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| The Drinking Thread; (see rules inside!) | |
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| Topic Started: 15 Nov 2008, 08:38 PM (753 Views) | |
| Alia-Hildwyn | 15 Nov 2008, 08:38 PM Post #1 |
Admiral of the Fleet
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The drinking thread is an IC thread that has a few rules for entering and writing in it. First off, this thread is for 21+ years in the US, 18+ in other areas, and whatever plus if you're one of those really lucky people who have countries with really 'progressive' drinking laws. As you may have guessed...you must be drunk (IRL) to post in this thread, or on your way there. This is not to encourage people to drink heavily, but simply allow people who don't trust their writing/typing/rping quite as much, or those why want to see what their writing it like in an inebriated state later on in the context of an IC post. This is also completely and totally AU, so whatever happens here won't affect your character elsewhere, and it allows people to meet other characters who they would normally have an IC reason not to. The setting? A pub...where else? The time...whatever you want. Have fun! |
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| Old Gibbs | 15 Nov 2008, 09:16 PM Post #2 |
First Mate
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Gibbs wandered into the pub and took a seat at an empty table. He had already had far too much rum and should have probably gone back to the Pearl to sleep it off. But the Pearl was too far away. Tonight, he wanted to spend his time with other people who were clearly in the same state. He looked around, wondering if there was anyone else he knew. The place was crowded, and in his current state, it was difficult to focus on their faces. A wench approached him and asked, "What would you like, Mister?" Gibbs looked at her with a devilish grin. "How much fer you?" he asked. The wench just glared at him. "That's not me job here. We've got girls for that. I can send one over to you, if you like." Gibbs considered it, but honestly, he was a little concerned about his ability to perform at this moment. It could turn out to be a waste of money, not to mention an embarrassment. "Nah, just get me a bottle of rum," he said, and watched the wench's back side sway back and forth while she placed his order. He would have to consider whether to hire anyone that night. But for now, the rum would suffice. |
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| Monkey | 15 Nov 2008, 09:33 PM Post #3 |
Piratess
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Anamaria entered the pub after having a bit too much at her previous haunt. She didn't care to have the people she worked with knowing what she was like in her current state, so she decided to take herself elsewhere. This was a new place that she had never heard about, so she decided to give it a shot. When she arrived there, she was almost disappointed to see Gibbs sitting at a table. She didn't exactly relish the idea of him seeing her in this state, either, but one look at his face told her that his condition wasn't much better. She decided she would sit with him anyways. She took a seat at his otherwise empty table. "Hullo, Mr. Gibbs," she said with some effort. "What brings you here?" She plopped down on an adjacent chair. |
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| Old Gibbs | 15 Nov 2008, 09:44 PM Post #4 |
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First Mate
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Gibbs saw Anamaria approaching her table. Of all the luck, she would have to find him here. But judging by the redness in her eyes, she was in a state not much different than his own. He watched her as she sat down at his table and asked why he was there. "I'm just lookin' fer a change o' atmosphere," he said. "and what about you?" He looked her over. Hadn't noticed before how attractive she was in those breeches. Most women, in those skirts, kept everything well hidden undeneath. But not Ana. The breeches, while a bit loose, still managed to show off her womanly figure pretty well. As she sat down, he could see the shape of her backside as the material stretched across its round form. He caught himself staring and looked away suddenly, afraid he might get caught, and slapped. |
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| Monkey | 15 Nov 2008, 09:51 PM Post #5 |
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Piratess
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Ana noticed how Gibbs was looking at her, and while she was a bit surprised by it, it wasn't entirely unpleasant. She didn't want him to be under the impression that this was okay in normal circumstances, but for tonight, it might not be a bad thing. "Aye, change of atmosphere," she said. A moment later, the wench returned with Gibbs's rum. She noticed Ana sitting there and asked, "Did you want me to get you something?" "No, I'm fine," she said and the wench went about her business. But then she looked over at Gibbs and his rum. "Of course, a taste of yours might not be bad," she told him with a gleam in her eye. She was a little surprised at herself, because she had never behaved this way before. But tonight, she could hardly see straight, much less think straight. Why not flirt with Gibbs a bit? He was a man like any other. And those mutton chops were a bit sexy, now that she got to looking at them. |
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| James Norrington | 14 Jun 2009, 05:17 AM Post #6 |
Norrington, James Norrington
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"What a curious place!" Norrington said, staggering in, absolutely, and completely drunk. It was quite odd to see people that he normally thought of as enemies, in a place where they had declared a truce, or at least that such was enforced. "And I'm not even entirely sure whether I'm scruffy of Commodore-ialish at all!" He added before being distracted by a barmaid in a very low cut dress. "Why hello!" He added, unable to say anything that wasn't punctuated by an exclamation point. "Did I mention that I am the Commodore...erm, former Commodore of all Port Royale?" he said with a wink, hoping to get lucky, "and that I'm a good second altenative to Will Turner? Or rather..." he said, looking slightly confused, "that he's a good alternative to me?" At the rolled eyes of the barmaid he added, "Regardless, I'm a fine catch, Scruffy or Commodorial. No one else can give orgasms with their voice as I can." He tilted his head to the side, "Except perhaps James Earl Jones, but let us not think of him!" He did not notice that the barmaid was already gone. "A toast!" he said, getting a bit weapy, "to those places that we've been that we have passed by because we have completed our courses of study." So weepy was he that he even forgot to add his drunken customary exclamation point to the sentence. |
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| Brendan | 17 Aug 2009, 12:45 AM Post #7 |
A Legend. In regimentals. Pwn.
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"Hear!" McIntyre cried, rousing himself from his half-awake daze enough to lift his nearly-empty tankard in response to the toast. He had no idea what the Commodore was toasting to, or even what the man was doing in this particular tavern, but in his present state he was not in the least inclined to any sort of involved thought process. After drinking the required swallow after a toast, he realised that his tankard was now empty. That was a misfortune that could not be left uncorrected. "Barmaid!" The Irishman bellowed in his best parade ground voice. "Another tot, here. At the double!" |
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| sheshells | 25 Aug 2009, 04:36 AM Post #8 |
Able Seaman
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"You speak proper to the lady and the gentleman," said the man at the next table, pausing in his conversation with a girl whose paint seemed to add ten years rather than taking them away. "You speak probper and you get what you want, see. Treat em fair like you wann be treated. Women, I mean. Or see, the thing is, treat em like they think they're being treated fair." His eyes drooped and his head drooped into the welcoming bosom of his companion opposite. "Are you still listen me?" he mumbled to the man in red. He sat up suddenly and frowned. "I wonder if Irish Cream would be good on cereal in the morning. Is it morning now, or night." He decided to reach for the bottle whatever the case, but he underestimated his strength and the ability of the bottle to move on its own, sliding back and forth across the table as if the tavern had been set upon their own gunroom during a storm. Failng to aquicr the bottle, he slid onto the floor and stayed there for some time, staring up at the wood pattern underneath the table. His pretty and promising friend lost interest, and he was too tired to call her back. "Ho, marine there. Redcoat, lobsterback, whatever man in red. come help me before that elaborately braided mna sees me and decies to sed me for my next commission on a prison hulk. All that gold, he must be the coomoororodore," But as he was lying there, he saw the most enchanting woman he had ever seen. She had skin as dark as night, but she seemed to be surrounded by glowing crimsons and golds waving in patterns like those lights he'd seen in the farther northern latitudes, waving back and forth, completely unexplained in their pattern, but always moving, never entirely still, always intangible and out of reach. He rolled his head to the side to see her better. "Madam," he breathed, "You are an aurora." Edited by sheshells, 25 Aug 2009, 05:36 AM.
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| sheshells | 26 Aug 2009, 05:08 AM Post #9 |
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Able Seaman
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Deveral's neck slid to an impossibel angleand his whole body dseemed drawnt the floor irresistillgy, down made of lead, limbs back, spine bck headjump n buzzies. deverel wasfeeling heai=viness. heaviens. the age old tred and triedajkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk j kjn Deverl awoke such an appalling ststement to ish adminlkjairtjlkffjfrhwasf was feel feas soccer ball in thed;dl;;;ppoiopoiuluifasuoiufddffg |
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| sheshells | 26 Aug 2009, 05:09 AM Post #10 |
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Able Seaman
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And then he coulod not remember what he ahd been thinking about; There had seemed to be too many cats present, but now it was not so. Mayb the comorore would not like cats. these hiccups grew worse. "Darling there!" je ca;;ed tp a barmaid. "I need som"e beer like htat one, he said, showing a matching bottle in a friend's hand. "Churchest just have better health insurance oi case of alien attack. Protrect your childn." He stood to go to bed but his legs took him nowhere but down. "Maybe stay here a while," he smurmyurred through a cluster of hiccups. 
Edited by sheshells, 26 Aug 2009, 05:32 AM.
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| James Norrington | 26 Aug 2009, 11:27 PM Post #11 |
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Norrington, James Norrington
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Norrington collapsed on the table in a something of tears. "I love tongues!" he cried out, tears rolling down his handsome face, "when drunk I can't help but get myself and my handler confused! I may speak five languages, but that's only because she *wishes* she does!" He looked over at Deveral, and wondered how drunk he was, if he was so drunk his actions made little sense. "Whatever he is having, I want some!" he announced, before returing to his state of tears. "God I love phonology!" he said loudly, "the sounds of languages are my inspiration, and I wish I was better, and I wish I could actually make it as a linguist." Then he stabbed Chomsky. "You bastard!" he shouted, "that's for that bullshit covert movement!" |
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| Royal Navy & Marines | 27 Aug 2009, 02:27 AM Post #12 |
Master of Puppets
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Somebody called to him, but when McIntyre looked over, there was no one there. Was he imagining things? He shrugged and concentrated on the fresh mug of rum that the barmaid had delivered to him. It was far safer than wasting effort trying to search out imaginary voicess after all... |
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| sheshells | 27 Aug 2009, 04:11 AM Post #13 |
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Able Seaman
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"That's not for you. It's for him." The barmaid whisked the rum out of his hands and gave it to the commodore, watching the stabbing dispassionately. |
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| sheshells | 28 Aug 2009, 05:08 AM Post #14 |
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Able Seaman
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"You're pretty good with a sword," she said languidly, watching his fine, strong hands and noting his handsome face and high manner of speach. "Do linguists use swords a lot? Pretty nice coat too. What did you say you was? Comma what?" She remembered his half hearted attempts to impress her, but they had failed. But now that he had killed a man here in this very pub, he had gained some interest in her eyes. "And is there a Missus Comma-what waiting for you?" She plopped down on the bench next to him and just stared with a mellow smile.
Edited by sheshells, 28 Aug 2009, 05:09 AM.
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| sheshells | 28 Aug 2009, 05:43 AM Post #15 |
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Able Seaman
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"Forgot, this'un's for you too. YOu asked what the 'tenant was drinking, so I got one for you. It does tend to give you very - " A rather large hiccup launched her into his shoulder, and another ended with her lying across the officer's lap, looking up at him sweetkly. "Hello. Everythign's heavy." Her hiccup sounded like a bullfrog's greeting. "You're pretty good with a sword," she said languidly, watching his fine, strong hands and noting his handsome face and high manner of speach. "Do linguists use swords a lot? Pretty nice coat too. What did you say you was? Comma what?" She remembered his half hearted attempts to impress her, but they had failed. But now that he had killed a man here in this very pub, he had gained some interest in her eyes. "And is there a Missus Comma-what waiting for you?" She plopped down on the bench next to him and just stared with a mellow smile before sneezing explosively. "Everything's so heavy just now. Maybe a storm's comin'. Maybe that prophetic bird would know. Feels weird, everything heavy and woozy. Just new, trying to look for a good place to work. But eveyrthing in here makes me feel wowozy and sleepy.
Edited by sheshells, 28 Aug 2009, 05:44 AM.
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| Royal Navy & Marines | 30 Aug 2009, 04:12 AM Post #16 |
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Master of Puppets
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McIntyre cradled his head in one hand and dipped a finger into his tankard, swirling the rum around it. "Can't you keep it down, over there?" He called out, forgetting to moderate his volume which meant the question came out in a fine parade ground roar. "They's lads in here wanna jus' drink without nuisance!" Somebody flung a tomato at his head. "Shurrup Corporal!" |
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| sheshells | 30 Aug 2009, 09:22 AM Post #17 |
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Able Seaman
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 He waved a hand at the redcoat. "Dont forget me, down down below. I've been cast adrift from my table! And this time I want champagne mixed with muesli.  Sally had difficulty walking away from the lieutenant. FOr one thing he was blinding drunk and ridiculous, and she wanted to be home to her daughter, and for another he kept plying her with alcohol and strange additions, like breafast cereal and strawberres and bread with nutella, all with champagne. Was he trying to seduce her? Not that she intended to fall at all, but it was rather off-putting to be seduced when knowing that one is going to tell the man "no." Why wait till then? Why not say no earlier? But her brain had run out of ideas and she'd tripped over the cats twice. "Come on, Plem, You're gaan home, aint'ee?" Plem responded to the nudge from her foot by rolling onto his other side and snoring. "At this rate, I'll be on the floor next to him," she thought in a melted puppet operated exhaustion. |
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| sheshells | 6 Sep 2009, 06:56 AM Post #18 |
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Able Seaman
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Deverel tugged at the apron of the passing barmaid. "Do you have any muesli? You know, it's like osats and raisins and white things and almonds and something sweet and flakes of tastelessness. It tastes like flakey heartburn." He finished with a hiccup and a request for more wine. Edited by sheshells, 6 Sep 2009, 07:00 AM.
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| Brendan | 9 Sep 2009, 01:42 AM Post #19 |
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A Legend. In regimentals. Pwn.
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McIntyre blinked and touched his tomato-splattered head. "I don't understand!" He cried, then stood up to find someplace less easily-targetted to sit. |
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| Sally Fisher | 10 Sep 2009, 04:40 AM Post #20 |
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Mate
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A hand reached up to pull on his red coat. "Down here," whispered Deverel. "You;ll be safe down here during the attack. Thye won't find us here. No one's seen us except... I can't remember who, but it's not important." He curled his head in his arms and began to fall asleep where he lay. |
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| Sally Fisher | 5 Oct 2009, 05:43 AM Post #21 |
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Mate
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"Attack?" she echoed the word the lieutenant had said. Was there a real attack expected? She brushed some tomato seeds off the fellow who was meandering away for a safe place to sit. "You lobsters'll protect us, aye? Safe as houses in here, aye?" |
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| Brendan | 24 Oct 2009, 01:32 AM Post #22 |
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A Legend. In regimentals. Pwn.
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Down? McIntyre blinked and looked down at the officer. What was he doing on the floor? "Why you down there, sir?" He asked blearily. |
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| James Norrington | 8 Nov 2009, 01:57 AM Post #23 |
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Norrington, James Norrington
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Norrington had been really out of it for the last few rounds, but not out of it in the way that he was now. Previously he was out of it because of not being there, though he was physically, but it had been like his spirit had fled the room. But now, his spirit was back, and now he was hammered. "There are very few things," he said carefully, trying to enunciate each syllable and all the sounds, so that he wasn't caught l-dropping again (he might have fretted about r-dropping, but unlike his handler he was a native r-dropper, and his handler apparently, was just in denial about sounding like those so hated Bostonians to the east), "that are not improved with the addition of whiskey." "I need more!" he shouted trying to wave and catch the attention of the barmaid, so that he might maintain his inebriated state. While he waited for more, he shuffled the papers he was working with, drawing out strange things he called "trees" which he claimed got better and more accurate the more he drank. Suddenly, in a panic he was shuffling them so hard a few dropped to the floor, and worried about losing his work, he dropped to the floor after them. "I must no lose them!" he said, oblivious to all else going on, "so much work! People will think less of me if I have the wrong answers!" He retrieved the pieces and climbed back slowly onto his seat. The returning maid eyed him dubiously, whether because he was making a fool of himself because he was so drunk, or because his handler forgot what the second part of that comparison was supposed to be, she did eventually serve him more (despite his aversion to causing a scene he was drunk enough to do so if he did not get what he wanted). He looked at his work. "I am not sure whether or not I can trust what I have written here," he said, "it seems fine now, but I am under no illusion as to whether or not I am sober. I must remember to look this over when I am sober, because when not sober, there is a tendency to think that things make sense when they do not. "Egg nog, anyone?" he asked, feeling generous. |
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| Gillette the Kitten | 18 Mar 2010, 04:19 AM Post #24 |
Le Muse de Alia
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"Meooooow!" Gllette the kitten said, looking at himself in a mirror, before deciding that his head-fur was not looking just right quite yet. It was a difficult place to reach with his long and delicate tongue, so he licked his paw and fixed it to that he had just a perfect kitty faux hawk. He turned to look at himself sideways, and frowned at the noticable beer bulge where he used-to-be-nice-and-neat stomach was. He straightened and sucked in his gut deciding that was was much betterm, until he had noticed that there was just one more bit that needed work. He went down on all fours before curling just right to lick at and fix that area just near his tail, which was, quite unfortunately, when his owner Alia chose to walk by. "Ewwwww! Gross!" she said, instantly misrecognising what he was doing. Gillette lifted his head for a moment to give his "owner" a glare before returning to his work. He had little time to be pestered by her, and her overly annoying tendancy to think that absolutely everything either related to sex, or was to be followed up with a giggle or 'that's what she said.' He quickly put away the hair gel, bleach, and other necessities he had liberated from Alia, who would be forced to order them again, not knowing that they had been "borrowed" from her, and not just been misplaced by her, like she had assumed. Strutting over to the computer, and accessing his home of homes, AG, Gillette went to visit his favourite forum, and his favourite thread, the drinking thread. Spotting one really hot chick (and boy, did he love chicks!), he went over to her, giving his patented adorable look (which was unfortunately stolen from him in some Shrek movie), and looked up at the woman, who was quite saintly looking. "Do you know what would look good on you?" he purred, "Meeeeeeeee....owwwww!" |
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| Andrea Costa | 19 Mar 2010, 10:18 AM Post #25 |
Pirate
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Andrea was particularly sad. He usually avoided getting drunk and he knew when to stop, but this time he wasn't sure if he was trying to find, at the bottom of the glass, answers to heart-related questions or solutions for forgetting his sorrow. Anyway, this wasn't meant to be his first glass tonight - or actually since he heard the news, he ceased counting them. His beautiful voice, sounding slightly different now, as an effect of drinking, was humming a sad song, matching his somber mood: "Forget her name, forget her face Forget her kiss, her warm embrace Forget the love that we once knew Remember now she's gone and flew, Remember she has someone new!" This was actually what he had to do... but was he strong enough? He saw Norrington and he came to his table: "May I join you? The next round is on me!" Drinking alone was not fun at all. But what was meant to be fun as long as his auburn-haired Irish fairy was gone with another? After ordering a bottle of whiskey, he put it on the table and asked: "Do you happen to know why did God make women so flighty? What could she find at him that made her leave me?" |
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| Sally Fisher | 29 Mar 2010, 05:21 AM Post #26 |
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Mate
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Sally plopped herself down at the table next to the two gentlemen, or rather the gentleman officer and the gentle-spoken sailor on whose arm she leaned affectionately. She also heaved the cat into her lap and patted him absently. "I'll tell you why," she said in what she considered a low voice. "Because she'd dead. They're all dead, whether they wanted HIM or not. It's just you an' me now, and him," nodding at Norrington, worried at his cups and papers, "And bloke down there, " gesturing to Deverel hiding on the floor," and them marines," who were still arguing about something. It was all a bit of a blur. "We's th'only ones left, hinny, just us, and youse are goin' next. I sees it. "Champagne! It's th'end o' the world. Mister Norrington, sir, buyissabo'tle, won'tay? Egg nog turns my insides out. S'only waya go, champagne, whey hey! And some museli, ta, lovey." She buried her face in handfuls of mueslie, devouring it and sometimes pausing to examine each and every little moresel. What were they? "I bet Mister Jecks would know, bless his heart." This was followed by loud frog-croaking explosive hiccups. [tooknambientonite] Edited by Sally Fisher, 29 Mar 2010, 06:17 AM.
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| Sally Fisher | 29 Mar 2010, 05:47 AM Post #27 |
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Mate
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"Why you down there, sir?" a marine asked blearily. "I'm down here, sir, to hide from the attack." said Deverel. "No one knows we're in here yet, so we'll be safe if we hide. If you want to live you''l hide with me. Deverel, lieutenant, late of... some ship. Have a drink." 
Edited by Sally Fisher, 29 Mar 2010, 06:02 AM.
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| Sally Fisher | 5 Apr 2010, 04:16 AM Post #28 |
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Mate
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"This drink is broke up!," Deverel complained at a bellow, slamming his glass down onto the table. "Gimme somethin that works, a drink that's worth drinking! A drink that ain't broken! COME ON, FALSTAFF!" he shouted joyfully at sighting an axq1uaintance outside. "Get in here, I'll buy you a drink! Best brandy for me brother James! Haha, are you coming, man?" By now he was standing and leaning out of the open window shouting into the street. Edited by Sally Fisher, 5 Apr 2010, 04:25 AM.
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| Andrea Costa | 7 Apr 2010, 11:34 AM Post #29 |
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Pirate
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The young woman, around his age, was blonde and pretty. She leaned affectionately on his arm, trying to comfort him in her original way: "Because she'd dead. They're all dead, whether they wanted HIM or not. It's just you an' me now, and him, and bloke down there, and them marines! We's th'only ones left, hinny, just us, and youse are goin' next. I sees it.” After so many glasses, he couldn’t question her opinions, but he believed them instantly. “You’re right, my dear! We’re the only ones left, and you are far warmer and caring! And if you see I’m the one to die next… who’s afraid? Death rounded me and spared me too many times, once she will come seeking for me too… And what if she finds me here, enjoying a drink… and the kisses of a fair lass like you?” He tried to put his arm around her shoulders, but he didn’t really succeed, as she had nested comfortably on his upper arm and he liked her warmth, not wanting her to move away. The young woman, hearing about drink, expressed loudly her preference: "Champagne! It's th'end o' the world. Mister Norrington, sir, buyissabo'tle, won'tay? Egg nog turns my insides out. S'only waya go, champagne, whey hey! And some museli, ta, lovey." “When <Marie Gallante>, the ship I was on before, arrived to Marseille with a good prize, our captain ordered champagne for all the patrons in the tavern!” Andrea said. “You deserve such a drink of the kings, bellissima… And if the end of the world is to come, let it come and find me in your arms! What’s your name?” “And why not in your arms… if she is in another’s?” he thought, with a frown. |
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| Sally Fisher | 10 May 2010, 06:50 AM Post #30 |
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Mate
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"In our arms! Come and find us in our arms!" She was laughing now, laughing wildly at death. "Champange will scare the old bugger off. In your arms and drinking your champagne and he won't dare take you. Not if takin' you off was to displease a pretty young lass as me. Sally Fisher." She leaned her head on his shoulder, trying to remember who the whole conversation had started. She remembered cutting out cloth... but that was at home. She remembed having seen the comodoree - there he was. She remembered a baby. Was it her Betsy? No, a much younger real baby. "Jiss a min, wanna show sommat." He picked her way through the crowd rather clumsily til she came to the corporal with his baby not far away, just as suspected. "Can I get that for a minute?" she asked. Death wouldn't take a man holding a baby, surely. She decided it might help to explain that to the corporal. "It's for a man who's gonna die soon." oops, called Whyte a commodore rather than a corporal. Ehh, both start with co-. And maybe the commodore needs a turn handling the babe. This post brought to you by ambien. edit again - I mean McIntyre, not Whyte. I knew it was a name with a y in it. Edited by Sally Fisher, 10 May 2010, 02:07 PM.
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4:01 AM Jul 30
