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zulu, queen of the dwarf people bottecellie wrote in memebells
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dude. i'm so drunk.
The Drunk Meme
 
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"I may be drunk, Miss, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly." - Winston Churchill


CROSSPOSTED AT BAKERSTREET ON DW.

1. Drinking Games. You're at that special level of drunkenness where previously unimagined things start to sound like a good idea, like another drink. It's cool, I know this great game that will inevitably end with everyone involved being totally wasted. You play until... shit, what were the rules again?

2. Unsolicitied Advice. Oh man, you suddenly know the solutions to all of life's mysteries. All it took to figure it all out was half a pint of whiskey! It's time to tell all your friends how to fix the problems with their personal lives, whether they want you to or not.

3. Drunk Texting. Frankly, you can't IMAGINE why anyone wouldn't want to hear about how drunk you are right now. If only you could remember where the vowels are on this tiny keyboard. Drawing inspiration from TFLN is encouraged.

4. Tell them How you Really Feel. You lost some of your less important inhibitions three or four drinks ago, and it's time to tell it how it is! Time to hunt down the person you love, or possibly the person you hate, or even just the person you don't ACTUALLY despise, and bare your heart to them in a way that you'll almost definitely regret tomorrow morning.

5. Karaoke. Shot through the heart, and you're to blame! You give love... a bad... something...

6. Terrible Ideas. This is going to be so awesome, guys. I've got the skateboard, and I'm handcuffed to Steve... is the camera rolling? And who's lighting the fireworks?

7. Flirting. While all that booze may not have enhanced your charm, it certainly did wonders for your ego! Time to find all the hottest dudes and/or chicks in this place and make them swoon before your gin-powered charisma.

8. On the Streets. What better way to follow up a good bar run than by drunkenly wandering the streets in the middle of the night? There may be loud, embarrassing singing. There may be puking in the gutter. You may be completely lost, and not sure why that police officer is speaking Italian.

9. The Next Day. All that you took with you from last night's adventures was a blur of jumbled, confusing memories, a lampshade with googly eyes drawn on it taped to your head, and a brutal hangover. What exactly happened here? And who's that sleeping next to you?

Stolen and modified from memebells.

Thor Odinson || MCU

ooc: smut unlikely unless your name is Jane Foster

6!

Charles was very good at holding his liquor. In fact, his friends were egging him on to challenge someone to a drinking contest in the bar.

Charles, of course, feeling confident, picks out the biggest man in the bar and strides over to him. "Pardon me, my friends and I have a little bet that I can outdrink anyone in the bar. Would you be up for a game?"

Thor turned and raised his eyebrows at the much smaller man. The laugh that results isn't meant to be condescending it's just-- Oh, Charles, you know not with whom you mess.

"If you are feeling confident, I would not be able to back down," he replied, finishing off the beer he's already been nursing. "But I feel that it would not fair to you if I were to agree to this without giving you fair warning."

It'll probably serve him right by picking without scanning his mind first. But Charles wants to play fair, no super powers. He smiles smugly, "If I get beaten at my own game, it'll be a first." And he will be a good sport about losing.

But he's not going to lose. "Two bottles of aged scotch, please bartender." He sits on the barstool next to Thor, offering his hand. "Charles Xavier."

Thor took the man's hand and gave it a firm shake - a customary greeting that he now recognized. "You may call my Thor Odinson," he replied.

"These friends of yours," he started as the bottles were brought out, a small chuckle escaping him. "Do they root for you, or are they eager to see you flat on you back?"

Oof, what a grip! But Charles isn't going to back out now, he thinks this will be fun. He's already lining up the shot glasses, five for each of them. "Mr. Odinson, nice to meet you. The name suits you."

He smirks, giving his Oxford mates a glance at their table. "A little of both, I imagine. They've been flat on their backs many a time from my doing, so I'm sure they're hoping it's my turn." He pours out five shots across the line for both of them. "Simple enough, first one to fall of their chair loses. One shot each at a time." Unless Thor wants to add to the game to make it more interesting?

"Sounds perfectly reasonable," Thor agreed. He took the first shot glass and raised it to his new friend with a grin. He had sampled plenty of the alcohol that Midgard had to offer, and he'd yet to meet his match. It was possible that this much of the scotch might make him a bit tipsy, but he had a feeling it wouldn't come to that.

"May the best man win, yes?"

"Indeed." Charles lifts a shot as well and clinks it against Thors. "Cheers, mate." And down the hatch with a hum of approval. "I do believe that scotch is older than I am."

Thor kicked the shot back easily, a laugh escaping him at Charles' comment.

"It does taste it, doesn't it," he replied. Truthfully, the stuff was slightly above water to him, though he did appreciate the slight burn. It reminded him a little of a mead that one of his cousins liked to make. "Tell me about yourself, my friend. I would like to know you better before I beat you so thoroughly."

Charles picks up the second shot, glad that he's getting into the spirit of the game. "I'm something of a teacher, or will be when I graduate." Tossing back the second shot with a wince. "Which will be in one week." Yes, this was finals week. Charles did like to live dangerously.

"And you, my friend? What is your choice of occupation?"

Thor had no idea what finals were.

"Ah, then I must congratulate you," he chuckled. He threw the next shot back with ease. "I... Work in security."

It was a stretch, but it worked. As the acting guardian of this realm, he was technically a security guard on the largest scale possible.

"Thank you." Third shot gone and Charles is just now starting to feel it.

He laughs. "That I can believe." The man sure was big enough to be security. "You look as if you could take five men in a fight with one arm tied behind your back."

He laughed as he downed his third shot. He was feeling a bit warm, but little else. He probably could go for another round and still come out standing.

"And it wouldn't be hard," he replied coolly, reaching for the next glass. He peered over at the man curiously, wondering if the alcohol had started to take effect. "I suppose that depends on what kind of men they are, however."

Charles has done five shots before and stayed up just fine. If they make it to ten, it's really going to be a challenge. Which, judging from Thor's non-inebriated state so far, they might just get to that.

He drinks the last two, one right after the other, just to make it interesting. "Oh, large fighting type men, I should think." No sign of falling over but he is looking a little bit bright eyed.

Thor raised his eyebrows and followed suit, knocking back the last two shots with ease. He could see that Charles was feeling it.

"In that case it might be slightly harder," he chuckled, motioning for another set of shots. "I might get a bruise."

"Perish the thought." Charles accommodates, pouring another line of shots. He has to concentrate to keep his hand steady but manages well enough. His mates are starting to take side bets. It's pretty evenly matched between Thor and Charles though.

Thor grins over at Charles as he reaches for another shot. He was certain it wouldn't be too much longer, now.

"Yes, I rather dislike bruises. They are bothersome," he told the man, just before putting back that shot.

Charles puts away another shot, keeping his now red rimmed eyes on Thor. "How much can you lift? Do you keep track?" Asking in the way of bench pressing.

OH!! OH!! I ROLLED A THREE THIS IS...GAAH! :D

How do these mobile phones work again?

{i CAn't fing your hammer/ Where djid u puy it?}

Because clearly when Tony said something about 'hammer time' after an evening meal of wine, scotch and gin, it clearly meant to send a text on a device he can barely use, to Norse God. Clearly.

Edited at 2012-05-24 04:05 am (UTC)

Thor peered at the mobile device that SHIELD had issued him, blinking at it curiously. The message said it was from Steve, but this... Did not sound like Steve.

He tries to send a text back, but it takes him a good moment to get it to send.

[Friend, why do you wish to find Mjolnir? You know it answers to me alone, it will not do you good.]

That noise...from his pocket. For a moment, Steve thinks that Tony has hidden another toy in his trousers but it's only the telephone thing.

He reads the message, then works on a reply, so carefully worded that no one would think he had been drinking.

{It's hammer tume}

Well, he tried.

Thor stared, confused at the message before him. Something was wrong.

[Friend, you do not sound like yourself. Are you alright? Should I alert someone?]

If Steve is honest with himself, he likes being referred to as 'friend'. Not that he'd show as much but the lovely warm and fuzzy feelings he got feel good.

{iM fine. Staak Tok me out? Weres the HAMmer/}

And send. Seriously, Thor, now is the time to reveal the location of the hammer.

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