#blog about beer

[eyes-of-nine]

both mcr and tumblr are in this movie.

[ask-sheriffofthewildeast]

hiii mr starlo !! if you had to guess, how many guns have you lost?

*Bein’ honest, I thought there’d be more.

[eywaseclipse]

Do you guys think that Jake wakes up in the middle of the night violently craving a cheeseburger? I’ve been thinking about this lately lol 😂🍔

[nightmarewritings]

Why is the hops monster on this craft beer box so hot?

[daryun]

Chapter 28

Farangis: Lord Daryun, you hesitated to strike down Zandeh, did you not?

Daryun: You noticed?

Farangis: So, am I right?

Daryun: I can’t count the number of men I’ve killed in their saddles. But I’ve never killed a man who fell from his horse without giving him the chance to get himself up.

Farangis: You would afford that even to a man who fights like a wild, frenzied beast? You are too soft.

Daryun: I agree.

Chapter 120

(Daryun walks up to a Lusitanian soldier sitting on the floor in terror. Daryun takes the spear from the soldier’s trembling hands saying “I’ll take that”. Daryun calls for Shabrang and rides away, while the sitting Lusitanian solder and another watch Daryun depart in disbelief(?) and exhaustion)

[coastercrushed]

giving the video tech a break, and this one patient just said to no one..."i'd never pee on you, you're my favorite urine girl."

[hetaliahealing]

open qpr lietpol/prucan suggestive thoughts:

Tolys working at Alfred's house part time, calls up Feliks one night to complain. a few months ago this guy that looked kinda similar to Al started showing up for lunch, and at first, Tolys and Lovino were just like prepping and leaving them be, but Alfred began to invite them to eat and chat.

except Alfred-where-do-you-buy-"The Room"-to-read?-F. Jones dominates like 85% of conversations, so Lovino bails after the first invite. but Tolys finds him helpless green eyes magnetizing towards Matthew, sitting quietly, nodding his head, furrowing a brow occasionally when Alfred won't let him get a word in. but he makes little notes in his head.

oh he goes by Matt/Mattie? rounded glasses. sometimes he brings over German beer. or freshly tapped maple syrup. he's got a dog that looks like a bear. wait- a bear that looks like a dog?

Tolys calls Feliks and is like "I cannot?? Get a fucking word in. I just want to say hello, ask him about that beardog he brought up once. His eyes are gorgeous"

And Feliks is just like "If you really wanna get to know him, DO something about it tf are you calling me half way around the globe for??" and its like righT?

but Feliks unintentionally lights the fire under Tolys ass when he casually mentions "If you want some, you better move quick because I hear that sticky lil German goon visits to exchange syrups or whatever euphemism Francis used"

"Fucking Gilbert-"

and the next time Matthew comes over for lunch he offers to drive him back to the train station for alfred. asks to maybe hang out some time.

matthew is like "Heyy do you wanna come back to my place for an beer?"

"German beer?" Tolys furrows his brows and purses his lips.

"Yeah, but he won't mind. I promise :)"

[stvrlighht]

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆♡ About me

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚

hi!

16: cancer: she/her: bisexual: Hispanic & Italian & Polish: Chris girl!!

Faves <3

Lana del Rey, Sturniolo Triplets, Tarayummy, kalogeras sister, Madison beer, Sabrina Carpenter, benoftheweek, Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, The weeknd, childish Gambino, tyler the creator, montell fish, ariana grande, a$ap rocky, artic monkeys, playboi carti, frank ocean, sza, the neighborhood, yapping, mean girls, makeup, Priscilla, hollywood, halloween, summer, abba, mac miller, nessa barrett, harry potter, marvel ect<33

𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚⋆ฺ𖦹 ☼ ⋆｡˚

i'll probably just be posting random shit, rants, or about the Sturniolo triplets

my dms are always open 🫶🏽

[thatawkwardangel]

what. is cheerwine. that sounds like something a gnome would drink also unrelated question do you have a pointy red hat

... pffffft hah no, I'm not a gnome hah that's suuuuch a funny thing to say anyway WHAT'S THAT OVER THERE *casually tosses asside a big red pointy hat that sort of just awkwardly rolls around on the floor because it's conical*

I'm not sure how far Cheerwine's reach is, but it's a cherry-flavored soda sold in the southeastern states. For a long time I could only get some when I was visiting family further south, so my parents would always buy a case or two to bring back home with us (which me and my siblings would either carefully ration or drink within a few days). It was also the only cafinated soda I was allowed to have as a kid since it was basically given a 'special occasions' exemption.

I've only just started seeing them around local stores, but it's still a rare find compared to other soft drink brands. And while my favoritism for Cheerwine may come from my brain associating it with liquid gold, I do stand by the taste!! It's definently sweeter than other sodas, but that's partly because the cherry flavor is at the forefront rather than being added on for a variation of a different drink.

[pineappical]

OK look Ted being trans and having a bit of a dad bod??? Chefs kiss, perfect beautiful delicious we are being fed tonight. 

TEEHEES he just means so much to me 😊🫶🫶

[gikairan]

Not far enough in Starfield to have any real thoughts, all I seem to care about is Beer apparently.

But how could I not, when one of the 3 beers I've found so far is THIS:

[antonblastdeluxe]

'Roleplay confession blog' drinking game (would suggest lighter forms of alcohol). Scroll down the blog and take a drink when a confession;

Whines about headcanons (take a bigger swig if it's about lgbtq+ headcanons)

Complains about not getting asks / interactions

Claims that people 'harassed' them over ships

Is blatantly hostile towards callouts

Gets on people for not replying fast enough

Gets on people for prioritizing certain interactions over theirs

'The RPC used to be so welcoming'

+bonus, take a swig when a mod makes a post needing to specify not to put 'too many revealing details into confessions'.

[generative-adversarial-nitwit]

Beer is just wet bread.

- Chad (2023)

[halechief]

in case you guys forgot about claire playing beer pong in the white house residency

[the-defiant-fluffball]

to illustrate:

my mother graduated in underwater basket weaving* and spent her entire well-paid career working at a single institution in the public sector. My dad graduated in marine philosophy** and spent his entire modestly-paid career with an incredible work-life balance (5 hours work a day max with Fridays off) also working at a single institution in the public sector. Neither of them could get their jobs again with the qualifications they had when they originally applied.

When I was a kid, they pushed me to finish basic music education so that I'd have the credentials to be a music teacher if all else failed. I never did finish, but it doesn't matter as this job now requires at the very least a music academy degree (and I think also pedagogical training).

It's really difficult to express how degree-oriented everything was up to the 2010s. We were told that grades mattered and having a degree mattered and that everything was better than being in a trade. We were told that a degree will show our future employers that we're hardworking, smart, disciplined etc., only for us to enter a job market where 85% of employers seem to assume that every worker is a lazy and incompetent grifter who needs to be micromanaged to death. And maybe most importantly, we were told that with an underwater basket weaving degree, we could be anything from basket designers to marine biologists, because those were fields adjacent to ours. Everybody seems to forget that part.

_____

* not really, but close enough

** in reality it was just regular philosophy

That's what always happens in capitalist societies. They say that if you don't want to be poor, there's a certain thing you have to do. But then everyone does it, so it's no longer effective. The system depends on making sure that there's always a supply of poor people to exploit.

[retrosabers]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄’𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌.

logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: the scent of you is driving logan crazy.

contains: mild 18+ content. MINORS DNI. mentions of masturbation (m&f), a steamy little make out, and implications of future smut

word count: 1.8k

a/n: not me trying to capitalize off the hugh jackman renaissance and revive my dead blog…anyways, this is my first time writing for logan! hope you all enjoy <3

i feel like we don’t talk enough about logan’s enhanced sense of smell.

the man can catch a whiff of someone the second they walk into the room, even the building sometimes if their scent is strong enough. it’s especially heightened when he realizes he’s attracted to you. at first he thought maybe it was because you were always wearing perfume, the aroma lingering around the mansion wherever you traveled. but then it became such an intense, all encompassing sensation that he knew it was something deeper.

his suspicions are confirmed one night as he walks past your room. if the faint whimpers he heard weren't enough confirmation of your activities, then the scent that fills his nostrils seals the deal.

you’re touching yourself. and he can smell your arousal.

it makes something stir in his stomach. the animal-like urges he always tries so hard to keep at bay threaten to make their way to the surface the longer he stands frozen in the hallway. logan attempts to shake the heat that spreads across his skin as he makes his way back to his own room, but it only ends with him cumming hard into his hand an hour later.

the next day, when he catches you on your way out of charles’ office, you offer him the same kind, beaming smile you always did. then that damned smell fills his nostrils again and his fists curl at his sides once you’re out of eyesight.

there’s only one explanation for it.

you’re ovulating.

which means there’s no escaping his desires unless you stay out of reach.

so for his sake and yours, he decides to just avoid you completely until the week is over. he can’t risk caving to those urges and doing something stupid and irrational.

of course you’re completely oblivious to it. you think that he’s just being weird, going through another rut of being a standoffish loner like he was when he first arrived at the mansion. because after about a week, he’s back to being a bit friendlier, to being the logan you had grown to call a close friend.

then the cycle seems to repeat itself and you notice it’s just you he’s avoiding.

you try and wrack your brain to think of anything you could’ve done to warrant this kind of isolation. you hoped if something upset logan he would just talk to you about it instead of playing this childish game of hot and cold.

after a couple months, you decide you’ve had enough.

cornering him was a difficult task. but you were observant enough to know certain parts of his routine, including exactly when he would be lingering in the common areas after all the kids had gone to sleep. after two failed attempts of trying to catch him in the kitchen, you finally managed to find him alone and unsuspecting.

“why have you been avoiding me?” you blurt, wanting to cut right to the chase. you’re expecting him to flinch a little bit, perhaps even be stunned.

but he knew you were coming. logan knew it was only a matter of time before you noticed his schtick.

still, he decides to look for an excuse, any excuse, to cover up the real reason.

“m’not avoiding you” he grumbles halfheartedly around the rim of a beer bottle. taking an extra long swig, he finally turns to look at you; leaning against the doorway with your arms folded and a look akin to annoyance plastered across your pretty face.

you cock your head to the side, clearly unimpressed with his answer.

“a few days ago, i watched you back out of a room the minute you realized i was in it,” you start to list off, counting with your fingers. “last month you avoided the wing where the gym was altogether while i was going through a new training regimen.”

logan winces at the memory. the scent of your pheromones was intoxicating. so much so that he couldn’t step foot anywhere near the gym without feeling like he needed to rub one out.

“and the month before that,” you huff out a sad laugh, voice suddenly soft and quiet. “you didn’t even say goodbye before you went off on that mission with scott and jean.”

guilt overtakes him quickly at the pain in your tone.

you’ve never looked smaller as you pick at a loose thread on your sweatpants. “did i do something wrong?”

“no,” logan reassures, jumping out of his seat at record speed, though still trying to maintain some distance. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“then what is it? you sigh exasperatedly, desperate to put an end to this nagging feeling that’s been eating away at you. “logan, you know if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

and he wants to. he so badly wants to, maybe even see if you’ll offer to help him out. but you’re you. the sweetest, kindest thing he’s ever known and he’ll be damned if he lets his curse of a mutation ruin whatever relationship the two of you have.

but then you’re inching closer and his skin starts buzzing again. his senses are consumed by you. by the way you look up at him with big, wide eyes, the softness of your skin as you reach to place a comforting hand on his forearm. it's all too much, and he finds himself pulling away from you with a grunt.

it hurts to see him retreat from you so aggressively. his jaw is clenched tight, his fists at his sides even tighter as the veins in his arms bulge bigger than you’ve ever seen before. he looks pained. like he’s fighting something internally.

“logan,” you approach him cautiously, unsure of what exactly to do. “what’s going on?”

his eyes squeeze shut at the sound of your voice. “just, please go back to your room.”

“i’m not leaving you like this.”

“m’not asking you,” he grits out, almost like a growl. “i’m telling you. go back to your room.”

now he was starting to piss you off. you narrow your eyes, leaning your hip against the counter.

“or what?”

suddenly he’s crowding your space, chest heaving up and down as he stares at you with pupils so wide his eyes are nearly black. logan’s voice is scarily level when he utters his final warning.

“or i’m gonna do something i regret.”

when you shift closer to him, his nose twitches with a sniff. the raise of your brow doesn’t go unnoticed, and he knows that you’re not leaving this room until you get to the bottom of what he’s been hiding.

that’s when something inside logan decides to throw caution to the wind, just for a minute.

“i can smell you.”

curiosity morphs into confusion at his admission. you shake your head.

“i don’t understand.”

then, the man’s gaze travels to the waistband of your pajama pants, the tension in his jaw growing more taught by the second. his hands flex at his sides, trying to keep him grounded and calm as he finally admits what’s been driving him mad.

“i can smell you.”

the emphasis on the last word takes a minute to register. logan watches as the gears turn behind your eyes, catches the exact moment of realization as your gaze softens and your lips part.

oh.

oh.

slowly things start to piece together. how logan’s behavior seemed to fall around the same time these past couple months. a few weeks before your cycle.

he wasn’t avoiding you because he was angry, or upset. he was avoiding you because you were fucking ovulating.

logan expects you to flee, to be completely weirded out and steer clear of him for the foreseeable future. what he’s not expecting, is the words that come out of your mouth.

“i can help you with that if you want.”

you say it with such nonchalance, such casualness that he wonders if you’re even really grasping what you’ve said.

the wolverine shakes his head. “trust me, you don’t want this.”

he doesn’t quite believe his own words as he watches you close the distance between your bodies. something you’ve been desperate to do for as long as you can remember.

the thin fabric of his tank top and the soft cotton of your t-shirt is the only thing standing between you both. your chests are mere centimeters from touching and logan can feel the heat radiating from your bodies as his confession hangs heavy in the air. then that fucking smell comes back tenfold and he groans.

“you don’t get to make that choice for me,” your voice is sickly sweet, dripping with desire as your fingers ghost over the waistband of his jeans. he feels like a horny teenager as he preens at the barely there contact.

logan breathes your name, a last stitch effort to get you to run, though he knows it’s futile. if there’s one thing he knows about you, it’s that you're stubborn. unmoving in your ways.

and that when you want something, you don’t stop until you get it.

your hand comes up to cradle the side of his face, a rather gentle touch he wasn’t anticipating. his eyes flutter shut as you swipe your thumb over the expanse of his cheekbone.

your words are barely above a whisper. “i trust you, logan. completely.”

that’s all he needs to hear before he throws any sense of self control out the window.

he surges forward and captures your lips in what is possibly the most heated kiss you’ve ever experienced. you nearly stumble over at the sheer force of it. logan’s large hands fly to your waist, yours to the back of his neck as his tongue prods for entrance into your mouth. it’s messy, almost primal as you let him ravish you like he’s been thinking about for weeks.

you moan and he swallows the sound greedily, desperate to hear it again, and again, and again. when his lips move to press against the column of your throat, you know this is going to escalate into exactly what you hoped it would.

“logan,” you breathe out as he focuses on your pulse point, his hands wandering further south to knead at the globes of your ass. “not here.”

“why not?” he mutters, all smirky and smug as he continues to press wet hot kisses against your neck.

“because i would prefer if you didn’t fuck me where our friends eat.”

he laughs, a deep vibration felt against your chest as you absentmindedly grind your core against his. it makes him bring his mouth back up to yours, stealing one final kiss before he pulls away.

looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. and by god you might just let him.

pressing a playful smack against your backside, he gently nudges you in the direction of the corridor.

“lead the way sugar.”

thanks for reading! <3