#french-absinthe

[spiritsoffrance]

Distilleries et Domaines De Provence - A true French Absinthe

All true absinthe's are bitter to some degree (due to the presence of absinthe, extracted from the wormwood) and are therefore usually served with the addition of sugar. This not only counters the bitterness, but in well made absinthe's seems also to subtly improve the herbal flavor-profile of the drink. The classic French absinthe ritual involves placing a sugar cube on a flat perforated spoon, which rests on the rim of the glass containing a measure or "dose" of absinthe. Iced water is then very slowly dripped on to the sugar cube, which gradually dissolves and drips, along with the water, into the absinthe, causing the green liquor to louche ("loosh") into an opaque opalescent white as the essential oils precipitate out of the alcoholic solution. Usually three to four parts water are added to one part of 68% absinthe. Historically, true absintheur's used to take great care in adding the water, letting it fall drop by single drop onto the sugar cube, and then watching each individual drip cut a milky swathe through the peridot-green absinthe below. Seeing the drink gradually change color was part of its ritualistic attraction.   Part of the advantage of using an absinthe fountain was that you could add ice cubes to the water to keep it cold, and some carafes had a chamber for ice as well.   SHOP THE ABSINTHE RANGE HERE

[kaurwreck]

OH YOUR VERLAINE AND RIMBAUD POSTS AND THE TENDENCY OF ASAGIRI TO FLIP FLOP THE MENTOR/MENTEE OR ADMIRED AND HOW RIMBAUD WAS THE YOUNGER ONE BUT IN BSD VERLAINE WAS SOCIALIZED BY RIMBAUD

With Rimbaud and Verlaine, it's worth remembering that bsd!Rimbaud is Verlaine. His skill is Illuminations, but he gave Black #12 his birth name, Paul Verlaine. bsd!Verlaine was not originally named Rimbaud, but his youth, passions, and duality are Rimbaudian, while bsd!Rimbaud's more coddling temperament, at times paternal and at times impassioned, and last sentiments for bsd!Verlaine, are seemingly references to irlVerlaine's poetry about irl!Rimbaud. (Such as Watercolors: Green, an English translation of which I shared in a separate post.)

Notably, Verlaine published Illuminations on Rimbaud's behalf and influenced the content and arrangement that was published. His legacy is often related more to his relationship with and publication of Rimbaud than his own poetry, according to the journal articles I've been reading. bsd!Verlaine's Brutalization incantation also comes from Arthur Rimbaud's Les Sœurs De Charité.

But the bsd iterations of Rimbaud and Verlaine aren't wholly distinct either, each carrying fragments of the other, sometimes blurring together. That, too, is a homage to the philosophies of the irl!poets. For example, Rimbaud, at times, writes from Verlaine's perspective in Une Saison en Enfer.

Rimbaud's poetry is also marked for its dialogic perspective-shifting, and he wrote through and lived within a philosophy of ambiguity, duality, and self dissection (at least during his youth):

irl!Verlaine, too, had a dual personality at times:

So, I don't think Asagiri flip/flopped Rimbaud and Verlaine's roles; I think he's commentating on, illustrating, and interpreting where their poetry, legacies, and passions became thoroughly entangled, as filtered and processed through bsd's themes. I think Asagiri enjoys plucking tragedy from reality and asking, "What would it have taken for them to have found reason and purpose absent any?"

That said, I also don't think Asagiri is ever really inversing mentor/mentee roles, even in regard to Akutagawa and Dazai. irl!Akutagawa was not irl!Dazai's mentor, he was a profound influence who lived and wrote just prior to the era of modern Japanese literature in which Osamu Dazai made in his name. I think Asagiri is commenting on (i) where they were deeply alike in mind and heart, which is why Dazai found solace and reflections of himself in Akutagawa, and (ii) on the stylistic dexterity Dazai could have lent to Akutagawa had he been in the position to do so, specifically regarding the way Dazai intepreted the I-novel genre through perversions of the truth as a means for expressing sincerity and gut-wrenchingly raw autobiographical candor without flaying himself apart the way Akutagawa seemed to when bullied into confessional literature by the cultural zeitgeist.

(Akutagawa was criticized for his sharp brilliance since the era was consumed with confessional literature, in comparison to which Akutagawa's stylistic precision seemed to many distant and aloof. Parasocialism is older than Christ, and BookTok is a descendent, not the progenitor, of corrosively vapid takes.)

The choices in bsd are playful but sincere inquiries into + conversations with the works, legacies, emotional turmoils, and overwhelming humanity of the referenced authors. But, while I think there's immense profundity in call and response, especially across eras, literary cultures, and artistic mediums, I also think Asagiri is more consumed by revelations than reflections.

I'm also not so sure whether we can call Rimbaud socialized by any contemporary connotation of the word—

[luciferslatte]

📺 : We're creatures of the underworld, we can't afford to love.

[kaitropoli]

"La Muse verte"

by Albert Maignan

Oil Painting, 1895.

Musée de Picardie.

Little note, read if you want!

Long time no see, everybody! I'm back from the ditches, here to present another wonderful piece of art.

Fun fact: like most alcohol and hard drugs during the earlier periods, absinthe was said to be used as medicine for children. How lovely!

Why do I bring this up? Because this painting depicts a poet being visited by a little green fairy. Still not making sense? In historical literature, absinthe is referred to as "la fée verte" (the green fairy).

You might know absinthe as having hallucinogenic properties, but this is false unless you abuse the drink itself. The 19th and 20th centuries describe this as a disorder called Absinthism.

^^ I specifically bring this up because, besides namesake, paintings usually depict a green spirit (that of a woman) sitting or disrupting other people, which could be attributed to the hallucination side-effect of drinking so much.

There is so much history surrounding absinthe that I might as well make an entire post about it. And whenever that does happen, I'll be sure to include all the beautiful artwork associated with the spirit.

[the-cricket-chirps]

Edgar Degas

Absinthe (Originally ’Dans un Café’) (The Absinthe Drinker or Glass of Absinthe)

1875-1876

[absintheonthenet]

PARISIAN GREEN FAIRY ABSINTHE POSTER

https://www.absintheonthenet.com/Green-Fairy-Absinthe-Poster-p/afp.htm

[portablefrailty]

Messidor

Fifth in my series of images inspired by the French Republican Calendar. Messidor, which corresponds with the 30 day period from roughly June 20th (the Summer Solstice) to July 20th, is named for the harvest. It is the first summer month, followed by Thermidor and Fructidor.

Among wild plants harvested during Messidor is wormwood, the key ingredient to make absinthe. In honor of the month, I imagined a 19th century absinthe maker foraging wormwood flowers and leaves growing wild along a seaside path in Provence.

[madamemarmot]

Like the others she got drunk on absinthe and spent endless hours sitting in her doorway, a cigarette in her mouth, and with her hands folded on her crossed knee. "Achoura" in The Oblivion Seekers by Isabelle Eberhardt

[chicinsilk]

Marc Bohan for Christian Dior Haute Couture Spring/Summer 1963 Collection. Antonia Boekesteijn. wears the evening dress, "Absinthe". Photo Louis-Roger Astre.

Marc Bohan pour Christian Dior Collection Haute Couture Printemps/ Été 1963. Antonia Boekesteijn. porte la robe du soir, "Absinthe". Photo Louis-Roger Astre.

[devlishstudios]

Le Libertin.

🇨🇵 Style parisien vintage.

🇬🇧 Vintage Parisian style.

🇪🇸 Estilo parisino vintage.

🇮🇹 Stile parigino vintage.

🇵🇹 Estilo parisiense vintage.

🇯🇵 パリのヴィンテージスタイル。

🇮🇳 विंटेज पेरिस शैली।

#libertin #lelibertin #paris #parís #parisbar #chic #wine #winelovers #villedeparis #absinthefairy #absinthe #dailyart#parisianstyle #parisian #parisianlifestyle #undone #chicdecontracté #decontracte #décontracté #effortlesschic#effortlessstyle #province #provincestyle #carefree #enjoylife #parisvibes #parisfashion #parisfrance #parisstyle #parisian #parisianstyle #vintagestyle #comicnoir #parisienne #parisiennestyle #parisiennegirl          

[giftideasfromaycaramba]

#CocktailHour

Signed Beautiful Vintage French Majolica Absinthe Pitcher St. Clement Pottery Barbotine Le Coq Gaulois

[stone-cold-groove]

Scenes from home, past and present.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 26

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: Sexual content, violence lite

...And Find Out

On either side of you was a wall of muscle, effectively trapping you in your seat at a booth in a new bar. Kid had made sure that you wouldn't be getting into mischief here, unless he was a part of it. You had gotten some food into you, though you were still swiping drinks from Kid or Killer's glasses when they were preoccupied talking with someone else. Kid's hand was wandering under the table, torturing you on purpose. This was your punishment for making a fool of him. First it was on your lower back, playing with the edge of your pants, then it was pulling at the strings lacing them up the sides. Your legs were crossed tightly since it was only a matter of time before he got bold. 

"Remind me again what ya wanted?" Kid taunted.

His hand pinned yours to the table when you tried to grab his French fries. "For you to shut up," you grumbled. You jumped when he pinched your thigh.

He faked a pout. "If ya keep hurting my feelings I might not wanna...what was it?" He tapped on his chin, pretending to have forgotten what was now seared into his brain. "Put your ankles behind your-"

You covered his mouth with your own and bit him to make him stop. "Shut up. Shut the fuck up," you said against his lips. Why did you drink fucking absinthe? You could hear Heat and Wire laughing in the background. You harshly whispered into his ear. "If you don't cut it the fuck out, I'm not gonna let you put my ankles behind my ears."

Kid grabbed your chin and bent into your neck to whisper back, "Keep acting like that and I'll tie you up that way so everyone can have a turn." He snickered at your reaction. His metal arm was around you, such that his hand was resting on your thigh and he could feel the temperature change in your body when he said it, heat pooling around your thighs. Kid stopped openly fucking with you, returning to talking about what supplies they needed to stock up on while they were in port.

It was just the upper officers and you at the table, which you were grateful for at the moment since Kid's hand was inching ever closer to nestle itself between your thighs. He was good at acting like nothing at all was going on. You tried your best to mimic that, as hard as it was while his metal finger traced over your clothed slit. Your flushed skin was giving away how you were slowly unraveling. You clenched your knees together trying to trap his hand from continuing to move. His ankle hooked around yours, gradually prying your legs farther apart. Taking a drink of ice water and pressing it to your temple, you were trying not to think about it.

"You ok, Y/N?"

You didn't immediately realize Heat was talking to you. "Oh... yeah I have a headache." And its name is Kid.

"Do you need to go back to the ship?"

You waved him off, shaking your head. You couldn't say anything at the moment, teeth clenched to keep any other unwanted noises from leaving your mouth. There was a low laugh from next to you as Kid saw how hard you were struggling. Since it was his metal hand playing with you, there was an element of coolness wherever the metal touched, and also since it was his metal hand, he could make it do whatever he wanted, including vibrate. That took you by surprise, causing your knee to hit the table when you jerked back. "Sorry, adjusting mmmy legs." 

"Headache has you a little restless, huh?" Killer sympathized. Or at least you thought he was sympathizing until you felt his hand holding your knee in place. He was met with a black look from you. 

You swore you could see a blue glint from within one of the holes in his helmet. There was nothing you could do trapped between the two of them. If you had been in a more private setting, this would be a dream. Even if it was the same scenario without Wire and Heat, that would be better. You hid your face in your hands under the guise of the lights bothering you, which was obviously not the case since the lights were fairly dim to begin with. Both of your legs were pinned apart and Kid had not stopped teasing his fingers across your core. Controlling your breathing was hard, made harder when Kid pressed down at the apex of your cunt with a medium strength vibration running through his fingers. A small moan slipped out, though it could have still been confused for one of discomfort. You shifted slightly to glare at Kid through a crack in your fingers. He was hungrily grinning back at you, pressing the vibrations harder into your core. Your legs quivered. If he kept doing this, you were going to cum right there at the table. The thought made you hotter, yet you still fought it. The fact that Killer was in on it too was really making your mind race. Did that mean you would get both of them when you went back to the ship? The thought made you lose composure, burying your head into the crook of your elbow resting on the table, your other hand falling under the table and grabbing Killer's. Your fingers entwined with his over your knee, nails digging into skin as you got closer to the edge. 

Kid withdrew his hand, stretching. "I'm bored. Let's go somewhere else." 

The orgasm that had been building faded away and left you yearning. You picked your head up and blinked at him with lust-clouded eyes. "Fuck you," you said breathily. 

It almost pained him to stop, you looking up at him with such pleading eyes. "Don't worry, doll. I got somethin to help that headache." 

Next to you, Killer shook his hand out from under yours. "You got a strong grip, darlin." He patted you on the leg. 

It took some time for you to blink back into awareness. So this is how it's gonna be. A long night of teasing seemed to be ahead. You weren't wrong. The next establishment was a little rowdier so no one noticed when Kid took you into a dark corner to make out, sliding his flesh hand between the leather of your pants and your skin, edging you again. The one after that was more of a dance club, where you were bounced between Kid and Killer and their grabbing hands. The third one was a gambling hall, where you patiently sat in Killer's lap, listening to him whisper compliments and dirty thoughts alike and watching Kid play cards. After that, at the insistence of whatever straggling crew remained, it was a whorehouse. 

At this point you were drunk and very horny. You were promised that this would be the last place they stopped before returning to the ship. The men other than Kid and Killer found companions to take upstairs fairly quickly. You had gone to the bathroom and came back to both of them having their laps occupied by women. They were just as drunk and horny as you were, though you were hoping to harness that energy for yourself when you went back to the ship. There was motion in the corner of your eye as a man scooped you off your feet and started carrying you upstairs, thinking you were one of the working women. 

"I think you're mistaken. I'm not for sale." Kid and Killer were still preoccupied as you glanced back. 

"Everyone has a price, little miss." 

You toyed with the man's earring, giggling. "I don't think you can afford me."

"And why's that? I don't look like I have money?" His voice was slightly angry.

"Let's find out." You pointed to the wall next to the staircase, that was decorated with bounty posters. "I should be up there somewhere. Last time I checked, I was close to 90,000."

The man stopped in his tracks and looked at you. "You?! 90,000?" He had started to open a vacant room.

You didn't appreciate his unbelieving tone. "Yeah. 90,000. So unless you're gonna pay me or a fuck from you is worth 90,000. Put me down." He didn't move. "I SAID PUT ME DOWN! ARE YOU DEAF?" Kid was rubbing off on you, in more ways than one. 

The man dropped you on the floor, stepping over you to find another lady. 

Pulling the switchblade out of your boot, you caught his ankle and sliced his Achilles tendon, sending the man tripping down the stairs. You put the knife back in your shoe and pushed yourself up. "Fucking rude." You stepped on his hand as you came down the stairs and returned to your table, noticing that the ladies were no longer there. "Where'd your friends go?"

"Where'd yours go?" Killer shot back, a drunk lilt to his voice.

"I asked first, but if you must know, I stabbed him and tripped him down the stairs." 

Kid laughed loudly and patted his lap. "Atta girl." He grabbed your waist as you took your seat. "Those are just the waitresses, doll." Kid laughed again. "Were ya jealous?" He played with your hair and buried his face in it, inhaling deeply, breath tickling your neck. 

"Fuck no," you laughed. "Why would I be jealous when I know the whole time you would be thinking of me?" You leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder and grinned at him, simultaneously poking Killer with your foot. 

One of the waitresses returned with 3 beers in her hand, a disappointed look in her face when she saw you perched in Kid's lap. 

The three of you drank and chatted while the crew did god knows what upstairs. You wished Killer didn't have to wear a helmet all the time, because you felt a little bad about only making out with Kid. You tossed back the rest of your beer before moving from Kid's lap to Killer's, Kid only whining minimally. Killer's hand sat on your hip, thumb brushing at the skin. You couldn't kiss his face, so your lips found his neck. He didn't stop you. By the time you left, his neck was covered in different shades of red, some from your lips, and some from Kid when he was feeling left out. 

When you returned to the Victoria Punk, there were scattered pirates passed out all over the deck. Even Mini plopped on deck to sleep, not wanting to walk all the way to your bunk. She wasn't used to late nights. Kid threw you over his shoulder and made a beeline straight for his cabin. You noticed that Killer didn't follow. Kid tossed you on his bed and started tearing his clothes off. 

"Where's Killer?"

Kid gave you a questioning look. "I'm not enough?"

You rolled your eyes. "Don't be stupid. I thought he was into it, that's all." You kicked off your shoes and started to unlace your outfit. 

Kid shrugged. "He's probably tired. Stop worryin bout him when ya have to worry bout me." Kid tugged your pants off, and made quick work of your top. Kid kissed from your hip to your neck, nipping at your ear as he climbed on top of you. 

You had been waiting all night for this. You didn't honestly think he would wait this long, you thought after you initially pissed him off, he would come fuck you in the back alley. He had a hard time waiting you guessed, since he was already grabbing your hips and pulling them up to meet his own as he sunk his cock into you. You let your head fall back on the pillow and groaned. 

Kid grabbed your hair and jerked your head back to look at him. "So ya think ya can tease me and get away with it?" He started slow, watching you move underneath him impatiently. 

"I was counting on not getting away with it," you smirked at him, rolling your hips in time with his. You gasped as he took one of your thighs and brought it back next to you, opening you wider for him and allowing him to get a deeper angle. 

Kid picked up the pace. You were much too coherent for his liking. "If ya wanted it rough, ya can say so." 

"Nnn-not as fun." Still too coherent.

Kid picked up your other thigh and matched it to the first one, pressing both down into the mattress. If you thought you were going to manipulate him like that and get away with it, you were mistaken. He could feel you twitch under him. Kid knew it wouldn't take long to put you on the edge again since he had done it several times during the night. 

Folded in half under Kid, you couldn't move much. You didn't have to with the way he was drilling into your deepest parts. Your thighs were covered in your own juices from being so wet. The knot in your belly got tighter and tighter with every thrust. The only sounds you could make were whines and ragged moans. It wasn't much longer before your thighs were shaking and you were gripping at the sheets. Kid sucked at your breast and moved up your neck to your ear. The sound of his panting was too much. Right as you were about to snap, there was a feeling of emptiness as Kid came across your stomach with a grunt. 

The thought of how mad you were about to be and how much begging you were about to do was enough for Kid. His release felt heavenly, even though he would have preferred to stay buried in your hot, gushy walls. But he couldn't let you cum that easily could he? The glazed over look in your eyes was turning into frustration and then into a glare, so hot it almost made him hard again. 

"Was that fun enough fer ya, doll? I had yer ankles by yer ears. Just like ya asked." 

"Fuck.. you, Kid," you said between pants. You reached your hand down to take care of yourself. You didn't need him. 

He grabbed your hand. "I don't think so." He grabbed your other one, holding them both over your head. "Killer."

Killer came from somewhere in the room. You didn't know where he had been. Was he there the whole time? He was shirtless and his jeans were unzipped, but he was still masked. He had something in his hands, which he put around your wrists. 

"That's not gonna do anything. You know I can..." A panicked look entered your eyes.

Kid laughed. "Oh, Killer was into it. This was his idea." 

Killer attached the manacles to something on the headboard. "Picked up a souvenir from that marine vessel." Killer traced a finger down your center. "Seastone."

Next Chapter

[the-cricket-chirps]

Vincent van Gogh, Café Table with Absinthe, Paris, February-March, 1887

Vincent van Gogh, Glass of Absinthe and a Carafe, 1887

[absintheonthenet]

ABSINTHE CUSENIER OXYGENÉE POSTER

https://www.absintheonthenet.com/Absinthe-Cusenier-Oxygen-e-Poster-p/apco.htm

[superanimepirate]

Interesting that Oda chose Absinthe for the alcohol this chapter instead of a Scandinavian alcohol tho. We could have had mead. We could have had schnapps, punsch, glögg, akvavit and a ton of different varieties of ale and porters. But instead we get the French one that causes hallucinations?