#bitter alcoholic

[cerise-on-top]

Fasching with König

Because today is Faschingsdienstag, I just had to write something for him on that day! Today is the only day I can post this, afterwards I'll have to wait over a year again! Fasching is an Austrian holiday that is essentially the last day before fasting for 40 days, so people go all out with food and drinks and festivities, they even dress up in costumes! It's not nearly as fancy as what some other countries have, but it's tradition! Besides, who am I to say no to a Krapfen with König!

Mentions of alcohol, but König is Austrian, so what did you expect?

First off, he hates going to the city during that “holiday”, there are far too many people, the crowds are way too big and it’s too loud for his liking as well. The only reason he’s taking you to the city on that day is so you can experience more of Austria with him. At least that’s what he tells you, in reality he just really wants to go eat a Langos or two and drink a few beers. No one would judge him for that on Fasching, there are crazier bastards out there than him. He’s never been a fan of Fasching, not even when he was a kid. The only reason he looked forward to that day was because he could go home from school earlier than usual. But other than that Fasching had always irritated him. He was never one for playing dress up either.

He couldn’t say he was surprised when you came up to him, demanding for the two of you to dress up as something. The most König would do on his own would be to put on a pair of bee feelers on top of his head, but he would never consider putting on a full costume. Not only was there a chance people would stare at him, but he’d feel awkward as well. Besides, which place would actually sell a costume in his size? Not a common one. You’d need to be a bit annoying for him to put on more than just bee feelers. He’s more willing to play dress up with you as long as you put on something as well, though, even if it still wouldn’t be anything too fancy. If he can find one, he might put on a Winnie the Pooh onesie, but only because it’s somewhat comfortable, somewhat warm and because there are weirder people than him out there.

He’d hate seeing the Faschingsumzug, but he’d tolerate it just for you so you can see all the wagons together and comment on all the costumes. The music is far too loud, there are people surrounding him on every side and he still hasn’t had a single drink yet. Tragic. You might wanna hold onto his arm before you’re being swept away by the crowds. Although König usually isn't one for PDA, in this case he’d prefer to keep you close. It keeps him a bit calmer and you’re not getting lost in a city or town you barely know. You can drag him around all you want, though, he’ll comply, even if he might roll his eyes a bit whenever you wanna go take a closer look at some of the other costumes and wagons. However, get ready to be dragged to one of the nearest stands for a few Langos. They’re not amazing, nothing special in the slightest, but they’re not bad either. He’ll pay for them, naturally. You can choose between a regular Langos, a Toast Langos or even a Käsekrainer Langos. König will likely have eaten all three due to his massive appetite, but you’re more than welcome to take a bite out of them as well.

Once it’s finally getting a bit later and the masses are starting to disperse, that’s when König will be a bit less grumpy. He gets to finally go to a bar with you and drink to his heart's content, his highlight of the day. You can drink whatever you want, from soda to Pago, from Spritzer to Jägermeister, he’ll always go for a few beers. While he might seem a bit grumpy at first, once he’s had his first beer he’s a bit more cheerful, König just really hates big crowds. However, he got to spend another day with you, which is all he could ever want. While you’re sitting at the bar he might take out a few Krapfen for the both of you to enjoy as well. Might joke about getting some Heringsschmaus with you the next day, even if you don’t like fish. It’s tradition, it’s part of the Faschingszeit, but that doesn’t mean he’s a big fan of it either. No, he much prefers the Krapfen you can eat during Fasching. Not big on fasting, he loves beer and meat too much to give up either of those things and won’t even do so if you ask him to. He’s a simple man, he knows what he wants and he knows what he likes. You can pry his Schweinsbraten from his cold dead hands, and even then he’d put up a fight.

Although König loves spending time with you, he will be glad once Fasching is over and once you finally voice the thought of going home. He’s tired from all the people and the alcohol makes this situation only slightly better. Even so, despite all of that, he’s looking forward to the next holiday, proper or not, he can spend with you. Due to him having drunk some beers, he’ll likely stay in bed a bit longer the next day. A perfect opportunity to snuggle up to him for a bit. Afterwards you can discuss what you would like to eat together.

#cod #cod x reader #könig #konig #könig x reader #konig x reader #I was so unhappy when I had to go through town today and there was no way through so I had to go around town to get home #I was so incredibly pissed about that #but hey my father made Gulasch today! and he put a blueberry quark strudel in the oven! it was so creamy and good! #so food wise today was amazing for me! #I even wore some cat ears at wok. the other apprentice and me were the only ones who “dressed up” today which was a shame #even though he only wore devil horns and that's it so nothing big either #but there are people who dress up entirely! but you barely see couple's costumes here. I saw none today in all honesty #I saw a lot of ladybugs though! a few bees! piglets! sunflowers! #it's a colorful festival! but a lot of people drink on this day so not a lot of them will be at work tomorrow! good #the only reason König would love this holiday would be because of the beer #you guys don't understand just how much alcohol Austrians drink we're far far above the EU average #the state I live in is far above the Austrian average as well my father told me today #so yeah we drink lots and lots of alcohol. beer for the most part but Spritzer is also really popular. Spritzer is superior though #beer is just disgusting and gross. I've tried it once and it was so bitter. but this is coming from someone who likes Jägermeister haha #I didn't get a Krapfen today though which is so incredibly sad :( Maybe some other time but it won't be a Faschingskrapfen :(

[vintagepromotions]

Poster advertising Campari Bitter (1926). Artwork byMarcello Nizzoli.

#vintage poster #1920s #italy #italian #Marcello Nizzoli #campari #campari bitter #liquer #apéritif #art deco #drinking #alcohol

[raina-at]

Bitter

I'm putting the tags here because of the content warning.

Thank you for the prompt @calaisreno

Tagging @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @jrow @thetimemoves @7-percent @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely and anyone else who wants to play.

Content warning: This ficlet contains something that could reasonably be interpreted as a suicide attempt. This gets dark, though it has a hopeful ending. Please proceed with caution.

John is drunk.

John is so far past drunk.

There’s not a word in his vocabulary for how far past drunk he is. And if it was, he certainly wouldn’t know it now.

He’s sitting in the dark on the floor in 221B, leaning against his chair. All around him, shards of glass litter the room. First he threw the whisky glass when it slipped out of his fingers. Then he threw the bottle when it was empty. Then he threw the vases with flowers left over from Sherlock’s funeral.

There’s a shard of glass cutting into his calf. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t feel much anymore, which is a blessing, really, because everything hurts. His chest burns with the alcohol and the tears that just won’t fall. The bitterness burns down his throat all the way down to his stomach, which is rebelling from too much alcohol and too little food. 

He doesn’t remember when he last ate. Or drank something other than whisky. He’s been back at 221B for hours, and he’s lost any sense of time.

He just wants to pass out in this ruined flat, his ruined life. Maybe he’ll choke on his own vomit during the night.

What a fitting end for the most useless person on the planet. 

Why can he never save anyone he cares about? His father, dead at forty, unable or unwilling to stop drinking and smoking and driving while drunk, which was what got him in the end. His mother, ovarian cancer, dead at fifty. All the hospital visits and experimental treatments and doctors he dragged her to and then she died when he was on his second tour. Heart attack. From the chemo, they said. The chemo he talked her into. She hadn’t wanted another round. He’d convinced her. And then she died, and he wasn’t there. Harry never forgave him. He lost her to the bottle not long after. 

And now Sherlock. Died before his very eyes, and John, useless, worthless John Watson, was unable to stop him. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, and takes another swig from the almost empty whisky bottle. 

Maybe he should stop drinking.

But he can still feel it. The pain. It permeates every cell of his body, right down to the very marrow of his bones. It never stops, not when he’s awake, at least. It’s like a scream that’s trapped in his body, cutting him up from the inside. The sound he couldn’t make when Sherlock jumped. 

He takes another sip. “And fuck you very much, too,” he whispers, then throws the bottle directly at Sherlock’s chair. 

The anger is almost as bad as the pain. It burns up and down his throat, bitter and hot and destructive. How could you do this to me? How could you leave me? How could you make me watch, make me complicit in your death? 

It doesn’t matter. There’s no answer. There will never be an answer.

He puts a palm to the floor, tries to stand up. The glass cuts into his skin. It feels good, this actual physical pain. He slips and falls down as he tries to get up, too dizzy to move.

He’s dimly aware that this is bad. It’s really bad. He can’t get up, he can’t see straight. He can’t really speak anymore. 

He takes out his mobile with shaky fingers, hits speed dial 3, drops the phone onto the floor.

It rings, rings, rings.

Someone picks up.

“John?”

He tries to answer and can’t.

The last thing he’s aware of is the door opening and Mrs Hudson’s scream.

*-*

Hands on him. Emergency lights. Someone is yelling his name. He thinks it’s Lestrade. 

He vomits all over the ambulance. 

A quiet voice asks someone whether there was a note.

Fuck, John thinks, and passes out again.

*-*

They wake him several times over the next few hours. He remembers almost nothing, just anonymous faces asking his name, what year it is, and who’s Prime Minister. They prod him and shine lights into his eyes.

He falls asleep again, dimly aware that he fucked up, but too exhausted to care.

*-*

The next time he wakes up, he must have been asleep for some time, because the clock on the wall and the light coming in from outside say it’s early evening.

He’s in a small, white hospital room. It’s very quiet.

Sherlock Holmes is sitting next to his bed. His clothes are dishevelled, he hasn’t shaved or bathed in several days, his face is pale as death and his eyes are red from crying.

John swallows and winces. His parched throat hurts infernally, he has a monster headache, his hands are bandaged and he feels like a car ran him over, then backed up and took another pass. 

So he’s clearly alive.

But he must have lost his mind, somehow. Happens. Psychotic break. He’s heard of it.

Sherlock looks terrible. Not only physically, but for the first time since John has known him, he looks like he doesn’t know what to do next. He looks lost. 

“Funny,” he rasps, his voice shot to shit from alcohol and vomiting. “I thought I’d imagine you like you were, you know, all put together. Maybe you look like shit because I feel like shit.”

Sherlock looks up and stares at him, wordlessly. He looks devastated. He blinks a few times, and John realises he’s crying.

“Why are you crying, exactly?” John asks, the slight slur to his words reminding him that the alcohol is still making its way out of his system. “I’m the one who’s gone round the bend, after all.”

Sherlock gently stands up and takes a plastic cup with a straw from the nightstand. “The doctor said you need to hydrate,” he says, and his voice sounds no better than John’s, rough and unsteady. 

He holds the straw to John’s mouth and John drinks greedily, grateful for the stale water that runs down his parched throat like the sweetest nectar. “For an illusion, you’re surprisingly helpful,” John says after he’s emptied the cup.

Sherlock puts the cup down on the nightstand and hovers on the side of John’s bed. He hesitates briefly, then he leans down and presses a soft kiss to John’s forehead. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, breath hitching with a muffled sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he mutters again and again, hands coming to rest on John’s shoulders. 

John blinks as slowly, very slowly, realisation dawns. 

Oh god.

“You-” he chokes out, throat closing up with an unnameable tangle of emotions, griefangerjoyragerelief all mingled together. “You-”

“I know, I’m sorry, there’s so much I need to tell you, I’m just so glad you’re alive,” Sherlock babbles, his lips still pressed to John’s forehead.

Anger rears its head out of the tangle and flows bitterly up John’s throat. “Get. Out,” he grates out between clenched teeth. “Get. The fuck. Out.”

Sherlock moves back. Removes his hands from John’s shoulders. He takes a step back from the bed, and he looks so - human, so - fuck, alive -

“Wait,” John chokes out, feeling the tears finally come, finally release out of his chest, that ugly ball of angerguiltgriefpain starting to soften, “Wait -”

Sherlock’s back in an instant, and John doesn’t know exactly how it’s happening, but he’s got his arms around Sherlock and Sherlock is sobbing into his shoulder and he’s sobbing into Sherlock’s chest, and they’re a mess of limbs and snot and muttered, broken words that make no sense. Sherlock climbs into bed with him, shoes and all. He’s filthy and he stinks and he’s a sniffling mess, but John wraps his arms around him and breathes in the rank smell of his hair. Slowly, his breathing calms. Sherlock rearranges them so John’s head is resting on Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock carefully pulls John’s arm over his chest so as to not disturb the IV line. 

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” John mutters into Sherlock’s chest, exhausted and still half-drunk and nearly delirious with relief.

“I know,” Sherlock mutters into John’s hair. “I have a lot of making up to do.”

“That too,” John slurs, already half asleep again. 

Sherlock’s fingers card through his hair, soothing and gentle. “Go to sleep, John. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Swear.”

John nods against Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock’s heart is beating right beneath his ear. He can feel his ribcage move as he breathes in and out. Alive, alive, alive.

John falls asleep to that sound, knowing that things won’t be fine right away, but they will be eventually. 

Sherlock Holmes lives. Now John Watson can as well. 

Sorry this got so dark, you guys. I promise a fluff bomb tomorrow.

#cw: suicide #alcohol abuse #sherlock #ficlet #johnlock #heavy angst with a hopeful ending #be warned #please heed the warnings here people #may prompts #bitter #cw: Self harm

[yonpote]

oh yeah ofc dans a red bull drinker

#if he wasnt a bitter alcohol drinker he would just drink redbull vodkas at the gay club

[morethansalad]

Cantaloupe Italian Spritz / Aperol Spritz Mocktail (Vegan)

#vegan #drinks #italian cuisine #mediterranean cuisine #mocktails #aperol spritz #juices #cantaloupe #orange #grapefruit #non alcoholic bitters #lemon #soda water #rosemary #🧡

[incenseburnerdreams]

Gavin: If i was a drink I think I’d be coffee.

Nines: (muttering under his breath) You’d be an Irish coffee that’s for sure.

Gavin: (whipping around to look at Nines with a glare) What did you say-

Nines: (grinning) Nothing, Gavin.

#small alcoholic sweet and bitter Gavin #irish coffee #dbh #detroid become human #gavin reed #nines #rk900 #gavin reed x nines #gavin reed x rk900 #gavin x nines #gavin x rk900 #dbh gavin reed #dbh gavin #incorrect dbh quotes #dbh nines #dbh rk900 #reed900 #incorrect detroit become human quotes #incorrect quotes #detroit: become human #detroit become human

[oxydiane]

drinking game idea: harry potter movie marathon in which everyone takes a shot each time hermione says or does something that was supposed to be said/done by ron

#alcohol poisoning halfway through the chamber of secrets #could work for harry too #they had hermione say and figure out so much stuff that was actually done by harry too ? #like idc call me bitter but i utterly despise how they made her this all knowing goddess #at the cost of ron’s entire character #i am a ronald weasley defender first human second #harry potter #ron weasley #hermione granger #rant #ish #harry james potter #fuck the harry potter movies #pro ron weasley

[briarpatch-kids]

I did, finally, at 30 years of age try a martini for funsies earlier today. I think I've drank more in the past two days (four drinks total and actually finished them) than I did all of last year. Turns out I just apparently need my drinks dryer than the Sahara and not a hint of sugar so I don't get the ick.

#tay dont look #alcohol talk #the drinks were two pink gins #a half shot of angostura bitters straight #and a martini heavy on the vermouth

[chaoticwitchgrimoire]

My lead mixologist was kind enough to lend me this book and told me to get some good inspiration. I'm very excited !

#although the authors dont seem to know bitters have alcohol in them bjt whatever #witch community #witchblr #witches of tumblr

[hungerpunch]

not victoria bitter actually make valtteri special merch 😭😭😭

#valtteri bottas #victoria bitter #f1 #alcohol #he is so loved

[oh-gh0st]

is it weird to feel bad for not wanting to drink alcohol

#ghosts rambles #idk a weird ramble im doing while im working on asks #like. i dont usually have anything to contribute to conversations when it comes up cause #i dont drink.... i dont want to drink. same goes with smoking or drugs #i never really liked the taste nor have been keen on wanting to cause of how my family is with alcohol #i know wine is an option too but the wines ive tried in the past all tasted bitter.... idk we'll see in a few years maybe?

[twistedsea]

Every nightmare has a meaning

#vent art #original character #oc: abigail #my ocs #// alcohol abuse #my art #alcohol is one hell of a nightmare let me tell ya #feeling bitter in my heart in this wendy's tonight

[bumblingbee1]

I really don't like how LGBTQ space discussions (namely online) tend to center clubs and bars and such...

#bee bumbles #it's so...western lmfao #i might be bitter because i don't drink #and don't go to clubs #i've tried btw (and it's just not for me) #and i kinda get why those places are discussed #because they are really popular social spaces #but the way someone got fucking TRASHED for simply suggesting alcohol free spaces will never ever sit right with me...

[l8tof1]

all alcoholic drinks have the same flavor to me (the flavor being: gross alcohol) so i always find it fascinating when people make non-alcoholic versions of those drinks. ig in my mind the drinks don't have any other flavor except that alcoholic bitterness? 😅

so i can't even imagine what non-alcoholic tequila would taste like

#i know my taste buds and i are wrong about this lol #and i haven't had a drink in probably 10 years but #when people get non-alcoholic beer for example i'm always baffled #it's like: now you're just drinking really gross bitter soup and you're not even getting tipsy 😭 #why wouldn't you get something else instead #personal

[tenderjock]

Obi-Wan’s on his third revnog when the imperial vice marshal’s boots come to a crisp halt in front of his chair. He looks up. The rest of the imperial vice marshal is attached to the boots, unsurprisingly. Obi-Wan is, nevertheless, rather surprised.

“Hello, there,” he says. He’s waiting for Tala. The two of them usually have a few drinks every few weeks, when their schedules allow for it. The imperial vice marshal is not a participant in this ritual.

“Hello, General,” he says. “Can I sit?”

Obi-Wan makes an expansive gesture that is meant to indicate be my guest but also I don’t know what in kriffing Force you’re doing here. The imperial vice marshal nods towards the table.

“You buying?” he asks, tone even. Obi-Wan looks from the glass in his hand to the imperial vice marshal’s familiar face. He wants to ask - well, any number of questions, really. Most of them boil down to why, why, why, over and over again. The one thing he’s been wanting to ask for the past nineteen years.

Instead, he raises an eyebrow. “The imperial salary doesn’t pay well?”

“It pays,” the imperial vice marshal says. The implication is clear. They two of them are silent for several minutes.

“I do admit,” Obi-Wan says, eventually, sipping from his drink. The alcohol burns wonderfully on the way down; he may be a little drunk already. “Even after everything ... It does bring me some comfort, knowing that Anakin has you watching his back.”

The imperial vice marshal carefully raises his glass in a mocking salute, then tips it back in one swallow. Obi-Wan watches his throat work, mouth dry. “Yeah,” he says. The scar at the corner of his eye catches in the bar’s dim light. “Why do you think I did it?”

Obi-Wan freezes, drink halfway to his mouth. Cody sets his empty glass upside down on the table, and stands, all shiny black armor. He leaves without looking back.

#ballots v blasters au #may the force be with you #codywan #alcohol ment // #okay his reasoning is actually a little more complex than ''i did it for youuuuuu'' fr #but thats not what you say to your bitter ex over not so friendly drinks!!! #myfic

[morethansalad]

Cinnamon-Smoked Lambrusco Cocktail (Vegan)

make it a mocktail easily with non-alcoholic wine & bitters

#vegan #drinks #mocktails #cocktails #mandarins #non alcoholic wine #non alcoholic bitters #cinnamon