bar sorting

the puppy bowl is the greatest invention of the 21st century. hair dryers included.

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Neil and Andrew are at some sort of bar or restaurant and someone hits on Neil. Neil doesn't understand because he isnt used to being flirted with.. But Andrew does. (Andrew's reaction?) 🌸thx

Eden’s seems louder than usual as they push through the doors. The music blaring through the club is especially bass heavy, and the beat thrums through the floor and up through Neil’s toes. Neil can already see the large sea of writhing bodies on the dance floor, and more bodies are pressed together up on this level around the bar and tables. He weaves his way around the bodies, keeping his eyes on Kevin’s back as he follows him.

When they sidled up to the bar, they’re lucky enough to catch a group moving away with their drinks. Nicky and Aaron are quick to grab the abandoned stools with Neil and Kevin filling in the space behind them. A few minutes have ticked by, the music switching over to an upbeat EDM track, when a bartender comes over to them. Neil doesn’t recognize the bartender, a tall guy with a mop of blonde hair, but that doesn’t stop the bartender from smiling easily at them.

“What can I get y’all?”

“Actually, we’re waiting for Roland,” Nicky explains, trying to peer around the bartender.

“Oh, he’s not in tonight,” the bartender says. “Something about a family emergency? So you’ve got me, Brayden.” 

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hey folks just an update on my health- general consensus is that I had some form of seizure. GP is referring me to a specialist and we’ll see what happens, but they’re actually a lot more common than people think and as I’ve never had one before (barring these sorts of incidents and like, two migraines) we don’t think I’m at high risk, and it might have been triggered by stress amongst other things. Thanks for asking after me and being patient, I’m still feeling a bit fragile from it all so I don’t know how much extra stuff I can draw for you guys but I promise I’m working hard on TPoH for the weekend.

assorted ENFJ traits
  • having a very strong sense of “we should do this because everyone would enjoy it” that is conflicted when it sees someone being very individual and independent because what if people don’t agree with them??
  • loving performing analysis because it’s all a very fun game to you, something that you jump at the chance to do
  • overanalyzing  -.-’’
  • using Se to calm down your overactive Ni (ex. getting too lost in a negative hypothetical or brooding too much on a single train of thought and it’s freaking you out – forcing yourself to focus on the present and the clearly relevant facts of what is and what isn’t to get yourself out of your own head)
  • not being very logical.  … at all.  
  • really enjoying spending time organizing your personal space, especially if it’s directly related to your work or mind (organizing bookmark bars, email folders, sorting documents into relevant categories such as date or subject)
  • subconsciously and consciously being very people attentive.  it doesn’t matter how much you try to stop paying attention or how much you try to stop noticing the people around you – a large part of your thought patterns are invested in observing, analyzing, and understanding the people around you.
  • internal questions like, “how are they perceiving this?”  “what are they thinking about right now?  “what bothers them?”  “what did they think of what happened earlier?”  “how do they feel right now?” “what are they interested in?”  “what do they enjoy?”  “am i bothering them?”  “am i annoying?” “are they interested in me?”  “is what i’m saying interesting to them?” “if i switch the topic from x to y, will that be more intriguing to them?”  “are they quiet, bored, uncomfortable?”  “what do i have to be, act like, or say, to make them interested in me?” “what kind of person do they enjoy?”  “are they better off in my company or someone else’s?”  “are they enjoying themselves right now?”  “would changing my personality in x way make them happier?”  
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AfterTaste: Bounty Bar Samosas

Behind Her Eyes (Joker/ Reader Imagine) •9•

Request: Joker (Jared Leto) falling for a waitress/Bartender girl at his club whos kind of sarcastic, kind, stubbron, won’t take shit from anyone, always speaking her mind (usually without thinking it through cause “why think b4 speaking, lets surprise everyone”), and always honest cause shes a horrible lier. :3 please and think you

A/N: Coming right up ;) see the pun….I’m a terrible human omg ok bye

You had been working at the Mystic Palace for around three years now, and you loved it there. Sure there were thugs and criminals all around but for the most part they respected you and if they didn’t well, your friends would take care of that. It was a busy night, and you were behind the bar making all sorts of drinks, trying not to drink all the alcohol yourself, it was a rough week. 

“Hey hey hey Y/N, when you gonna tell boss man huh?” You smiled at the big lug, he was one of the Jokers most trusted men, and the closest to a best friend that you had. “Lee, look at me, look at him…and all the girls he’s surrounded by, I don’t compare.” The tall man smiled at you, “Exactly hon, you’re beautiful and genuine, they’re just cock sucking whores.” You laughed loudly, “Yeah well he’s had one almost every night of the week, but anyways.” He frowned, “What’s going on huh, why you’ve been in such a bad mood.” You sighed, and then heard a loud crash, seeing two men fighting… “Hold that thought Lee.” 

Your heels clicked on the marble floor as you walked over to the fight. “HEY, GET THE FUCK UP YOU TWO.” The men looked up at you, “Yeah whathca gonna do about it sweetheart.” You smiled wickedly, “Ahh you must be new here, well gentlemen this is Mister J’s club, and I work here, which means I keep you fucking idiots in check so you don’t disturb the good work. So you can either get your act together or I WILL drag you both out of here by your small cocks, got it?” The one regular backed down, you knew he was too drunk to think his actions through, but the other man looked livid, and charged at you. Quickly you withdrew your small handgun in your bra and pressed it into his temple. “You just wouldn’t listen huh.” Your voice lowered to a soft whisper, the whole place was silent, “Get out before I blow your brains out.” 

The guy looked around and sneering at you, left the building. You shook your head putting the gun back in its place and walking over back to yours behind the bar. “Well Lee, if you must know I don’t get paid enough and I got evicted from my apartment, as of now I’m homeless.” He shook his head, “You should ask the boss.” You scoffed, “Really, what would he do, he doesn’t know me, doesn’t care, he only cares about himself and his whores, not to mention his need for blood.” 

“Is that how you really feel about me?” Fuck, the vibrant green haired man stepped out from behind Lee and placed his hands on the counter, beckoning for you to come a sit down. “I’ll talk to you later Lee.” He solemnly shook his head and walked into the darkness of the club. 

“I’ve got a teency little secret to tell you Y/N, I’ve been watching you since the day I hired you. The way you handle my men, the way your body moves, those soft lips.” You raised an eyebrow, “My whores are there because I can’t have you, but baby I need you.” You laughed teary eyed, “So you waited three years to tell me this, three years?!” You stood up now livid, “I wanted to tell you all this time but convinced myself you would never feel this same but you do?! AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME?” Before you could shout anymore J pulled you to him by your waist and kissed you. It was raw, it was hungry, and it was perfect. 

You pulled away smiling, pressing your forehead to his, “So you gonna take me home tonight?” He smiled wickedly, “Mmm, no baby.” He bent down and kissed your neck, “I’m gonna take you home every night.”

before i forget to tell y’all about it here’s some of the weird shit that happened in winterschool

  • we went to berlin and ended up at the old airport they forgot to demolish
  • i surprised everyone with my knowledge of obscure catalan pop songs
  • we had a rolling new year’s party where we celebrated midnight for each time zone across europe with a countdown, a rendition of the internationale (which i need to learn the lyrics to tbh) and alcohol
  • me and some fellow Queers made a zine about queer theory into which we somehow managed to shoehorn a poem about bdsm by allen ginsberg
  • international snack evening (everyone brought something from their own country) - highlights include the russians serving what was basically pot noodle, us brits serving tea from a massive saucepan and the catalans playing drinking games with a porró
  • the queer squad argued about hogwarts houses almost continously for six hours… i got bored and went and manned the bar
  • all sorts of weird lingua franca shit - the event was meant to be in english but a lot of people weren’t great, it being their second or third language, so german, spanish, arabic and russian all got involved
  • palestinean card games aka the most hardcore games to ever happen, seriously, you don’t know
  • also that reminds me i made about 10 friends solely through playing card games
  • there were meant to be 6 of us from the UK but one fam forgot to check his email so couldn’t get to germany in time
  • DMCs in the alcohol-free space in the evenings, featuring puppy piles and an irish lesbian recounting her hilarious romantic mishaps
  • one of the co-ordinators was this german trans dude who honestly reminded me a lot of puck from a midsummer night’s dream, he was more awesome than weird but i feel like i should give a shout out to his elfin and mischievous ways
  • that time us fams from woodcraft folk recited the envoi and everyone was like ‘….are you in a cult’

ash-castle  asked:

Are you still doing this? If so Rita and Rosmerta "Are you still here?"

honestly I’ll likely keep doing them until they stop arriving in my inbox

“Rosmerta, are you still here?”

“Rita? Is that you?”

The Three Broomsticks, while not completely destroyed, wasn’t spared when the battle started up at the castle. Rosmerta hauled herself over one of the pile of tables she’d used as a barricade, fending off Death Eaters and potential looters coming into her bar.

“Merlin, you’ve got blood on your front!” she said as she criss-crossed her way over to the middle of what was a clean barroom twelve hours before, meeting Rita halfway to stand on broken glass in their dragonhide boots.

“I came here to report on the battle at the castle but I saw the bar was sort of collapsed and I wanted to make sure you weren’t crushed and didn’t need help so-”

Rosmerta silenced Rita’s worrying the best way she knew how: with a kiss.

Send me a ship and a sentence and I’ll write the next five  

@meadow-of-muses  liked this post for a starter!

The bar seem empty tonight, only a few people. He had expected more, being a half - bar half - restaurant sort of deal, and well known. Not that it matter, he took his shot. “Another!” he announces.

What was up with him and drinking these days? Was it the holidays? The decreasing amount of people willing to bed him? Stupid morals. Now they wanted to have that, when he needed them most. Another swig.

A voice seems to call to him. Dark eyes scan the even darker room landing on a person across the ways. Alone at a table, interesting. Taking another shot, he finds himself wobbling to stand as he fumbles across the room. “Hello~” he swoons, somehow landing in the seat next to them. Fingers reach to be wrapped in that beautiful hair. No permission was offered, he didn’t care. “Are you busy tonight?” He knew the answer, nobody denied him. Hanamaru leans closer, inhaling their scent.

      Early afternoon was about the only time Lily could stand being in any sort of bar atmosphere. As the night would draw closer she’d leave, not wanting to end up shoved between two people with drinks spilled all over herself. For now it was nice and quiet, a few people lined the bar while others littered the room. The television playing some sports game that she had not focused on enough to recognise. With her legs curled up beneath her on the barstool she leant over her A4 sized journal drawing what appeared to be a skeletal ribcage with lilies blossoming between them. “Can I get another vodka with ice?” she said not looking up to actually see if the bartender or anyone else had come close. Instead the brunette reached into her purse, looking for a felt tip to begin lining some of the work with, to clean up the lines she’d messily done in pencil.

The newcomer || Open

It was pretty much Aindrea’s first real day at the tower. He had used his first day just to learn what was where and where he was allowed to go and where not. Not to mention all those rules he had to learn and he surely had made sure to memorise at least most of them before he decided to give a real tour around the place. So there he was now, just walking around with a smile on his face, just being excited to be in a new place.

Aindrea had already checked out the rec room and since there wasn’t no one there he headed to the lower floors. Many of the floors were something he couldn’t go to, but the third floor included some sort of bar and a bar always had people in them. A bar was never empty, no matter what hour it was. So that was Aindrea’s destination right now, because he really wanted to meet new people, especially if all of them were pretty much Aindrea’s new roomies, in a way.

He stepped in to the McGuire’s and a smile spread on his face. The place looked like any other pub you might find from the streets, but this one had a different atmosphere. And it made Aindrea even more excited. This whole tower was pretty much making him feel like a kid in a candy store – so much to see and so many people to meet. Obviously it was too early to drink, at least to Aindrea it was, so as he sat down on the bar stool by the bar counter he ordered a small bag of chips so he’d have something to do while watching his surroundings.

Peut-être que certaines filles sont faites pour être aimées : tu sais, être aimées vraiment, pour ce qu'elles sont. Alors que d'autres doivent se contenter d'être les seconds choix, celles qu'on appelle à deux heures du matin quand on sort des bars parce qu'on a juste envie de sexe.
—  jemetais
The Trump Card

“I would vote for Trump. I respect him. He’s started a conversation. He’s just saying what everyone is saying behind closed doors.”

-The Other One.

I wasn’t drunk enough. Those sentences proved it. I also wasn’t surprised. I operate from the premise that 95% of white people are racist. 3% are racist and unafraid to admit it. 1% sort of get it but don’t want to surrender their privilege. The remaining 1% are actually allies. I wondered, as we sat in the artfully darkened bar, which sort of racist The Other One was. He expressed his views calmly. America does need to go back to their roots the way Trump says. A wall keeping Mexicans out would be beneficial since they are coming over here stealing away all of the jobs. Eventually without the wall or perhaps even with it we’ll all just end up getting pushed into Canada to preserve our way of life. And don’t get him started on the people on welfare. Well, Trump would handle that too. Tax dollars would stop going to waste with a smart business man running the show.

I ordered another drink and decided to start with the easiest thing. Was he aware that of all the money he paid in taxes each month $2-$6 dollars went to social programs like welfare? The majority of his tax money actually went to the military and other defense programs. No, he didn’t know this. This Southern European immigrant didn’t pay taxes and neither did the business he owned on American soil. His employees did.  He laughed when he told me this.

I ordered another drink and moved in to my next point. America needed to go back to its core values? America was built on the disenfranchisement and enslavement of any culture it deemed inferior to those of European descent. Taking a look at just the criminal justice system showed that America had never stepped away from its roots. It was just harder and harder to stick with them without backlash. Minorities weren’t holding people at gunpoint and stealing their work badges, stealing their cubicles. No, they were doing what they had always done in this country. They were working the jobs that no one else wanted. They were working whatever jobs they could get. And did he realize what he was really saying when he said a minority “stole” a job from him? That all jobs belong to white men until they have decided which jobs they do and do not want and place us in the fields of their choice. It later occurred to me that there was a larger issue. The word immigrant didn’t apply to him even though he wasn’t born in this country. No, that word only applied to brown people. There would never be a wall to keep out Europeans. There would never be anyone to sneer at him for doing the exact same things that he thought people of color were doing: taking jobs that should have gone to hard working Americans willing to pay taxes and be fit member of society, side stepping the core beliefs and rules that made up the American Dream and instead getting rich by any way he chose without a care for how many resources he took advantage of, or how many tax dollars he wasted. 

I sipped my drink, looked at him, and said “I didn’t know you were a racist.” He turned red and began to bluster. He belonged to the 95%. The ones that were racist but weren’t vocal about it and so thought they weren’t racist. The ones that got uncomfortable when you logically and without anger pointed out the holes in their argument. The ones who got uncomfortable when you called them by their name. Why do you have to bring up the “r” word? Why do you have to be so serious? We were having fun, weren’t we?

anonymous asked:

What would you, Stiles, or Seed Derek do for a Klondike bar?

Okay alright, so I always thought a Klondike Bar was some sort of coconut thing and I was all ‘yeah no thanks breh’ but then I googled it and it’s like an ICE CREAM BAR? Okay, probably not as good as ice cream sandwiches, but the stakes just got a lot higher, son.

To procure Stiles a Klondike Bar, Seed Derek would actually fight someone. He wouldn’t do much damage, because c’mon, how much punch is a 4-inch Seed Wolf gonna hold?

Won’t stop Derek from attempting to engage in fisticuffs.

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Fitzsimmons in 3X13