#cantinas

[ebookporn]

Why Are So Many Mexican Novels Set in Cantinas?

Nicolás Medina Mora Considers the Role of the Neighborhood Watering Hole in Mexican Literature and Culture

Some decades ago, when Mexico was still ruled by an authoritarian regime, one or another president remarked that the only two establishments one could be sure to find in every town in the country, no matter how small or remote, were a Catholic parish and an outpost of the state-owned store that sold subsidized milk. But he forgot to mention that most important of Mexican institutions, one so essential to the wellbeing of the nation that, if it disappeared overnight, the fatherland might well sink into the sea. I’m talking, of course, about the cantina.

In the most general definition of the term, a cantina is an establishment that sells booze—and often, but not always, food—to be consumed on the premises. But the particulars vary widely across geography and class lines. A few are downright fancy, with waiters in bow ties serving steak tartare. Many are little more than a tin roof, half dozen Corona-branded plastic tables, and a beer cooler powered by a diesel generator. Most are unpretentious neighborhood joints where you go with colleagues after work or to watch a soccer game with friends.

It’s not an exaggeration to say that Mexican literature is to a great extent a literature of the cantina.

Yet to think of cantinas as analogous to American bars would be as silly as conflating them with German biergartens. If in the United States the archetypical dive is a darkened room outfitted with a jukebox and a pool table, where patrons sit on stools and order from the barkeep, the ür-cantina is a large hall, bright with the glow of unforgiving fluorescent lights, where drinkers play dominoes and listen to buskers who play for tips while waiters ferry rounds of mezcal.

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[rabia1998]

-Cantina Hidalgo, Celaya, Gto.

[octaviusmex]

[besandosinlabios]

Apuesto a que se desilusionan, en todo el mundo es lo mismo, la cantina, el pub, son cuartos donde vemos botellas y gente. Yo he dejado de viajar por esta razón, los mismos vicios en cualquier lado, bueno, el oxígeno, por supuesto hay mejor aire en otros sitios, pero fuera de eso…

Guillermo Fadanelli

[thefrogdalorian]

Din Djarin + Chapter 5: The Gunslinger

[agenciaplanit]

Elaboramos contenidos para redes sociales y página web, para para Bares, Restaurantes, Taquerías, Cantinas, Antros, Fondas, Torterías, Centros Nocturnos, a partir de imágenes y videos que nos envía, los cuales son puestas a prueba diariamente durante un mes.

[merlyn-bane]

okay but can we talk about how fucking good the food would be in the Jedi Temple?? and all of the absolutely fucking baller and totally unique fusion dishes that would have to exist?? they're by far the most diverse group of beings we see in star wars, with lineages made up of people from all across the galaxy. the best food in that galaxy has got to be something from a lineage dinner table that's been made and modified by generations of Jedi and no-one ever wrote down

[natypinkns]

attack for @lesbiansplatroller of his agent 4 and my captain having a little brazilian snack inside the grizzco lobby. as a treat

[humanoidhistory]

Star Wars Fan Club poster, 1978. Artwork by Bill Selby.

[frostbitebakery]

@madsinartime, @elwenyere, @smoosey, and @foreverchangingfandomsao3 asked for Gravity 💜

🌶️ Alert 🔔

:3

[omgahgase]

luke: so the battery of my electric toothbrush died, right? and i was like "oh my force i can't brush my teeth anymore, i need a whole new toothbrush!"

luke: and then i realized: dumbass. you can brush your teeth acoustically.

din:

luke: *waves around dead toothbrush*

din, completely serious: i'm madly in love with you.

[thefrogdalorian]

din djarin + dramatic entrances

[dcomposing]

the trigger happy havoc survivors make me so mentally ill if i think about them for too long.

like we do not have anything in common and i dont even particularly like you. i dont know if we would have been friends if this hadn't happened to us but it did and now i'm not going to lose you. i dont know your favorite color but also ive never known anyone so intimately. i dont know how to make conversation with you. i feel nervous when you arent in my line of sight. please stay safe out there. let me know if you need help. i believe in you.

[the-cantina]

Sweet Torture | Rex x f!Reader

Pinned post | Masterlist | The Bad Batch | Clone Squads | Delta Squad

Summary: Rex regrets all of his life choices as you make him swallow his pride in the best – worst – way.

18+ themes below the cut. Be responsible about the content you consume, if you're not of adult age in your country, do the both of us a favor and go away.

Ficlet | Mature | Word Count: 856 Contents: Cockwarming, Rex gradually losing his battle against lust

Mando'a terms Di'kut: Idiot | Ner kar'ta: my heart

Datapad in one hand, Rex watches you scroll through yet another article that caught your attention in the last twenty minutes you’ve both been sitting together in the spacious hotel’s bathtub. He sighs. Not for the first time — and hardly the last — his head rolls back, seeking some comfort in the decorative tiling of the bathtub’s edge; hoping the cold material will fight, even if minimally, the heat sweltering underneath his skin.

Looking for any distraction from the sweet torture of your nude form pressed to his front, Rex risks a peek at the device in your hands, wondering what had your attention this time.

Biting on the inside of his cheek is all he can do to keep in the moan clawing its way up his chest, when his eyes glance at the word lingerie and the picture of a lacy set in the perfect blue and white of his armor. And if there was a time Rex ever hated the tactical focus engineered into him by the long-necks, it was now.

Closing his eyes would only make his mind work overtime to turn whatever glimpses it caught and feed him all the scenarios he had no need of thinking of at the moment. At least, not if he didn’t want to embarrass himself like a shiny making out for the first time.

With another sigh, Rex can’t help but look back at his younger, unwise three hours younger self with petty contempt.

Had he not been a cocky di’kut, bragging with all the overconfidence of a cadet fresh out of their first successful training session about his “unbreakable focus”, maybe he would be in a better situation now.

Instead, he sits in the bathtub with your back flush with his chest, the soft warmth of your inner thighs bracketing his, your head resting back on his shoulder, giving him an unimpeded view of your chest. Of the way the lips of your cunt — your slick, warm, maddeningly pulsing cunt — stretches to accommodate around his cock. All things that would spell paradise, if not for the fact you are not moving a single kriffing inch on top of him, content to feel him throb inside of you, unaffected by the need tearing him from the inside out.

“Something wrong, ner kar’ta?” your voice, sweet like wild honey, breaks him from his thoughts. It takes Rex longer than acceptable for to pry his eyes open; longer yet to focus past the haze woven by the throbbing tempo drumming low in between his legs to find your gaze pinned on him.

He is mildly aware his voice rumbles in his chest, and assumes he must have mumbled you an answer. One that doesn’t reach — ever gets processed by his own ears — not with the way he’s busy drowning in your eyes. The hazy glint on them, the heaviness of your eyelids, the minute way your eyebrows tilt up when his hips curl up without his - and more importantly, your permission.

It’s enough to break whatever spell was weaving between the two of you.

Rex cursed himself as your gaze sharpened almost as much as the smirk growing on your lips as you looked pointedly at his hand. His own datapad — the one where he should fill reports in — groaned pitifully on his grasp, the edge near his thumb now sporting a small, concerning rainbow line.

And if he wasn’t so focused on not making a mess of himself, Rex might have bothered with forcing down the heat prickling from the tip of his ears to the last inch of his chest.

Gathering enough of his voice for a proper answer took every last thread of self-control ingrained from years of training, but at last, a wheezed “I’m fine, beloved.” made its way out of his lips.

“Then settle, love. I’m trying to read”, you chided in a satisfied purr that fell like the sweetest of caresses on his ears; a caress his hyper-aware senses feast in like a ravenous nexu.

Your back presses firmer against his overheated skin, and Rex squeezes his eyes until stars spark behind them, holding on the datapad and long-forgotten fruit in his hands like they were the only things threading him to sanity.

Breathe in, hold. Breathe out, repeat; C’mon Rex, you can do it. It’s just like in the old resistance training—

But then you decide to make yourself even cozier, hips shifting on his too-sensitive cock, your oh-so-warm, silky walls squeeze and rub him in all the right ways. His datapad meets the floor with a concerning crack, and the now ruined peach slice oozes sticky between his fingers.

You preen at your obvious victory, and Rex whines on the crook of your neck as the vibrations of your chuckling extend way past his chest.

And when you are finally moving, and Rex is sure he’s about to pass out. The ever winding coil in his core tightens to the point he can barely breathe. Fett preserve him. He felt he was about to die with every roll of your hips…

But karking hells, what a wonderful way to go.

★ And if you got to the bottom of this post, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! It helps me know you like what I share with you, and fuels me to share more ★

[vintagegeekculture]

Bill Selby.

[papermariosuggestion]

"Sticker Star doesn't introduce any memorable or charismatic characters."

Sticker Star: