

@liadanashford

Fireworks of delight burst onto Danny's expression at the sound of her cousin's laughter. Decades of time folded up into each wrinkle of her smile, each lilt of their laughter, like love notes written over the timeline and hidden from anyone else's view. Every Saturday night as little ones spent holding hands whispering under torchlight, every bar hop through London and playing wingwoman in Belfast as young rebellious adults, every long-distance phone call across the continents to update about school, dates, "I got into culinary school, you have to call me Chef now!" bound to the eternity of those smiles. Each one, signed with an unspoken promise from Danny, whether Mae knew it or not, a vow, as sacred as any ritual, I'd kill and die for you.

"I could make you nut rolls all the time if you ever asked, you dick!" Her mouth flattened, unimpressed, and she lifted her hands in pretend, invisible scales. "Also, nut rolls," the scales went horribly lopsided, clearly favoring the latter, and not without a suggestive tilt of her brow, "spending time with me in an upscale kitchen where you don't have to worry about fork thieves."

With another mountain of food in her mouth, Danny slapped a hand over her face to keep it all in when the next eruption of laughter threatened the gates. Shitting on their family was a pastime as old and as treasured as Christmas dinner. "You're gonna make me choke," she giggled into her palm. "I reckon you say all that to her face, aye? 'Sorry you're an idiot, lass, but you can't expect the ruddy world to stop from knees open to knees shut, oh, by the way, bless the little one, she'll grow out of the 99th percentile eventually.'"

With a roll of her eyes that was hellbound to strain her neck, Danny thumped her hand on the table again. "For God's sake, of course my father didn't want a rice lager, the fuckin' purist. Good on you for having a go anyway. That's a lovely aftertaste as well. You've been well-plagued with the O'Brien genes, babes, it's in your system now." She loved her father, of course, and relished in the few traits he seemed to possess, because they were as hand-selected and well-distilled as his spirits. Nick O'Brien was a scientist, a traditionalist, a man who saw the world through the narrow lenses of his perfectly round eyeglasses and not much else. What he did, he did masterfully. What he saw, he saw to flawless detail. But the expansive qualities his daughter and niece possessed, effortlessly, creatively, intuitively - those were somehow lost somewhere in the bluegrass.

Another long, languid gulp, and she wagged a single finger in her cousin's direction. "I'm fuckin' proud of you, kid."

truthfully, the concept of handmade nut rolls by the best damn chef she knew did give maeve a moment of pause. but it wasn't just the perks of a well-fostered vendor partnership that kept her at the brewery. it was the love of the chaos, the bright laughter and shouted conversations that filled the taproom every weekend and holiday. she found unexpected delight in the smallest details of cellar work, somehow managed to enjoy sani cycles (okay, maybe not enjoy but she at least tolerated and apparently that was more than she could say for most brewers).

"that's damn tempting, but you know i can't leave this shitshow up to our dads. it'll languish eventually, they're both too feckin' stubborn to try new things and craft beer as an industry is begging for reinvention." she said with a forlorn sigh, mostly dramatic, but a little bit real.

mae poured them both another glass of the fresh lager before settling down at the table across from her cousin. "of course i'll say it to her face! what kind of a cousin would i be if i didn't take the piss outta her for a life decision i'm immensely proud of her for making?" she shrugged, a knowing smirk sliding across her face. ribbing was a form of affection for the irish, especially for most of the o'briens, and maeve was certainly no exception.

"enough about me and the blasted family legacy, though, eh? how're you settling back in? how are things? i know i've been shit about getting together recently, the brew schedule's been mad yoke." she pulled her own glass to her lips, relishing the briskness of the brew as she swallowed. It was bright, almost brut-like in its effervescence, and smoother than most lagers, a quiet bite at the back of of the swallow reminiscent of sake. it was perfect. she grinned back at danny over the rim of the glass, her cousin's pride reflecting back in her own eyes. she wasn't always the best at thinking she was good at most things, but when it came to making beer, she was starting to realize maybe she really was all danny cracked her up to be.

maeve pulled the bar towel off her shoulder and balled it up, throwing it directly at her cousin's face as she conducted her silverware tirade with both a confidence and a passion that, quite frankly, was one of mae's favorite things about her.

"love, you know how many forks we lose a weekend? drunkards are insatiable cutlery thieves, it's the oddest feckin' thing," she said, the slight lilt of her lingering accent softening and sharpening the words simultaneously.

she laughed at danny's rant, pulling sriracha from where she stashed a bottle in the to-go six-pack fridge behind the bar. if there was one thing she couldn't live an entire shift without, it was too much hot sauce on her shift meal and a pickleback shot to wash it down. she set the half-empty bottle down in front of her cousin before returning to the taps behind her to pour them both a pint. "when i get the keys to the kingdom, you'll be the first i call for the generational redesign, i swear it." maeve offered her pinky up in the customary cousin pinky promise they'd established either when they were 9 in belfast or possibly some summer in their 20s. at this point, their lives were so intertwined the decades blurred together. for that, maeve was incredibly grateful.

"i'll be sure to tell those two dolts that if they want the damn beer they can come back stateside for a minute and let me see my big-headed darling second cousin in person dammit," she said with a defiant nod, but made a mental note (that, realistically, she'd forget before she wrote down) to look into airmailing a case or two anyway. "we just got back here, it's their turn to do the international travel bit, don't you think?"

maeve slid a crisp, perfectly poured lager across the bar to her cousin, admiring the clear, straw-gold of the liquid against the two inches of foam she'd carefully tilted the glass at exactly the right time to produce. "just kegged this one last night, ripe for the summer menu. i need your notes."

@liadanashford

Laugher poured out of her as she half-caught the towel, hand still bobbling the flimsy silverware, her face getting a good swat and her nose a hefty whiff of stale beer and old lemon juice. A veritable second sister, Maeve had all the comforts and familiarity of home wrapped up in the sucker punch of American life. The minute Danny decided to move to Windsor Bay, Mae had been her first phone call. The last three months had been a reunion of devotion and a reminder that, even though they'd both spent nearly a decade in Europe, their ties ran deep and the other's absence was heartily felt, endured.

"That's why you need to come work with me in a much more respectable place," she teased, spiraling up the towel like a whip and giving her cousin's backside a playful whack when she returned with the hot sauce. A raucous grin spread across her face, and she linked pinkies with the eagerness of thirty years of loving the girl on the other end. "If you've got your heart set on prying this gigantic heirloom out of our dads' paws, I'm right beside you, love."

The brewery ran hot and cold in Danny's heart - times passed when she was convinced any of the thousands of O'Briens in their line could run the place, and then there were moments when her childhood glimmered in her memory and she knew how important it was to cherish the hops and the barrels and the recipes and the tours. If Dad and Maeve loved it, she could, too.

Liadan doused her macaroni with the sriracha and dove in with a fork in one hand and a spoon in the other, another laugh rippling out. "I'll be sure to pass that message along exactly." A giant scoop of macaroni into her mouth, a greedy and satiated hum to go with it. "That's what I told her. She was already on my arse about going before Lottie was born - meanwhile, she didn't tell anyone she was pregnant until after I'd bought the plane ticket. None of them have set foot back here since we moved."

As if conjured from a wistful blink, Maeve reappeared with a chilled glass, the golden color inside catching the afternoon light. Danny's eyes spread into perfect circles, her jaw dropping happily into a delighted grin of surprise. "Ooh," she purred, grabbing with both hands and bringing the foam straight to her lips, where she let the aroma linger like a bouquet. Fresh, clean, not too heavy. The chatter in her brain dulled and quieted. "Oh, that's nice, Mae." Then, a sip, holding it on her tongue and allowing the flavors room to mingle and change. A salty, crisp start and a bloom of herbs to finish. Singularly satisfying in and among its complexities. "A masterclass in a brew, truly," she nodded, having a go at another, fuller swallow. "That's so light and full of flavor. Good malt, I wouldn't even mind a bit more. Well done, babes."

a short, high-pitched yelp escaped from maeve's mouth at the snap of the towel at her backside, followed quickly by a litany of giggles that only dearest friends or those who saw mae drunker than a skunk ever got to hear. liadan, as it happened, fell under both of those categories while simultaneously existing in a category all her own. maeve didn't know what the right term was for a member of your family who had somehow managed to always be on the same page as you, even when your page was feeling rather tattered and ripped, had become your best friend over the course of a thousand family get togethers and twice as many sleepovers, and had been a constant part of the most tumultuous decade of her life without ever once making her feel as though she was fully off her rocker. but whatever that term was, danny fell under that category. soul sister, perhaps?

"a more respectable place wouldn't have the deal with the hopsteiner guys we do," mae pointed out. "also, the bries malt boys give us two giant nut rolls every christmas and no that is not a euphamism but yes it is as delightful as it sounds. so, really, who wants respectable when that's on the table?"

maeve understood having a complicated relationship with the family legacy. god, did she ever understand it. half the reason she'd run away to dublin in the first place was to escape the omnipresent pressure to "take up the o'brien brewery helm" and "keep the tradition going." but truth be told, somewhere along her european galavanting, she'd fallen in love with making beer. there was something exciting about it, something surprising in every brew. she liked that the ingredients were simple, but they could be combined into something that told a story. a whole story, with chapters and subtext and a fiery romance all at once. it was not unlike the way her cousin felt about food. in fact, in a lot of ways, their passions were perfectly suited for one another. but danny had the luxury of hers leading her away from the family legacy if she so chose. maeve's, occasionally to her chagrin, led her right back to it.

"right! i mean look, god bless her and the sweet oversized pumpkin of a tot she birthed," mae crossed herself like the good little irish catholic she certainly wasn't and kissed her fingers before pointing to the sky, sending a well wish to their shared family abroad. "but we're not feckin' mind readers, are we? can't expect me to just intuit that you've gone and got yourself knocked up! besides, aren't ya meant to travel with them young? it just gets harder in the middle bit when they're nothing but chaos, right?"

mae didn't even bother trying to hide that she anxiously awaited danny's approval on her latest brew. if there was one palate she trusted above all others, including (and maybe especially) her father's, it was liadan ashford's. the woman had the tastebuds of a superhuman and the nose of a goddamn wolfhound. she knew good from bad, great from good, and exceptional from all the rest. even better, she knew danny would be honest. and as maeve took on more of the recipe writing and lead brewing, she needed that honesty. the grin that spread across her face was pure sunshine and unadulterated pride. "fuck yes! i knew it was going to be a hit! uncle nick was all on edge about a rice lager, said it was too trendy, but i told him it'd be a knockout! i mean imagine it with a plate of sushi prepared with fresh fish from the bay??"

@liadanashford

Location | O'Brien Brewery Closed Starter | @maeveobrienbrews

"The hell is this?" She lifted the flimsy silverware to her face like sub-standard cuts of meat, voice teasing but expression stony enough to turn a mountain on its head. "My father is partner at a brewery that's been around for, I dunno, a million years, and doesn't even know what proper cutlery feels like? This is basically paper." A bounce along her fingers and the fork flailed like it was drowning. Danny's eyebrows softened in the care of her laughter, knowing full well Maeve had little to do with decor choice. "Honestly, the fact that not a single soul consulted with me about renovations or upgrades in the last ten years, I'm insulted. A personal afront to my soul. I demand a refund." An open palm banged on the table, naturally sending the other set of utensils clanging on the wood, like a cheap glockenspiel. She laughed, lifting a heaping forkful of brewery-style mac n' cheese to her mouth - cutlery be damned, the comfort food was unparalleled. "Oi, pass me the sriracha, the cheddar is so sweet, it needs a kick. Oh! Saoirse and Harry wanted me to ask how much it would be to ship 'em a case of the lager they had at Christmas. Apparently she's eager to get back on the drink since having Lottie. Have you seen her yet? Little thing's just about rolling over now. She's got such a big head, poor bugger."