#Trigger: Alcohol

[zivazivc]

the morning (afternoon?) after this messy stunt. Floyd got off too easy in my opinion, but it's hard for Les to stay mad at him when he makes those sad pouting faces... 🤦

If you think Floyd's being really dumb at the start of this comic before getting a reality check, you have to take into account that he's madly lovesick and was feeling very smug atm; he's also a 15yo pop troll who thinks making out with someone means they're together now; and he assumed Les's sour mood was entirely the result of a nasty hangover...

P.S. They forgot about Hed lol (I almost forgot about him too, drew him just before posting lmao)

[apuff]

i think chilchuck may have a slight drinking problem

[arradraws]

🫶

[screaming-sparrow]

i forgave everybody, i gave up, i got drunk. (captain jack harkness and his relationship with alcohol)

[thatadhdfeel]

wishing safety to all. ❤️

(sorry if there’s any other options i didn’t think of! it’s early for me fhdjjsjfjf)

[highways-are-liminal-spaces]

November 2023

[sickddolly]

born to be an alcoholic, forced to have an ed

[ask-eden]

He is so inebriated that... He doesn't... realize... -- -- -- -- [ Anon ]

[mockerycrow]

Only Tipsy (Buck x GN!Reader) Pt. 1

GIF BY: @pjmnskook - masterlist

Summary: You’re apart of the 118 and you have an alcohol problem. Despite knowing you’re surrounded by people who care about you, you’re mortified from the thought of them knowing you’re struggling. [this is an x buck fic, but there’s love from everyone, including maddie.]

WARNINGS: alcoholism, dark thoughts, mentioned self harm (non-graphic), angst, hurt/comfort, spoilers for the show.

PART ONE OF TWO - PART TWO HERE

—————————————

You know you have a problem, you’ve known it for months but you never wanted to admit it to yourself. You never wanted it to go this far, either. You could never keep a full liquor cabinet because it ended up being emptied by you in days; full bottles of expensive wine and booze, whiskey, anything that burned and tasted bitter. You never thought you deserved the good tasting stuff.

In a way, you never wanted to admit because you were terrified what everyone else would think of you. You know that Bobby struggles with this same exact issue, you’re painfully aware of that, but in a way, that fact makes it that much harder to reach out. You know this is a serious issue, an issue that could cost your job, your life if you aren’t careful, but you can’t bring yourself to it to stop. You find comfort in the way it burns your throat and stomach, the way the bitter taste leaves an even sourer ache on your tongue. You feel lighter when you take that first sip, even if it’s placebo because you’ll only truly feel better when you’re three beers in.

You don’t exactly remember when the drinking started, but it was probably sometime after you realized maybe cutting yourself wasn’t the best coping mechanism. Of course you know drinking isn’t that much better, if better at all, but if you had to guess? It was probably after the ladder truck crushed Buck’s leg. You know that it wasn’t your fault, you’re fully aware, but that doesn’t make the memory any better. If you focused hard enough, you could hear Buck’s agonizing screams and wails clear as day, echoing off of your walls as if it happened in your apartment. You began to drink because you couldn’t afford to scar; you couldn’t afford the injury nonetheless, seeing your job and that your boyfriend, Buck, often finds himself in your bed with both of you in minimal clothing.

Before that, it was a house fire of three children; you witnessed all three of them succumb to third degree burns.

Under the age of 6.

Before that, it was an unsuccessful attempt of talking down—and catching—a jumper.

Before that, it was watching Bobby relapse, holding him while he sobbed until he didn’t make any noise with Hen and Buck.

Before that, it was—

It’s just too much to add on. It’s so much.

You’re suddenly aware of your surroundings and how warm you are—right, you’re in your apartment. You glance around with sluggish eyes, your eyelids feeling heavy. You’re sitting on the ground against the wall, next to your electric heater. Your lower eyelids feel puffy from just existing. You feel as if your brain is sloshing around inside of your skull like oatmeal and you’re vaguely aware of the vibration type buzz underneath your skin. You sniffle as your rub your fingertips together in an attempt to make it go away, but you know it’s because you’re drunk. You glance down at the bottle between your legs and pick it up, humorlessly chuckling at the fact that it’s only half empty. Your mouth is so dry, it feels like there’s cotton on your tongue and down your throat. “Only one way to.. to fix that.” You find yourself whispering, but you could barely understand yourself as the slur was so bad. You bring the bottle to your lips, the bitter and burning fluid filling your mouth and trickles down your throat.

You close your eyes tight in an attempt to prevent yourself from coughing and it worked; it’s like you could feel the liquid settling in your stomach, mixing with your stomach acid and the other alcoholic drinks you’ve consumed tonight.

You hear buck screaming and you flinch, choking on the liquid. You try to inhale but it gets stopped, and you let out a wet cough as you lower the bottle from your lips. Your shoulders tense as you cough the liquid out of your lungs, fuck it burns, it burns, just like those kids did-

You whimper after successfully saving yourself from an embarrassing death, pressing the heal of your palm into your left eye until it ached and you saw colors.

Your entire apartment smells of whiskey and probably every other alcoholic consumable imaginable. After remembering to open your eyes, you focus your eyes long enough to see the different brand of bottles scattered about. A twinge of guilt pulls at your heart; this is why you haven’t had anyone over in a while. You couldn’t bring yourself to clean your apartment, get rid of the evidence of your addiction.

You stare at a beer bottle a few feet away and it brings you back to the times you’d sit at the bar, opting to be the designated driver for the team. You can’t help but let out a laugh—that sounded more like a sob—when you think about it. You never drink in front of the others— only alone. Even after Bobby said he would come around and pick everyone up, you stayed sober. No matter how much your fingers yearned for that cold beer, your throat burned and ached for the comfort of alcohol, your stomach grumbled every whiff, you began to fucking sweat.

Withdrawal.

You try to stifle a sob as the weight on your chest hasn’t been lifted, even though you’ve consumed more than enough— more than enough alcohol that usually does it’s fucking job by now. With every second you felt more guilty, unable to keep your head quiet.

‘What if Buck found me like this?’

“Shut up.” You whisper to no one.

‘He would be so fucking disgusted, you know it.’

“Shut up,” You repeat yourself ever so slightly louder, the bottle finding it’s home on the ground with both of your heels of your palms against your eyes again.

‘What about Chim? Hen? Athena, Maddie? Even Bobby would be disgusted to see you go this far.’

You bite your lip in an attempt to not cry. You have been pushing your limits for months, losing weight and losing color in your face. You go into active withdrawal at work quite often, but you can’t let them know.

No one can fucking know.

You’re startled back to reality by your phone vibrating next to you and you nearly jump out of your skin. You move your head away from your hands and you try your best to blink away the blurriness and your tears. You raise your phone and unlock it—after failing twice.

You haven’t been noticing your phone it seems, as there’s several missed calls and dozens of texts.

Fuck, you’re missing your shift.

…You can’t bring yourself to answer anything, so with shaky hands, you completely turn off your phone and toss it somewhere, the phone landing with a thud. You put your hand on the ground and slowly lower yourself onto your side against the hardwood flooring, curling up into a ball. You keep your bottle nearby, wrapping your arms around your legs. You close your eyes and you only mean to rest them, but you end up passing out right there, surrounded by bottles, head filled with dark thoughts and painful memories. For the first time, you can’t bring yourself to care.

——————————

Meanwhile at the station..

Bobby presses his lips together, a hand on his hip as the dialing tone continues from his phone; this is the fourth time he’s called you. By this point, you’re 26 minutes late to your shift and you’re never late, in fact, you’re always early.

Eddie is sitting nearby, leaning back in his chair, legs spread out. Your absence is quite noticeable and Eddie knows what Bobby is doing, so he watches him with careful eyes. “Are they still not answering?” Eddie asks, his eyebrows furrowed together with his phone in hands. He couldn’t help but shoot you a few texts, too. Bobby sighs and hangs up once he gets your voicemail again and he shakes his head no. He looks at Eddie with a poorly concealed, concerned, expression. “No, they aren’t. [Name] usually lets me know very early in advance if they aren’t feeling well, too.”

Eddie glances across the room to where Buck is; he’s pacing back and forth and he can feel Buck’s worry seeping into his own skin just by looking at him. Eddie sits up straighter and sighs, looking at him. “Maybe we should check on them then,” He begins, scanning Bobby’s body language as he speaks. “If this isn’t like them, maybe they got hurt?”

Bobby pockets his phone. “Yeah, we should go. I’ll go get Hen and text Maddie for backup. I need you, Buck, and Chim to stay here, alright?”

Eddie opens his mouth to protest; he’s really fucking worried about you. You never go off the grid like this. Buck had even mentioned you never shot him a good morning text and you always do. But then Eddie shuts his mouth, looking down at the ground for a moment before looking at Bobby. “Alright, but let us know what’s up with them.”

Bobby assures him that he will; they are a family and they will figure this out like one. He then walks over to Buck, every step into his radius and he can just feel his worry, his stress. “Buck,” Bobby called out quietly which made Buck stop in his tracks. Buck blinks at Bobby, eyebrows furrowing. “What? Did [Name] get back to you, yet?” Buck said in a quick fashion, walking towards Bobby. “No, they didn’t. I wanted to let you know that I’m taking Hen and your sister to go see what’s going on; and before you open your mouth, you aren’t going.”

Buck throws his hands, exasperated. “What do you mean I’m not going??”

Bobby raises his hands and his eyebrows in a way to try to calm Buck down. He knew he wouldn’t react well. “You’re staying here with Eddie and Chim. I promise you, I will update you.”

“That doesn’t explain why I can’t go.” Buck demands, his bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. If Bobby didn’t care for Buck in the way he does, he never would have caught it. “We can’t just completely abandon the station. I know you three could get a call done if one does so happen to get called while we’re gone.”

Buck forces his lower lip to stop shaking by pressing his lips into a thin line, silently giving Bobby a nod. All he asks is for you to be okay.

[justsomeectoplasm]

I started playing Disco Elysium, and I'm losing over the whiplash it's giving me. The themes and scenes are so jarring but blend in so well that I can't help but be absorbed in the world. Where is your political stance, btw. You flipped off the cafeteria manager mid-air when he asked for your tab and crashed into a person in a wheelchair. There's a dead body hanging from a tree. There's a haunted bookstore. What's your opinion on worker's rights. You can punch a racist or agree with his critical race theory to bypass him. You can talk with a corpse. You can 'I want to have fuck with you' to a hot lady. You can punch a kid that calls you the f slur. You don't have any memories, but it's mostly OK because you can bullshit your way through your identity.

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

i love how they’re all mourning kug so consistently. rowan sings auld lang syne in times square and sofia pours out a drink and a bacon and egg sandwich for her hangover buddy goodbye old friend and wherever you are kug, eat and they take care of his sons and they carry on his work and they found whole organisations in his honour and kingston names his dog after him and then pete buys them all keychains to commemorate kug’s “graduation” and sofia went on another long bender because she couldn’t handle the loss and things go to shit because nobody’s keeping an eye on the sewers anymore and ricky reassures the homeless man that he wasn’t seeing things, there really was a rat once that went around helping the homeless but he’s gone now and -

[bannythepurplebunny]

I want alcohol :33

[infraredss]

im like "SLUT ERA‼️ I want to MAKE OUT with women!" and then experience debilitating levels of homosexuality if a woman leans in close to me for any reason

[helium-stims]

sediment in perfume

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

sorry if you’ve done anything similar to this, but what about HCs for getting wine drunk with the papas? could be spicy or silly! ty ty ilysm!

I need a little silly in my life, so I did some wine drunk shenanigans! Hope you enjoy! <3

Minor Tag Warning for Alcohol and Drunkeness

Reader Getting Wine Drunk with the Papas!! (Ambiguous relationship)

Papa Nihil: Nihil isn't a big wine drinker, but he won't say no to wine with dinner or a good movie. The easiest way to get him to want a wine is watching a movie while you eat some good old authentic italian pasta. Nihil claims he can't eat pasta without it! It's always a red wine and an older horror movie. You can't beat the classics! But you have a good time every time you get wine drunk. The wine turns you both in Mystery Science Theatre, and you do nothing but laugh and comment on any and everything about the movie! Sometimes the wine makes you do something crazy, like try to play a board game! But the night always ends the same. All the food and drinks gone and you both just chatting until you fall asleep. It's always safe and cozy, even when you wake up hung over. Though the wine is always blamed for when suddenly Nihil is getting billed for several new movie streaming services he can't remember signing up for.

Papa I: Neither of you were TRYING to become drunk. It started innocently enough! There had been too many complaints about the Unholy Communion wines tasting awful. The Siblings of Sin were not shy in requesting something more decadent and easier to stomach. You and Papa, on your insistence, decided to find something to start using Clergy wide. In your mind it was a fun time to try all the fancy drinks with your favorite person! Papa was more happy to indulge you and just wanted to solve this as quickly as possible. But you are a bad influence. Convincing him it was a waste to do a traditional wine tasting! So after many glasses neither of you found the perfect communion wine... instead you found yourselves laughing on his couch. Trying to have unserious philosophical discussions through slurred speech. Papa admits it's the type of fun he needs outside of his brooding and serious ministry duties. Imagine your surprise when he invites you over again. This time to share a bottle just for you two!

Papa II: You were never a big wine drinker until you became close to the second Emeritus. Papa has the most well stocked wine cellar you have ever seen! Many people forget that under his classy and collected exterior is a man who loves to party! Or at least unwind and let go. So every once in a while he will ask you to pick something for dinner, or if you just want to sit and drink with him. Most of the time it's in his music room where you put in vinyls and just sink into the expensive sofa. You find he's much more talkative when properly drunk, and more willing to have fun. There have been many times Papa has decided that being drunk is the perfect time to teach you how to dance! You've fallen a few times, but both of you always laugh it off and go back to finding a good song to listen to! You always enjoy the looser side of Papa! The man who drunkingly explains the rise and fall of the Beatles in the music industry. Or he enjoys the way you cried once because you found your favorite song on one of his albums, and insisted he put it on repeat.

Papa III: Now THIS is when you both get the best gossiping time! It's actually a biweekly ritual you two share when you both have the time! Wine bottles out, the charcuterie boards full, and both of you ready to blow off steam! Life is so stressful, so why not find time to have a good wine with the best company? It always starts the same. One of you raging about the current annoyance in your life, and the other popping open a cork and pouring your glasses full. It usually starts with both of you venting, to both of you chatting, to both of you laughing your asses off about nothing. Sometimes you get drunken ideas, like rearranging the furniture that neither of you can move! Other times you decide you need a late night take out run (DRIVEN BY A GHOUL OF COURSE) and come back with bags full of fast food. This last time you both woke up to Papa's closet sloppily 'organized'. the only clue being a Marie Kondo video on your phone, and all of his socks in a basket. It's always in good fun!

Papa IV/Cardinal Copia: When it comes to wine, you and Copia always promise yourselves 'one glass'. But sometimes, you just need a whole bottle or two. You both agreed it's not that you NEED wine to unwind; but it's nice to indulge once in a while. So the times you do get drunk off of wine, it's planned and thought out. Copia will select the best bottles he can for the night, and you get the best dinner or snacks to pair with it. You always do a quick glass cheers to each other and have at it! Like with Terzo, sometimes you just need to gossip or vent. Other times it's to unwind and NOT think about the day. Others it's to celebrate and find something fun to do! You've both woken up from your two person party wearing expensive lamp shades! This is one of the few times you both get into mischief together! Terrorizing the gardens at night, or finding your way into Copia's office to fuck around with his paper work. Anything to keep you two occupied! Your favorite time so far had been turning his office into a miniature club with strobe lights and his lava lamp collection. You were both pretty bewildered when you saw the mess you made the next day!

[dumbbitchdisaster]

Drinking wine doesn’t count if you drink enough to forget about the calories>>