#alcoholism implied

[amusedmuralist]

The pink opaque

Get a wide mouth Thermos

Add frozen pink dragon fruit

Get lemon soda water and agrum or another pink soda, warm from the super market

Add them slowly to the Thermos, one after another, in the dark. The 2 things together is important, the chill of the frozen pink fruit and the fizz of the pink soda

When it feels like something is missing, Add gin. Keep adding gin. Keep adding gin until you can ignore the feeling and the labour of your suffocating breaths

[actuallyunreal]

tom is doing ok :’)

[incorrectstanleyparablequotes]

Mariella: I guess I'll just drink my sorrows away.

Mariella: *opens a capri sun*

[a-snow-decahedron]

Lullaby

Summary:

A song of hope echoed in the Ruins, but Toriel felt more hopeless every time she heard it.

Warnings: Implied child death, implied alcoholism.

Words: 494

Rated: T

Link to AO3: Click here

I decided to try writing some angst

You always found out when it happened.

It wasn’t like you had someone to tell you. Monsters barely talked to you, only when necessary. But you could always tell when the atmosphere changed. Sometimes it took them a few days, or a couple of months. But you always found out.

There was an old song that every monster knew by heart. It was a lullaby of hope. You used to sing it everyday as you kissed their foreheads goodnight, long ago. For most monsters, it was a song that marked big moments of hope in history. So when you heard it at the market, the next day after you heard the purple door close behind small footsteps, your heart stung with pain. You knew you made a mistake by letting them go. You tried being patient, to understand the one who left, but it was pointless.

And it happened again. That time was quick, bravery filled their eyes. You warned them, but they moved forward, too fast to catch.

You decided to be honest, to show them the right path and make integrity your priority. Ironically, that time they escaped behind your back, steps as light as a feather

After the fourth time, you started to get more cautious, you made sure to check every day and keep an ear out. You persevered, but the fallen child did too. They argued, and in the end, got their way. You did not persist enough.

After the fifth time, you wondered why you even tried. You showed all your kindness. They thought they could change things. By the time you heard the song again, you had lost hope, bought a bottle of wine for the night and left.

When the sixth fell, you felt a spark of hope for the future. The child understood, but they wanted justice for the fallen down. You were too much of a coward to follow them and it weighed on you as you heard the melody echoing in the hallways.

You saw the years go by like the leaves falling from a tree. You visited the door, and dreaded what was outside. One time you heard knocking, and you replied. And so you did again and again. In those moments the world was only a joke and the biggest of them was that door that kept the two of you apart. A promise was made.

The last fallen one had something so familiar in them, was it their mannerisms? Was it the red in their soul? And yet again you let them go, clinging to the hope that things had changed. That at least someone would protect them.

You laughed at your foolishness. You failed too much, and tried too little. You will not allow it to happen again. You opened the door and let the cold surround you as you walked forward. This time, it will be different.

This time the lullaby will be sung for a saved child.

[sparemyocs]

Who Are You?

Dorian sits in the Circle dormitory, gritting his teeth and staring at the back of his right hand as though any minute the tattoo there would change. Who are you? He bites the back of his lip hard to stop the whimper. Holds back the tears out of habit. How many times had he already heard those words? Men, women, teachers, rivals, sometimes children. Many were dismissable of course. Oh but when it wasn’t-

He’d met the most handsome young man today. With skin like nice whiskey and the most devious looking smile. They’d been paired together for a duel, and at the end of it… “Who are you?”

Dorian had always imagined his soulmate asking that, searching for the elegant, confident introduction he’d been practicing since boyhood.

“Dorian of House Pavus, late of Qarinus. And you?” He gave that wicked smile, “I’m Rilienus Abrexis. You cast very well Dorian.” No recognition. No shock or awe or lights in his light brown eyes or a little gasp. Like always.

Was he saying the wrong thing? How else could he answer? Was he just doomed to be married off to some random woman? To live in the sort of heartless (and worse) marriage his parents had?

Dorian threw himself out of bed, dressing down and sneaking out of the Circle to get drunk and cry.

He’d hear ‘Who are you?’ twice more that night alone.

“Good! You’re finally here! Now help me close this, will you?” Dorian greeted the members of the infamous Inquisition with a quick smile, far more focused on the fade rift in the middle of the Redcliff Chantry, and the demons coming out of it naturally. He may have left it at that until the end of the fight, if it hadn’t been for the surprised cries of 'Herald!’ seconds later. They hadn’t even been attacked yet, but the elf leading the small group was suddenly sprawled unconscious on the floor. “Does he normally do that?” Dorian slammed his staff to the ground to set a few of the demons ablaze and keep them occupied. “Seems terribly inconvenient. A touch dangerous, and not in a good way.” “No, I have never seen him do this before,” the paler elf replied, voice pitched up with concern. “I have, once. He will be back up momentarily, I am certain.” The black haired Nevarran was the only non-mage in the group. And the least disturbed by the show, if not by much. “He’s already coming too dears, but let’s keep the demons occupied.” The other woman stood protectively by the fallen Herald of Andraste. The man had yet to sit up but had take hold of one of her legs.

Three downed demons later and Dorian finally had all of their helping hands. He may have been more worried, but the elf seemed quite steady, even quick, on his feet and he was casting well. That, and his Nevarran companion had been correct about his swift recovery, it was fair enough to assume she was right about him being fine as well.

They’d talk after the Herald snapped the rift closed.

“Fascinating. How does that work exactly?” He tilted his head at the other mage, but only got a blank stare in response. Dorian couldn’t contain his incredulous laugh. “You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom: rift closes.” The (rather cute now that Dorian could really get a look at him) elf finally found his voice. “Who are you?” “Ah, getting ahead of myself again I see. Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous.” He gave a little bow for good measure. “How do you do?” “Another Tevinter,” the Nevarran warned, “be cautious with this one.” “Suspicious friends you have here…” He may have continued but the look on the man’s face gave him pause. The Herald’s eyes were wide, right hand over his mouth as though he’d just said or overheard something absolutely horrific. His brows looked about ready to detach from his face and fly away. “What? Is there something on my face?” Dorian was tempted to look behind himself but those bright red eyes were very clearly digging right into him. “Ar'abelas'is… Venuralasala, tel'eolasas! …I’ve never said anything so thoughtless in my life!” “Asking me who I am is-” Dorian felt ice fill his chest, glancing down to his right hand as it squeezed into a fist, just like it’s twin. “Nas'falon… You’re finally here!” He said it with awe and lights in his enrapturing red eyes. His smile was angelic and his skin was like whiskey and it glowed like a sunset. He glowed like a sunset in recognition. His right hand gripped his left side tightly, bunching up his enchanter’s coat in his fist. The Nevarran woman gasped as she caught up to what was going on as well. Dorian lost the sound in the buzzing that was filling his head. Here? Now? The Herald of Andraste?! “Well… That’s unexpected.” He glanced to the Chantry entrance. He was here for a reason, they’d have time for… everything later. If the Herald ended up dead there’d be little time to enjoy his company. “I apologize for not letting the happy moment last longer but you are still in danger. That was the whole premise of this little meeting after all. But I assure you, it’s hardly going to be the last; I just got one more reason to be invested in all this business after all!”

Ar'abelas'is – I am so sorry Venuralasala, tel'eolasas – Gods, [you] don’t know/understand Nas'falon – Soul mate

[queerbauten]

people: Patti LuPone sounded drunk/like she was slurring her words during “What’s The Use of Feeling (Blue)?” (And that’s bad.)

me, someone who sounds drunk/slurs her words in everyday conversation: ... okay then

[amusedmuralist]

Infected Cocktails: Charlotte Edition

Step one: open a strawberry lime cider.

Step two: nurse it; wait for same to get home. You've drunk half. It's a little... flat.

He's not coming home for cuddle night.

Step three: add Two shots of vodka

Step four: add ice

Step five: put bitters in. No bitter inside you. Just the drink! 😹😹

Step 6: shot it. Alternatively, top with soda.

Previously in this series: The Let it Out, the Two Teds, Bill’s Designated Driver special. 

[rotking]

my liver is improving, i think! i got some tests done. something is going on with my kidneys though. nothing too serious but ive been being careful with diet and hydration and such so im getting better, slowly