#walks on water IPA

[gurugirl]

The Amateur | Special Preview

sugardaddy!ceo!harry x burlesque!dancer!yn

New Patreon exclusive short series preview! All parts out now on Patreon!

Series Summary: Y/n is a down-on-her-luck burlesque dancer sleeping in her car. Harry is a wealthy CEO looking for someone to spoil.

Preview Word Count: 1.7k

Her costume was lost or had never been ordered. She wasn’t sure. So, instead of having her first dance routine that night, she was booked to serve cocktails for a private party. Not how she envisioned her dance career progressing, but a job was a job. She needed the money. She needed to eat.

She was given a basic outfit to serve cocktails in. There were four cocktail waitresses. The little outfit was a bit showy for such a job, but she wouldn’t stick her nose up at it.

She curled her hair and pinned the front back and applied makeup. She adjusted her little outfit and tugged at the hem of the skirt. It barely covered her bottom. The tall heels were a touch too small for her feet but she took deep breaths and kept calm. The private party was in a large room (not the main room) with a small bar, some tables, and a stage.

She stood toward the entrance and watched the room get set up.

When the guests who’d booked the private party arrived, Y/n took her spot as directed and saw a group of ten men with nice suits and big attitudes walk in.

She immediately walked up to the table assigned to her and smiled brightly, “Welcome! Can I get you started off with a drink gentlemen?”

There were three tables for the guests and four cocktail waitresses spread amongst them.

Two beers, a whiskey neat.

Back and forth.

A round of shots for the group.

Water. Don’t forget the lemon.

No ice for the one with the grey suit and pink tie.

Her feet were killing her. She leaned against the bar and slid her shoes off for a moment of relief. The fucking things were an inch too high and a half inch too small, and she was struggling. She took a breather and watched over the table she was working. They had just gotten fresh refills and more water so they would be good for a bit.

The dancers on stage were having fun. Y/n could tell they were fill-ins. Not main stage worthy. Like Y/n, amateurs most likely.

Bethany put her hand on the bar next to Y/n, “Can you take my table their drinks? I need to go to the bathroom,” she told Y/n the order and ran off.

The bartender quickly got the order ready and Y/n reluctantly slid the borrowed heels back onto her feet. Somehow, the short rest for her feet only made putting the tight shoes back on worse. Her gait was affected. Her heels were blistered, and her toes were smushed in. She tried to maintain a natural stride on her way to the table but the only way she could stand to walk was to go very slowly.

“IPA?” She lifted the pint up and a man raised his hand as she placed the glass in front of him.

She handed off the drinks one by one and the last was a bourbon on the rocks. The only man who’d not yet been served was looking at her with anticipation of receiving his drink. She moved toward him and her attempt to not step fully down onto her heel had caused her to lose her balance and she dumped the whiskey onto the man’s nice suit.

She gasped and so did the man. Kicking her heels off she ran to the bar to grab towels and then back to the table.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry, sir! This is my fault. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning…” She got to her knees and placed the towel over the top of his thigh and looked up at his face with worry and noted his surprised smile.

She used her other hand to wipe the table as she blotted the towel over his thigh. She had not expected a smile from him.

“Don’t worry. Happens to us all. I don’t need you to pay for the dry cleaning either,” he said as he took the towel from her.

His voice was calm and deep. He sounded British. She stood up and stared down at the man and realized how kind he looked. His smile was genuine and the dimples poking into his cheeks were boyish and cute. He had crystal green eyes and broad shoulders. He was handsome. She was thankful that he was kind.

“I’m really so sorry, sir. I feel so bad. I’ll get another one for you and make sure to put all your drinks on the house,” she knelt down to pick up her heels and as she turned to go back to the bar the man gently grabbed her wrist, “Another bourbon is fine. You don’t need to comp any of my drinks, though. Please. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.”

She looked down to where he had her wrist. He had rings along his long fingers. His hand was big. She looked back up to his face with a smile, “Are you sure?”

The man with curly brown hair smiled and nodded, “I’m sure.”

The rest of the night was far less exciting. When Bethany returned Y/n went back to her original spot. But she couldn’t stop herself from looking at the other table to the man who’d been so kind to her, even after she ruined his suit. He was attractive and it was clear to Y/n that Bethany also thought so. She gave extra attention to him. Anyone would.

When the guests had left and Y/n could put on her sneakers, the room got cleared and everyone went their separate ways. The club didn’t serve food, which Y/n had kind of hoped it would. She was hungry. She’d barely eaten anything all day long. Her day started off early trying to perfect the routine but then after hours of practice, she learned she wouldn’t be on stage because her costume was nowhere to be found.

Running back and forth in tight heels to serve liquor was just as tiresome as dancing on a stage. And being hungry on top of it all was brutal. Her stomach was growling as she walked out of the club and to her car parked at the side of the building where all the employees parked.

“There you are!” The voice of a familiar-sounding man startled her.

Y/n jumped and lifted her head to find the British guy with the bourbon-stained suit approaching her. Her eyes widened. As nice as he seemed in the club, she was hesitant to give him her full trust at 1 am in a dark parking lot with no one else around.

The man stopped in his tracks, “I’m sorry. I know you probably didn’t expect to see me, but I noticed you walking out and thought I’d just come and, I don’t know… maybe say hi,” he suddenly seemed more timid. Perhaps he realized how scary it could be as a woman to be approached by a man in this way.

Y/n gripped her keys tight and looked around. His soft smile put her at ease a little, “Yeah. I figured you guys all left already. I was just leaving for the night. Everything okay?”

Even in her alert state, she still wanted to make sure the man was all right. She was probably too nice for her own good.

His husky laugh sounded like relief in Y/n’s ears and it made her smile, “Everything’s fine. I was hanging back. I have a friend who works here. Just happened to see you leaving is all.”

Dimples.

Bright eyes.

Dark curls.

Tattoos, that she hadn’t noticed until now with his sleeves bunched up to his elbows.

He was attractive and his demeanor slowly put her at ease. She loosened the grip on the keys in her hand and finally smiled at him genuinely.

“Oh. Who do you know?”

“The owner. Richard. Short guy,”

“Bald,” Y/n spoke with a smile and Harry grinned back at her and nodded.

“Yeah. I’ve known him for years. Always lets me get in for a quick last-minute private party if I need. A lot of my colleagues enjoy the atmosphere.”

Y/n nodded and kept her eyes on the man. They both fell silent.

“Uh,” he lifted his hand up in a waving gesture and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m Harry.”

Y/n’s smile widened, “Y/n. It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

Harry nodded and stayed in his spot on the other side of her little car. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by getting too close.

“So, guess you’re headed home, huh?” Harry looked at her little silver car and back to her.

Y/n nodded, “Yep,” she didn’t know what home meant but she would consider her car her home at the moment.

Harry looked down at his feet and back toward the car, “I uh, are you new here? I mean, I only ask because I’ve never seen you around.”

Y/n nodded, “First day. Was supposed to be in the main room on stage but my costume was never ordered or it was lost, or I don’t know… So they had me serving cocktails. I just need the money so I’ll do almost anything at this point,” she laughed and her shoulders relaxed a little more.

Harry’s brows furrowed and he frowned, “Understandable.”

The silence grew loud again and Y/n shifted on her feet. Suddenly the sound of her stomach gurgling in hunger filled in the space in between them and she laughed it off, “Wow. I should uh, go get something to eat.”

Harry kept the small frown on his face, “Well, there are plenty of places open. Vegas baby. Right?” He chuckled lightly, “I guess I should leave you alone, huh? So you can find a spot to grab a meal,” Harry spoke as he backed away from her car, and slowly headed toward the main parking area.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Harry. Thank you for being so kind to me on my first day,” she slid the key into her door to unlock it and kept her eyes on the man.

He nodded and put his hands into his pockets, “It was nice meeting you, Y/n. And I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again. I’m around often.”

A/N: This 3 part series will only be posted on Patreon. If you'd like more of this, I'd be so thankful to you for subscribing! xoxo

[spinchip]

What drinks i think the Ninja would get when they go out to the bar:

Nya- Vodka Cranberry. timeless, easy, always tastes good. Never nasty beer.

Kai- Rum and Coke. Same as Nya, and there's no surprises with it. Not much variation between bartenders. he also isn't shy about ordering a bottle of blue moon when the mood strikes

Jay- Stella Artois. He thinks the name sounds fancy. he has an interesting taste for beers because he used to sneak his dads awful coors lights so he doesnt mind beers that have a more offensive taste

Zane- Water. Alcohol doesn't do anything for a robot. Someone once bought him a Sidecar in an attempt to flirt and he liked it well enough, though

Cole- The evilist most bitter locally brewed dark IPA you can imagine. He's tried so many beers to the point he likes the more outlandish drinks. He dogs on Jay for ordering Stella every time they go out together

Lloyd- Fuzzy navel, amaretto sour, pina colatta... he walks up to the bar and asks for the sweetest cocktail the bartender can think of, basically.

Pixal- Water, same as Zane. She only comes to play pool

[outerbankies]

so I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep, and I'll watch you forget me like I used to feel you breathe..." for the prompts

new light: last kiss

new light masterlist a/n: thank you for sending this in!! the 2k prompt celly slooowly trucks along. this takes place in part 9 of the og series!

When Rafe told Topper that Ward had called him home, he should’ve expected this exact scenario.

And yet, it’s still somehow a surprise when Topper and Kelce pull up to Tannyhill on Friday evening, mere hours since Rafe even pulled in himself. It was an exhausting drive home, and an even more exhausting talking-to from his father afterward. Add onto that that he hadn’t been sleeping much at all in the past week, and Rafe felt like half-dead climbing into Topper’s Jeep.

“Lodge?” Topper had asked. 

Rafe had shrugged, looking away with intention before he could see the look his friends exchanged between themselves. But the view out the window was no better when Topper drove right by your house. 

You were everywhere here.

Rafe knew coming home would be taxing. But it was like he could feel you in the stubborn humidity still hanging around in October almost as clearly as he had felt you in California only a week ago. In June, you’d insisted on leaving a window open to sleep because you missed the sound of cicadas in the summer, and Rafe would wake up sweating buckets to find you sleeping peacefully to his side, bodies pressed so closely together he could feel your chest moving when you breathed.

And it was he could hear your laughter in the sound of the ocean waves crashing on his drive right by the water, all the way out to Figure 8. The salt in the air, the chaotic noises of the marina. 

After a few drinks, Rafe figures he’ll probably be able to see your outline walking through town.

Topper’s whistle is shrill in his ear, and Rafe really needs to do a better job pretending he’s alright if he’s going to make it through this weekend without spilling anything. 

“Dude. What’s with you?” Rafe is asked. Even Kelce, never not known to fill an awkward silence, is looking at him silently from across the table. 

“Nothing,” Rafe decides sipping down the rest of his IPA until its foam. Wordless eye contact with Charlie at the bar, and another one’s coming.

“Old man give it to you pretty good today?” Kelce asks.

“Kinda,” Rafe answers. He can’t really remember at this point. It was a lot of the same; a lot about you. His distraction, his hindrance. His everything.

“Alright then. So… shots?” Topper asks hesitantly. Rafe shrugs, his go-to for the night he supposes, and Kelce nods emphatically; Topper’s taking that as good enough, venturing to the bar. Rafe watches him try and fail to cut through a pack of tourists with no luck. Tourists, at Rafe’s dingy bar on The Cut, this late in the season.

“Rafe.” Kelce says, and it sounds like it might have been the third or fourth try.

“Sorry, dude,” Rafe replies. “You know, I think I’m going home after this round. I’m exhausted—been driving all fuckin’ day.”

“No, no worries,” Kelce says. “I was just asking if you saw McCall’s story the other night.”

Rafe sees Kelce’s phone in his hand and averts his eyes as quickly as he can, squandering the urge to start choking on his spit by loudly clearing his throat. He trains his focus on his empty pint instead, dragging the glass and its condensation back and forth across the table, wondering when his new one—or better yet, that round of shots—will materialize. “No. I haven’t. You follow McCall?”

“Yeah, she’s hot. And shit was so funny, dude. Y/n/n was hammered last night,” Kelce laughs.

Rafe should’ve know that’s where this was heading—why else would Kelce bring that up. But he’s 15 again. Then 19, 20 and 21, too. All those ages in between. He’s every age he ever was before he finally got you to fall in love with him, dreading the moment Kelce inevitably brought up your name. 

Things were a little different this time. Rafe’s not an embarrassed and lovesick teenager willing his blush to creep back down his neck. He supposes he’s more of a man now, jaded and stuck walking around his hometown like an open wound, while you’re out with your friends. But he guesses he is, too. 

He should be happy, shouldn’t he? That you seem to be having fun? He’d ended it. You’d agreed. Even though he could tell you didn’t want to, you had. In way, you’d let him go, too. You’d made a choice just like he had, and maybe it wasn’t getting you down as much as it was him. He’d broken your heart, and you’d deleted your photos together and went out drinking with your friends. 

God, where are those shots?

“I didn’t even know Y/n still drank like that,” Kelce continues. “Not without you around anyway. I’m talking senior ditch day levels of shitfaced, if you remember that.” 

You blacked out on Kildare’s senior ditch day, Rafe remembers it well. Because he’d been the designated driver for Matteo’s party, which meant he was the one who had to then decide which friend was sober enough to watch the rest of your friends while he got you out of there, safely out of that house and into your own, all without losing it on whatever guy from the lacrosse team had got you that way and whatever friend of Rafe’s hadn’t been watching it closely enough. Rafe had been the one to hand you off to your younger brother, praying to god Dylan wouldn’t tell and make Rafe complicit in your parents’ future disdain. And he’d been the one to receive an embarrassed text from you the next day. And he’d been the one who didn’t care, just glad you were okay. That Rafe could never fathom sharing a first kiss with you, but the last one would make a lot more sense to him.

“Yeah, well. Not really my problem anymore,” he snaps, before he can decide to do otherwise, residual anger from that day toppling over the mess of emotions he already was.

Kelce rolls his eyes. “Please. You were making her your problem before she ever even was. And I’ll drink to that, actually—I wonder where those shots—”

“I broke up with her.”

Kelce cracks a grin, letting out a surprised laugh. A few seconds go by, and the grin falls. “I know you’re not joking about that, Rafe.”

A sad country songs takes over on the speakers, and Rafe hides his face in his hands, unable to bear the look on Kelce’s face when it finally dawns on him. It was hard enough around the only others who knew, and Rafe would honestly prefer his roommates in Georgia were still as oblivious as Kelce had been a few seconds ago, and as Topper still is at the bar right now. He’d tried to keep it that way, for a while at least, but it didn’t take long after Graham picked him up from the airport for his best friend to figure it out. 

Graham must have passed it on to Sawyer and Cody soon after, because he didn’t get a second of normalcy before the kid gloves came out. Those guys didn’t even know you, hadn’t even seen Rafe around you save for grainy FaceTimes over the summer, the ones Rafe had cut off in favor of giving you his undivided attention. He can’t believe he was even nervous at the idea of you meeting them at this point—he’d give anything to stress over something so idiotic now.

But Kelce knew you, better than he knew Rafe or maybe just the same. And Rafe didn’t know what to make of Kelce having no idea of what had happened, indication you’d told him as much as Rafe had. When his friends showed up at Tannyhill today, he’d half expected the death glare he’s getting right now when Rafe picks his head up again.

“Say it again.”

“Kelce,” Rafe groans, pained.

“Say it again,” he presses. “Say it one more time, Rafe, and I’ll know you’re serious.”

“I broke up with her,” he says. “We broke up.”

“You broke up with her?” Kelce repeats. “Or you broke up?”

“Whoa.” 

Topper’s reappeared, a flight of shots in his hands that Rafe is shocked actually make it onto the table and don’t smash all over the sticky ground. 

“Whoa,” Topper repeats dumbly. “What? Who broke up with who?”

“I don’t know, Top,” Kelce says, scooting his stool back, the feet scraping loudly on the same sticky floor. “‘Cause I’m having trouble understanding, too.”

“Can you not be so fucking dramatic?” Rafe sneers, picking the shot glass closest to him and downing it without a thought. He downs the second closest, too, just for good measure. 

“I’m gonna call her right now,” Kelce warns, his phone already in his hand. “You have one more chance to tell me this is the dumbest fucking joke you’ve ever told.”

“Guys,” Topper says hesitantly. He glances between Rafe and the only remaining shot, worried.

Rafe looks to Kelce, and having no doubt he’s serious, gives the only reply that comes to mind. “Will y’make sure she’s alright?”

“God fucking dammit, Cameron,” Kelce sighs, beelining for the front door, somewhere Rafe is glad he won’t have to hear whatever comes out of his mouth next. 

Topper sits down, looking bewildered, picking up that third shot. He offers it to Rafe, who waves him off, before taking it. “I’m sorry. What?”

Rafe hasn’t cried, Rafe doesn’t cry, but if his best friend makes him say it one more time then he might have to put stock into the tightening in his throat or the pressure behind his eyes he’d been feeling since he left California. 

He’d been sleeping in your bed a week ago, waking up hours before you because his body was still ahead, content to let you sleep as long as possible while he took in everything he felt being close to you again, how your face and hair and nails had subtly changed since he last got to see you in August. How you had pictures of him by your bed, stuck on your mirror in your bathroom, hanging in the hallway and even under magnets on the fridge downstairs. How your blinds were in need of fixing, your sheets smelled just like they did back in Kildare, how the stack of books on your bedside table—one of their pages split down the middle by a polaroid he knew was of him and Wilbur—was so close to falling off Rafe barely dared to set his phone and wallet down but did anyway. 

Because they fit, just like he somehow fit in your bed and in your heart and in your life, so grateful in these moments he got to love you without thinking twice about it, wondering how he ever got along without them. And you’d wake up with fake annoyances that he hadn’t woken you up with him, kissing him sleepily before going downstairs to start a pot of coffee. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Top,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Well—tell me what happened, to start,” Topper says. “Or—are you ready for that?”

When Charlie finally, finally, brings over another beer, Rafe figures he might was well try. “I felt like I wasn’t doing anything right. She’s crying all the time, I’m fucking up and pissing her off left and right. Her friends… fuck, I don’t even know if they liked me. I’m sure they don’t now.” 

“But that’s not why…”

“I know you’re trying to understand, but—”

“And I can’t, dude. What? You broke up with Y/n/n?”

“Yes, dude, fuck! Alright? I broke up with her. I fucked it up. I don’t know why everyone’s so fucking surprised—I was bound to screw it up at some point, wasn’t I? I’m a mess, I lied to her, I was never gonna be good enough for all of it or her.”

“You lied?” Topper asks. 

“I lied to my dad,” Rafe corrects, frustrated. “Why  do you think I’m here? This is my life. This. My job, my dad, this shitty bar on this shitty island. And she’s…”

So good, too good. Way too good for Rafe.

Topper must agree to an extent, and Rafe doesn’t know why that makes him feel better, that his friend lets the silence drag for so long. Maybe it gives Rafe time to convince himself he hadn’t fucked up, that he’d made the right move in letting you go. He doesn’t know how he ever convinced himself this wasn’t the only way this could end.

Topper finally nods his head in recognition. “That’s heavy. No chance you’ll work it out?”

He barely thought at all this week, going through the motions like a zombie, ignoring his roommates when they changed their tack and decided Rafe needed to get over it by going out or calling up an old favorite. The nausea that kind of thinking gave Rafe left him with no other choice but to start locking his door and stop answering their texts until they’d worried he died.

Kelce approaches the table again, and Rafe looks for any sign he can that will indicate how it went, but he only addresses Topper.

“I can’t get a signal outside—fuck The Cut—I’m gonna try the bathroom. And you,” Kelce says, pointing at Rafe. “You better find your own way home until I can figure out if I need to punch you in the face or not.”

“Stop, Kelce, what the fuck, man?” Topper says, watching him go. But he stands to follow him before turning back to Rafe. “I’m gonna go cool him off, alright? Don’t go anywhere, you’re shitfaced. We can work this out.”

Rafe watches them walk away, wondering briefly if he’s gonna lose either of them over this. He might deserve it, he decides as he ignores Topper’s only instructions, tossing a few bills at the end of the bar along with all three shot glasses stacked neatly inside the empty pint he’s holding. Charlie nods at him as he does.

Rafe pushes the door open, deciding he could use the walk.

[trivialbob]

Yesterday I had a great time in Wisconsin.

Early in the morning I cooked a traditional eggs and sausage breakfast. When I finished eating I walked around the campground, talking to people. I crossed paths with a lot of nice people this weekend. During my walk a group of campers were cooking eggs and bacon outside. Despite having just eaten a similar big breakfast the smell made me feel hungry again.

Eventually I drove to town to re-fill the propane tank. When I buy propane at home I pay a cashier first then show an attendant my receipt before he fills the tank. At the place in Wisconsin the owner (I think he was) came outside. I asked if I should pay before he filled or while he filled the tank.

"You can pay now if you want. Or you can talk with me while I fill the tank," he replied.

Being who I am, asked all sorts of questions about his experiences filling propane tanks while he filled mine. He seemed to genuinely appreciate my interest. There were no horror stories. He explained how he inspects the tank's date of manufacture and makes sure it's safe to re-fill. Back home I've never noticed the attendant pay much attention to the tank, nor is he into small talk either.

After that I went down the road to the place our friends own for a bloody Mary and a small pizza. I like the garnish in a separate glass and the chaser. I looked over several side-by-sides in the parking lot, including one flying two large American flags (the pictures at the top).

After lunch I returned to the campground -- and took a two hour nap. Why not. It felt like vacation. When I got up I met more people at the campground. It's been only two weekends but I'm very happy Sheila chose this place for a year.

Then I went on a bicycle ride. Because I was on some 45-55 MPH roads I wore a hi-viz jacket and had all my blinky lights going.

Almost everyone who drove towards me waived. Drivers who passed me gave wide berth. Two farmers on tractors subtly waved and nodded their heads my way. That made me smile. Approaching an Amish buggy, I figured the woman and boy in it might not appreciate my bright, flashy garb and blinking lights. But they smiled brightly and waved. That really made me grin.

In the evening I went to a different small town, the one I had been to the previous night. I was keen on having a beer at the bar that shares my first name.

First picture below is a sign on the way into town that I found amusing. Second picture is inside Mr. Bob's bar.

I should have taken a selfie, to show EXACTLY how many customers were in there at 6 PM. Later someone told me Mr. Bob's doesn't get busy until late at night. The bartender was a decent woman, but I felt she looked at me like "Why the heck are you here so early? Now I have to stop what I'm doing to serve you." It's not like I woke up the owner to serve me beer at 7 AM. I should have asked why they don't simply unlock the doors at 10 PM.

Since there was no one to chat with at Mr. Bob's I went around the corner to a taproom I had on my list of places to try. I was not disappointed.

There are 20 beers on tap. Not one of them has Light in the name. I chose a flight of four.

Next summer, sometime when Sheila drives, I plan to order the Dirty Knapp. It's served in that large, Swiss-cheese-looking circle below. For $48 you get a four-ounce beer from each of the 20 taps. That's five pints. I'm not a college student any more, but I think I can pull it off if I skip lunch and dinner :)

At the bar I sat with two other guys my age and a younger woman. The bartender was funny. The five of us laughed pretty hard while telling stories.

Because I had to drive back in the dark, along deer-infested county roads, I didn't drink any more beer after that flight. I was having so much fun talking to the others I didn't want to leave. So I tried some non-alcoholic drinks. I've seen hop water before, just never tried it. I liked it. It reminded me of some odd flavor of La Croix. I also had a non-alcoholic IPA. It tasted like real beer without making me buzzed.

To complete my night, some neighbors invited me to join them and their friends around a camp fire. More laughter and stories.

Fun times. I'm looking forward to going back a few more times before we have to winterize the trailer.

[bonefall]

Clanmew Masterpost

Clanmew is a constructed language made for Warrior Cats that I, @bonefall, run with my buddy @troutfur! I make the vocab and he does the grammar. I hope that this post will become a good, central place to keep links to everything we've done so far.

CURRENT VERSION: 1.0 LAST UPDATE: 6/3/2023

Clanmew is an OSV-order language, made with the sounds cats make in mind. "Base Clanmew" is built around the Clan Culture updates of the Better Bones AU, which means it is made with the ecology of southwestern Northern England in mind and only contains words for plants and animals found there. It also has phrases for cooking and crafting.

(specific regions modeled: Lancashire, Chester, Manchester, Merseyside, Clwydd is modeled for river biomes specifically)

You are free to use it for your own projects! We encourage you to consider how this language would evolve in your Clan's history, and add or remove words to make a dialect that reflects the culture's feelings and needs.

THE BASICS:

Everything you need to know for basic structure is in CLANMEW 101. Start here.

We have a constantly updating LEXICON of all the words we have made so far.

Have you made a dialect? Let me know and I can link you here so others can see what you're doing with it!

Below the cut:

In-universe information; How Clanmew evolved linguistically

"Expansion Pack" posts where I discuss etymology

Pronunciation stuff (until I make that IPA chart I keep promising)

Working translations; Names, parables, OC submissions

Dialect submissions (These are manned by other people!)

Historical Trivia

The linguistic evolution of Clanmew from Old Tribemew and Parkmew

Animals are named for the sounds they make.

How pronouns for objects change based on how the speaker feels about it.

More, using human examples

there is a secret post about cursing but you have to find that on your own ;)

Through Time Travel Shenanigans, Hollyleaf's name evolves into the word "Scourge"

The Clanmew Play-by-Play of that

The word for Everything

How hard is it for speakers of the other in-universe languages to pick up Clanmew?

On nicknames!

Squirrelpaw and Crowfoot discover corn

The names of the three ideologies... also thistles.

The Invalid Five

Expansion Packs

Colors

Directions, way-finding

Spirituality terms

Rocks

Beetles

Follow up: some plant parts

Patch (pattern) vs Patch (plants)

Den, camp, territory, construction

The two violets

Shapes of flowers

Volume

Generic terms

Rollypollies and centipedes

Insults

Rain... because this is England

The Clan Clock; time terms

The four seasons

Clerics and Common Herbs

Roses

Water movement

BIRDS AND BATS

Finches

Texture

Dogs

Mint

Parts of fur

Forest terms

Foxes, parts of a forest

Cuckoo bird

DEER

Shade and understorey

Cedar

Waterside words

Pronunciation Stuff

Closest thing to an IPA chart I currently have

My process for coming up with words based on vibes

I was asked for more behind-the-scenes stuff so here you go?

How I hold my mouth when I speak

Trout Tips

How would Clan cats pronounce the Slavic TS, or the word pizza?

On the Double yy

Working translations

BB!Scourge's new warrior name, Iceheart, in Clanmew... and Nightheart!

Light, moon, wind, BB!Raggedstar's pre-honor title name

OC SUBMISSION: Flameshell, Fogwhisper, Willowsong

OC SUBMISSION: Lichennose, Mudthistle, Longpounce

OC SUBMISSION: Fallensky

PACK PACK KILL KILL

"I love you"

Baby talk

"What have I done?"

"Fool Tale"

How to Clanmew-ify a strange word

Dishonor Title for "Mudpuddle"

OC SUBMISSION: Riverrunner, multiple-word names, walking words

OC SUBMISSION: Firefang, Rabbitdash, Peachfeather, plus a bunch of words for weasel-like animals

Ivypool

The use of tense in names

PROPHECY SUBMISSION: "Dust and flame will combine to destroy home"

Skywatcher

OC SUBMISSION: The Caldwell Family

Foxheart

Runningnose

PROPHECY SUBMISSION: Six will come of every rank

OC SUBMISSION: Witherstrike

"I like this" and also parasitic worms

Prism, rainbow-color

OC SUBMISSION: Piebald Creature

Gayheart

Sneeze and Knockout

OC SUBMISSION: Penny-fitzgerald

OC SUBMISSION: Voidwhisper, Chalkwhistle

OC SUBMISSION: Poppyflare, Spikemane, Blizzardfang

OC SUBMISSION: Burning Hawk-fur

Mistyfoot

BRAMBLESTAR BUTCHERS THE BLOSSOMKIT NAMES

Dialect Submissions

Pfurr Clanmew (@troutfur)

[lo-wrote]

Warm Beer and Old Sushi Part of The Wrong Side of Twenty-Five, a semi-autobiographical series on dating in my late 20's. Contains sexual content. WC: 1.6k

I hate beer.

I don’t know why I keep agreeing to first date at bars when I have such strong feelings about beer. Probably because this is a city that loves its beer, like loves its fucking beer, like can’t throw a pebble without hitting a guy with a shaved head wearing cargo shorts and flip-flops who’s just amped to play cornhole kind of loves its fucking beer. I’ve heard lectures and diatribes and TED Talks worth of information about beer, and the importance of using the right hops, and the unique flavor profile of this particular IPA, and the myriad of reasons why this brewery or that are actually sellouts and got too big to truly feel indie anymore.

It’s the curse of working non-standard hours, the only things open by the time I get off work are Denny’s and bars and breweries and supermarkets.

Maybe I should start asking to meet at the grocery store. We walk around, we pick out a few things. I learn about your aversion to coconut, you tease me about my love for condensed canned soup (yes, the noodles are gummy and yes it has my whole day’s worth of sodium but it tastes like nostalgia, like laying on the couch with the flu and drinking warm ginger ale—wait, you didn’t do that? well let me tell you...). We spend an eternity, or maybe just half an hour, getting to know each other in the liminal space of the deli section, the fluorescent lights humming us a love song. We coyly hold hands in front of the hothouse tomatoes, scandalize the cantaloupes with a chaste kiss.

But here I am instead, perched on a bar stool in a way that will absolutely wreck my already weak lower back, sipping at a beer that tastes only moderately like warm piss-water. The guy in front of me, the one whose profile regrettably said Just a Jim looking for my Pam!, is talking about the beer he ordered. Telling me about the local brewery that makes it, how it’s their special edition just for the fall, how it doesn’t quite compare to this other IPA he had but it’s good enough, y’know?

He never asks me if I like beer.

We exchange a few pleasantries once he exhausts himself talking about pale ales, catch up on our days, subtly look each other over again and again to see how we measure up to our profiles (it’s 1:1 match, ladies and gentleman!). He seems to have worn himself out already on conversation, like a puppy let loose to run around the backyard before it collapses in a sleepy heap, and the deadly first-date lull sets in. The killer of vibes has already come for us, and we’ve been here no more than fifteen minutes.

I, for one, am a dismal conversationalist when getting to know someone. I listen better than I talk, the only subject matter I can conjure in situations like these being work anecdotes that require more set-up than I’m willing to commit to, or useless facts that I’ve learned from years of playing Trivial Pursuit and reading too much Wikipedia.

My mind is like a steel trap for things that will only come in handy if I’m ever in a life-or-death game of Jeopardy. Did you know that the artificial banana flavoring used in most modern products doesn’t taste like banana because it was created off the flavor profile of a banana that went extinct? My dates don’t know. But they don’t care. They never care about the banana-pocolypse.

As the lull becomes more painful to bear and I contemplate sliding off my barstool and curling up on the floor, he fiddles with the cardboard coaster and says, “You know, sometimes when I come to bars, I look around and try to identify if anyone was born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.”

“What an absolutely unhinged thing to say to another human being that you just met,” I want to say.

“Really? How would one do that?” I actually say because fuck, it’s not like I have anything more interesting to add. Maybe if I let him ramble about this for a bit, I’ll think of something witty and charming to say and redirect the conversation. (Hint: I don’t.)

We leave after a little while, roam the city blocks looking for anything else open, preferably anything that doesn’t require us to talk. He kisses me suddenly as we stand in front of the monkey bars in a well-lit playground, and I return the kiss. He smells like warm beer. I hate it even more on his lips than I do from a pint glass.

We end up attempting sex in the back of his car, hidden away on some dark residential street, parked in front of a perfectly nice bungalow, the flicker of a malfunctioning streetlight occasionally illuminating our sins. I’m wearing too many layers to make this easy; I was expecting to be only looked at from a reasonable distance, not that I’d end up trying to straddle his lap in the back of his Honda Civic. I struggle with my boots, then my bike shorts, then my tights, yanking up my tank top that’s tucked into my smoothing underwear. The mood feels deflated by the time I swing my leg over his lap, my thighs already shaking as they press against his slim hips and he fondles a handful of push-up bra.

We try, and we get sweaty and frustrated, and we mostly fail at trying to achieve penetration. I feel to blame, with my labyrinth of compression garments pooled on the floor, the hasty removal of each item sapping the sexiness from the moment bit by bit. I feel to blame because of my wide thighs and my big stomach that seemed to get in the way. I feel to blame because I feel like I engulf his skinny body.

He chalks it up to that damned autumnal IPA and a small space and perhaps too much eagerness, but the look on his face doesn’t match the kindness of the words that fill the car. I pull down my dress and shove all my bits and bobs of undergarments into my purse and stumble out of his car onto the sidewalk. He says goodnight and he’ll text me tomorrow, and I walk back to my car alone, in an unfamiliar part of the city. Even if he’d offered to walk or drive me back, I would have said no; I need to exist in this shame for a little while.

I walk in the dark for blocks in the wrong direction before I realize it.

He does text me the next day, shockingly. It’s a long, rambling message, telling me he had a lovely time but he just doesn’t think he’s in the right place for a relationship. You see, his friends just got into a minor fender bender in a car that he had rented for them, and the stress of dealing with the insurance and the repair shop and god knows what else is just so overwhelming, you know? There’s just no way he could even think about a relationship, and couldn’t possibly devote attention to me in the way I deserved. I’m certain there was more, but I stopped reading after the third multi-paragraph message.

Maybe this story was true, in part or in totality. Maybe he just couldn’t think of a better way to turn me down and decided to turn it into a creative writing project. Maybe he uses this line on everyone he turns down, like some sort of weird chain letter that gets passed on.

I’d have rather he just ghosted me.

At least I know how to deal with ghosting now. After enough times of radio silence after what I thought was a successful first, third, or fifth date, I learned it was sometimes for the best to just never hear from someone again. Sure, I would wonder what it was that made them crinkle their nose and think, “Nah” the next day. Did the size of my body, accurately represented in multiple pictures in my app profiles, still manage to offend them? Did I not laugh just the right way at a joke that, in retrospect, was kind of insensitive? Did my obvious ambivalence for lukewarm beer shake them deep down to their core, make them question their whole being?

I stand in the middle of my bedroom, shower-fresh and already wanting the day to be over, and tell him it’s fine, and I had a nice time, and I wish him all the best with the chaos he purports to be embroiled in, and then I promptly block his number and get ready for work, because what the fuck else am I supposed to do.

I stop at the grocery store on my way to work, wandering the aisles and wondering if he’d have still written the most convoluted farewell message if we’d just had that first date right here, found ourselves enchanted with each other in front of the pre-made rotisserie chickens. I stare at the day-old discount sushi rolls and want to cry for some reason, but no tears ever come, not when the butcher lurks just behind the counter, watching, judging, hovering in case I need a pound of raw shrimp.

Maybe one day I’ll find a man who will walk hand-in-clammy-hand with me down the dairy aisle and we’ll marvel at the variety of flavors of yogurt they have nowadays. Today, I buy a California roll that smells like spoiled tuna to eat in my car alone and hope I don’t get food poisoning.

[cymorilcinnamonroll]

"fucked" (A Samael x Michael fic of dubious concern)

Christ was sitting in a diner, his death day, Friday, imminent - born anew each Sunday, made in the womb of hell on Saturday, mast risen to ride out in Father's glory each Monday.

Sunday was for wine. It was a hipster bar in Richmond, and he poured whiskey and vermouth into a small glass, added honey, and slugged it down, pierced and tattooed with the Shem Ha Mephorash. He played a crusty bass and had sidecuts.

He read the paper, some anarchist zine.

Samael crept up like an old cat. It was a familiar chill. "Michael."

Christ smiled slyly, pulling out his side chair without a look up. "Bartender, vodka on the rocks."

Samael, a black cloud - just some piss ass punk - snaked forwards without the two looking at each other.

Lucifer spiked his drink with Yeshua's soul, the leaves spicing the vodka like fireball whiskey.

They cheered each other up in silence, ice sloshing, and their eyes met - or maybe they didn't, from the Pinnacle to the Pit.

Samael read the Wall Street Journal. Poverty economics.

Yeshua opened Til We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis - mostly just to daydream about the ugly stepsister. He always favored the lost.

The bartender gave them fries on the house.

"How was the week, Mike," Samael finally sighed. "You're lingering." "I started a land war in Asia," Michael sighed, closing his zine. "Never start a land war in Asia."

"Don't quote Princess Bride. It's my schtick." "As you wish."

The ginger and black haired twins eyed each other up, green eyes on blue, and they broke into laughter.

"Let's go get beers at the Grey Ghost. We can tell Mosby to fuck himself." They slid off the seats, payed in silver tallers, and walked out to Scott's Edition.

Nursing IPAs - Samael a tart, skunky West Coast, Michael a clear New England, they talked. Politics. Heavenly War. Their usual Friday catch up.

As the evening dawned, Jesus began to ache. His bones felt like soil.

And so they walked to Hollywood Cemetery, into the casket church. It was empty, but angels do not need invitations.

Christ and Lucifer laid each other down in a coffin, kissing. First, Lucifer took Jesus's weak body and kissed a line straight down his treasure trail and pink brown nipples to his turgid sex.

Lucifer sucked on Yeshua's olive cock, moaning as he ran incisors of pain and jam down his perineum. He always smelled of baptismal water. It was too holy. So Lucifer bit his vagus nerve, sending dying Christ into ululations of wild Tarzan. Christ came in spurts, white seed and wine erupting from his dick. Lucifer watched idly, lazing about as his brother's eyes began to fade.

"Nice drinking." Michael said, collecting himself. He smiled faintly, then died.

"Nice drinking," Samael sighed, closing the casket, then hauling it onto his back as if it were a brocade.

He made the long journey to Hell, then buried Michael under the rotten apple tree Samael had given up on long ago.

He pulled out the Wall Street Journal and a Marlboro, sipping wine from a flask. It was white wine.

He hated it.

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

Part 4

"Come in. Make yourself at home. Want a beer?"

Evan walks in behind me "Should I take my shoes off?"

"Only if you want to" I call from the kitchen.

Evan walks into the kitchen. I have the fridge open "I have bud light or I have some crafty shit. Or I have wine, water, soda" I step away from the opening of the fridge as if to say have a look for yourself.

He takes the door and bends over looking at what I have. I put my keys and purse on the table. I ask him to grab me a diet Pepsi while he's in there please.

He hands me a diet and he's holding an IPA in the other hand.

"I hate beer. I usually end up accumulating whatever my friends leave behind. So have anything you want. I'm a "go in my fridge* kind of person so help yourself."

"Aww thank you" Evan smiles at me.

Evan pulls a chair out at my dining table and sits. I follow suit. I take my shoes off and drop them on the floor and then sit crosslegged in my seat.

I catch him staring at me. "You seem pretty laid back. Kinda my vibe too" he says.

"I'd like to think I am. I get kinda flustered with myself sometimes. I'm like hard on myself. But like I said I don't offend easily. I love dark or crude humor. Did you ever watch that show Bones?..."

"Oh yea..."

" I can watch that shit while I'm eating. I'm not queasy about much. I listen to metal..."

"When it's a mood or just in general?"

"No, just in general" I laugh. Evan chuckles

"I wouldn't guess that about you" Evan looks amused.

"I get that a lot. My bubbly personality is as real as it can get. I definitely have never been fake. I can't stand that about people. So, maybe that's why people are surprised I have an edgier side than what they see."

Evan's eyes get soft and a little darker. "I could get used to that about you, for sure." He says. His voice is low and soft.

"Well, what about you. What would surprise me?"

"Well, I've played the guitar and piano since I was a kid. I like to sing. Love karaoke"

"Oh I love karaoke too. We should go sometime. Love that you play guitar. That's kinda hot" I say it in a joking way, but I'm completely serious. "You obviously are very talented in many ways"

He gives me a shy laugh. He shivers.

"I have a heated blanket on my couch. Want to find something on TV?" I ask.

We walk into the living room

"You have your house set up beautifully" Evan compliments me.

"Oh thanks. I have done a lot of decorating"

He sits on the couch and I grab the blanket and plug it in. Then I spread it out and get on the couch and cover us with it. "I will set the heat on light. If you don't warm up let me know"

I end up sitting close to him. He doesn't mind. In fact he puts his arm around me and I lay my head on his shoulder.

"Can I ask you something?" I say to him

"What?"

"Would it be weird to turn Dahmer on? You have me intrigued. If it's uncomfortable for you just say no. I will understand."

He thinks for a long minute. I'm about to tell him it's ok when he speaks. "Sure. If I can tell you if it's too much."

"Oh, of course. Just tell me."

I turn it on. As we watch I am glued to the TV. I'm on the edge of my seat through the first episode. When they show the head in the fridge I gasp and say that's so fucked up and grab his knee. He laughs. When the episode ends I turn it off. I turn to him.

"Holy shit, Evan. No wonder you won a freaking Golden Globe. You're amazing. That's only the first episode." I sit back staring into space.

I know he's staring at me because I can feel his breath on my hair.

"Thanks" he suddenly speaks.

When I turn to him he kisses me softly. I pull back and smile.

"Let's see what's on. Tell me if you see anything you want to watch" I say.

We settle on a game show. Some fluff that we are only half watching. We resume our position on the couch. My head on his shoulder. The sexual tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. I wonder if he feels it too.

I can hear his heart beating fast. He puts his hand on mine. I lift my face to his neck and I can smell his cologne. It's intoxicating.

"You smell good" I whisper in his ear. I run my nose up his neck and I nibble on his ear. He lets out a soft whimper. "Is this ok?" I whisper. He nods his head yes. I kiss behind his ear and then his jawline and then down his neck. He lets out a small grunt and his leg shifts. With the blanket still on us I touch his leg and as I'm kissing on his neck, my hand keeps climbing higher up his thigh. I feel his heart pace quicken. It's beating hard and I can see it through his shirt.

My hand finds his erection through his jeans and I palm it with my hand and gently squeeze. This produces a sharp sigh. Before I go further I whisper "you can tell me to stop" and he replies "please don't"

I lay my head back on his shoulder and my hand finds his button and zipper as I undo his jeans. I tuck my hand in the band of his boxers and I find his erection with my bare hand. Skin to skin. He groans. Then he shimmies down a bit to give me better access. I rub a few times and he moves to pull his jeans down. He leaves his boxers on.

I start kissing on his jaw again. Making my way towards his neck. My hand is rubbing his penis through the fabric of his boxers. He sighs. He's looking straight ahead, but I can see his eyes close. His head tilts back as I reach inside his boxers again. This time I start gently rubbing on the tip of his penis. Precum coating my fingers. I wrap my hand around his shaft and start tugging. His body stiffens slightly and he groans. "Feel good?" I ask and he nods again.

"Relax, evan. You can have anything you want" I say

"Faster" is all he replies. So my hand goes faster. "Ooohh that's the stuff" he says breathless.

I change it up a bit and this time I take my fingertips and place them on the spot below the head and my thumb in the back and I start rubbing that spot in circles. Slow then quickly. Slow again then quickly. I repeat this pattern until his legs start getting shifty.

"Tell me what you need, Evan" I whisper in his ear.

"Just like that. Please." He whispers back.

He turns his head towards me and I sit up to meet our foreheads. I keep the pattern fast then quick. Fast then quick. He's pressing his head against mine. His breathing increases. His curls are soft. I want to cuddle him.

"Please. It's almost there" when he speaks his voice is gritty and lustful. "Fast. Just fast. Please, baby"

I start to rub the spot as fast as I can. He throws the blanket off of us. His hard purple cock in my hand. The tip is wide. He's about to blow. His groans start building. Soft to loud and then he explodes. He presses his forehead to mine again as he screams my name. I can feel his cum hitting my hand. His breath smells sweet. His forehead sweaty. His scent is still intoxicating to me. When he finishes he has a hard time catching his breath. I move my head to pepper his forehead with soft kisses. I tell him to hold on and I run to the hallway bathroom and grab a hand towel. I came back and help him clean up. He takes my hand and wipes it with the towel.

"I'm sorry for the mess" he says. His eyes are sleepy

"Hey, baby. Don't be sorry. I made it too." And kiss his cheek.

He lays his head back on my couch "I can't move" he says.

"You don't have to go anywhere until you're ready. Just relax sweetheart." I help him with his pants and when he seems comfortable again, I cover us back up.

"Let's do karaoke tomorrow night" he says as his eyes close. We fall asleep in each other's arms.

🥹

[nopoodles]

Prompt: Rain OCs: Basti & Dimae From: Unlicensed Delivery, IPA. Spoilers: No Spoilers.

Title: The Sudden Risk Of Rainstorms

“Welcome to my home planet,” Basti muttered, glaring out of the door of the recently landed space ship and into the crushingly endless rain. Basti didn’t actually mind the rain—he’d grown up here with this kind of rain after all. Honestly, he usually liked it. The way it felt, warm against his skin but a blissful cool compared to the usual humidity of the tropical planet. The way it sounded against the leaves of the jungles and farms was soothing to his ears the same way that wet-plant smell was something he longed for in the depths of space. Ships never smelled of anything.

Dimae, though, was a cat. Worse still, a harrushetti. Harrushetti weren’t designed to get wet. Their ice planet didn’t melt. Their dense fur kept the snow from melting into their skin, even as seemingly thin as it was. Rain, though… Basti wasn’t sure what would happen if he put Dimae in the rain.

“Are we disembarking?” Dimae asked.

“Ja. Let’s go.” Basti started forward but stopped just as the rain started to splashback from the docking station and onto his trousers, changing their colour. “Will you be okay in the rain?”

“Ja.”

“It’s a bit of a walk to the farm and it doesn’t look like the rain will let up any time soon. If I’d thought I would have asked someone to come get us but…”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want to put you in harm’s way. I know it doesn’t rain on Harrush. And you don’t do well with water and—”

Dimae tugged Basti close and pressed his chin to the top of Basti’s head. A harrushetti kiss. “You think I didn’t do any research?”

Basti chuckled. He looked up at Dimae through his lashes. “I just want it to go well.”

“It cannot go well if it is not going.”

This has been The Sudden Risk Of Rainstorms by Will Soulsby-McCreath. Feel absolutely free to reblog around Tumblr but don't copy and paste to anywhere else (c) Will Soulsby-McCreath

[starlightswitch]

By the Waves or the Wind

@flashfictionfridayofficial Much happier mood when I wrote something in the sand.

The kids still weren’t allowed to sleep outside, but this time they were allowed to stay out as late as they wanted.

It wasn’t quite ‘allowed’ anymore, when this year almost all of them were over 18 and some of them were over 21. Now it was more ‘advised not to, with the general feeling that it was probably best to accept the advice of the parents who were still supporting you, to various degrees, and paying for your vacation’.

Or in one case ‘allowing you to come on vacation’.

Allie was not the biggest fan of Nico being invited on vacation. The people actually paying for the vacation got the say, of course, but it was weird when for years it had just been the cousins to suddenly have A Couple among them. Everyone was acting weird. Amanda and Nico were trying very hard to make everyone like him. Britt was trying too hard to be the Fun Cousin who was Totally Cool with Nico joining them. Jeff was at about double the snark level he normally was when it was just the cousins, so either he was trying to annoy Nico, he was also trying to impress Nico in his own snarky way, or he was trying to act normal and was overdoing it.

Allie was… Allie hoped she was acting normal. It was only fair when she knew that part of the reason she wasn’t the biggest fan of Nico being invited on vacation was that if her relationship had lasted, she would have also been able to bring a boyfriend along on vacation this time.

It was frustrating to be the first of the cousins to get in a relationship and now have nothing to show for it.

Two years ago they’d been at a campground near the beach, and they’d sat there to watch the sun set and dusk fall. This time they were at a campground on the edge of the desert, and as they walked out into it with their blankets and cooler the sun was already below the horizon, the sky already a dusky blue.

They spread out the blankets and got drinks out of the coolers, hard lemonades and seltzers for everybody. They’d put in some sodas in so their parents wouldn’t know for sure they were all planning on drinking the alcohol, but when Jeff had tried to put in some IPAs his dad had stopped him, so maybe the parents had suspicions.

Emma did some cartwheels in the sand. Jeff quickly finished a seltzer and took another. Amanda and Nico tried to take silhouette selfies with the dusk behind them, and Britt jumped in and offered to take their picture, encouraging them to kiss, which they didn’t, but only because Amanda said the silhouette should be cooler if they faced each other close but not too close so it showed both of their faces.

Allie thought about two years ago, when Emma was trying to teach Amanda to do cartwheels and Jeff was snarking about them and she herself was wishing her boyfriend, the first significant other of the next generation, could be here. Wondering if in two years he would be allowed to come on vacation. Going down by the water where Jeff wouldn’t see to snark at her and tracing a heart with ‘A + R’ in the sand, a little sad that it would be washed away but liking the idea that it would become a part of the ocean.

It was dark enough that no one would see, and a tracing in dry desert sand should be hard to see even in the light. Allie traced it lightly into the sand next to where she sat at the edge of the blanket– A, heart, R.

This one would be scattered by the wind. Which seemed fitting.

She had a second’s thought of writing ‘A + N’ but that was mean. And would she really feel any better if her cousin got her heart broken too?

So she traced that into the sand– heartbroken. And liked the idea of it being scattered by the wind.

[upthewitchypunx]

Guess who put their new Pixel 7 through the washing machine somehow? Oh, that's me! Guess what? It's waterproof!? When I realized and pulled it out and later on the screen told me that it was no longer in water danger and the USB could be used. A++ good job new phone!

We just watched our 7th holiday romcom. The power flicked off once. Portland had sleet. Sleet and freezing rain are not the same as snow. You cannot drive on a sheet of ice. So, consider Portland closed for a few days.

This wind is brutal. The folks that own the house nextdoor don't currently live there and we had to go grab their garbage/recycling bins that decided to take a walk down the street. Their chimney cap and our chimney cap went flying down the street.

Jackie cat hates this weather. We opened the door and the wind blew him over, he was not impressed.

We were supposed to get a rental car tomorrow, but you can't drive on ice. We are supposed to head up to my folks' place in Yacolt on Saturday. I have a whole feast planned for family from out of town. You can't drive on ice. Family understands.

Until we reconcile with the weather I've got a big witching project to ponder and an IPA to drink, probably another holiday romcom to watch.

Enjoy the queue of ancient witchy shitposts!

[nwbeerguide]

Introducing Patio Magic from Stone Brewing Company. A Double IPA that includes Sauvignon Blanc grape skin extract.

image courtesy Stone Brewing Company

ESCONDIDO, CA (March 1, 2023) – Stone Brewing announces a new beer to ring in that springtime patio sippin.’ Stone Patio Magic Double IPA showcases Stone’s commitment to innovation with the use of Sauvignon Blanc grape skin extract and an experimental hop variety from Hop Breeding Company (HBC). It is now available nationwide. 

Stone Patio Magic Double IPA offers an explosion of flavor and aroma with a smooth and creamy palate that makes it easy to keep enjoying, like that sunset golden hour on the back patio. Aromas of candied orange, mango and guava give way to flavors of citrus blossom honey, mango, cherry cordial, white wine and papaya. While the experience is enchanting, it’s how the brewers conjured up these flavors that’s especially magical.

Stone Patio Magic Double IPA is Stone’s first commercial release using the innovative Sauvignon Blanc grape skin extract from New Zealand called Phantasm. When making white wine, grapes are pressed off their skins. Those skins are used to develop Phantasm, as they have compounds that produce many of the desirable fruit characteristics also found in hops. In combination with certain yeasts and hops it intensifies the flavor and aroma experience.  

Stone has long been committed to experimenting with unique hop varieties and supporting hop growers in their breeding programs. Stone Patio Magic Double IPA exemplifies that spirit. The beer is brewed with the experimental hop HBC 843 from Hop Breeding Company, which has orange, berry, floral and wood notes. Stone’s brewers walk the fields with breeders every harvest and give feedback on experimental varieties. They trial beers using experimental hops on Stone’s pilot brewing systems and send beer and sensory data back to the breeders, growers and vendors. While HBC 843 comes from the private company, HBC, Stone participates with similar exploration and support for public breeding companies through the Hop Research Council and Hop Quality Group.    

“Stone Patio Magic Double IPA is such a complex and innovative beer,” explained Jeremy Moynier, Sr. Manager of Brewing & Innovation. “Phantasm and HBC 843 are complemented by the addition of Orange Peel, Centennial, Mosaic and Southern Aroma hops from South Africa, the latter of which contribute notes of passion fruit and lychee. Nailing the flavor profile with this unique combination of ingredients was a lot of fun.” 

The right beer at the right time can be truly magical and Stone Patio Magic Double IPA is just the 8.8% wonder to extend that day-end golden hour. Find it nationwide at Find.Stonebrewing.com and online in select states at Shop.StoneBrewing.com.  

…

ABOUT STONE BREWING Founded in 1996, Stone pioneered the West Coast Style IPA, helping to fuel the modern craft beer revolution and inspire generations of hop fanatics. Today Stone operates breweries in Escondido, CA and Richmond, VA plus seven tap room and bistro locations. Stone offers a wide range of craft beers including its most popular Stone IPA, Stone Delicious IPA and Stone Buenaveza Salt & Lime Lager. The company’s long list of environmental efforts includes a LEED Silver Certification, world-class water reclamation and creative uses of spent grain. Stone has been called the “All-time Top Brewery on Planet Earth” by BeerAdvocate magazine twice. To find Stone beers, visit find.stonebrewing.com. For more information on Stone Brewing visit stonebrewing.com, Facebook, Instagram or Twitter. 

from Northwest Beer Guide - News - The Northwest Beer Guide https://bit.ly/3y4ogaQ

[emsloe]

Hows about all the odd numbers in that ask meme for Seth?

dhfgjds i deleted my rb like 20 seconds after reblogging it and had to go hunt it down again, you're speedy! Thank you I love thinking about these

1. What is the character’s go-to drink order? He basically never goes to bars or restaurants because of his anxiety (and his social life is pretty stunted anyway). He mostly just drinks a lot of water. He eventually starts drinking IPA but really only because Sera does

3. What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? He doesn't really get much of a personal income with the death mechanics. When people tip him he mostly either stashes it somewhere and forgets about it, gets vending machine snacks, or slips it to Tef so she can buy candy. The most expensive purchase he made with Mechanic funds was probably his pigeon loft

5. What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? He is still definitely emotional about his death and cries sometimes when he's reminded too much of it, though oddly he didn't cry when it actually happened

7. Describe the shoes they’re wearing. He's got some sturdy, albeit very worn, brown work boots. He walks a lot and used to wear through sneakers at an alarming rate. Seth would have been fine with wearing unbelievably ratty sneakers everywhere (and he used to!), but Ilya got fed up and intervened

9. What is their favorite holiday? He goes through a period where he doesn't celebrate holidays at all, but immediately before and after that, probably thanksgiving. Mason mostly expresses his love through food, and Seth loves Mason, so

[trivialbob]

Tonight we have a pleasant change in weather.

After a few days of sweat dripping down my backside, it is now mercifully cool outside. Temps as low as 55°F tonight. The dogs and I will sleep well, and I can use my heavy quilt if I leave all the windows open. And I will.

I'm excited for the opportunity to finally wear a hoodie. This one I got at Target, and it was 1/3 off. If you've read this blog for any length of time you will know how happy that makes me.

I took the dogs on a lot of walks. We were down by the Minnesota River where I saw these boats with funny engines that let them operate in very shallow water. The prop shaft is nearly horizontal coming off the boat. No one would let me borrow one!!

For lunch I met up with Jack and his fiance, Ali. Young Sulley, who likes to pester my two older dogs, got a taste of his own medicine. Jack's new dog Luka chased Sully.

Train tracks run near this campground. Throughout last night I heard locomotives rumbling and occasional loud whistles. I actually liked it.

Several of the campsites had no shows this weekend. Little slips of paper on a post indicate somebody reserved them but nobody showed up. Someone even paid for firewood. Campground personnel dropped off logs. I feel like taking them, but it would be just my luck that those people show up at midnight tonight and want to have a fire. If they do they damn well better be quiet. All my windows will be open.

Tonight's beer is another delightfully named IPA. This is One Man Mosh Pit. It, however, does not make me want to dance in front of a stage with music so loud my ears bleed.

I love the little trick that lets me have my trailer running lights on all night. It's as cool as this weather.

[bushireforevents]

Exploring the World of Brewery Tours: What to Expect and Why You Should Go

Visiting a brewery is a great way to dive into the world of craft beer, meet the makers, and learn about the brewing process. Brewery tours have become increasingly popular, drawing beer enthusiasts, curious travelers, and social groups alike. Whether you’re a craft beer aficionado or simply curious about how your favorite lager, stout, or IPA is made, a brewery tour offers an entertaining and educational experience. Here’s everything you need to know about brewery tours and what to expect when you step behind the scenes.

1. What Happens on a Brewery Tour?

A brewery tour typically includes an introduction to the brewery’s history, a guided walk through the brewing facility, and a chance to taste some of the beers. Here’s a closer look at what you can expect:

Behind-the-Scenes Access: Most tours start with a walk-through of the brewing process from start to finish. This can include viewing the massive tanks where the beer is fermented, the bottling or canning line, and sometimes even the grain mill where the brewing process begins.

Insight into the Brewing Process: You’ll learn about each step of brewing—mashing, boiling, fermenting, and packaging. The guide often explains the roles of hops, malt, yeast, and water in shaping the flavor, aroma, and body of the beer.

Q&A with Brewers: Many brewery tours feature Q&A sessions with the brewers, giving visitors the chance to ask questions about different beer styles, brewing techniques, and the inspiration behind certain recipes.

Tastings and Pairings: At the end of the tour, most breweries offer a tasting session. This can include several small pours of various beer styles so you can get a true sense of the brewery’s range and craftsmanship. Some breweries also offer food pairings to enhance the tasting experience.

2. Types of Brewery Tours

Not all brewery tours are the same. Depending on the size and type of brewery, the tour experience can vary widely:

Microbrewery Tours: These are usually intimate and focused on small-batch production. They often provide a cozy, up-close look at how beer is made on a smaller scale.

Large Brewery Tours: Tours at larger breweries are often more structured and may include multimedia presentations, tasting rooms, and sometimes even virtual reality segments.

Self-Guided Tours: Some breweries offer self-guided tours, especially if they’re part of a “brewery trail” in certain regions. Here, you can tour the brewery at your own pace and enjoy tastings without a formal guide.

VIP and Specialty Tours: For the true beer enthusiast, some breweries offer VIP tours, which provide even deeper insights into rare brews, barrel-aging rooms, or special tastings.

3. Why Take a Brewery Tour?

Brewery tours provide more than just the taste of great beer. Here are a few reasons why they’re worth considering:

Learn Something New: Whether you’re new to beer or a longtime enthusiast, there’s always something new to learn about the brewing process, the ingredients, and the science that goes into making a good beer.

Support Local Breweries: Many breweries are locally owned and operated, and a tour is a great way to support small businesses that bring character and diversity to the beer industry.

Meet Fellow Beer Lovers: Brewery tours are social experiences. They’re a great way to meet other beer enthusiasts, share tasting notes, and expand your knowledge in good company.

Discover New Flavors: Breweries love to experiment, so many tours offer limited-edition or experimental brews that aren’t available elsewhere. This is a unique chance to try something truly new and distinctive.

4. Planning Your Brewery Tour

Ready to go on a brewery tour? Here are a few things to keep in mind:

Book in Advance: Many breweries, especially popular ones, require advance booking for tours. Check their website for details on available tour times and any booking requirements.

Dress Appropriately: Brewery tours can involve some walking and may take you into temperature-controlled rooms or spaces with open brewing equipment. Closed-toe shoes and comfortable clothing are recommended.

Consider Transportation: Many brewery tours offer tastings, so it’s a good idea to arrange for transportation ahead of time. Look into options like public transportation, ride-sharing, or even designated brewery tour buses.

Respect the Brewery’s Rules: While brewery tours are fun, they’re still in a working facility. Follow the rules provided by your guide, and always ask before touching equipment or stepping into restricted areas.

5. Best Brewery Tours in the U.S. and Beyond

If you’re looking to explore some renowned brewery tours, here are a few favorites known for their educational value, fun atmosphere, and of course, great beer:

Boston Beer Company (Sam Adams), Boston, MA: One of the original craft breweries, Boston Beer Company offers an engaging tour with tastings of its flagship Sam Adams beers.

Sierra Nevada, Chico, CA: With a gorgeous taproom, a focus on sustainability, and a behind-the-scenes look at every part of their brewing process, Sierra Nevada offers one of the most comprehensive brewery tours in the U.S.

Guinness Storehouse, Dublin, Ireland: One of the most famous breweries in the world, the Guinness tour is a must for beer lovers and offers incredible views of Dublin from the rooftop bar.

Heineken Experience, Amsterdam, Netherlands: A unique blend of history and interactivity, the Heineken Experience takes you through the story of one of the world’s most iconic beer brands.

[superbloverwhispers]

Cheers to Craft Beer: The Best Places for Craft Beer in Carlsbad

Craft beer enthusiasts rejoice! Carlsbad, California is the ultimate destination for all things craft beer. With its vibrant beer scene and a plethora of breweries, this charming coastal town has become a mecca for beer lovers from near and far. From hoppy IPAs to smooth stouts, Carlsbad offers a wide variety of unique and flavorful brews that are sure to satisfy even the most discerning palate. So grab your pint glass and join us as we embark on a journey to discover the best places for craft beer in Carlsbad.

Exploring Carlsbad: A Guide to the Village by the Sea

Before we dive into the world of craft beer, let's take a moment to explore the beauty and charm of Carlsbad itself. Known as the "Village by the Sea," this coastal paradise boasts stunning beaches, top-notch dining options, and an array of outdoor activities. Whether you're seeking sun-soaked adventures or a relaxing escape, Carlsbad has something for everyone. So lace up your walking shoes and get ready to discover all that this picturesque town has to offer.

Top Attractions to Visit in Carlsbad, California

Carlsbad is home to a multitude of attractions that will keep you entertained throughout your visit. From world-renowned theme parks to historical landmarks, there's no shortage of things to see and do in this vibrant reputable roofing contractor city. Here are some must-visit attractions in Carlsbad:

Legoland California: Perfect for families with young children, Legoland California offers a one-of-a-kind experience filled with interactive rides, shows, and larger-than-life Lego creations. The Flower Fields: Immerse yourself in a sea of vibrant colors at the Flower Fields in Carlsbad. These beautiful fields come alive each spring with over 50 acres of blooming ranunculus flowers. Carlsbad Village: Take a stroll through the heart of Carlsbad at Carlsbad Village. This charming downtown area is lined with boutique shops, art galleries, and delicious restaurants. Batiquitos Lagoon: Nature lovers will appreciate the serene beauty of Batiquitos Lagoon. This protected wetland is home to a diverse range of wildlife and offers picturesque walking trails. Leo Carrillo Ranch Historic Park: Step back in time at the Leo Carrillo Ranch Historic Park. This former working ranch turned public park showcases the rich history and culture of Carlsbad. The Best Beaches in Carlsbad for a Perfect Day Out

Carlsbad is blessed with some of the most pristine beaches in Southern California. Whether you're looking to catch some waves or simply soak up the sun, these beaches are sure to deliver an unforgettable experience. Here are some of the best beaches in Carlsbad:

Tamarack Beach: Located near downtown Carlsbad, Tamarack Beach offers a wide sandy shoreline perfect for sunbathing and beach volleyball. South Ponto Beach: Known for its consistent surf breaks, South Ponto Beach is a favorite among local surfers. Grab your board and catch some waves at this popular spot. Terramar Beach: If you're seeking a quieter beach experience, head over to Terramar Beach. This hidden gem offers scenic views and ample space for picnicking and relaxation. North Ponto Beach: North Ponto Beach is ideal for those looking to escape the crowds. This secluded stretch of coastline offers tranquil waters and stunning coastal views. Carlsbad State Beach: Also known as Tamarack Surf Beach, Carlsbad St