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#alcohol tw
timeisweird · 57 minutes ago
alcohol is actually poison how is this society's drug of choice
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coophi · an hour ago
because (the way i love you) is ageless
inspiration from this fanfic by @atsieu
modern au (because that’s the chelsea brand) & how genshin boys love in different stages of life. warnings: venti’s is alcohol/bar/drinking, diluc’s is implied sex/drinking. tbh no theme, only hot girls stick to consistent plots.
He’s the raw cookie batter your mother warned you about eating, the one who messes up the braids in your hair and proposes that you should come over for Tonia to fix the knots (as he does what’s tangible to fix your broken heart). He’s the boy who searches to see your Facebook relationship status, cries in heartbreak when there’s a picture of you hugging a boy, and flushes when discovering that it might have been photos with your cousin. And sure, he might be a liar about “knowing” how to write in cursive, but Childe’s already paid Zhongli to teach him calligraphy if it means writing your name with twirls on confession letters. Maybe choose ignore the way you can hear his chair screech after the teacher assigns groups because Childe’s already grabbed his wallet and attempted to slide a twenty dollar bill as bribery to switch it around (so your GPA won’t fall when you should only be falling for him). Because, even if you regret the way he tastes like sweat, dirt, and lost innocence, you don’t regret the way he looks at you like a bedtime story (a tale to repeat, to remember even if he’s memorized every scar on your knees).
You decide that Kaeya smells like sharpies; he smells from the habit of writing on skin (because Kaeya really yearns to remember if your favorite bread is on sale at the market again, if he thinks you’d like a pick-up line he spent hours searching, if he can perfect doodles of your smile). He’s the boy who only does follow for follows to see if you’ll come by his Instagram, the lad who screams in pillows when you text back, and the gentleman who takes a couple Zodiac compatibility tests even if he can’t look you straight in the eyes without an over consuming blush just yet. And you (should) ignore the way he drops his voice an octave lower to impress you among hallways, how he gets offended when placed as a tenor in choir, and squeaks with excitement when you’re paired together. Because when you get a notification, it’s his sweaty hands that offer you his address, that hold yours and make you wonder if he might be hotter than summer. And even if you spill soda every week on his carpet, he doesn’t mind (because each mark is a tribute to you and the way you have begun to stain his mind). Because even if you drool on his jacket when napping in another lecture or even steal more of his scarf to hide the hickey on your neck, his heart isn’t so off tune when it’s with you (because it’s dynamic enough to shout, to be loud and confess again in another 10 ways).
Klee says he can’t drive, but Albedo protests that he can drive (if you’re not in or near the car). And funny problem is: you’re the neighbor who offered some help (and pity) on Albedo’s inability to drive straight (unless it’s to you). But, so what — he shouldn’t even like you that much to be frank. Sure, you might be a year older, make his heart run past any mileage, fuel his heated cheeks everytime you laugh, make him glance at mirrors to watch if he can bump into you — there’s a lot of levers that you can pull to make Albedo forget which pedal to press. But Albedo shouldn’t (be only practicing when he can hear the car blasting off his Spotify playlist made for his infatuation with you). And maybe he purposefully gave himself a flat tire as an excuse to ask for your assistance, for your hands to wrap over his when handing over bolts. But Albedo’s smart (enough to ask you if there’s any advice to offer about parallel parking, to ask Klee about what kind of sunglasses would make him look best in your eyes). Albedo’s smart (enough to know that he wants to be the one you call when it’s a 2 AM drive to the conscience store, to be the arms who carry you, to be the one who watches you snore, to be the one who annoys you with Christmas carol songs in June).
He’s the whisky in the bar, the one who makes you contemplate on if you should be changing your major to Music History after your mom forced down 8 years of piano theory and recitals on your adolescence. He thinks it’s pretty to wash your hair in the shower after Venti’s spilled his guts on the floor from a hangover, confesses through singing karaoke at a bar when it’s only two hours 'till midnight, and the ringing in your head being overpowered by the doorbell after he’s stolen flowers (a gift to you) from your neighbor’s yawn. You slow dance (because every moment he’s out of your arms means he’s running, racing against the cops to not be caught after hanging up a portrait he drew of you in the student museum despite them rejecting it). Flashy jean jackets drenched in sweat, textbooks forgotten in favor of learning your anatomy as the perfect way to string a G Minor scale, and Victoria Secret cologne reek with the last of your youth. And maybe he’s the tangles in your hair, maybe he’s the one who picks out all the dandruff---but (at the end of the day) it’s the question of if you were drunk enough you to forget the way his breath tastes like mints.
Diona says that he can’t find love, but Diluc protests that Wikihow articles (and you) exist for a reason. “Go to your college reunions”, slow dance with old sweethearts, miss kisses on the cheek for your lips, ask if someone spiked the punch, and hide tinges of regret when you’re in his bed again. But you already know that you visit too many times when the sight of his bed hair stains your memory. Have a laugh at alarms for old anniversaries that don’t really matter anymore, and kiss the space between his eyebrows (in the hopes that he’ll forget when you overcharged a box of beer and booze at some frat party). And perhaps Diluc pretends to sleep from morning hangovers, pretends he doesn’t see you wearing his button down, and pretends to act like Diona doesn’t favor you more than him. Perhaps Diluc pretends to not know the stock market when the crash was his thesis from years ago because he wants to hear your voice, and maybe Diluc still let’s Diona kick his chair (when he’s staring at you, when he’s supposed to be working). Because people (well, only Kaeya really) say Diluc’s not meant for love; Diluc’s meant to see Daddy’s money crumble (for pictures of you again in old yearbooks). And Diluc knows, listens enough times to accept he’s not meant for love (until you ask for him to stay in bed with pjs on, until he’s catching himself making private playlists for the words he’s not entirely ready to say without a stutter).
He’s not our moment of self discovery, nor is he the journey you’ve always been yearning for. All Xiao is, all that he can be is the one who searches for Costco coupons with you in stacks of newspapers. He’s your ride to Yourgurtland, the one you call if you need to hide the stray kitten you brought in from your boss. Xiao’s the one who pulls up Wikipedia when trying to buy flowers (because he wants to seek the one that tells you “I love you” just right), mistakes a stranger as your nephew, and leaves the grocery list in foggy bathroom mirrors. You think he can’t smile at cameras (unless you’re holding the phone), and you know he can’t dance (around his feelings for you). Because it’s recording his snores to embarrass him later, making mini-pillow forts that ask for you to chase youth once more, and convincing him that you’re too old to get sick when waltzing in pouring rain. It’s your younger brother asking why Xiao can’t grow a beard, your older sister asking why Xiao even should grow a beard. It’s the inside jokes birthed from reluctance and anxiety, convincing him to watch Mean Girls so you both can create a burn book. It’s everything you never asked for, yet he’s everything you ever smile at. (And perhaps both of you were mistakes for not marrying young, but today you only focus on the mistake of letting him walk to work with your lipstick stain on his neck.)
You don’t like Zhongli at first sight (because he’s a sign of the past, the sign of your connection, contracts, and ties to your parent’s approval). He’s the aged wine in your closet that your parents gifted to you in the hopes of making amends, the history of what your parents expected you to have for their old cries of a legacy. And you’re determined to step on his shoes when you slow dance, determined to mess up the powder hiding any blemishes on his cheeks if the red on your lipstick creates more wordless stares (of diguest from your parents, of shock from Zhongli’s own racing heart). You’re rebellious (when he’s the old soul who kisses you like those fairytales that you ingrained into your memory on days without life’s thrill). You’re hotheaded (but he’s the one who brings the cooler to picnic dates with your friends). You’re laughter that consumes (and he’s the one who hushes your smiles, stealing your breath with each kiss). Because (no matter how much you dislike the way he knows your favorite song to hum before bed, no matter how much you dislike yourself for wanting him to raise his arms when changing the clock so you can see his muscles again) you like the way he smells of lavender. He tastes as terribly as the icecream your brother tried to make in fifth grade, but this time you don’t mind vanilla (even if it’s safe or boring). He is the history, the past (of all your regrets and mistakes) yet also your future.
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USUK, The American Drinking Age:
“Get me some scotch, will you?” Arthur asks in the alcohol section of the humongous American Walmart. “I don’t have my ID with me.”
“You know I can’t.”
“Oh, I won't get that drunk again,” Arthur dismisses him quickly remembering how he had vomited on Alfred’s floor after a trip to an NYC Irish Pub not long ago, putting a bottle in the shopping cart.
Alfred immediately puts it back on the shelf.
“You of all people aren’t denying me alcohol!” Arthur raises his voice at him, reaching for the whiskey bottle on the shelf again.
“No dumbass, I can’t buy it!” Alfred says pushing back the struggling Arthur with ease. “Drinking age is 21 in America, remember?”
Arthur pauses, frowning at him in disbelief, “But you’re nearly 250 years old.”
Alfred just sighs sadly, shrugs, then continues down the aisle.
“It’s like that bloody scene from Twilight,” Arthur rants, accidentally letting it slip that he knows the movie script word for word. “When Bella’s in the forest and says ‘How old are you?’ ‘17’ ‘How long have you been 17?’ then Edward says ‘A while'.”
“But I’m 19,” Alfred pouts like a child who was told he was 7 instead of 7-and-a-half.
(Another similar drabble here. From chapter 8 of my fic where aph England struggles in America without tea, AO3: "I'm not drinking that Lipton's shit.")
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finnxharrington · 3 hours ago
The dimly lit lounge hummed with a vibrancy that only people entranced by music could create. Everyone’s attention went to the man on the stage, including Finn’s. Walking through the still crowd, he smiled to himself. Happy to see Lucien in his element once again. It had been years since the two had really seen each other, just off and on. But when he saw Lucien’s name on a flyer outside, it seemed too serendipitous to pass up. A drink in hand, he made his way to an empty seat, hoping to catch his friend’s eye from upon the stage.
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sookyshima · 3 hours ago
will never understand my love for wine even though i cant measure how many glasses it takes me to get drunk.
but tequila? 5-6 shots and one whiskey pls.
make it two. beer. i'd say a good 2-3 cans.
im a drunk.... arent i?
Put me, you and @megumislonghair in one room and we can see who will get drunkest first. We can play a drinking game LMAO
Now THAT would be something I’m willing to participate in
We’ll live-stream it and our mutuals can bet on us like they do at the races
This competition is an open competition and anyone is free to join ;))))
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msppotts · 4 hours ago
“ i don’t think i’ll ever be over you. ” (if you're still accepting. I know it's been ages XD)
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And she would never get over him but the admission caused more damage than it did the good. Pepper knew it. She did all along. Yet, it never made her heart more resistant to the feelings she held for Tony. He meant a world to her. Together or not, he always did. But she needed to care for herself too. For once, Pepper needed to put her needs above anyone else's and most importantly above Tony's.
The public, hell even the rest of the known and unknown universe, could've been thinking whatever they wanted about her and her so-called cold demeanor, but they never truly knew what was between the two of them. Whenever Tony needed her, she was there. In a heartbeat. Pepper dropped everything and instantly catered to him and his needs. She ruined her other relationships as she kept ruining herself because Tony needed someone to rely on. And for the longest time she felt like it's okay because he had sacrificed so much for the well-being of the others. But it wasn't.
And no matter how it looked like, Pepper never put any blame on him. There was nothing to blame Tony for. Except for a lack of self-care and self-love he implanted on himself. She kept providing that as much as she could've but, soon, it turned toxic. They couldn't keep going like this when they both were shattered and damaged. And someone had to draw a line to it all. That someone had to be her. Did it mean she stopped loving him? Of course not. Her heart still picked up the pace whenever he looked up at her or his scent lingered in the places he used to stay at. But for the change, Pepper needed to love herself a little bit more than she did love him.
However, no matter how much she tried to keep her distance, it's been hard. Especially in the times like this, seeing him shattered on the floor, seemingly intoxicated, or it might be the mix of caffeine overdose and days without sleeping. Maybe both. It clutched the heart in her chest.
Pepper put her purse on the counter and shifted closer by the sound of her high heels clattering against the tiles in his lab. Eventually, with a heavy sigh leaving her lungs, Pepper descended on the floor and looked into his blue eyes. Their shoulders were subtly brushing against one another. She promised to be there for him, but she was scared to express the vulnerability she still felt for him. It could never go away.
"I am here." She stated more as a matter of fact than anything else. Her own green eyes gradually followed the outline of his arm until her gaze dropped towards her own palm and she raised her hand to intertwine her fingers with his. Rough and calloused from all the distracting activities he tried to take his mind off of the pain with. Different in a comparison to her pale, soft skin. But she liked it. As she liked many of their differences. No matter what anyone else said. Pepper didn't try to change Tony. It wouldn't be fair. If she truly loved him, she wouldn't want for him to be different. But it didn't mean she wouldn't protect herself from his harmful tendencies, and that's why, at least romantically, they had to go their separate ways.
"I told you I'll be here. I keep my word. By now you should know." She spoke softly through the pain in her expression. Her hand gently squeezed his laying in hers as Pepper fought the temptation to bring it closer to her lips and trace his warm skin with a kiss.
"Did you drink?" She asked then. There was no intention to hurt in her words but she needed to know. It's been hard to tell, at times if it's him battling his demons with a bottle or just the general lack of sleep giving him the blank gaze and a numbness to is expression.
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answered // @invinciblestark
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sookyshima · 4 hours ago
Koko is drinking tonight and I must admit it’s making me feel some sort of fomo even though she’s not in the same country as me
Bitch I will fly there and we will play montero and slide our way down to hell together
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awanderingdeal · 5 hours ago
I should be watching the footy with a cider this afternoon but noooo I have to go to work. Bullshit.
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givemegayplease · 5 hours ago
I don't like to be too personal, but today I set a boundary with drink for when I'm around my family. This is a real big deal and I'm super proud of myself for being finally more open with my issues around alcohol.
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prettygirlseat · 6 hours ago
TW. ***
Drank alcohol for the first time in 8 months and I feel equally bad about it as well as liberated. I should have the freedom to choose if I drink and I should allow myself to feel the full range of emotions for my choices including shame, embarrassment, excitement, anger, disappointment, etc. And it’s okay if I want to allow myself the option to drink an adult beverage if I choose, and even if the option is there, doesn’t mean I need to fulfill that option if I don’t want to. I don’t want to limit or restrict myself to anything, but just because it’s available doesn’t mean I need to have it.
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pagankingfinn · 7 hours ago
Logan: Are you... Pouring wine on your cereal?
Janus: yes
Logan: you're supposed to do the wine first and then the cereal
Janus: and you're supposed to jam the toast before your coffee
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folkloredeluxe · 8 hours ago
hm, benji doesn’t understand what its like to have non-white parents who have to come around to your sexuality and victor shouldn’t have discussed his alcoholism with rahim, like i would be so mad!!! even sharing with felix would maybe be different but rahim ?!?! RAHIM ?!?!
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internet-schvitzinq · 8 hours ago
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Long Island Iced Tea, 1980’s
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Kristen Bell for the NPC meme.
Okay so I see her as Sara's older cousin, Andrea, on her mom's side. Rarely ever seen, as they lived in different states, and once Sara's dad starting drinking heavily visits were not encouraged by her mom, Dinah. Andrea got along with Laurel much better than Sara ever did given the two were closer in age, and Sara was the opposite of proper, girly, bubblegum blonde that the older two were trying to radiate. So it was pretty much to be expected after Laurel was killed, and Sara was busy with the Legends, there was no reason for either to contact each other and they haven't seen each other in years.
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internet-schvitzinq · 10 hours ago
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Last drink for the night, a personal favourite. Gin and (spiked) Tonic with a splash of lime. 🍸
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i am drinking whiskey in a crystal glass and my legs are shaved and i smell like lavender. i’ve reached my avatar state.
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subspencer · 10 hours ago
y’all i know all i’m fucking doing tomorrow is writing because jesus christ my mind is turning. one of them may be an entire blurb dedicated to spencers hands (thank u 🐙 anon)
a few of the perv concepts sent in, i’ve been eyeballing to incorporate into a smutty enemies to lovers series that i’ve been planning on & off for a while... so if i actually can plan that series & incorporate it then you’ll see it in there ! if not then i’ll write a blurb for them bc i’m: obsessed
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internet-schvitzinq · 11 hours ago
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I made Dole Whips with some rum 🥰🌴🥥🍌🍍🍹
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