dsmp characters and smoking? yes? yes.
- c!wilbur’s cigarettes carry different scents with them. it doesn’t take long for people to suspect that they’re laced, and oftentimes they are, but not always with what you’d expect. he gets herbal mixtures from his father; jasmine, tendu leaves, green tea leaves, and plenty more. he smokes in calm moments, and in stressful moments. during conversation, and when he’s alone. sometimes, the smoke in his lungs is enough to remind himself that he is, in fact, breathing.
- c!quackity used to be shit at it. an absolute disaster. each hit he took came with ugly choking and watery eyes-- he failed to see how wilbur found this relaxing (though he might admit that shotgunning hits off of the man, their lips close enough that quackity would time his inhales with wilbur’s exhales and breathe in his smoke, was... nice.) but he was nothing if not determined. by the time las nevadas is over 50% constructed, he’s an expert. he looks good with it. the cigs sit naturally in his hands, like they were made to be there.
- (quackity smokes in the prison, which sam hates. the scent lingers in the cracks of the obsidian, and on dream’s prison uniform. sam doesn’t know where he finds the time to smoke during his “visits,” but he’s not about to ask.)
- c!philza smokes from a long, elegant pipe that sits gingerly between his fingers. he makes his own mixtures, specifically designed to help him with his aching joints and the lasting pain from ancient injuries, and he likes to design mixtures for others. wilbur has tried many types, but phil prefers to give him something calming, like jasmine and sativa, to help with his anxiety and nerves. for technoblade, chamomile and sativa, to quiet the voices.
- (philza makes a green tea and indica mix for c!dream. good for pain, and for chasing away insomnia. he’s not sure the young man ever actually smokes it)
- c!ranboo turns down offers from both wilbur and philza. his mind is unreliable enough, and he’s afraid that the extra substances would make things worse.
- (lying awake on the obsidian floor, dream holds the mixture of green tea and indica between his fingers. it was pre-rolled for him, which was thoughtful-- philza knew he wasn’t experienced enough to do it himself. supposedly, it would help him sleep. sleep was elusive lately, although admittedly better within the safe walls of the prison than it was when he was hiding in the open. but dream knows how the scent will stick to the obsidian. to his clothes. he sets it aside, unlit.)
