Tw Alcohol - Blog Posts
tw: alcohol
Leon: You should hate me…..I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. ❤️🩹
CW: DRUG AND ALCOHOL USE
(DON’T DO DRUGS, THIS POST IS FOR COMEDIC PURPOSES ONLY AND IS NOT MEANT TO PROMOTE DRUG USE. DRUGS WILL RUIN YOUR LIFE /SRS.)
So, I am EXTREMELY afraid of drugs, I’ve never done them and I’ve never planned on using them, nor have I ever wanted to - but for some reason it’s really funny to me to draw my favorite characters high off their ass, so yeah I made this
I put a lot more effort into this than I had originally planned to LOL it was originally just gonna be a simple doodle of Charlie, Four and Toothless but uhh yea you can see how that turned out
..also sorry if it’s annoying but I’m gonna add as many warnings as I can on this post bc I don’t want anybody to get upset or something. I know some ppl who are sensitive to these topics, even in situations to where the topic is portrayed in more of a “silly” light, so I’m just trying to make sure nobody gets uncomfortable :C
Dear fellow misophonia sufferers...
⚠️⚠️TW:DRUGS/ALCOHOL⚠️⚠️
Do any of you notice a significant difference in your trigger tolerance depending on the..substances...you’ve taken? Personally, I can handle a lot more when I’ve had a good few drinks but I’m much more sensitive after smoking
Your drunk father burnt down your house when you were a little girl. You cough up dollhouse plastic from time to time. It smells like your mother's garden where she is buried. When you chase down a bottle of Jack, smoke roils in your lungs. It still smells like your mother's garden.
The drink in Laila’s hand sloshes crimson and ribbon thick when she picks it up, the metal of her prosthetic hand clinking against the shot glass. The taste of copper and nickel coats the roof of her mouth as she downs it in one go, and then sneers at the way her tongue tries to chase the taste again. She quickly sneaks a glance to find no one watching.
The TV blares—the brightest object in the room, the fluorescent bulbs and lights content to mingle in the dark. Clad in glamour and glitz, the throng of people on the dance floor shake and grind, rake their hands up their bodies and others in a psychedelic haze of sweat and spit.
Through the crowd, a fairy’s wings shimmer as he clashes his mouth against a translucent man. Their pulse hammers to the beat of an indie rock song by the Vampire Weekend. She snorts at the irony.
Then, a scream pierces through her head. She exhales sharply, clutching her head in her hands. Spots of color block her vision, and she slams her eyes shut, only to see an inverted image of a man. Please, not again.
She scrambles to throw a wall in her mind and forces her eyes wide open. One moment, the man is sitting in front of her tangible and in full technicolor, a cut splitting his cheekbone and water dripping down his blue lips. The next, he flickers out until she is staring at the rows of wine bottles.
Another person, dead. Nine in the past fortnight.
You'll drown easier this time round.
HbT
the only thing I’m drowning in is more wine than you can afford and more pleasure than you ever got from your wife
Have you ever lied about your age?
⚠️Potentially triggering: Drugs and Alcohol mentioned⚠️
Denmark 🇩🇰: No? Why would you need to?
Norway 🇳🇴: I never found a reason to.
Iceland 🇮🇸: Yes, cause I wanted a goldfish, and the closest pet store has an Over 18 rule to by pets.. so...
Sweden 🇸🇪: No.
Finland 🇫🇮: Yes, cause drugs and booze baby.
(Disclaimer: Please don't do drugs kids.)
redainianbard:
Upon hearing this familiar voice, Jaskier tensed, he took a deep swig of his drink and composed himself. Turning to face her with wide arms “Witch, how can I be of service to you this fine day?” he smiled on the outside but his day was not fine, Jaskier was never comfortable with his emotions outside of his art and this was something very few knew.
His previous conversation with Geralt hurt him. Deeply. He was angry and defeated, just as he felt when he was left atop that mountain in Cairngorn, it was a feeling he wished would never return and yet here it is. he faltered for a moment and spoke plainly to the sorceress. “You know that your boyfriend is a bit of an arse sometimes. Don’t you?” he leant back against the bar and picked up his drink and swigged again, it may not be a lasting solution but the burning did dull his senses.
⊱ ──────────── {⋆⌘⋆} ──────────── ⊰
Yennefer had thought it was more likely for Skellige to fall into the sea before she saw the day where her and Jaskier were friendly. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, careful to keep the contents of her drink inside of the glass. He smelled the same as he always did. It reminded her of home.
“You can never be of any service, save cursing our ears and flattering random women,” the witch teased, letting go of him. “Yes, well, he seems to have made it *quite clear that he is no such thing to me, but yes. I am aware that he is a complete and utter arse of a human being.”
Copying his action, she took a drink of her own. Geralt was the exact thing she was trying to get off of her mind, but she supposed commiserating would work for the time being. “Should've known I’d find you here if you showed up. Been here long?”
⌘Yennefer and Jaskier⌘
@redainianbard
Yennefer was so over this week. With the whole Geralt situation pressing down on her like a lead weight, she was sick and tired of this stupid town, and wanted nothing more than to be able to make her escape. The nature of the town prevented her, and she hated the place for it.
So she did the only thing she could manage, and kept going through the motions. Work, home, sleep, repeat. In her down time, she would do her best to make herself happy with the little things: watch the television, spend time with Ciri, and occasionally go for a drink when the girl was busy for the evening.
It was one of those nights, she entered the local pub shortly after she had gotten off of work. A drink would do wonders for her aching heart. She had only been in the place long enough to order herself some sort of fruity concoction when she heard him. Singing filled the place. There was no mistaking who the owner was. She had dealt with it for decades now. Turning on her heel, black skirt flowing out around her knees, she looked round for him.
Surely enough, he was making his way round the tables. She wanted to hate the display, she wanted to feel annoyed at his appearance, yet the only thing she felt was relief. If nothing else was normal, she could always count on Jaskier to be, well, himself. She met his eyes while he was giving his little performance, and offered a little smile. Yennefer approached him as soon as he finished; smirking, she raised an eyebrow.
“Bard,” her voice was much less biting than it usually was, almost, nearly, affectionate.
Christmas Time! The most odious season of all for Black Hat
...apart from the Glühwein.
Scanlan and Tary talking about a certain Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III. I wish these two had more interactions but I totally understand Sam not wanting to play two characters.