#cant have alcohol

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

You’re my favorite blog with an amazing costume and stellar art, so I hope to bestow upon you the small pleasure of asking you:

Trick or treat?

Thank you very much! I'm incredibly honoured to be your favourite blog! I know this is late but please accept this treat, happy belated Halloween!

[izel-scribbles]

malevolent: friendship is magic

(click for HD // closeups + wip shots under the cut)

they get to hold hands bc im nicer than harlan /j

(also, read my fic!!! please!!!)

[why-the-heck-not]

whiskey & writing this thesis bc the introduction chapter is taking more linguistical creativity than what I have with just caffeine (idk what to write in this without it sounding like a 3rd grader’s essay yikes)

[h4mmiee]

live gambit reaction / cheer up, remy !

[fresanita]

Angel Dust Turns Human - pg3

tw - slight gore!

Part1

Part2

Beginning of how they met, YAYAY!🙂

Sorry about the quality again, I don't like how it sometimes cuts the drawings but I'll settle💔. I've never actually drawn human Alastor till now, but I do like how he turned out so o(≧▽≦)o!

In not gonna do the math about their ages, and I don't think it'd line up w/Canon, but ik Angel died around the 40s near his 20-30s so he'd had lived two decades prior. I'm pretty sure Alastor died around the 20s, not 30s, but that doesn't matter - the point is, Angel would've been a kid before Alastor yknow, died. (Don't take my word for it, I'm probably wrong, but in this lil comic, that's how it is😔) Angel's around 8yrs old and Alastor is somewhere in his late 20s or early 30s (teehee Alastor w dimples🙂!)

Angel playing around with a dead deers head WILL be explained, trust!🙏 I got the idea of domino's bc I think it's a nice game to bond over, also I just like the game and I remember my Dad teaching me how it works so FATHER AND SON MOMENT RISE!💥💥 Anyways, Angel's childhood won't align w Canon (sorry, so ooc, but I like it☹️).

Hope you like Human Alastors and Kid Angel's design🙏!!

[potatobugz]

i was hacked by a very unhappy man!

[tea-cat-arts]

The donghua adding in that Lan Wangji was waiting for Wei Wuxian to come back from the dead low key makes him look like an insane person, but it's fun to combine with the book lore of "He spent 13 years grieving" and turn into some maladaptive coping mechanism like-

"Lwj flipped back and forth between full confidence that wwx would come back and crushing despair over wwx just being dead. He collected alcohol for wwx to gift on return, but the only thing stopping lwj from just consuming it himself and getting alcohol poisoning was that he had to stay together enough to raise their son. Lwj incorporated wwx's ideologies and inventions into the Lan students teachings and worked tirelessly to make the world a better place, but could never simply enjoy the results as he was still waiting for the one he wants to show it off too (even if he's kept up at night knowing wwx will probably never see any of it). His hope that wwx could come back only made their time apart hurt more and made it so he was unable to move on"

[averageludwig]

Sorry About ranting about how the fandom treats demoman but god there is so many things I can talk about. from the exclusion, to the stereotyping him, to mischaracterization and to the weird fetishization... lord. being a demo fan is a hard battle.

[3-aem]

out celebrating with coworkers but its just me sitting silently shoving wings and tater tots into my mouth in between drinks while i get asked for the 50th time what my 4th of july plans are (idk think about gj i guess)

[chiquilines]

At it again

[conanssummerchild]

writing a fic abt rick having an ed bcs why would i recover when i can just project all my issues onto fictional old men in cartoons and pretend everythings better now ‼️

tw eating disorder, minor self harm and vomit near the end

Morty stopped in the open doorway of the garage, watching Rick who was sat scribbling down some kind of invention idea, or equation, or whatever it was he did when Morty wasn't around, for all Morty knew he might well be writing fanfiction.

An involuntary smile pulled at his lips at the idea of his almost 70 year old genius grandfather spending his free time writing silly little stories at his work bench. What would he even write? Ball Fondlers fanfic? Maybe he wrote about his stoic bird friend, Rick had always been touchy with him and Rick wasn't touchy with anyone.

When Morty focused back on Rick he wasn't writing anymore, the slightly crumpled piece of paper shoved to the side as he fiddled with what looked like a small metal box with a bunch of brightly coloured wires poking out of the sides. A small spark shot out of one of the wires Rick was holding and he cursed loudly, shaking his hand.

"Fuck, Morty, are you just gonna– gonna stand there, or are you gonna pass me the fucking, uh– the thing."

Rick waved his hand in the general direction of the shelf nearest to Morty, but there were so many assorted trinkets on the shelves, Morty had no idea if Rick wanted a wrench, or a hammer, or one of his laser guns, maybe the box was like a new battery for them?

"W-what thing, Rick?"

"The thing, Morty! The fucking– the uh, destornillador."

"What? Rick, I don't know what that means. W-w-what is that?"

"Jeez, Morty, what are they teaching you at that crap school you love so much?" Rick scowled, tossing the box to the side and getting up to grab the screwdriver himself.

"I havent been to school in like a month, Rick!" Morty exclaimed. "And even then I only got to stay for like an hour before you were dragging me out again!"

"Whatever." Rick said with a burp, "School's dumb, Morty. I'll teach you Spanish myself. B-but, uh, not now."

He turned back to his box, done with the conversation, but Morty stayed hovering in the room, remembering what he had come for in the first place.

"Okay, um, w-w-well lunch is ready."

"I'm busy."

Morty sighed, having expected that answer already. "When's the last time you ate, Rick? Or slept? Or... showered?" Morty said, wrinkling his nose a little.

Rick ignored him, pulling at a blue wire.

"Rick!" Morty frowned.

"What, Morty? J-jesus christ, what the fuck do you want?"

"I want you to have lunch with the family."

"And I said no, so screw off."

"Rick, come on, it would make mom so happy."

Rick glared at him, not bothering with an answer.

"...Wouldn't y-you do it for your original Beth if you could?" Morty tried.

Rick slammed the box on the table, causing the thin metallic shell to crack, sparks flying from it, the sudden noise making Morty jump.

"The fuck did you just say?" Rick snarled.

"S-s-sorry!" Morty squeaked. "I didn't m-mean– mean it in a bad way!"

"Get the fuck out." Rick said icily, eyes blazing.

Morty stumbled out of the room, shutting the door behind him to the sound of something crashing. Probably Rick throwing the damaged box across the room.

Morty winced. In his defense he was worried about Rick, and sometimes, depending on his mood, something like that would've gotten Rick to cave, clearly he wasn't feeling so sentimental today, more annoyed and angry.

"What was that about?"

Morty startled a little and turned to see Summer looking at her phone behind him.

"Just, y'know, Rick being... Rick."

"Mhm, pro tip, don't bring up his dead daughter to try and blackmail him into something he hates." Summer drawled. "You can only do that if he's already half convinced, or if he's feeling especially depressed sometimes.

"Summer! That's– that's messed up!"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah, so only you can manipulate grandpa Rick?" Summer scoffed. "God forbid women do anything." She said sarcastically and turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Morty fidgeted with his hands. "Can you... help me? To get him to have lunch w-with us? Please?"

"Yes, but not now. He's already upset so if we double down on trying to get him to eat he's only gonna clam up."

Morty nodded. "I know that– but how do you? You don't spend as much time with Rick as I do."

"Because he's like mom. Who do you think got her to stop drinking before parent-teacher conferences at school?"

"Wow. That's pretty fucked up that you had to do that, though, y'know, Summer."

"Yeah, well, we're the Smiths, Morty. Is anyone in this house not disordered?"

Morty winced at the blunt statement, Rick really was rubbing off on her. But it was kind of true.

"Guess it runs in the family." He muttered

"Guess it does."

---

Morty hadn't been planning on seeing Rick again until the next day. He knew that when Rick got upset he needed his space. Morty didn't quite get it because when he was upset all he wanted was for someone to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay, but Rick wasn't like him he supposed.

If he was being honest it made him nervous to leave Rick alone in those bad headspaces he got into. Rick was volatile and unpredictable and a borderline danger to himself and often others. He'd walked in on a couple... compromising situations where Rick had had to explain away why he was passed out in his chair or why there was blood on his hands and his lab coat despite being the only person in the room.

Morty pretended to believe him when he said he had been doing a messy dissection experiment or that "This isn't blood, this is Balorkian dust I mixed with red Squanchenite fluid from Planet Squanch, Morty." But truthfully those moments haunted him.

However, he didn't want to invade Rick's space, so he let him be and tried to eat and sleep until Rick emerged like nothing had happened, even though Morty knew what habits of his went on behind those closed doors.

Of course Morty's patience had it's limits, like when two hours after he had left Rick in the garage, angry, there was the sound of something smashing, closely followed by an unmistakable sound that Morty had grown too familiar with since Rick had moved in. The sound of a body thudding to the ground.

He was up from the sofa in a flash, at the garage door before Summer could even put down her phone, flinging it open.

He felt like he couldn't breathe, but the only sight that greeted him was a smashed bottle and rick lying on the floor next to it, not looking any more dead than usual, looking up at Morty blearily, cracking a smile.

"Oh, hi Morty. H-hey buddy." He slurred, clearly drunk out of his mind.

"Jesus fucking christ, Rick." Morty said weakly.

"What happened?" Summer breathed, now standing at his side.

"He's just drunk." Morty muttered, wrinkling his nose at the overpowering smell that he hadn't registered before between his state of panic and shallow breathing.

Summer ventured into the garage, picking up an empty bottle and sniffing it. "God, grandpa Rick, what the hell are you drinking in here, fucking rubbing alcohol?"

"Sum-Sum! 'M just having some– some fun drinks. Fun drinks just a lil' bit. Besides I only ever drank rub-rubbin' alcohol once, n' it was– tasted like shit."

"What? I was being sarcastic, why would you drink that?"

"Because I was sad... was sad 'nd lonely after B-b-blood Ridge, couldn't find anythin' else. But 'm not s-sad now."

"What's Blood Ridge?" Summer frowned, "Actually it doesn't matter right now, you need to sober up."

"Get him some water," Morty interjected. "I'll clean up the glass. I also know where he keeps all his hangover serums and stuff, but he told me not to let you into any of his drug stashes."

"Fair enough." Summer shrugged, leaving to get Rick some much needed water.

While she was gone, Morty felt along the wall until he found the small hidden panel under Rick's desk. He fished out the light blue vial of fluid for hangovers, the red one he'd forced Rick to make that would sober him up and a green one that basically equivalated to getting your stomach pumped if you took it, just in case he'd taken more than just alcohol.

He shut the panel securely and placed the three coloured vials on Rick's work bench, grabbing a purple tube-like gadget from a shelf. He pressed a button on the back of it and typed in "Broken Glass" on a small hologram keyboard that emerged, then pressed that first button again. A blue ray shot out, scanning the garage, and the pieces of smashed bottle disappeared in a matter of seconds.

Morty looked over at Rick, who was still lying on the floor, but now he was tracing his fingers along a crack in the cold ground, his expression so solemn he almost looked sober.

"Rick?" Morty asked hesitantly.

"I miss her." He said flatly. "I miss her s-so much."

His words were still a little slurred but his tone had lost all the previous levity.

"I tried to save her, Morty, I t-t-tried, but I couldn't bring her back. And no one could ever replace her." A rough sob escaped his throat. Morty felt frozen. "I'm a crappy fuckin'– piece of shit father but I didn't want to be. I was gonna fuckin' give– give up everything for them, and I would've been happy. I would've been so happy as long as I had them, but he fuckin' took that from me! I nnever even got a chance."

Rick was crying, he was crying so hard that his tears stained the concrete dark grey and snot ran down his face sideways. He was shaking like a leaf and gasping for air.

Morty crouched down next to him, fists clenching and unclenching, unsure if he should hug Rick, or if that would make it worse. What else could he do?

"Oh– oh shit, Rick, I–"

"My little girl, my baby." Rick continued between sobs. "She meant everything to me. S-so yeah, I would be better f-for her if I could, but she's gone. There's no point."

Rick's sudden fit of violent sobs was calming down, replaced by a look that Morty could only describe as pure hoplessness and defeat washing over his features.

"'S no point in anything."

Shit, this was bad. Rick didn't admit defeat, and he certainly didn't talk so openly about his feelings like this.

"Aw jeez, Rick, come on don't– don't– don't say that. we killed Rick Prime, remember?" Morty said, wringing his hands anxiously.

"Yeah, I remember." Rick said, tone now devoid of emotion. "I remember killin' him with my bare hands, watchin' the life drain out of his eyes as his blood dripped down my fists. And I remember nothing changing. W-w-what d'ya do when you achieve your life long goal and nothin's better? It didn't bring them back, it didn't– didn't give me closure or give me a reason to live. I still can't sleep, petrified he's in the fucking house, comin' for my new family, that he'll kill all of you to teach me that t-that's what happens when I-I care about people."

Rick wiped his face with his lab coat sleeve, rubbing away the snot, drool and dried tears while Morty just kneeled next to him, frozen and unsure what to say.

"Rick..." he started but then Summer stepped through the doorway and Rick's demeanour instantly changed.

"Summerfest!" he called out and Morty watched, a little shocked, as Rick's whole face changed in the blink of an eye, going back to the cheerful, goofy expression he'd been wearing when he and Summer first came in. It didn't look artificial to Morty at all, even now that he knew it was. How could Rick just switch it on and off just like that?

"I brought water and coffee." Was all Summer said, placing two mugs on the workbench. "And a cereal bar."

The second statement sounded a little more unsure and Morty could've sworn he saw Rick's jaw clench for a second.

"Gimmie coffee." Rick said, making grabby hands, still lying on the floor.

"Water first." Summer replied, handing him the larger of the two mugs.

Rick pouted a little but as soon as the mug was in his hands he drank thirstily, finishing the whole thing in one go.

"You want more?" Summer asked, taking the mug, but he just shook his head quietly.

"Okay," Morty cleared his throat when his voice came out a little shaky. "drink this."

He handed Rick the red 'get sober' vial and Rick chugged it obediently, making a face. "Tastes like– like shit." He offered.

While he seemed a little calmer after the water and serum, his eyes were still unfocused and his voice sounded thick, like his tongue didn't fit in his mouth properly, hints of his accent were slipping through too.

"Did you- are you on drugs r-right now?" Morty asked, reaching for the green vial of serum.

"Maybe." Rick mumbled. His eyelids were starting to droop a little and he curled up more comfortably on the floor.

"Hey, Rick, don't go to sleep okay? What did you take?" Summer asked, crouching down next to him, shaking him a little. He groaned. "Come on, we just have to make sure you're not overdosing and then you can sleep. Maybe not on the floor."

"'M not overdosing." Rick grumbled.

"What did you take?"

"I dunno. Just some random alien drugs I found i-in my pocket." He said dismissively with a burp. "Actually one of 'em was probably adderall. Look at me bein' all responsible an-and takin' my meds n' shit."

He of course immediately showed his 'responsibilty' by gagging and then throwing up on the floor.

Morty winced, reaching for the purple device again while Summer tried to coax him into drinking the green liquid, frowning deeply.

Finally Rick gave in, sipping from the small vial, and almost instantly his eyes began to clear up a little bit.

"Why'd I make these work so well?" He groaned. Then, "My head is killing me, I want coffee."

Summer passed him the second mug and he gestured toward the hangover serum, which Morty promptly passed to him and Rick poured it in his coffee.

He gulped down half the coffee and sighed, wiping his mouth with his already rather dirty sleeve. "Fuck, that's better."

He downed the rest of it and placed the mug on the ground, getting to his feet shakily. He swayed and nearly fell, leaning onto the wall to steady himself as the dizzy spell passed, and then stretched, his back cracking loudly.

He took a few wobbly steps towards the door but Summer blocked the way.

"Fuck– fuck off Summer I gotta– I'm gonna go take a nap."

"Could you maybe eat something first?" She asked firmly, holding up the cereal bar.

"No."

Rick tried to sidestep her but she blocked the way again.

"Summer, don't fucking piss me off right now, I'm serious."

She stood her ground. "Just eat the cereal bar, grandpa Rick. Please."

"Summer, for fuck's sake, I said no!"

"Grandpa," She sighed, the arm holding the bar dropping defeatedly back down to her side. "Do you have an eating disorder?"

The garage was deathly quiet for a second.

"Wha-What?! I'm not a teenage girl in a f-f-f– goddamn netflix drama, Summer." Rick snarled. "What the fuck kinda question is that?"

He gestured wildly, taking another step forwards, which quickly seemed to be the wrong option as a sudden wave of dizziness hit him hard, making him almost loose his balance. He blindly tried to grab onto the back of his chair somewhere behind him, but missed and fell on his ass.

"Rick!" Morty and Summer both rushed to his side, Morty's eyes beginning to well up a little from all the stress of the day.

"I'm fine, don't– don't fucking touch me." He said, shaking Summer's hand off his shoulder, which caused another wave of nausea to hit.

"Please eat this." Summer said nervously, voice shaking as she pushed the cereal bar into his left hand, his right one gripping at his hair.

"Summer, I promise you if I eat that shit right now I'm gonna throw the fuck up."

"Please?" Morty pouted, eyes big and teary.

All it took was one look at him, and with only a brief moment of hesitation Rick snatched the cereal bar from Summer, muttering angrily under his breath.

Morty only caught "Me cago en la puta." and "Maldito cabrón." which he more or less understood, more familiar with swear words than any other words in the Spanish language.

Rick peeled away the wrapper slowly with unsteady hands and took a small bite.

Morty and Summer watched in silence, not wanting to discourage him by saying the wrong thing—which with Rick could be anything—as Rick uncomfortably ate the cereal bar.

"There you fucking go." He said weakly, Throwing the now empty wrapper at Summer, but missing as it was too light to travel more than a couple centimetres, landing somewhere by his feet.

"Thank you." Summer almost whispered.

They sat in silence for a while, Morty sniffling and rubbing at his eyes and Summer shuffling a bit closer to him for both of their comfort.

Rick was sitting with his knees losely bent and his head braced in his hands, trying to overcome another hit of nausea.

He wouldn't exactly say he tried super hard to keep the cereal bar down, but it wasn't deliberate when he vomited it down the front of his shirt.

"Oh! Aw jeez..." Morty winced.

"I did warn you."

"In our defense, you had every reason to be lying to us."

"Fuck you, Summer." It sounded weak even to his own ears.

She sighed softly.

"Morty, get his shirt off. Do you have pijamas or do you sleep in jeans and a lab coat?"

"Jeans an-and a lab coat."

"...I was joking, but okay." Summer said, flipping the switch that opened Rick's garage closet and grabbing one of his sets of identical outfits.

Rick squirmed, making noises of complaint as Morty tried to take off his current shirt.

"Rick– stay still, you have vomit on your clothes."

"I'm not fucking two years old, Morty." He scowled. "I can change by myself."

Rick tried to sit up but wobbled and then slumped back against the wall, needing more time to recover. Morty reached for his shirt again and this time Rick let him pull it carefully up over his head without resisting. Morty took the new set of clothes from where Summer had left them on the floor next to him.

Summer wasn't looking but Morty still shielded Rick's body from sight with his own, pointedly not mentioning the raised scars and jagged, angry, red cuts littering his arms which he had already suspected would be there.

Rick shifted uncomfortably, seeming relieved when Morty didn't want to talk about it.

"Okay." Morty said, helping Rick pull on his clean lab coat too.

"I'm going to bed." Rick grumbled, not waiting for him to continue, just getting up slowly.

He felt weak and shaky and his brittle old bones weren't exactly helping out. Despite his thousands of cybernetic implants he was still human, much to his dismay, and he couldn't treat his body as badly as he did when he was 30. Not that that ever seemed to stop him, managing to still maintain the same shitty habits he'd had for years at the ripe age of 67.

He stumbled through the dining room, Morty and Summer trailing after him, not discouraged by the glare he sent their way.

As soon as he reached his room, he slumped onto his bed with a groan.

"R-rick?"

"Fuck off, Morty." He snapped into his pillow, a little muffled by it.

Morty hesitated, exchanging a glance with Summer, who shrugged.

"...Ookay, Rick. Uh, see– see you at dinner, today? maybe?'

"Don't count on it."

Summer frowned, Starting to say something, but Rick interrupted, "I'm gonna apply my room's Lock Protocols in ten seconds, so i-if you're still in here, I'm not letting you out until I'm done sleeping. A-a-and if you're standing in the doorway, you're gonna get fucking squashed in the doors."

"Whatever, Rick, fuck you too." Summer huffed, pulling Morty out of the doorway with her.

"Room, activate Sensory Protocol 2. And t-tell Summer to go fuck herself."

"Sensory Protocol 2 activated." Came the mechanical voice and a heavy metal door snapped shut. "Go fuck yourself, Summer."

Summer scoffed. "Dick." Followed by a sigh. "What are we gonna do?"

"I-I don't know." Morty admitted. "There's not much we can do if Rick won't accept help. And he won't."

"So what? We just give up on him?" Summer asked accusingly, putting her hands on her hips.

"No, Summer, J-jeez. I just– We're gonna have to get creative."

"Fuck."

---

thats it thats the end i didnt know how tf to end this but my goal wasnt to rewrite like the bible idfk it was just to put rick through shit and put completely unfair expectations on summer and mortys shoulders so that they could ALL suffer in this fic !! :3 also this is so mf long i sincerely apologise if u read all that

[baldurs-gate-official]

Thinking about how Astarion insisted on staying up to keep watch in the beginning of the game

Yeah, it could be because he needs to go hunt at night without anyone noticing, or because he's keeping an eye out for Cazador/his minions. But... It could also be because he's scared of sleeping/trancing in general?

He's got severe C-PTSD. I have that too. And one of the things I experience from it is a fear of falling asleep.

Sleeping is vulnerability. You're completely defenseless. It's terrifying to fall asleep when you're used to danger! And some abusers will purposefully do things to you when you sleep. I wouldn't put it past Cazador to have done something like that.

It's especially terrifying when you're sleeping somewhere unfamiliar, or as out and open as a forest. With strangers.

Add in the elvish reverie (if we assume Astarion still experiences it as he would if he were alive at his current age)... and he might even be reliving horrible memories every time he tries to rest.

(If you're unfamiliar with elvish trancing/dreaming, I made a post about it and some ways it might affect Astarion as a vampire spawn a while ago)

One of the reasons I think this could be the case is actually the other spawn, specifically what I noticed when we first meet Dalyria and Petras. At first I thought Astarion's eye bags were just a product of being undead. But... Petras, the very human looking spawn, doesn't have that. Dalyria is an elf as well, and like Astarion, she's got some of that tired sleep-deprived purple under and around her eyes.

So all this considered... I think it's very possible that Astarion has a fear of sleeping too. Or at the very least, trouble resting. Him and the other elvish spawn.

It also makes me wonder if he sleeps any better later on in the game. By Act 3 he probably feels more comfortable with you and the group. Sleeping near familiar people (especially people you're very comfortable with, but that's very dependant on your own choices in your game), and having established night time routines can make sleeping feel a little safer.

Plus by that point he's made many new memories he can visit in his reverie. Maybe instead of remembering the terrible things, sometimes he dreams of sun bathing, the first time he bit you or that bear, or any other happy memory he's created since being tadpoled.

Maybe for the first time in centuries, sleeping isn't such a terrible prospect.

[tea4silver]

so yeah.

(I never watched Breaking Bad but-)

[smytherines]

Let's not think of it as losing hair from Joey Richter, but rather as gaining hair from Curt Mega

[risingsunresistance]

youtube is experimenting with server side ads... the internet is actively hostile. why should i have to pay for the privilege to not be exposed to your shit moderation system. im constantly served homophobic political ads and cult religious shit, gambling is apparently too risky to show to kids but it's fine if the advertisers pay you, alcohol is great and fun and couldnt possibly cause someone to relapse, black and white one frame strobes are awesome, the real mr beast will give me $10k if i take this quick survey, and the young kids staying at my house get served TWO HOUR LONG ads because these vultures know the kids dont know how to skip. fuck you and fuck your website, im not paying money just because you cant do your damn jobs and actually keep this place safe

[unexpectedbrickattack]

Now hold on a gosh-diddly-darn minute, I noticed the entire time talking about a tipsy Peppino no one thought to ask this but what about tipsy GUS? I mean we saw him a li'l tipsy in the fastfood saloon escape, can I hear your thoughts about that/him please? Have they ever gotten tipsy together?

(I just like the mental image of the two alone, just being real giggly with each other (Gus just says "hey" and Peppi starts giggling which sets Gus off giggling) and being sappy goofs with each other <3)

HEEHEE u are so right and i am so sorry for withholding this information from the masses 😭

My homebrew for gnomes is that they are simultaneously hardy folk (able to eat virtually anything and immune to most poisonous creatures) AND extremely intolerant of alcohol. Theres no reason for that, i just like it alot :)

So Gus would be an extreme lightweight 😭 its SO bad; he cant speak clearly at all, he cant walk straight, he has the Worst hangovers and he wont remember anything from the previous night. The line between ‘pleasantly buzzed’ and ‘blackout drunk’ is so thin that Gus doesnt even try social drinking. If he MUST drink, it will be in the comfort of his own barebones apartment 😭 at least, until Peppino started hanging out with vigilante and his crew.

Gustavo LIKES drinking! Its just hard to find a good balance, and THATS bc he simply doesnt know how alcohol works. Peppino is like:

“Look ‘ere. All of these have a number somewhere on the bottle. Or a percentage. Lower the number, the better it is for you.”

Gustavo is like !!! Oh!!! That is very helpful! What would you recommend for me then?

“Probably…2-5%. 5-10 proof. Small 'a numbers.”

Gustavo nods, interested. He points at a bottle he recognizes from the last time he came here and got shitfaced. “That one up there; do you know how ‘a strong that one is? Or should i ask the bartender?”

Peppino squints at the company label. “45%.”

“Oh!” That makes sense. “Well what do you usually drink?”

“70%.”

“Oh!”

Peppino recommends some of the LIGHT light wines, the ones that barely have a hint of anything. Theyre sweet (which Gustavo loves so very very much) and for the first time in a very long time, he Stays buzzed instead of immediately faceplanting into being blackout drunk.

Hes very. Playful. Is what Peppino would describe a tipsy Gustavo. He hesitates to use the term ‘flirty’ because that is not whats happening. But hes like. Clearly entertaining some gruff looking men like five times his size as they ramble drunkenly about random shit like ‘waow….thasso cool…and then what happened???’

Its funny at first bc Gustavo is so fucking TINY that all you can see of him, in the group of men as they yapyapyap about some inane shit that Gustavo wont even remember, is his tiny little tail 😭 It is less funny, however, when Peppino catches himself rambling about work and Gustavo is like (ears perked; tail swaying) ‘mmhmm. wrow…thats ‘a kinda nice…what else did you do??’ Peppino is like *buffering* (‘something is happening right now that will need to be addressed at a later time. Do not forget DO NOT FORGET. URGENT!!!!’)

Otherwise Gustavo is just a silly guy. Vigilante will make a joke and he laughs so low and deep that he sounds downright villainous 😭 Peppino will point out something stupid on the TV and like hours later Gus is like ‘…heeeuehuuueee…..do u remember [insert stupid reference] and Peppino will giggle. Peppinos affinity for throwing around ilus are met with Gustavo going ‘😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊’ with absolutely no way to even pretend to mask it.

Gustavo has fun being out in the saloon but he really enjoys drinking in Peppinos house. Its not nearly as loud as the saloon and theres usually homecooked foods like breads and soups (Because Peppino stress-cooks ALL the time). Brick gets to stay indoors instead of waiting outside the saloon, so Gustavo gets to mess with his soft fur contentedly. He just gets to be cozy; its quite nice 😊