Coffee.
Coffee.
Still in the cup, not in the writer.
Humanity will happen later.
What drink do you prefer for writing?
Calmer Half does tea. Fine stuff, that. Brits conquered vast swaths of the world on it – but coffee is better.
Bailey’s doesn’t go well with tea, or bourbon, or brandy, or…
oh, wait, is that supposed to be for after writing?
Or was that chocolate?
Mad Genius Club 
If the Russians had ever really wanted to destroy America, they would have embargoed our coffee supply. Or poisoned the glue on our Green Stamps. Or both.
(Harvey’s Bristol Cream for writing. But coffee for surviving.)
Coffee, tea… can’t have cocoa any longer! I have a sad, now.
I recently brought home a bottle of bourbon cream (it was on sale) and oh! That is good stuff. The First reader has petitioned for a trip to Jungle Jim’s for Frangelico and some Irish Cream when it’s gone.
Same about the “no cocoa” sadness. However, I have found coffee has much the same properties: a bitter base turned into deliciousness with the addition of milk and sugar (or splenda in my case).
In the mornings, black tea or diet soda. During the day, diet soda and water, lots of water.
Before noon, coffee. I even have some Vietnamese instant coffee packs for a morale boost*. Been leaning on that a lot, lately.
After noon, herbal tea. We have a…well, at one point it was a doorway, but the porch it opened onto was brought into the house so they turned it into a sort of indoor window. I have those hanging basket things, filled with different kinds of tea, mostly herbal. I’ve got a lemonade style acrylic pitcher that I’ll make lemon, ginger, raspberry leaf or mint tea in, sometimes just use Tension Tamer or another celestial seasonings mix. Hydrating with flavor.
We have real tea, too– caf and decaf Earl Gray, and a lovely orange peel black, plus my husband’s green tea varieties, and various instant milk tea attempts. (SUPER milk tea sticks are rather good, though still not as good as a can almost too hot to hold, from a vending machine in Japan.)
Gave up alcohol for a year to lose weight (ah. Hahahaha. Hahaha. 2020, you soooo funny.) but after that’s over, diet pepsi highball to sip before bed, which is when I get most of the words in.
*gamers of a certain age: yes, that was on purpose
Cappuccino. The fuel of life. Without it I am but an empty shell, shambling about aimlessly. After two cappuccinos, I become fairly close to functional. ~:D
From current WIP, Coffee with Kali the Destroyer:
Alice Haddison needed a coffee in the worst way. Not enough sleep the night before, and it was raining. “I gotta have some java or I’m going to die right here,” she complained, pushing her black and white hair back from her face. “Hurry up.”
“Relax, cranky pants,” replied Nike with a long-suffering air, “we’re here already.” Nike was walking arm in arm with Alice, holding the umbrella and not slowing her up at all.
They arrived at the Green Lady coffee house and hastily went inside. The café was busy, with few open seats and people waiting in front of the counter. “Oh god, there’s a line.” Alice’s shoulders slumped. “I’m so dead.”
“I called ahead,” said Nike smugly, and indicated the delivery side of the counter where two double cappuccinos waited. “Margaret fixed us up. You’re welcome.”
“I’m saved!” Alice exclaimed, going directly to the waiting ambrosia, and taking a big sip. “Ahhhh, yeah! Margaret, you saved my life!”
“Can’t have you expiring on my floor,” said Margaret, the little pink-haired Emo girl behind the counter. “Nike said it was a caffeine emergency, I slipped a chocolate syrup shot in there too. Don’t drink it too fast or your brain will melt.”
“We had movie night last night, so Miss Haddison did not get her beauty sleep,” said Nike. “Stayed up late watching Cary Grant romances.”
Margaret waved acknowledgement, then turned back to her work. “Sarah saved you a couple of seats, and we have a new visitor. Go see, I’ll come and gossip when the line dies down. I want to hear all about the giggling and the swooning over Cary Grant!”
“Visitor?” wondered Alice, scanning the café as she took another fortifying sip.
Down toward the back was Sarah in her usual spot, the table covered in pencils and sheets of art paper as usual. Sarah had skipped the Goth makeup and settled for black jeans and a Sisters of Mercy tour t-shirt. She was sketching furiously.
Seated across from her was a very cute Indian woman. She was petite and shapely with perfect skin, luminous brown eyes, long black hair parted in the middle and done in a pigtail all the way down to her waist. She wore a lovely blue salvar kamees suit with rich embroidery on the eight cuffs of the sleeves. Because she had eight arms.
“It never stops, Nike,” said Alice conversationally. “Every week, a new thing.”
Iced tea, mostly. Coffee in the morning, iced tea the rest of the day.
Cold, carbonated caffeine with real sugar.
Until the Doc gives me that look and I have to go cold turkey until (1) my blood glucose gets back where it belongs, and (2) I can actually sleep. The fact that I am still writing, on the second day in is a testament to how much sugar and caffeine I had stored up.
Coke. I do not like coffee.