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#beermat
eric-sadahire · 3 months
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If humans can't see air, can fish see water?
But since humans can see water, can fish see air?
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southdigitalcreation · 7 months
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vannndukeandsammy · 2 years
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A ROYAL QUEENIE POETRY for the wife.
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pacealme · 7 months
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frankdam · 10 months
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ide is fellököm, ha már élőben nem lesz látható (eredeti funkciója szerint) söralátéten :( :D
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Jamie in the biltong bar on Deptford high street, London (2022)
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psd-template · 2 years
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Sunday Hangover
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heathercaseyart · 1 year
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theingatefreehouse · 2 years
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Publife Upstairs. Drying of the barmats after a busy bank holiday! Hallway takeover. #theingatefreehouse #beccles #publife #beermats #barmats (at The Ingate Freehouse) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cef08LDDJWm/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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eric-sadahire · 24 days
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Cthulhu playing pinball in a Scottish pub in 1850
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I've got an angsty little prompt for you:
22. “Would you feel more comfortable talking about it if I turned around?”
With Ari
Because I know he would give a nice bear hug to forget all your worries after 😌
oh I love some good angst! Thank you for sending in an ask
Your bodyguard - Biker!Ari Levinson x Reader
A/N: I should really make a masterlist for Biker Ari now but I can't think of a name! But they're all in my main masterlist so check them out there!
Summary: Ari helps you open up after coming across someone from your past
Word Count: ? your guess is as good as mine! but its short!
Warnings: Angst! Mention of past abusive relationship! Mention of Emotional and Psychological Abuse! Happy Ending! Barely Edited!
Dividers by @firefly-graphics​
Masterlist
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Ari wasn’t sure what drove him to drive out to your small town so early in the day. Maybe it was the good weather that just made him want to get on his bike and ride. Or maybe it was the universe making sure he arrived at your bar at the right time.
Because when he pulled up into the empty parking lot he instantly spotted you talking to another man outside. Ari kicked the kickrest down as he looked over, noticing how your shoulders were slightly hunched and your arms crossed protectively over your body as you spoke to the stranger. The stranger on the other hand was talking animatedly, clearly interrupting and talking over you.
As Ari climbed off his bike the stranger looked over his shoulder at him. The man looked between you and Ari a couple times before turning his attention back to you, hissing something as he pointed at your harshly before turning to walk to his car. 
Ari saw you let out a shaky breath looking down at the floor before turning and walking towards the bar. He wanted to follow after you but first he waited for the stranger to leave, sending him a hard glare as he drove past.
Once he was satisfied that the stranger was gone he made his way inside the bar finding you wiping down the tables and putting out beermats ready for when the bar opened.
“Was that guy bothering you?” Ari asked walking over to you.
“No, I’m fine” you mutter not looking up from the task in hand.
“Who was he?” He questioned.
“My ex” you state as you turn and walk away to a different table.
“What did he want?” Ari asks as he moves to follow you.
“Nothing important” you say shaking your head, still refusing to look at him. 
“Sweetheart you’re clearly shaken up so it wasn’t nothing” Ari presses.
“Ari-“ you start your eyes screwing shut, fists clenching as you bit your lower lip to stop it from wobbling.
“You know you can tell me anything right?” Ari says softly, reaching out to put his hand on your shoulder.
You open your eyes, first glancing at his hand on your shoulder before looking up at him. Your eyes meeting his for a second before dipping.
“I want to…” you admit quietly “but it’s just… i find it….” You mutter shaking your head as you struggle to find the words.
“Would you feel more comfortable talking about it if I turned around?” Ari offers gently. You look back up at him and give him the smallest of nods “okay” he says softly before turning around so his back was to you.
It was silent for a few moments before he heard you take a deep and shaky breath. You then told the story about your ex, about how he started off sweet and caring but slowly became unrecognisable. Ari listened you recount the many ways he emotionally and psychologically abused you, how he tore you down into a shell of a person. You told him that you hated how long it took you to realise it because it made it that much harder to leave.
When you were done Ari waited a couple of moments before turning back around. Mostly because he needed to get his anger under control. He was seconds away from storming out of the bar and hunting down your ex. But when he did turn around and saw you now stood with your back to him, shoulder hunched as you hugged yourself. 
Instantly all of his anger melted away and he walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you in a massive bear hug “I’m so sorry you had to go through that” he said softly “and I’m so proud of you for getting out” he added pressing a kiss to the top of your head when you chocked out a sob “hey its okay, its okay I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again” he promises.
You turn in his arms, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your head in his chest “Thank you Ari” you whispered.
“It’s nothing,” he says softly, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. Swearing to himself that if he ever saw your ex, he would show him what a real man looked like.
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Sharing is caring so please reblog if you enjoyed this and maybe even leave a comment to make my day!
Masterlist
I don’t have a taglist so follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibrary​ and turn on post notifications to be kept up to date!
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narcissistcookbook · 5 months
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a demo for a song i threw together tonight, with a video made from today's instagram Q&A. no promises it will end up somewhere other than a messy little demo buried on my YouTube, but here it is 💜
lyrics after the break
A pack of playing cards from amsterdam
Minus the jack of hearts and stained from a dip in the canal
A handwritten rendition of the Internationale
An iphone from two thousand and fourteen
ACAB sticker on the back and a crack like a grin across the screen
That book you never finished, kept your place with the receipt
And I am the pride of the collection of the things you didn't need
And I am the pride of the collection of the things you didn't need
A loredoc for a world you helped design
Some credit cards you kept long after their payments were declined
A friendship bracelet you cut off when the knots wouldn't untie
A beanie and a handrolled cigarette
A tshirt with a burn mark on the breast
A copy of the game Ghost Trick for the nintendo ds
This phone number you scribbled on a beermat in a bar
If it ever was connected, it isn't anymore
I curate this museum, and I do it all free
And I am the pride of the collection of the things you didn't need
I'll toss them when i'm ready, when i'm healthy, when there's time
And I am the pride of the collection of the things you left behind
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dreamy625 · 11 days
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Overture and beginners - chapter 2
< Chapter 1
Words: 2212
Content: There’s casual drinking and smoking in this chapter, and some smooching
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For such a casual arrangement, Katie found that a quite unreasonable level of anticipation crept up on her over the intervening week. She flaked on another date with Gary and then, after ten minutes of introspection, called him back to end things altogether. With the vision, however uncertain, of a particular sweet shy smile perpetually hovering in front of her, Gary had just… faded into the background. Oh he was nice enough, and she’d liked that he had a respectable, clean job - chilled goods manager at the new supermarket - and a car, but it turned out, not much else. He wasn’t the most exciting bloke in the world, and the only thing he seemed to be really passionate about was Sheffield United. She let him down gently, blaming their incompatible work schedules rather than the fact that he was boring, and he accepted it with predictable stoicism. 
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Steve’s head had swivelled like an owl every time the door swung open and finally, at twenty past six, he was rewarded with the sight of Katie walking into the pub and looking around searchingly. He jumped up, almost knocking the bar stool over, and then, checking himself, strolled oh so casually over to where she was standing. 
“You came! I mean, hi.”
“Well, sure. I hear this is where all the cool kids hang out on a Friday night,” she quipped. 
“Oh definitely,” agreed Steve, eying the motley collection of steel workers and engineers, some still wearing their overalls, that made up the majority of the patrons. “Have you just got off work?”
“Err, yeah, busy day,” (in fact she had put the cover on her typewriter nearly an hour ago and had spent the intervening time in the ladies’ loo refreshing her makeup, fussing with her hair, and trying to get the ink stain off the cuff of her blouse). 
“Can I get you a drink?”
“That would be lovely.”
While Steve went to the bar, Katie scoped out a small table in a corner made less gloomy than most of the pub by the last of the evening light coming in through a frosted window. When Steve sat down with a vodka and orange for Katie and a pint of beer for himself there was a brief awkward silence when it dawned on both of them that this was now undeniably a date. 
“So, you’re not with your mates today then?”
“Oh they’re around here somewhere. Last I saw they were in the back bar reenacting William Tell and the apple but with darts and a pickled egg! I couldn’t watch.”
He mimed an unfortunate apprentice turning cross-eyed as a poorly-aimed dart approached his forehead and Katie’s laughter, and Steve’s bashful delight at having made her laugh, seemed to break the ice. After that, starting with their common ground of Wisewood Comprehensive, they shared reminiscences about Mr Taylor’s wig, the time 3B set fire to the chemistry lab, and whether the boiler room was actually haunted, before moving on to families, with Steve telling stories of escapades with his two younger brothers, and then grumbling about their shared workplace, each striving to top the other’s tales of dimwitted colleagues and virtually inedible canteen food. Steve’s shyness evaporated once he got engrossed in the conversation, and he was funny, and observant, with a talent for mimicking voices and mannerisms. Katie tried, however pretty his eyes were, not to stare at his face the whole time, and instead found herself studying his hands - black staining like all the men in the manufacturing departments, from oil and metal dust worked so deep into the skin that you couldn’t wash it off however hard you scrubbed, and long slender fingers that were always moving - pushing his overgrown fringe out of his eyes, fiddling with a cigarette, tapping on the table, tearing the corners off beermats. Three drinks and several packets of peanuts later and they were on to more personal topics - childhood dreams, hopes for the future, and, of course, music, at which point Steve’s twitchy fingers took flight, subconsciously miming chords and riffs as he talked about his favourite players. They were in the middle of discovering a shared love of David Bowie when a group of blokes from the factory walked past on their way to the pool table, and one of them did a double-take. 
“Aye aye, Dreamer’s found a girl!”
“Is this your sister, Steve-o?”
“Bet it’s his cousin - they’re like that in Hillsborough.”
Charlie, bringing up the rear, gave a couple of the young men a good-natured shove, “Come on lads, this might be the only time he’s ever spoken to a woman, don’t ruin it for him.” Still snickering and with some crude hand gestures, the group continued on their way. 
Clutching his forehead and turning pink with embarrassment, Steve apologised, “I am so sorry. I work with a bunch of hooligans.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve been at GEC long enough to know what they’re like. The office girls call your bit of the factory the monkey cage!”
He grimaced. "Sounds about right."
“Why do they call you Dreamer?”
“Because I’m always sleeping when I’m meant to be working.” He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “And because I want to be a musician and they think that’s a pipe dream.”
“Well that’s very unsupportive of them.”
“Yeah. They’re probably right though,” he mused gloomily.
“No,” she insisted, suddenly fierce, “how dare they try to squash your dreams!” Impulsively she reached over and squeezed his hand. “You’ve got all the time in the world to get there. And you’re already doing it, playing in a band and all.”
Steve’s head was lowered and she followed his gaze to where it rested on their joined hands. Self-consciously she released her grip and moved her hand, not snatching it back but trailing her fingertips across the landscape of tendons and veins. 
“So, what would you like to do now? Another drink, or…?”
Mustering every ounce of courage he possessed, Steve stretched across the table and very lightly touched his fingers to her cheek. “I would like…” She heard him take a quick breath. “To kiss you. But I don’t want to do it with all that lot watching us.”
“Well, I would appreciate a kind gentleman who would walk me to my bus stop.”
“I am at your service, m’lady.”
Conveniently, it turned out that they lived close enough to one another that Steve could catch the same bus as Katie and only have to walk a couple of extra streets. After establishing this plan, the previously easy conversation dried up, stifled by the anticipation hovering in a cloud above their heads. As they walked, their hands occasionally brushed against each other, and they both pretended not to notice. As they rounded the corner and came in sight of the row of bus stops, they saw that there were quite a number of people already waiting there. 
“Oh goody,” muttered Steve under his breath, “another audience.” Looking around quickly, he spotted open gates leading to the yard in front of some factory or warehouse and stepped sideways into the shadowy gateway, inclining his head in an invitation for Katie to follow him. Though not in the habit of following strange men into dark corners, this one somehow seemed irresistible. 
“Sorry, not the most glamorous of locations,” he said with an anxious smile. 
“At least it's private, and doesn't smell bad."
“So…” He looked at her a little sideways, fidgeting his feet. He could feel his heart beating fast and his palms were sweaty. 
“So… I think you said you wanted to do something?” she teased, looking up at him with doe eyes.
Steve stepped closer and reached out a hand, hovering it uncertainly before deciding that her shoulder was a safe place to land it. Katie put her hand on his other arm and tilted her face up expectantly. He leaned down and bestowed a soft, chaste kiss at the corner of her mouth and then waited for a moment, in case she was going to yell ‘bleugh’ and run away - okay that had only happened once, when he was nine, but it had stayed in his mind as a possible outcome ever since. Happily, there was no cry of revulsion, so he lightly brushed his lips across hers before pressing them together. She responded eagerly, and he felt inspired to elaborate, alternating delicate pecks with firmer pressure with pulling her lower lip into the slightest pout to graze the soft inner edge. His kisses were like questions, to her, to himself - do you like that, can I do this, does that feel good? Each move tentative at first and then more ardent as the response was a clear yes! Eventually they reached some kind of natural conclusion, separating with a final clinging pop and little puffs of hot breath.
“Wow…” She blinked, temporarily unable to find any more words.
“Really? I’ve never had a ‘wow’ before.”
“Maybe we should check it wasn’t a fluke?”
The first kiss had brought them closer together and this time Steve dared to put his hands on Katie’s waist. She lifted up on her toes and looped her arms around his neck. This kiss was bolder; Steve’s tongue traced the inner edges of her lips and she parted them and moved her own to meet it with exploratory touches. His hands gripped tighter on her hips, and hers tangled in his hair. 
The increasingly-passionate moment was rudely interrupted when a group of lads passing in the street spotted the canoodling couple and whistled and hooted (honestly, was there nowhere you could go in this city that wasn’t infested with packs of feral boys). Steve, without breaking the embrace, held up his middle finger in their direction. Not really looking where they were going, he started to steer them, Katie shuffling backwards, into the deeper shadows. After a few steps, she bumped into a wall and broke the kiss with a little ‘oof’ of surprise.
“Sorry, I…” Steve started to apologise.
“No, this is good.” She trailed her hands down the front of his jacket and anchored them around his waist, tugging him closer as their lips met again.  
Pressed into each other, and back against the wall, Steve’s knee slipped between hers, bringing their whole bodies into contact. Katie dropped her hands to his bum, and he let out a half-moan, half-sigh that she felt as much as heard. That sound cemented the transformation that had been happening in her head since the previous Friday, turning the dorky kid from the music room into a handsome prince grown man, with warm lips and strong hands and… let’s be honest, a really nice arse. She felt him slip a hand between her blouse and her jacket, up her back and then round to the side, as if he was following the bra band underneath like a map. Hesitantly, he moved his hand to cup the curve of her breast and his thumb brushed over her nipple. Even through two layers of fabric the touch was enough to make her gasp, and Steve reacted by repeating the action deliberately. Eager for skin contact, Katie wriggled her hand under the hem of Steve’s t-shirt, touching her fingers to the curve of his back. But her hands were cold, and her realisation of it, and his involuntary shiver, broke the spell and they both pulled away from the kiss with simultaneous ‘sorry’-s. 
Steve dropped his hand back to Katie’s waist and took a half-step back, forcing himself to create distance between their bodies. He blew out a long breath. “So… that was…”
“That was…” She was still gazing at him with starry eyes.
“I don’t usually…”
“I don’t either…”
“Sorry, too fast…”
“No… maybe…”
He cleared his throat and tried very hard to form a complete sentence. “If I asked you… would you go on a proper date with me? One that’s not groping in doorways?”
“Of course I would.” She smiled, “Though I wouldn’t be too upset if there was a little bit of groping in doorways!”
“Deal!” 
As they were leaving the yard, they almost bumped into a group of older men also, by the jovial laughter and slightly wobbly gait of some of the party, on their way home from a night in the pub. One of the men stopped after a few steps, turned back and scowled at the couple.
“Uh oh, it’s Mr Rafferty, the foreman. Don’t know why he’s got that face on him though, for once I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“Um, it might be because you’re holding his daughter’s hand.”
He dropped her hand like it was molten metal, muttering ‘bloody hell’ under his breath before pasting on an ingratiating smile.
“G-good evening M-mr Rafferty, I was just, err, seeing your Katherine home safe,” he stammered. “But, err, now you’re here, I’ll just say goodnight.”
He bobbed his head in a kind of awkward bow before scuttling off down the street as fast as his guilty feet would carry him. Katie tore her eyes away from his retreating figure and looked up at her father’s still frowning face. She wondered if she had lipstick smeared on her chin.
‘Home’ was all he said.
Chapter 3 >
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asuddensway · 1 year
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Martine Rose beermat pieced sweatshirt
A/W 2013
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thingsiwant-nl · 16 days
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Warning
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
-Jenny Joseph 1961
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thesuetyouforgot · 4 months
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"When [Terry Gilliam], along with his leading actor Jonathan Pryce, attended the film premiere of the remake Brazil in Hamburg, I had the opportunity to meet the two of them. He had already spotted me among my colleagues in the mob of photographers while he was delivering a little speech on the stage of the cinema. That was quite funny because he nudged Jonathan to draw his attention to me. And both grinned at me. After this presentation we spent a whole afternoon into the evening in one of Hamburg's pubs and had soooo much fun. He drew something for me on a beermat: A face with ears made out of faces. [...]"
©VIRGINIA
For better picture quality and five more photos please check out the original post on Instagram!
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