fairynuff | Drink up, me hearties

THE DRUNK MEME

1. Drinking Games: You're at that special level of drunkenness where previously unimagined things start to sound like a good idea. You know, 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. Unsolicited 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! Hunt down the person you love, or possibly the person you hate, or even just the person you don't literally just met, 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?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The stairs appear to be listing slightly to the right every time Jon glances down at them, which he feels probably isn't normal. He grips the dinner trays that he and Stiles had pilfered from the great hall, trying and failing to recall just how many steins of ale he'd ended up consuming over the course of their two-man pizza party.]

We used to do this, but on snow.

[He says that with great confidence, and significant slurring.]

Snow's for pussies.

[There were so many innuendos and double meanings behind that, it's best if those three words together aren't looked over too long.]

You gotta... you gotta take life by the balls, Jon. It's what makes it fun.

[Maybe it looked like the stairs were listing right because Stiles was listing left. But he had this expression of such open wonder, trying to express to Jon through sheer feels that this was good. This was what boys did.]

[Jon opens his mouth to protest half of those double meanings, but it's too gargantuan a task for his ale-soaked brain, so he lets it go with a clumsy hand-wave of dismissal. Snow is fantastic.]

There's no balls here. [When he gestures widely to the empty stairwell, apparently having looked about eagerly for a pair of balls to grab, he almost drops his dinner tray down without him. He manages to clutch it back to the chest at the last moment, though, with minimal swaying.] Who's going first?

Your balls, numbnuts. God.

[He pulls the tray from Jon, moving to lay it at the head of the stairs with that over-precise movement that really drunk people get. It has to be just so.]

We should both go. At the same time. Because if I go and you don't see it, you won't do it. And then I'll have to come bring it all the way back up. And if you go, you're not gonna wanna come back up here. Because you're a pussy.

[Yep. He said it.]

What's the point of grabbing them if they're numb?

[He will strenuously deny making any masturbation jokes when he's sober, fair warning

And wow, take that back!! Jon gives Stiles an epic bitchface, and clumsily shoves him down onto the dinner tray had been busy adjusting to perfection, watching him careen down the stairs with extreme drunken satisfaction. Take that!

He does follow on his own tray though, scarcely 5 steps behind, mostly because it seemed like such a grand idea at the time.]

To make sure they're still there. And they might be numb from underusage. Gotta make sure they're... ah... you know.

[Hehe. Masturbation talk. Yeah, this was locker room territory.]

Just let me-- AAAAH!

[Stupid Jon and his stupid face with his stupid hands pushing at him. Stiles was only half balanced on it as he flew down the stairs, trying to lean properly so he didn't hit the stairs at the wrong angle to send him flying ass over teakettle.

He made it to the bottom out of the sheer luck that cocooned all those too drunk to know what the hell they were doing, spinning as he hit the flatter surface of the next floor, bumping into the wall and falling over.]

You are such a dickbag.

[Jon hits the ground laughing, even after the opposite wall spills him straight off his tray and into a face-down pile of tangled limbs onto the floor. Pure self-satisfied, drunken laughing.

Eventually he manages to roll back over and give Stiles a look that's supposed to come off as smug, but mostly just looks pleased. Dumb boys doing dumb boy things.]

You'll have to choose, I can't be both those things at once.

Yes you can. You're a multitasking assortment of whatever I wanna call you.

[He has to tip his head up from where he's lying to try to find Jon, but hah, there he is. Jerk. Laughing like he's actually enjoying himself.

Okay, maybe that had been fun. He's smiling himself now, the brief annoyance gone like a fart in the wind.]

So, what'dya think?

I think... I think I've had too much ale tonight.

[But Jon moves to stand up anyway (though he does end up flopping over again at least once before he finally manages to find his wobbly feet.)]

I'll race you to the top and go again.

You did not. We had just the right amount.

[Stiles gets up, finding his feet and picking up his slightly dinged tray.]

Yeah? Well... okay.

[Even as the last word slips out of his mouth, he's pushing at Jon to knock him over again, a gleeful expression on his face as he bolts for the stairs.]

[Stiles how could you!!! It took him so long to stand up right the first time omfg.

Jon spills like a bowl of cheerios, gasping and swearing as he fumbles to get back up and chase after Stiles. He manages to get up to the top fairly unscathed otherwise, though he does lose by a wide margin. So of course he's going to protest:]

You cheated!

[Stiles' answer is to bend over at the waist, hands propped up on his knees as he laughs. Even like this, he wobbles, legs barely keeping him upright as he giggles.]

Did not. I just... made it so I had a better chance.

Aye, that's what cheating is! [His cheeks puff out, indignant at Stiles' laughter. Like he hadn't just been the one doing such a second ago. Look, it's fine when he does it, okay? Not the other way around!] Don't give me reason to push you down again.

You know what cheating is? This is cheating...

[Stiles grabbed for Jon's tray to try to steal so he could have them both to slide down on, yanking as he headed for the stairs.]

Drink up, me hearties

6 is the story of their lives tho

Best story ever, tbh

accurate

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject