#Firewater Bar

[da-ill-spot]

Friday November 8th!! Fresh Produce 86 VISION Benefit | Firewater Bar | Ontario, CA

$5 Donation | 21+ | 9pm

All door and bar proceeds going to his family 🙏🏿

[genericamentegiuseppe]

bar italia - Tracey Denim

Senza troppi fronzoli le canzoni dei bar italia sono pillole slacker rock nude e crude, ma questa non è un novità, eppure se ne sta parlando tanto, perché?

Etichetta: MatadorPaese: UKAnno: 2023 Continue reading Untitled

[freak-accident419]

Strange Honey

Billy (Burn 2019) x GN!Reader

Summary: One night at a bar, you meet a very mysterious man with a burn on the side of his face. As the tense and strained person you see him as, you decide to offer him some ease, giving the wannabe cowboy one hell of a ride.

Word Count: 2.4k

Content: 18+ Smut, MDNI, gender neutral reader, Billy the wannabe cowboy, penetration (unspecified genitals for reader), oral (male and reader receiving), swearing, reader being referred to as ‘pretty’ and ‘slut’, unprotected sex, drinking

(A/n: PLEASE PLEASE listen to this song, it’s not only by small, indie band but it’s also just so fitting!!: 60s western cowboy vibe and horniness, it’s an amazing fit—just trust me!! Also I want it to be implied that the Melinda SA scene never happened prior in this fic, otherwise Billy would have some sort of PTSD that would probably not make him ready for anything sexual for a long time :( nevertheless, i hope you enjoy!!)

-

The moment he walked in through those doors, he instantly became a mystery. Someone you have easily became infatuated with by just the mere sight of him.

Sure, his getup was quite tasteless—the denim on denim and subtle cowboy boots that screamed ‘wannabe cowboy’—but that wasn’t what really captivated you, despite the additional charm of his pretty eyes and lips; it was the red, tender burn occupying an area of skin on the right side of his face.

He lets out a gruff sigh of exhaustion as he sat one stool away from you at the bar, incoherently grumbling his order to the bartender. You observe him for a while, before getting his attention by whistling softly at him. When he turned to look at you, it allowed you to see him from a closer distance from before, and your eyes slightly widened at the clearer sight of his burn.

“Holy shit, man. You look like hell,” you scoff, raising your glass of liquor to your lips, taking a short, yet calculated sip. “The fuck happened to you?”

He looked at you with a displeased scowl, probably offended by your reaction. “I don’t wanna fucking talk about it,” he replied bitterly in a low mutter.

Only amused, you chuckle playfully. “Rough night?”

He nods quietly in agreement as the bartender gave him his drink. Bourbon, you assumed. “Alright,” you begin. “So what’s a handsome thing like you doing in a shithole like this?”

You finally saw a smile—or perhaps a smirk—creep onto the corner of his lips. You could tell he was quite flattered by the ‘handsome’ comment. And that smile only reinforced it, proving your point even more—he was incredibly attractive. “To drink,” he answered, finally looking up at you. He was exceptional at keeping eye contact. The way his brown eyes bore into yours enhanced your intrigue for him.

“To forget?” You assume, raising an eyebrow. He nodded a yes, offering an amused and knowing grin. He liked you. “Well… Bourbon’s not gonna do shit for you in this case.”

You call over the bartender. “Another firewater, please, for the gentleman,” you tell, then looking back at the man with an alluring smirk. “On me,” you wink. “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

“Billy.” He let out a pleased chuckle, already fascinated by you. “Sorry, ‘firewater’?” He asked with a curious, blank face.

“It’s just liquor.” You scoff playfully, “And you call yourself a cowboy?”

“I never—”

“C’mon,” you snicker teasingly. “The jacket? The shirt? The jeans? And the fuckin’—fuckin’ cowboy boots?” You scoff as you look at him up and down. Checking him out, almost. “The belt buckle, however, is very impressive.”

The charming, brown-haired man grinned with a self-satisfied huff under his breath. He looked to the bartender as he abruptly gives him the drink you ordered him, then looked back at you, the slight curl of his lips still intact. “So what’s your whole deal then, hm? What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in this very shithole?” He asks, referencing back to your cheeky question.

“I’m, uh… I’m also here to forget,” you pursed your lips then smirked as you answer him. The man shrugs in response and grabs his drink.

“Well, then. To the shitty events that led us to this shitty bar,” he raised his glass and then you raised yours.

“Cheers,” you mutter amusedly, and the two of you take a swig of your drinks.

Billy nearly choked on it as he scowled immediately, looking down at his glass with humorous contempt. “What the fuck is this shit?”

You felt your throat burn acidly, yet also gratifyingly as you gulp down your liquor, giggling at the sight of him. “Firewater,” you replied as you heard him mutter swears of complaints to himself.

“Yeah, no shit,” he retorted scornfully, “It’s strong as fuck.”

You raise an eyebrow, preparing to tease him. “You sure you��re a real cowboy?” You scoff with an endearing grin.

“Seriously? You’re still on about that?” He says in disbelief, yet he enjoyed the conversation nonetheless. “What, do I need a red bandana and a cowboy hat—”

“You definitely need a cowboy hat,” you chuckle. “That’s exactly what you’re missing.”

“So I need the whole getup?” He raises an eyebrow. You nod. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He was so attracted to your smile.

“Okay, so like… even a lasso?”

You laugh. “Of course. You can’t just be all hat and no cattle.”

He snickered under his breath. “I’m guessing I’m gonna need a horse as well?”

You pursed your lips, laughing once more. And he was addicted to it. “Hmm, a horse? Yeah, not so much,” you reply dismissively.

“Oh yeah? Isn’t that, like, standard cowboy criteria?” He huffs, staring into your eyes curiously, which reminded you again of his immaculate eye contact. “Why not?”

You take a confident swig of your firewater, feeling the burning sensation in your throat linger, licking your lips and returning his gaze…

“I know something else you can ride.”

* * *

He pushes you against the wall, hands under your shirt moving up and down your sides frantically as his his lips move roughly with yours. The confined atmosphere of the motel room was extremely hot, and you weren’t sure if it was from all the friction that you and Billy produced or the shitty, cheap air-conditioning. After all, you two were in a rush, drunk from arousal, and desperate for each other’s bodies. And because a dirty bathroom in a shitty bar deemed to be too unsanitary for your taste, you found the nearest motel.

“Hell,” you mutter into Billy’s lips hotly. You felt him grip onto your hips and start to grind on you, using the wall as a leverage as he rolled his hips onto yours. He muttered a curse as the friction of his jeans against yours had satisfyingly aggravated you both. The two of you whined from the grinding until you pushed him off of yourself, shoving him hard against the wall and going down onto your knees.

You begin to unbuckle the belt that you earlier regarded as impressive, due to its authentically cowboy-like quality, then unbuttoned and unzipped his tight, light-wash jeans, dragging it down to his ankles as well as his boxers. His cock sprang out immediately after you pulled down the cloth, and you held in a moan, admiring the sight.

“Fuck, Billy,” you breathe in awe, helping him step out of the clothes that were previously sitting at his ankles. You look up at him once—again, he was graceful at eye contact, and you could easily read his desperation.

You began to smear his precum around his slit, bringing out a small whimper from him. You start to hear him panting once your hand is around his dick, pumping at a slow pace. Then, his eyes rolled up to the back of his head in pleasure, letting out a sigh of arousal as the tempo of your hand increased.

You kept your hand at the base of his cock as you started to leave kitten licks on his sensitive pink tip, Billy eliciting sensual hums until your mouth eagerly welcomes in his head. He lets out a soft groan as your lips are around him, sucking the head as your hand moves up and down to stroke his shaft, your other hand resting on his thigh for support.

He bites back a moan as he choked out your name, and you feel his hands on your head once you move your mouth further down as far as you could. Now, you let both of your hands grip onto his porcelain hips for better control, your head bobbing up and down his girthy cock.

“M-mm, fuck, Y/n, you’re s-so fucking good for me, fuck,” he rasped, gripping onto your hair, letting his fingers tangle in the messy strands. Your cheeks flush as you increase your suction around him, finally hearing him moan, his vocals echoing in the empty motel room. “That’s it… yeah… fuck…” His volume increases once you fondle his balls, caressing him with your palm.

You feel yourself lose control of the entire situation as his hold on your hair tightened, him beginning to thrust his cock into your mouth, practically fucking your throat. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you look up at him, nearly gagging on his dick.

“G-god,” he mumbled, using both hands on your head to practically use you as if your mouth was his own personal fleshlight. His moans began to increase in volume as you heard pathetic whines of desperation—but you couldn’t say anything, of course; you were the one spurring muffled moans, choking around his cock.

“Shit… Shit—I’m—fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he breathed heavily, increasing his pace until he came, spilling his white, bitter fluid in your mouth, choking on his seed as you struggled to swallow it all—but you did.

Without giving either of you time to catch your breaths, Billy manhandled you, grabbing onto you and throwing you down on the squeaky, cheap mattress that the motel had to offer. He nearly ripped off your pants and your underwear along with it, moving his head between your legs and holding your thighs onto his shoulders. You felt the cold metal of his golden ring on your skin as his hands squeezed your thighs. You moaned out his name as you felt his tongue work on you, sucking and licking at your flesh.

“Ah—f-fuck—Billy!”

Your hips jolted at the sensation of his mouth pleasuring you, your knuckles turning pale as you grip tightly onto the sheets below you. His tongue moved down to prod at your hole, wetting it before his tongue would enter, making you release a prolonged, high-pitched whine. Almost instantly, he replaces it with a finger, pushing the digit in and out steadily, not hesitating to add another, the pace of the thrusts increasing until he finally pulled them out, watching you whimper from the loss of touch.

He quickly removes your shirt, lifting it off from above, and after taking off his jacket and throwing it to the side, you frantically unbuttoned his shirt, getting him out of the sleeves until the two of you were both completely naked.

He held you down once more on your back aggressively, sitting on his knees with his hands on the mattress between your head, a thin, silver necklace dangling above your face that hung from Billy’s neck. Your cheeks were flushed red and you panted as he lined up his body with yours, and finally eased his cock through your entrance. And once he was perfectly in, that was his signal.

He thrusted his hips quickly into yours, shoving his dick inside of you deeper with every snap of his hips, abusing your hole. His loud grunts easily transitioned into whimpers to full-on moans, hearing a couple of ‘fuck’’s and ‘oh god’’s. But you—you were even worse. You were under him, being fucked into the mattress, crying, screaming, and babbling. You were sure that the other guests of this motel could hear you from the thin walls, alongside the noisy bed creaking.

“Love how you’re taking my cock… Just look at you,” he muttered before letting out a high-pitched whimper and continuing his movements. “Feel so fucking good around me.”

His hands move down to your hips, digging his nails into your skin as he pulled you to his dick, thrusting even faster and deeper than before. Your soft whines were rhythmic, synced with each motion that his hips gave. You enjoyed the delicious sensation of him stretching you and your walls, tightening around him flawlessly. His shiny, silver necklace continued to sway above you, swinging with each rapid, harsh thrust.

You abruptly yank onto that thin chain, pulling him down to meet your lips. He moved his soft, wet lips with yours passionately and fervently, your tongue exploring his mouth, dancing with his. His thrusts never faltered as he kissed down to your jaw then to your neck, even nibbling and sucking in areas to give you hickeys.

You breathe heavily as you felt your body being flipped, Billy using his strong hands to move you onto your stomach, the side of your face being pressed onto the pillow. Then he pushed into your hole once again, one hand on your hip and the other on the top of the wooden bed frame, gripping it tight as he began to move. The bed squeaked again, its sounds mirroring the motion that took place on it. You were afraid he was going to fucking break it.

“O-oh! F-fuck! Don’t—Don’t fucking stop!” You cry desperately in between heavy breaths.

You were nearly drooling on the pillow as you moan loudly, Billy pounding you forcefully from behind, on top of you as if you were a fucking horse—he was a cowboy, alright.

“You like that? Hm? You like having my cock inside of you like this? Fucking slut…”

You began to feel his rhythm falter, his body gradually giving out with stuttered hips and abrupt, deep jerks inside you, panting and moaning heavily, his face flushed and sweaty.

“Fuck, baby, I’m close,” he groans, the erotic sound of skin slapping against skin only increasing as his nails begin to dig deeper into the bed frame, fucking into you as if you were a lifeless sex doll, practically using you. But he had respect for you, of course, feeling pleasured entirely by your body and noises.

“M-me too,” you whine, clenching onto the white bedsheets beneath you, feeling a knot in your stomach slowly begin to unravel.

Billy persisted to slam his hips vigorously against your ass, ramming his thick cock inside of you as the two of you moaned desperately, your vocals arousing each other as well.

“I-I’m—I’m gonna cum,” he mutters.

“Fuck—me too—I-I’m—”

“Fuck!” He whines.

And finally, with one last, strong thrust of his hips, he came deeply and heavily inside you, his warm, white fluids painting your walls, spurting selfishly yet generously deep inside of you. A loud, lewd moan escaped his pretty lips as his eyes shut tight, focusing on all the pleasure and release that he just received.

And not even a second later, you followed, crying out his name and cumming around his length, clutching the blankets and feeling full and filled completely with his semen.

Billy collapsed beside you, and the two of you laid there, panting heavily and catching each other’s breaths, all fucked out.

“Well, yee-haw, motherfucker,” you mumble amusedly to yourself, retrieving your pants to grab a cigarette from its pocket.

[burnedwriter]

i was listening to the song salvatore by lana del rey and i got this image in my my head of going at a fatui ball and having pantalone and dottore fighting over you👀, so here it is:

Warnings:slight suggestive,gender-neutral reader.

You  were invited to a fatui celebration and as a higher up of your nation you were obligated to go.The guards greeting you as they open the door for you as you step in the huge ball room with hundreds of guest dancing to the sound of music with their partners but unlike you,you were all alone and with no date,so what better way to drown your sorrow and jealousy than to go to the bar ,you always wanted to try snesznaya’s special drink,firewater,as it was a strong beverege as some have described it,so it would do you just perfect in your case.

walking  slowly to the bar,you noticed someone, a man marching towards your direction as he came closer to your field of view,immediatly realizing who it was,number nine of the fatui harbingers also know as pantalone.

‘‘Greetings....you must be Mr/Mrs Y/n,i’m glad you were able to join us,im pantalone,its truly a pleasure meeting you up close’‘leaning down a bit and taking a hold of your hand,pressing his lips against the front of it to kiss it,introducing himself in the process.

‘‘would you like to have this dance with me’‘he said,you nod in agreement as he went behind you,guiding you to the dance floor,his hands barely touching you,one hand touching  your own while the other touched your waist,a bushful expression started to form on your face,as you felt like you were being set on fire as you looked up at the tall man that you were now dancing with.

As you enjoy your dance with pantalone,all of a sudden a man approached the two of you,now both you and pantalone turned to look at said man,from what you saw ,pantalone’s mouth twitched a bit in annoyance upon seeing who it was but immediatly returning to his usual soft smile not wanting to show that it bothered him.

‘‘Dottore,dont you have research to attend to?’‘pantalone said looking at the man,annoyance still in his voice.

‘‘I heard we have an important guest from another nation and of course,it would be rude not to introduce myself’‘he said,pulling you swiftly out of pantalone’s embrace to shake your hand.

‘‘Ah~You must be Mr/Mrs Y/n!im glad we are able to meet up close finally’‘dottore said now taking you all to himself and away from pantalone completly.

‘‘Did no one taught you how to share Dottore’‘pantalone exclaimed,even though he was smiling his annoyed tone said everything that needed to be said.You were squeezed between the two men as their silent rivaly became more obvious as both of them started to fight over you in subtle way on who deserves to take your hand to dance.

‘’how about this Dottore we take our ‘’guest’’ somewhere else.....and finish our rivaly once and for all hmm~,what do you think?’’pantalone asked turning to look at you for approval,his usual soft smile turning into a mischievious one,giving you small hints of what he had in mind.

With both you and Dottore nodding in agreement,the two men guiding you to a room the was upstairs,you really didnt know what you just got yourself into the only thing you knew was that you will not be able to walk for days.

[tosxah]

&&. @nagareboshiko

Despite the thick thrall of students, Ajax couldn't take his eyes off her. Like she glowed in the darkness, a far light in the sea. Plainly put, she was beautiful. Perhaps the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. That was when she began to make her way in his direction. Ajax looked back at the bar, his thoughts drowning out all else as he took a swig of the beer in his hand- having drank more than enough firewater for his face to feel flush and his head light.

Somehow in what felt like seconds, with his thoughts else where a voice brought him back, one that stood out from the blaring music and yells of others.

She was shorter closer up, enough that looking down at her from where he leant against the bar top he could easily see her breasts and he hoped the dim light and flush on his face hid what might have been completely obvious. Not that it seemed she was trying to be modest about them- though he wasnt stupid enough to not realise she was doing it for the bar staffs attention. But he kept his eyes on hers despite this, golden and vibrant, the most interesting shade he felt liked he'd ever seen.

Ajax leant down, trying his best not to invade her personal space but finding it hard to communicate unless he was practically shouting in her ear in that drunk-ish loud way, "It's not that, I'm just not very good at it." which was sort of a lie... But despite the slight sheen of sweat on her skin, she smelt incredible; like warmth and flowers and something sweet.

Ajax took another swig of his drink, finding his throat more parched than before suddenly. He leant back down to her after watching the bar staff for a moment. "That act won't work on him by the way." He informed her over the music with a knowing smile. "He's gay and a bit of a misogynist." He gestured to the man in his late 20s who seemed to be the more seasoned bar tender of the two poor shits on shift. "And she only cares about cash." His hand pointed to the barely legal girl- he'd found from experience of the night, the more money he had in hand, the faster she'd come running. And it was then it struck him to do something he hadn't ever done before, at least not for some random stranger. A very cute random stranger.

"Will you let me buy you a drink for you and your friend? You'll be here all night otherwise."

[geopfert]

@kerothi says: ❝ I’m between that just one more and drank too much again. ❞

He looks like something washed ashore, ravished and disfigured by the tide. A castaway, fallen overboard and now clinging to a piece of driftwood. He’s floating in this sea of nothing and holds on to the bar counter. In a hurry to drown, too. The suit doesn’t fit him. You can tell by the shoulder seams. He’s lost some weight, grown spindly. Pieck notes all these things with private satisfaction. She likes to imagine there is suffering that matches her own. Less for sadism’s sake but rather an innately human need for company. Nobody wants to sit in their pit alone.

“Yeah? I can fix that for you.” She declares. Her manicured nails slip around the neck of the bottle and just like that she’s pulled it out of his reach. Her too-tight dress crinkles uncomfortably as she heaves herself onto the bar stool beside him. The hotel is all but deserted except for the two of them. The bartender has made quick work of making herself scarce. Pieck takes his glass, too. The ice has molten into a watery soup, sloshing unappetizingly as she refills the drink. Some firewater he’s ordered. She doesn’t care. She necks it. Her hair has been combed and brushed and styled to delirium and even now, hours after she first stepped of that forsaken ship in her ugly painfully heeled shoes, not a strand is out of place.

She sees herself in the warped reflection of the bottle and seethes. The alcohol does nothing to douse the flames. Maybe that’s why she drinks it.

“What’s the matter with you, Jean? Already tired of your hero’s welcome?” Her words are barbed for a reason. As expected, the officials and people of Paradis have little love for their delegation. They murdered their savior. They murdered their one-way ticket to global hegemony. Not that Paradis didn’t pay dearly for this power trip. How many died? Who’s counting?

Jean, she suspects, is counting.

[visionkept]

haha oh noooo she spilled firewater on their massive chest... whatever are they going to do.....

What a coincidence, a very WELL PLANNED coincidence in fact. And it so happens that SHE, out of ALL the people in the bar, had the ONLY available piece of cloth that could clean up the mess no one other than HERSELF did. Tem is not even drunk and Tomoya knows that, her drink had been taken once - twice at most, waiting in the counter for her to notice it again. Not to mention the precision she used to spill it all over their chest and nowhere else, this behaviour did not belong to one of a tipsy individual; Tem KNOWS what she's doing. ❝ How clumsy. ❞ They mention with an added laugh afterwards, is this what she wanted ?

This unfortunate accident gives them no other option but to place their haori right on the next empty seat as sadly, some of her firewater had gotten to it too. This, however, exposes their figure even more, the only layer that protected their upper body had been left aside and a quick shiver reminds them again of the cold freezing temperatures of winter, a sign that the two shall leave early if they don't plan to catch a cold.

❝ I better clean it up before it dries up though it seems you wish to do that yourself, don't you ? That's the kind of PUNISHMENT you would certainly enjoy. ❞

[gvldntrbl]

Open Starter: Find Your Honey Bee Event (@lumenouastarters​)

Location: Be My Honey Bee Festival, Haven Realm (LM Event 6)

-🥀-

Hale stood, discomfort thrumming through his nerves, as he stood with a bee brooch pinned to the lapel of his suit jacket. The words of his Ma, from their last chat, echoed in his ear even as he reached for a much needed drink. The second born prince was all but commissioned to secure his own lineage, extend the Hales bloodline to the throne of the Divine Forest. But first, in order to do that, Hale had to start dating. Specifically, he was to begin attempts at courtship.

With a sigh, the air nymph glanced down at the dark maroon colored wine in his glass. He wanted something stronger. Especially with the plight of feeling the desperate tinged emotions from some attendants to the Find Your Honey Bee event. “Hey,” He asked after approaching the bartender at one of the open bars. He sat his wine from earlier down on the bar top with evident dismissal of the drink. “You got anything stronger? What about firewater?Let me get one of those. Neat, please.” The firewater was akin to moonshine and, Hale hoped that it would at least help him tolerate others for the evening.

His eyes landed on the nearby profile of someone who’d also gathered at the bar, maybe waiting for their own drink. “...So, what are you drinking? I’m trying to see if firewater’s too strong to start with, right out of the gate. What about you? What brings you here to this?”

[l-lend]

I wanted to do a meet cute...so I did. Grog also doesn't have a ton of content, so why not?

A music reference:

Warning(s): Swearing, drinking, references to seedy activities

Today was a good day for Grog. He cracked some skulls with his best buddy, Pike, and got paid for cracking said bandit skulls. How much gold came their way was not his concern unless there was not enough for ale. Thankfully, with how happy Vex was after the job ale was definitely by the barrel tonight. As he and his adventuring companions darkened the doorway of the local tavern, the post job drinking could begin.

“Calm yourselves people,” Scanlan proclaimed with his usual flair, “Vox Machina is back.”

A few eyes glanced in the direction of the party only to swiftly return to their drinks and company.

The gnome scoffed before offering a shrug to the party, “Guess they need a song to loosen up.”

While the rest of the party settled to find a booth large enough to cover their shenanigans, Scanlan made a b-line for the bar hopping onto a barstool to avoid the constant gnome overlook. The goliath snatched up a chair for his usual perch at the head of the table. The subtle groan of the wood under his weight typical of chairs not made for his stature.

"Extorting an extra 10 percent from the merchant seemed a bit much, Vex." Keyleth opined towards the raven haired ranger who merely shrugged her shoulders.

"He didn't mention his carts were full of jewelry to try to get us for cheap. We still protected his goods and he gave us extra to keep quiet."

The once quiet conversation at the bar began to crescendo over the tavern chatter.

"I'm sorry, if you would've come sooner you would've had a spot,"

The white haired man at the table lifted his glasses slightly to pinch the bridge of his nose, "Grog, go get Scanlan before he gets us thrown out. Haven't even had our drinks yet for Peylor's sake."

With a screech of wood against wood, the barbarian rose to his full height and lumbered to the bar where the gnome was still fuming.

"You're telling me this tavern is already booked up for the night."

"On entertainment, yes." The human innkeeper replied, "I'm sure we have space tomorrow."

"You're kidding. I know I'm a bit banged up, but I'm Scanlan Shorthalt. Played in every tavern in Emon."

"I'm sorry, sir. The last performance of the night isn't due for a bit. If they don't show up or they back out I'm sure you could take their spot."

That seemed to change the bard's tune.

"Alright, I could see about it. What can you tell me about em?"

The innkeeper furrowed his brow, "Gave me the name Lea. Not from around these parts should be over in the corner. Ale and firewater."

With a slight jerk of the head, Scanlan and his large shadow glanced to see an odd pair on the other end of the tavern. The first appeared to be male. His cobalt blue scales dulled in the ambient light as a taloned hand plucked up his glass sipping as his companion placed her tankard on the table before getting up. She appeared to have the same build as the half elvish twins lithe, yet held a thin layer of muscle that hinted at a human parentage. The scaled man nodded to his companion as she excused herself.

"Alright, Grog. Good guard bad guard alright?" Scalan clarified, his large companion finally tearing his gaze from the woman. Was it the post job rush or the long stretch between outings to the lady favor houses with Scalan? Could be both.

Despite his smaller stature, Scanalan approached his target taking the open seat next to the scaled man, the gnome propping up his elbow on the bar top.

“Can I help you?” The scaled man ventured, his voice rumbling in his chest.

“Maybe you could, my good man.”

The scaled man's gaze drifted over the gnome before return returning to his drink, “I'll pray for you.”

Scanlan's melodic chuckle rang, “Appreciate it, but I was wondering if you wouldn't mind being bumped on the gig tonight. Gives you a chance to rest up. So how's about it?”

“Who's your friends, Aeron?”

“Dunno, the small one seems to be one of your people.”

The woman perked up a bit returning to her stool, “Ah, another performer? What's your poison?”

Showtime, Scanalan. The gnome combed his fingers through his locks and pulling out his trademark grin, “Scanlan Shorthalt, adventurer and performer by day, and the name every maiden cries at night.”

The woman chuffed a laugh, “Is that before or after the cackling at the slumber party?”

The gnome arched his brow, not bad.

“Hittin' hard right out the gate, but I gotta chat with Lea to see if he'll let a crowd favorite close for the night.”

The woman and Aeron shared a look with stifled laughter before breaking away.

“Yeah, about that.”

The woman extended a hand to the gnome with a grin, “Lesona Lend. Everyone calls me Lea.”

The gnome took her hand for a brief shake, but Lesona's gaze drifted up, “and what about you, biggin? You got a name?”

The goliath looked down at the half-elf. Her eyes were...really green.

“Grog..”

There was a strange flutter in his stomach when her smile grew.

“Hey barkeep, can we get a round for me and my friends here?”

After she retracted her hand, she took a sip from her ale. The next round on the way.

“So adventurers, right? I'm sure there's some stories in there.”

The pair of bards began their dance of trading stories. Grog mostly listened to the back and forth. Scanlan was starting with the boring stuff like usual until someone else would mention bigger monsters. He was on the story about their group slaying an undead giant when Lea smirked.

“Not bad, slinging spells and such,” she took a swing from her drink and planted her hand on the counter leaning forward, “I had a storm giant who fancied himself a critic. Changed his tune rather quick when I decked 'im.”

“No fuckin' way.”

“Fuckin' way, biggin. Aeron was there.”

Aeron parted from his glass, “It was stupid and she expected me to heal her then broken hand so she could still play.”

Lea's laughter brought that strange feeling again. Maybe he was just sick? Might be worth asking Pike later.

“Ms. Lend?”

The woman bard plucked up her instrument. Her fingers skating over the frets.

“That's my cue. Let me know what you guys think,” She turned to flash a grin, “and if you're around after my set I'd love to keep swapping stories.”

The walk back to their party was uneventful for the pair, yet when Grog dropped into his chair the wood groaned loudly in protest. Taking note of their party's muscle being strangely silent, Vax's gaze dropped to Scanlan.

“What's with him?”

Scanlan huffed jerking a thumb to the stage, “Bard fluttered her eyes at him.”

Pike followed Scanlan's gesture studying the woman on stage warming up before she began playing, “She...doesn't seem so bad.”

“She's a bard. She-”

“She knows most of your tricks, so she doesn't fall for it.” Vex chimed in after coming up from her tankard.

His companions' voices were drowned out with the opening chords of Lea's performance.

[bitterfates]

FFXIV WRITE 2023; PROMPT 18: FISH OUT OF WATER

The Holy See of Ishgard was, in a few ways, the same as the Empire of Garlemald she had left behind. They were both built on the backs of industrious people, pushing their creative limits for the purpose of battle. Their original leaders had been figures seemingly larger than life, turning out to be monsters beyond wildest imaginations.

And, of course, both were centrally located in places that were bitterly cold. Hanne had thought being sent here would be like moving to another part of the land she loved, but the frigid temperatures were where their similarities began diverging, as it was how these citizens acted in spite of the perpetual winter air that first made the Garlean expatriate realize living here would be a tougher adjustment than she initially believed.

Though the Ishgardians had only the most basic and primitive torches and fire pits to shield them against the cold, they dressed in what she would consider barely adequate enough to ward off the lightest of cool breezes, yet they showed hardly any reaction. (She had taken it upon herself to dress as close to how the ladies did traditionally to better assimilate, but she refused to give up certain warming undergarments that she’d brought over from Garlemald.)

Then there were the bars. Using alcohol as a way to warm yourself up was something she had seen time and time again, but the drinking culture here was so strange. Nobles and soldiers and commoners alike could be found sharing pints of…well, she would say ale, but it was like nothing she had ever encountered before; firewater was a more apt term, for the way it went down throats and settled into bellies. It apparently had not always been so egalitarian, but the end to their thousand-year war seemed to ease the tensions between the classes beyond whatever the new government decreed. More often than not, she had found herself conversing with what she thought was a low-born citizen, only to later discover that it had been some minor lord or politician that had been wearing less ornate attire. (Hanne thought she would have felt bothered by the lack of distinction between the classes, but instead it felt comfortable in a way that navigating Garlean politics and etiquette never had.)

The primary example of cultural differences between the two snowy nations was as obvious as the sky was blue, in her opinion. While Garlemald had stamped out all forms of worship involving supernatural entities in favor of celebrating and following a tangible leader, Ishgard had embraced one sole goddess, operating an orthodox religion whose principles seeped into every facet of society. Hanne had learned —- sometimes against her will —- all about Ishgard’s patron god, and how the idea of Halone the Fury had shifted and changed as the war against dragon-kind raged on and the environment transformed into what it was presently. The mythology surrounding Her and the icy halls of Her domain were talked about in and out churches, with Her iconography common on all sorts of architecture, letters, and published works.

For someone who had never been surrounded by such devotions, it had been a little off-putting at first since she had not known even the name of the heroic figure before coming to this country. She had been hesitant to approach anyone on her own for guidance, thinking she’d be shunned thanks to her obvious Garlean heritage, but she had been pleasantly surprised when not just a few kind-hearted locals noticed her clear confusion and newness, and welcomed her into their small neighborhoods or community centers to both comfort and educate her in their customs.

Maybe it was because they were the victors in their own battles and didn’t feel the same pressures as her own kin did when they had “lost”, but Hanne felt freer here, in such a way that she could see herself adapting to this new way of life, over time.

[inavagrant-a]

i want the ki**

@snowtombedstar

Tetsuya is almost convinced he's the only sober person in this bar at this time.

A loud crash sounds behind him thus making him turn around to witness two complete strangers beginning to duke it out with each other. Tetsuya then turns around with an annoyed expression.

Correction: Tetsuya is now fully convinced he's the only sober person in this bar at this time.

He watches with a complete and total lack of amusement, turning back around, not truly having it in his system at this time to chew himself out for indulging Tem in her need to visit this place because they were known for serving a drink from home. That drink from home being firewater. Seldom the places that serve such a drink, its export being rather expensive given the nation it comes from so he supposes it can count as a delicacy and a testament to how this bar is doing financially in its wealth and standing. She is not completely drunk, but enough to where the Tem he sees before him is one he does not recognize. She's much more... collected? Calmer? Well-tempered? It is... unsettling a sight. She smiles like the world is her oyster and nothing in it will dampen her mood enough to make her forget or believe she is undeserving of it.

Tetsuya too indulged in a couple of drinks of the firewater that hardly had any effect on him for obvious reasons he's not about to go into details about. It is a strong drink so he's heard, from his personal experience he can not say it stands for much, but he has seen a human or two before completely crash at the second or third drink. Tem is not one of those, but she's definitely drunk now. "I believe you've indulged enough," he says reaching for her glass and dragging it to his side. "It's getting late and this bar is getting far too rowdy." For his tastes at least. Tem is mature and strong enough to take care of herself of course, multiple times she has shown that she's strong to him when encountering the Fatui, but her competence is one he's putting into question at the moment and leaving her in a bar full of... incompetent men does not ring to him like the brightest of ideas. "Come on Tem." Tetsuya gets to his feet and walks over to her side, fully expecting some sort of resistance and protest.

Surely enough he gets that when he attempts to pull at her arm, and says something about him being a killjoy. "Sure, whatever," he responds to that accusation, like he cares what others think of him anyway. "Biggest killjoy, come on Tem." He insists yet again and like before some obstruction and this time an annoyed glint in her gaze that is very much like her. He challenges it with one of his own. If she wants to indulge so much he'll just steal one or two firewaters for later, this crowd is far too much. "I'm not going to repeat myself again." He says sternly, his hard gaze not once flinching from the determination that has suddenly set into the drunk haze of her own. Why is she looking at him so intently anyway? Is there something on his face?

Tetsuya is not left in his thoughts for too long, neither to ponder or question some more, for she seemingly does what he says, or at least he thinks she's doing that. The wanderer takes a step back when she gets on her feet. "Tch, finally." He says before Tem suddenly smushes his cheeks together with the palms of her hands, making Tetsuya glare at her. "What the he-?!" He's about to demand, but she pulls his face towards her own and presses her lips firmly against his own.

The wanderer's eyes widen, heat rising to his face at the sudden action, his wide eyes staring at Tem as her lips kiss his own. This is the last thing he was expecting for matters to escalate to, frozen with a reaction time that's usually too fast for others not reacting, he can practically taste the firewater that has her so intoxicated and apparently bolden her enough to do such a thing to him. However it ends as quickly as it happens and the shock in his face is still ever evident before he receives a firm tap on his chest and she repeats again to him to not be a killjoy before sitting back down and dragging the drink he had previously shoved away back to her.

Tetsuya remains as he is, standing and for once, though rare, unsure of what to do.

(20). Forceful kiss. / prompt.

[da-ill-spot]

Saturday, October 5th | The Happiness of Pursuit Music Festival

Firewater Bar | Ontario, CA | 21+ // Tickets

[bitbrumal]

TEST RESULTS  ::  i sold you to a pet store

❖ Ayaks Price:  19,650$ Personality:  Cunning. I love learning new things. Food:  Prefers sweet things. Notes:  Very cuddly with their owner. ( as a rule ) Breeding Difficulty:  ★☆☆☆☆ ( mr worldwide is fertile you heard it here )

❖ Émile / Zandik Price:  68$ Personality:  Cunning. I like playing with my toys. Food:  Only eats at McDonald's. ( & home-made nutrition bars ) Notes:  Likes cuddles. ( but you won’t hear it from him ) Breeding Difficulty:  ★★★★★ ( sounds like a lie )

❖ Alyos Price:  424,975$ ( sure ) Personality:  Cunning. I love learning new things. Food:  Prefers sweet things. Notes:  Rare species. ( yes c: ) Breeding Difficulty:  ★★★☆☆

❖ Khioniya Price:  8,274$ Personality:  Aggressive. I love making a mess. ( let’s goooo ) Food:  Likes alcohol. ( chugs firewater like the queen she is ) Notes:  Complicated for a beginner. ( yeahhhh but you shouldn’t say it ) Breeding Difficulty:  ★★★★★

[mygainyear2024]

Day 25 Carnation Revolution - 50th Anniversary

Today Portugal celebrated their 50th anniversary of the Carnation Revolution, which put an end to the longest-running dictatorship in Europe.

And to mark the occasion I participated in the local 10km Freedom Run (Corridada da Liberdade). A late 10am start, with 305 runners, we set off. About one minute in I regretted drinking those couple of glasses of vinho verde last night and also not bringing some water. Lots of runners overtook me and I was beginning to wonder whether I might be last. This thought crossed my mind a few times, but I didn't turn around, telling myself the only thing that mattered was finishing and to get some water, which came a bit late at the 6km mark! There were slippery cobblestones, a few hills, a bit of wind to contend with and the crappier songs coming up on my playlist, but luckily it was not too hot. I ran all the way, and was faster than my usual time, at 58:14! I placed no. 186, and I came first in my gendered age range (55-60), there were six of us. I have to say it was quite exciting and I don't usually like running with anyone near me.

With the remainder of the day free, and my growing confidence in driving, I tossed around a few ideas and decided to head to the inland village of Monchique.

The narrow streets were a bit tricky, but I found a park not too far from my first stop, Ochalá, a lovely tea room. I had carob cake and admired their art. A young man at the bar asked me if I was digital. He wanted to engage in conversation and show me something he was studying. I think he was a gamer, but his strong accent was hard to understand and I had a feeling I wouldn't get a way in a hurry, and I had a list!

I found Studio Bongard Ceramics and walked through their garden. The artist is half Portuguese/English and has quite an interesting style.

I then walked up to the very ruined Convento de Nossa Senhora do Desterro. On the path I got abused by a disheveled male busker, who swore at my for quite a while (I heard lots of mother fucking, probably the only english he could speak!!). I can only assume it's because I didn't put any money in the guitar case which was strewn across the middle of the path, while he was some distance away under a tree. I did wonder whether he would stone me on the way back (as loose cobblestones were plentiful). But I got my big girl pants on, walked cautiously and calmly past, as this time he'd moved closer down the hill, and was preparing for an attack! A Tripadvisor recommendation to visit the church is a desperate recommendation in my opinion. Two other disheveled older men were waiting to guide me through their makeshift kitchen, out towards some chickens to view two rooms that were accessible.

I then went in search for the local spirit / firewater Medronho, a traditional fruit brandy, obtained from arbutus berries - the fruit of the Medronho tree, also called strawberry tree. And it was pretty fiery. Thankfully I only ordered a thimble at €1. To be honest the liquor chocolate I purchased next door for €1 was definitely better value.

Last stop - elevation of 902 metres, Fóia is the highest mountain of Algarve. It is part of the Serra de Monchique range. On a clear day the Atlantic Ocean is visible, but sadly not today. Although towards the bottom of the decent the skies cleared up, but I wasn't that excited to go back up again.