#shitty beer

[bastardbvby]

sapnap probably drinks/will drink exclusively Beer...... GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!!!

someone get this man a strawberry daiquiri..... just because it's fruity doesn't mean you are :/

[wordybirdrambles]

Yennefer, realizing Nilfgaard only serves bud light and banned craft beer:

[drmonkeysetroscans]

Fuck Milwaukee. 

[chibioniyuri]

Shitty Beer Reread

Wow, I wasn’t ready to read this one-shot, but I’m trying to stay as true to the timeline as I can without reading the Dory books. (I haven’t purchased them yet, and I don’t think I can read everything left before Ride the Storm comes out. Procrastination, why have you done this to me???)

I find the juxtaposition of Mac and Pritkin’s actual goals and Cassie’s assumption of their goals from Claimed by Shadow hilarious.

*Mac and Pritkin*: We must protect the Pythia and the heir, we’re war mages, that’s the oath we swore.

Cassie: Clearly, they’re gonna off me and use Myra to overthrow the Silver Circle.

I wasn’t ready to read Pritkin mourning Mac’s death, but I was relieved that the other war mages in the pub allowed him to mourn in peace. Placing that pin is a ritual to honor the fallen, and they respected his right to honor his brother.

[inscrutablereynard]

[littlesupernovaa]

Pizza and beer. 🍕🍺

[littlesupernovaa]

Shitty beer to match how shitty I feel. 👌

[tehloserprince]

My head hurt; the room seemed to be spinning. Like my life, I thought bitterly, just spinning out of control. The beer won’t help my headache, but it tastes fantastic. That alone should tell you something about the state I was in; I’d usually grumble about the brand, but I’ll be damned if this horse-piss wasn’t quenching my thirst after months of feeling parched and devoid of any emotion.

A hastily-folded scrap of paper catches my eye as I polish off the beer, returning the mug to its place on the bar. Green-eyed, red-haired, and determined to make my face turn several shades of red, she’d invited me to visit her in Nevada, tucking that scrap of paper into a very interesting place (”so you won’t lose it,” she’d said).

“It’s where I work,” she eyed me up and down, raised an eyebrow as that Cheshire cat grin crossed her face. “I’d give you a discount. We could have some fun.”

Well. Not much to say in response to that. The guys clapped me on the back, laughing and encouraging me to drop everything and go, go, go. Admittedly, I’d been in a strange mood; I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to start a fistfight or just fuck someone. It was a restless, moody sort of feeling, and I wasn’t terribly fond of it. It left me feeling even more lost and confused every time it reared its ugly head.

Driving aimlessly, pulling over to stretch out on the hood of the car and stare at the stars painted across the black canvas sky ... well, that sounded nice. I turned the piece of paper over and over in one hand, the other hand still firmly attached to the handle of the now-empty mug of beer.

Shit. I wished my head would stop hurting. Actually, I had a lot of wishes on my mind. My heart felt as empty as that beer mug; too bad it couldn’t be refilled as easily. The comparison reminded me of terrible emo/goth “poetry” and I cracked a smile for the first time that night.

I was still smiling, tears streaming down my face, when the bartender tapped my shoulder and told me they were closing up shop.