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Post by Mathias Karlsen on Mar 19, 2011 18:20:14 GMT -5
 “Drinking beer doesn't make you fat, It makes you lean....
The Dane gulped down his...well...God knows how many beers he had drank already. It was Saturday night, he was with a few members of his awesome drinking group, aptly named The Crew, having a fucking great time. It was lucky himself and a few others had fake IDs, or else they wouldn't of gotten in the bars in the first place, seeing as 20 years old was the legal age to drink and smoke at in Japan. Man, doing this stuff when it's illegal makes it more fun, right? They just hoped that they didn't stumble across some higher authority or else they'd be fucked. But nonetheless they weren't prepared to let something like that stop from them having some fun.
They were bar hopping tonight, jumping between one bar and the next, getting drunker and drunker as they went along. They'd have as many beers as they could before getting kicked out and then move on noisily to continue their shenanigans. This was their...fifth bar? Just think of the amount of beers they had drunk already!
Mathias was lucky to have a rather high alcohol tolerance, so he was fairly borderline between sober and completely smashed off his fucking face. The room would blur now and again if he moved his head to fast in a certain direction, he was beginning to sway back and forth on his stool threatening to fall off one to many times, and when he stood up, he'd stumble around before regaining his balance. He'd also occasionally slip some random Danish into his English, confusing everyone around him who didn't understand his mother tongue.
"S-so there was this one time...this one time where Norge and I...gjort det ud i...Sve's..."
He leaned over the bar and stole another beer whilst no one was looking, opened it with some struggle, and took a long swig of the strong drink. He paused to take a breath of air then finished the bottle off in a matter of minutes.
"So yeah...what was I sayin'?"
Augh, Mathias also tended to have a very short attention span towards his own and other's conversations. That was sober and under the influence. No wonder he was doing so shitty in the Academy.
"Oh! Oh! Guys I totally saw this fuckin' awesome looking bar when we came here! It was called...it was called...I dunno but it had a fuck ton of neon lights and shit so it looked cool! Maybe we should go to that next, huh?"
The 'bar' that Mathias happened to be talking about...was a strip club....Against bars, tables, chairs, and poles.” (Hey guys! This is the Roleplay thread for Denmark's drinking group The Crew! If you want to join, please go to the thread 'Schemy Schemes' on the plottage board and ask to join there! That means that those who are members of The Crew will be able to RP here and have an all-round fun time~) |
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Post by Fraser MacDonald on Mar 20, 2011 9:02:57 GMT -5
The Scot leaned against the bar, in a deep (or rather, slightly one-sided) conversation with a very explicit looking young woman, his umpteenth beer in hand, tilted so the alcohol contained in the glass was almost spilling out, but Fraser was too distracted by the woman before him than to worry about losing his drink. He could hear Mathias nattering on about something in his weird Danglish language which he always, without fail, switches to whenever drunk, but he wasn’t paying the Dane much attention, much rather choosing to stare down the intoxicated slut who was trying to talk to the Scotsman.
This was their… fifth bar? If he remembered correctly (chances are, it was a much greater number), and in each Fraser had managed to find at least one hooker mingling with all the stoners and drunks, although the woman didn’t pay him much heed, as he still looked like an 18 year old, despite the fact he still had his license, which technically proved he was 25 years old. (Although in this “universe”, they were actually considered fake IDs, but Fraser wasn’t about to let that fact slip, even in his current drunken state. Hurrah for breaking the law!).
Eventually, the whore gave up on the red-head, and with an irritated huff, walked away to talk with someone else. Fraser sighed in defeat. What rotten luck, looks like he wasn’t gonna get laid tonight. He snorted. “Dinnae ken wit th’r missin’” he muttered, swirling round in his chair to face the bar again, and he downed his drink, before slamming the glass back down on the bar.
“Oi, Bartender, gimme anither lager.” He called, attracting the man behind the bars’ attention. The man gave him an incredulous look.
“Are you sure Sir? You’re looking awfully drunk right now.” The man said, his brown eyes narrowing slightly.
“Ah’m fine, jist gee’s the drink, mate.” Fraser drawled in answer. The bartender, after a slight hesitation, shrugged, and got a can of lager from under the bar and handed it to Fraser. “That’ll be 474 yen, please.”
Fraser pointed at Mathias. “E’s paying fer meh, mate.” He said, a lopsided grin playing on his face as he opened the can and took a swing. Truthfully, Fraser was flat out broke, and so was the Dane. Chances are they’ll be getting kicked out of here in a couple of minutes, once the Bartender learns of this fact.
A particularly loud announcement from Mathias drew Fraser’s attention, and he turned to face his drunken friend. “Aye aye… Ah ‘hink Ah remember seein’ tha’ place, twa…” he said, grinning. “It certainly looked fuckin’ interestin’, tha’s fer sure.”
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Post by Mathias Karlsen on Mar 20, 2011 12:34:13 GMT -5
The Dane ginned widely at the Scot, his blue eyes glistening with mischief. He was prepared for some trouble at a new bar~
"YAAAAS! Lad os g-gå!!" he yelled at the top of his voice. Mathias practically launched himself off his stool. Now, he thought he was able to stand up perfectly fine after such a dramatic dismount, but, he was drunk so coordination was totally absent.
Stumble...stumble... Smack.[/center] Well then, face first into a wooden post. (at least he didn't land face first into the woman's chest, who was just leaning against said post). How graceful. "For fanden! Augh!" well...now he had a bleeding nose. He was used to bleeding noses so, he tilted his head and held onto the bridge of his nose as per usual. This stopped the crimson flow from dribbling down his chin and onto his shirt (not that anyone would spot the blood on his red shirt anyway).
Mathias pivoted to look at the Scotsman. "Well? You comin' or not!? I'm not gonna fucking wait for you to finish that off, you can just take it with you!" Breaking the law once again. Illegal to carry any open alcohol in the street. And he just proclaimed this across the whole bar. Oh well.
"Oi!! Are you going to pay for those drinks!?"
Mathias blinked. "Ehhh..." the blond out turned his trouser pockets, checked his wallet (only to find his ID, a photograph of himself and Lukas, and one family photo with the other Nordics). "Sorry man...I have no-" he stumbled over to Fraser, grabbed onto his collar and sharply dragged him out of his sitting position. "RUN!" The Dane didn't really bother about anyone else, he knew that the fiery redhead would just stay with his ass glued to the stool, or take his own jolly time with the drink n' dash scheme. Keyword dash.
The drunken blond kicked open the doors and fled out into the cold street. "Try and catch us now!!" he released the other drunk and spun around. "Now where was that bar?" squinting his eyes Mathias set his stare onto a reasonably large building, the extremely loud thump of music emitting from the double doors. In bright, shining letters was the building's name. Ambrosia .
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Post by Adam Banjora on Apr 6, 2011 6:59:19 GMT -5
When Mazza, a.k.a Mathias, first suggested going bar hopping, Adam practically jumped at the chance. Well, in fact he did.....inside. It was a bloody brilliant plan! Fake ID's were a fuckin' ripper idea too. Because of Adam's height, he usually never got asked for ID anyway, certainly never back home. Now, here he was, at his...well, he couldn't remember how many bars they had been too by now. Five, maybe six? Oh well, it wasn't very important.He sipped his ice cold Carlton Draught, he couldn't believe they'd been able to find a bloody bar that sold the stuff, seeing as it was a purely australian drink. Fuck Fosters, that was a pissy drink, go bloody Carlton! Adam could handle the amber fluid pretty well, better than most at the very least.
"Oi! Oi, mate, mate" He tried to get the barman's attention. "Mate, 'nother one o' these buggers please mate" He slurred. The drunker he got the more he lapsed into strine. His mother tongue. The barman plonked another cold one onto the counter. Adam sculled it as he laughed in amusement at his fellow beer-lovers. He was wasted, smashed, full as a fairy's phone book, pissed as a parrot, tanked, under the affluence on incahol, no matter how you said it, it all added up to one thing. He was drunk.
"Up there cazaly, in there and fight
Out there and at 'em, show 'em your might
Up there cazaly, don't let 'em in
Fly like an angel, you're out there to win"
Adam sang loudly and proudly, that great old sporting tune. If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine being on those grounds again. His footy team, AFL that is not that bloody soccer or american footy, proper footy, scoring points upon points, its players marking and defeating their opponents, getting bloodied and broken in the process. Ah sport. Best bloody thing in the world. And in Australia it was virtually a religion.
"Oh! Oh! Guys I totally saw this fuckin' awesome looking bar when we came here! It was called...it was called...I dunno but it had a fuck ton of neon lights and shit so it looked cool! Maybe we should go to that next, huh?"
"Fuckin' hell, that sounds a ripper of a place mate!" Adam exclaimed, jumping to his feet, his hand still clasped around the bottle. He'd brought a carlton stubbie holder with him to every bar. That way his hands didnt get frozen to an ice cold beer bottle or can. He laughed as he relised Mazza was gonna leave without paying. Then frowned as he grabbed Fraser, a.k.a Fraso, by the collar, leaving without him.
"Bloody hell, ya bastard, wait the fuck up!" He tore after them.
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Post by Fraser MacDonald on Apr 12, 2011 8:01:55 GMT -5
Fraser frowned at Mathias when he was fumbling through his pockets for his wallet. Oh, the Scot certainly knew what was coming next. The Dane set his gaze on him, his blue eyes wide, and he staggered over to his drunken friend. “Oh fer fucks-“ The Scotsman began, but was cut off by the taller man roughly yanking him out of his stool by the collar, and yelling at him to run. Although he was barely able to regain his balance, Fraser complied, not wanting to get his ass handed to him by the bartender.
“Oi, Mat, don’ ye ken tha’ yer fergettin’ someone?” he slurred, indicating at the confused Adam, who the Scot and Dane had left behind. None the less, the young Aussie was smart enough, even when drunk out of his head, that when his two drinking partners raced out of a pub without paying, and still carrying their drinks, it was wise to do the same. He heard the Australian yelling after them.
"Bloody hell, ya bastard, wait the fuck up!"
That, and the angry yells from the bartender mingled with Adam’s accented voice, telling them to stop or he’ll call the police. He also caught some confused glances from the other drinkers, along with some slightly angry ones, and the odd cheer. As per usual, there was always some who found drunks struggling out without paying hilarious. Fraser was one of them, even though the tables had a tendency to turn on him, like they were now.
Luckily, all three of the drunken friends managed to get out of the bar uncaught, and the bolted down the street, away from the bar. When Fraser looked up, after catching his breath, he noticed the large building before them, illuminated with many different neon colours, and a loud, steady thumb was being emitted from behind the closed doors.
The place really stood out on the otherwise dreary street, Fraser realised, his face breaking out into a drunken smirk.
The name, which was, unsurprisingly, also lit in colourful neon letters, was Ambrosia.
Fraser grinned, and turned his emerald gaze on his partners. “Are ye ready, lads?” he asked, obviously eager to enter the ‘bar’.
(Sorry for the shortness ._. I've not been having much muse with Scotland...)
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Post by Adam Banjora on Apr 13, 2011 1:35:01 GMT -5
After several minutes of drunken running, almost falling either flat on his face or in the gutter, he finally arrived besides his two drinking buddies. "Bloody hell, ya bastards, what ya run away for, like that?" He panted and swayed. "Ya left without me" He gave a little pout, still clutching his bottle of beer.
“Are ye ready, lads?”
Huh ready? Oh! They were in front of the...um...place..they were going to...pub? Adams drunken mind tried to figure out just where they were. "This place the pub then? Funny lookin' pub mate, better have bloody good beer. Im almost out!" He held up the bottle, revealing there was very little liquid left.
"Well, we better go in, gotta get a fuckin drink asap!" He swayed again on the spot, about to fall over.
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sorry >< so short |
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