#rl drinking//

[braveburned]

ohh we are so drukk no

[trunklewunjle]

He doesn’t approve

Ink belongs to comyet

Cross belongs to JakeiArtWork

Dream and Nightmear belongs to Jokublog

Dust belongs to ask-dusttale

[deermouth]

What better time than to inaugurate my boob vase than the day of jars? Happy first day of Anthesteria :)

[fauvester]

i think my coworkers and friends think its a little excessive that Im so militant about my sleep schedule but its hard to describe the extent to which the terrors fucking get me if my circadian rhythm is even a little fucked up

[gaslightgallows]

My wife @meldanya44 has never seen me drunk and I had a very light dinner but I am two beers in tonight and wheeeee

[mervynbunter]

Robert Louis Stevenson, Treasure Island (1883)

[faorism]

best way to play guess who? is vibe check. you are not allowed to ask any questions about physical appearance, and they/them pronouns used to describe your character in answers if you need to clarify something. some questions that came up last time i played include: do you clean up after your dog on walks? did you get an online nursing degree? do you vote in non-presidental elections? and my favorite, do you know how to tie complex knots? (which got my brother good because he left up people he thought would be in construction/production, and we had already established my person ran an OFans)

it's surprisingly co-operative because you feel like you failed the vibe check if the other person eliminates your person based on your answer

[lapis-lazuliie]

still can't watch the ep, but

finally got it <3

[frociaggine]

do you have a degree in political science?

Undergraduate degree! Talk 2 me about Antonio Gramsci

[ryoflix]

sukuna being the test subject of your lip products | f. reader, s/h prns., crack 'n suggestive (under the cut), estb. rl ؛ ଓ

you don’t ask anymore. you just do.

the moment a new PR package shows up—wrapped in glittery tissue, smelling like candy and capitalism—you’re already rolling up your sleeves and calling, “baby, come here. test dummy time.” sukuna groans from wherever he’s sulking in the apartment (usually the couch, half-asleep with one hand in a bag of chips and the other on his game controller). he pretends not to hear you, but he does. he always does.

“what now?” he drags his feet over. shirtless, pouting, voice gravelly with freshly summoned attitude. “if this is another ‘juicy lip plumper no. 3’ i’m gonna riot.”

you ignore him, your hand snaking around his wrist and pulls him down to your vanity stool like you pay him for this. in a way, you do — you kiss him after, and he’d commit federal crimes for that.

“this one’s called eternal cherry kiss,” you say as you uncap the applicator with a dramatic flourish. “supposed to last through eating and drinking. you’ll be the judge.”

“what the fuck is ‘eternal cherry’ supposed to taste like?”

“eternally cherry, obviously.” you lean in. “now pucker up.”

he rolls his eyes, exhales through his nose like this is such an inconvenience, but he leans in anyway. you swipe the gloss across his mouth in a single fluid motion — crimson and glossy, instantly turning his lips into a billboard ad for ‘kissing season.’

he smacks his lips. frowns.

“feels sticky.”

you pull out your phone and hit record. “and now, we let the wear test begin.”

by 2 p.m., he’s still wearing it. there’s a faint cherry sheen while he raids in world of warcraft, barking orders through his mic with his mouth shimmering like a debutante. his guild doesn’t say anything. they know better.

by 5 p.m., you’ve taken him out for errands, the cashier at the pharmacy doing a double take. sukuna glares at the display of cough drops like it wronged him personally, but he doesn’t wipe it off. not even once.

you hand him a mic for the “after” segment. he’s sitting on the kitchen counter, shirtless again, lips still kissed-stained and glowy.

“so, mr. sukuna,” you say with your best influencer voice. “tell us your final review.”

he glares at the camera as he crosses his arms. the gloss is half-faded, but still there, like a badge of honor.

“it’s obnoxious. it survived a shower. survived battle. survived me eating an entire plate of biryani. and her biting my bottom lip at lunch like a demon in heat.”

you make a peace sign from behind the phone.

“…ten outta ten,” he adds reluctantly. “would wear again. for science. or whatever.”

and in the comments, someone goes, “i want what they have.”

sukuna replies from your account—because of course he has the password—with: “die mad about it.”

but since testing lip products just on the lips is for cowards, you’ve upgraded.

this is science. clinical, methodical, incredibly serious influencer business. and sukuna? well, he’s your canvas. your unwilling, irritable, secretly-over-the-moon canvas. he walks into the room already shirtless—because at this point, he knows—arms crossed over his bare chest, all grumble and menace. “so what’s the experiment today, doc? you gonna write your damn @ on my forehead in pink gloss?”

“don’t tempt me,” you say sweetly, uncapping the new gloss. it’s called kissbomb ultra lacquer, and it smells like peaches. “this one claims to last twelve hours, transfer-proof, fade-resistant, and kink-safe.”

he blinks. “kink-safe?”

“don’t worry about it.” you grab his wrist and guide him to sit on the edge of the bed. “shirt off.”

“already is,” he mutters.

“pants too.”

he raises a brow. “...you testing or tryna get laid?”

“yes.”

you climb into his lap with the confidence of a scientist mid-breakthrough, gloss wand in one hand, determination in the other. you apply it slowly, precisely, like you’re prepping for war.

and then the kisses start.

soft little muahs on the corner of his jaw. one on the bridge of his nose. two on his neck, left and right, where his pulse ticks faster. one on each shoulder, then trailing down the hard curve of his bicep. his arms are crossed still, fists clenched, jaw tight—but his ears? red. his breathing? not as chill as he wants to seem.

you murmur, “don’t flex. you’ll smudge the print.”

“’m not flexing,” he says through gritted teeth. “this is just how i exist.”

you keep going. lips marking his collarbones, his ribs, his stomach. lower. every kiss leaving a little stain in a perfect pink imprint like someone went stamp! stamp! stamp! on your big scary man and turned him into a valentine’s day clearance bin.

“you know,” you say thoughtfully, inspecting your work, “you kinda look like the lesbian flag right now.”

he glares at you. “say that again and i’ll throw you out the window.”

you grin, not even fazed. “oh no. my hot queer ally boyfriend’s covered in lip prints. whatever will i do.”

the whole day, he walks around the apartment looking like a sexy battlefield. every mirror he passes, he pauses—just for a second—checking if they’re still there. (they are. of course they are. you chose a good gloss.)

he’s got one kiss mark on the dip of his spine. two on the inside of his thighs. one perfectly placed behind his ear that makes him twitch every time he catches the scent of peach.

“stop looking at me like that,” he growls at you from across the room, sprawled out on the couch later, sipping water and trying to act normal. “you look like a cat who just knocked over a vase.”

you climb on top of him again. inspect a few faded spots. reapply.

“just touching up my art,” you murmur. “quality control.”

he leans his head back and sighs, but his hands are already settling on your hips. there’s a glint in his eyes that says he’s so pretending to hate this. he’s so full of shit.

and when you post a blurry photo of your masterpiece—captioned “new gloss. 12 hour wear. boyfriend approved 💋”—you wake up the next morning to 4,700 comments and one furious growl from sukuna.

“who the fuck is asking if they can be next?”

you hum, flipping over in bed to kiss him right on the chest. “don’t worry, baby. the gloss may be long-lasting, but you’re the exclusive trial subject.” he grumbles, eyes half-lidded, smug despite himself.

“…damn right i am.”

kiss divider by @uzmacchiato

[cherrygirlfriend]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ how to get even

pairing: bsf!rafe x reader synopsis: when reader sees her boyfriend kissing his ex, she decides to get revenge. warnings/tags: smut, drunk sex, PIV, MDNI! a/n; part of my 1k celebration more specifically rafe with revenge sex!! as a scorpio, i always support revenge (especially when women do it!) also inspired by coincidence and sharpest tool by sabrina carpenter (and literally my rl experience) thanks to @cameronsprincess for the req!!

rafe masterlist ♡ 1k masterlist

you felt your heart shatter in your chest as your intoxicated eyes landed on the sight in front of you. he didn't even bother to try and hide, theo's lips locked with his ex-girlfriend's, right in the middle of a fucking party.

you should've known the moment you saw her name on his phone. guess basic decency wasn't something he deemed you deserved.

downing your drink, you felt someone wrap their arms around your shoulders, and if they weren't familiar, adorned with muscles you knew like the back of your head, you would've felt like you were being choked.

"hey, what's wrong?" rafe spoke with a slur as you turned around in his arms, holding onto his torso as tightly as possible, your mascara-tears staining his white button-down. "oh. oh, fuck."

the man pressed a small kiss to the top of your head, "d'you want me to take care of him?" rafe's words making you chuckle as you shook your head, "let's just get out of here, bunny."

rafe took your hand, leading you upstairs into one of the bedrooms. he sat you down at the edge of the bed, cupping your cheeks as your lip wobbled weakly, tears stinging in your eyes, threatening to start running down your cheeks any moment now.

"aw, baby," rafe cooed, stroking your cheek with his thumb, wiping away the tears that managed to escape, "don't cry over that dickhead. he doesn't deserve your pretty little tears."

"yeah?" you look up at him through blurry, glassy eyes, and rafe was sure that you were the prettiest thing on earth, the pad of his thumb brushing against your plump, bottom lip.

"yeah." your best friend smiled down at you, pushing his thumb into your mouth, the act soothing you as you sucked his long digit into your mouth.

somehow, you ended up bent over on the bed, your panties pulled down to your ankles and the hem of your dress pulled up. rafe's thumb was still between your lips, his hips snapping against yours to the rhythm of the music that was playing downstairs.

"he doesn't deserve you..." rafe mumbled against the back of your neck, "never did..."

tears ran down your cheeks as he pounded into you from behind, pressing small kisses to the back of your neck. your mind was muddled, and even though you were still hurting from finding out about your boyfriend, it didn't hold a candle to the way rafe had you folded, his hand holding onto the fat of your ass as his cock was being squeezed by your warm cunt.

"rafe..." his name on your lips was muffled by rafe's hand as you arched your back, your hips meeting his as the boy's hand slid down to meet your clit, electricity running down your spine as your bucked your hips into his hand. "rafe..."

rafe pulled his hand away from your mouth, moving it to grip your hair, pulling your head back. "you're mine."

you let out incomprehensible mumbles as the pace of his hips picked up, the feeling deep in your stomach getting more and more intense as you got lost in him.

[lower-east-side]

You aren't allowed to open it yourself because then it's being possibly sold to-go which is often illegal.

If it helps you to think of it like commission rather than service think of it like that. There *is* service involved, however. Stocking the fridge. Keeping track of the orders. The unending emotional labor of keeping track of the people making the orders, who quite possibly need babysitting.

But if you seriously stopped ordering at bars and just sit there drinking water simply because you don't like to think about tipping (as your tags indicated) and not because you don't drink alcohol, you know what, on behalf of all other bartenders out there, stop going to fucking bars. Drink at home.

Alcohol tips for newbie writers (or non drinkers!):

At bars, people who order “chasers” after their shots are ordering something to wash down the taste of their shot with. This can be juice, soda, more alcohol, or even pickle juice

Hard liquor is generally sold in stores as shots (tiny bottles), fifths, liters, and handles or in ml (50, 100, 200 etc)

Most people can’t finish an entire fifth of hard liquor (vodka, etc) on their own without being very ill

Conversely, many people can finish an entire bottle of wine on their own without being ill

Liquor can be “bottom shelf” or “rail” or “well” – all synonyms for the cheapest version of alcohol a bartender has. Bars generally keep several “levels” of alcohol stocked

You order a drink with the alcohol first, then the mix – e.g., a “vodka soda” or a “Tito’s and tonic”

When you “close out a tab”, you pay for all of the drinks you’ve had that night. Either the bartender already has your card (you “opened a tab” earlier) or it was quiet enough that they just kept an eye on you and tallied your bill up at the end

“Doubles” are drinks or shots with double the standard pour of alcohol

In the US, most shots (pours) are 1.5 oz by default. 

Mixed drinks (gin and tonic, vodka lemonade, cosmos, etc) are generally made up of 1-2 shots and a mixer 

If you don’t specify which type of alcohol you’d like in a mixed drink (vodka cranberry, for example) the bartender will put whatever the “house” liquor is – and this depends entirely on the establishment. A dive bar will pour rail by default, whereas a nicer tavern might make all vodka cranberries with Tito’s

PLEASE TIP YOUR BARTENDERS THEY WILL REMEMBER YOU I PROMISE

[pygian-weapon]

the futchest girl I have ever seen in real life has the most straight-girlie looking instangram page what does this mean

[acatinabox]

A collection of cultural and food suggestions related to Antiva

From an Italian amateur writer.

Big disclaimer: I am not trying to claim Antiva or his characters as Italian, if you want to see it more Spanish, be my guests. Things in the setting are ambiguous so let's make the most of this vagueness and make space for each others' headcanons.

That said, I'm Italian, and these are the things I can relate/speak about confidently, so I will. I do write Lucanis more Italian in my fanfiction because he was written as such in the Wigmaker Job and it was such a boon to feel represented in a piece of media I loved but I support fan creativity so do whatever you want.

Also these are generalisations. People are not a monolith, goes without saying.

Nobody asked for this, but I hope maybe it helps someone or is interesting.

With that out of the way, here's a collection of themes/suggestions that speak to me, and that might be useful if you want to write them in in your fanfiction and that aren't coffee or organised crime related.

The smell of soffritto at lunch time in the streets. People cook with their windows open when the weather allows it, and the smell of their food permeates the air. You can smell it from the street. Soffritto is the base of many Italian preparations and sauces, so it's a very familiar smell at lunch and dinner time. It's a mix of onion, celery and carrots minced and put in a pan to stir fry with olive oil. If you add a little bit of tomato sauce you make the most basic pasta sauce. Congratulations.

The smell of freshly made bread is fragrant and unique. Every region has its own type of bread and you can easily find a variety of them in most cities. Italian bread is fluffy and light and sometimes a bit dry. Potato bread is made in mountain areas. In the south, bread has a thick dark crust and an airy centre. We eat bread almost at every meal, it's just as iconic and pasta.

I can easily see Lucanis make his own pasta sauce and bread from scratch.

Speaking of bread, I can also see Lucanis make "scarpetta" after he finished eating, which means scraping the sauce from the plate with a bit of bread.

People make small talk in the streets or in the stores, sometimes with complete strangers. It's not a strict social rule but it happens quite often.

The Lucanis/Illario conversation in wigmaker job about not eating Antivan food abroad is the quintessential dynamic between the expat and the relative visiting who expects to not go out of their comfort zone. It happened to me more times than I can count.

Family functions can last all day, we can meet for lunch on a Sunday and spend the whole day together. If you get out of the table before 5PM on a holiday like Christmas or Easter frankly it means you failed as a host (harsh but true). More often than not you'll find yourself staying for a lighter dinner too.

The usual composition of a big meal is antipasto, first course, second course with a side, dessert, fruit, caffè ammazzacaffè. On normal days we only have a main, though.

Ammazzacaffè is the sacred ritual of the digestive after coffee (it literally means coffee killer). I mention it because it's mentioned in the game and in the short stories. It can be I think any strong liquor. We have it after a big lunch or in the evening, usually not at lunch on a working day. It kinda resets you, closes the meal.

Drinking wine has a big convivial function. Drinking alone is not something most people do often, we reserve it for social occasions and usually with a meal.

Dressing up is kind of expected in certain family functions and situations. Not in all families and not at all occasions but I can see it would be expected especially in high society.

Veneto, where RL Treviso is, is known for their creative swearing against god. I can absolutely picture Lucanis shout "by Ghil'an'ain's saggy boobs" or "by Elgar'nan's dried balls" when angry. Honestly go wild, please make up some insults for them and tell me about them (also sorry for the apostrophes, I don't know where they go).

We have a chocolate bonbon, Baci (means kisses), that have paper slips with sappy, romantic quotes in them. Some of Lucanis's phrases remind me of that. I think he'd be a fan and note down his favourite quotes. It's a dark chocolate bonbon with a soft heart and a hazelnut inside.

I said I wouldn't mention coffee but I lied. In some Italian cities there's the tradition of caffè appeso (hung coffee). Someone pays for coffee for themselves and for someone else they don't know that might want one and not be able to afford it. It's adorable and I can see Lucanis do it exaggeratedly all the time because he seems quite generous.

I think I'm done for now and maybe more people will jump up in the mentions or the replies to add their own useful things. I'll try to add some if they come to mind!

[pforestsims]

Not much to say other than I'm glad I finally managed to finish these but I still need more bar stuff :S

Bar Decor Set

Download: SFS | BOX

13 decorative objects plus bar mat (tray) and Bar OMSP (single slot, bar worktop height) . Reasonable polycount and texture size (512x256px or smaller, mostly 256x256 px).

Updated : 04.05.2024 - Fixed NonSlip Bar Mat, now it can be placed on all surfaces. 08.04.2024 - edited bar worktop OMSP so it doesn't block bar functions. Added second OMSP for lower bar shelf.

*Flavoured Syrup features simlish versions of RL product labels.

I used fonts: Simlish Western, Immajer-Simlish, CherryVanilla.

More pics under the cut:

*This is for The Sims 2

If you've downloaded the WIP version please update the files.

Retro Blender mesh and Red recolor was edited, drinking straw box is unchanged.

New stuff: flipped version of straw box (repo), two types of shakers, jiggers & ice tongs, mixing glass, small six pack and separate bottles, glass with straws and empty glass. There's also a bar mat - has 9 placement slots.

Enjoy!

-----------------------------------------------

Boring technical notes for CC creators:

My Syrup bottle has two recolorable subsets - the cap and Label - both opaque, but there's also a transparent 'Glass' subset with its own TXMT. When switching Label recolors, the glass color changes along with it.

It's possible thanks to 'tsDesignModeSlaveSubsets'. It allows you to have two different TXMTs linked together.

You add 'tsDesignModeSlaveSubsets' to GMND just like you would tsMaterialsMeshName, but the difference is you link recolorable subset to an extra subset inside your mesh. So in case of my bottle:

label = (String) glass

The important thing is to have TXMTs inside your file named as follows:

[CRES name]_[unique subset name]_[suffix shared between subsets]

For example:

[CRES name]_glass_bottle for the glass, [CRES name]_label_bottle for the label and so on.

When creating a recolor for both subsets, it should contain three TXMTs.

[comicaurora]

As an autistic person with sensory issues, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EXPLAINING WHAT HUNGER FEELS LIKE. You have no idea how difficult it is to get an explanation. Internet didn't help because it's just assumed that EVERYONE knows what it feels like. (Which, like, I get it, but sensory issues isn't just about the five senses! It can also be things like hunger and thirst!) And in RL people for some reason assumed that I wasn't looking for an answer?? BTW, can you explain thirst and tiredness? Please?

Huh, happy to help!

Thirst is a little more difficult to pin down. In my experience it can manifest most simply as minor discomfort swallowing, like a stickiness in your throat. Mentally, the cues that you're thirsty can be as simple as the thought of a cool drink suddenly seeming really appealing; as a rule of thumb, if I suddenly start thinking about juice or soda, I drink a full glass of water and then see if I still want the sweet drink too. If you're quite dehydrated, your head might hurt, like a feeling of pressure behind your forehead.

Tiredness can also manifest as a similar headache, but I usually feel tiredness in and behind my eyes as a pressure or ache, or even a stinging if I've been staring at a screen too long.