#andoftendrunk

[banquisematain-blog]

andoftendrunk started following you

"Oh, hello." 

[more-of-a-shrike]

Punch drunk.

*She was new in town but that did not mean that she was only subject to one place like others restricted themselves to until they found out the new area in which they lived.  she rather enjoyed getting lost as it forced her to figure out her way back and kept her busy in the days she had nothing to do but to roam the streets.  She saw him entering the same place that she saw the other man just a few nights ago, it seemed that they all rather enjoyed that Musain quite a lot.  She wondered what was in there as the schoolboys seemed to flock there after class had let out.  She curiously snuck behind him and stepped inside following where she heard the voices and laughter.  It seemed the men of the Musain were enjoying themselves quite well.  She tiptoed up the stairs to see exactly what they were doing up there and she saw the table where a blonde man stood and pointed to a group of them that held guns and piled them all on a different table.that was enclosed by two walls on either side of it. well hidden to those who weren't paying it any attention.  In the back she saw him again sipping from the bottle just as she envisioned he would and she giggled at the sight of his wobbly demeanor that he had even when he hadn't touched the bottle.  One woman she had encountered at the market told her of his and he he was quite the ladies man and told her to be careful.  little did she know that telling Katherine to be careful was like waving the wand in front of her face and telling her not to touch it.  she continued to watch him and at one point found herself staring at him.  She only stopped at the sight of his eyes matching hers.  Her eyes widened and she ducked her head and tried to stay hidden from him hoping that he did not notice.*

[capitalr]

andoftendrunk replied to your post:     ((GUYS LOOK HOW COOL I AM I’M ONE OF THE COOL...

not yet first you have to make a virgin sacrifice to the volcano gods while wearing a coconut bra. you have to work and work to get to our level, really. #swag xoxoxoxox

((Well, fuck. I tried.))

[achilleio]

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[nemorinwithcherrylips]

Curiosity and the Cat || Open

Most nights have color--hues of deep blue, a hint of purple, even perhaps a bit of pink from the dying sunset. Tonight was black. The cloudless sky spilled like ink overhead, blotting out any last hints of the daylight it had ravaged. Even the stars seemed frightened to shine, worried that they would be devoured by the hungry night as the sun had been.

Montparnasse was not put off by such a night. He had been raised by night, and he belonged to it. It was with ease and a sure step that he moved through empty streets and hidden alleys. Between the grace with which he took his strides and his appearance (dark hair and dark clothes, both as black as the sky which darkened his path) he looked terribly at home.

So at home, in fact, that it took a moment to notice that his dark hands were not gloved, but coated instead in something dried and crusty. It took a moment as well, to notice that there was a sort of wildness in his expression. That moment was a moment too long, however, for it had not taken him that long to realize that he had been seen.

He narrowed his eyes, and like it was nothing, he closed the gap and moved in close, uncomfortably close. Close enough to see that the chipping crust on his hands was a dark, muddy red. "Seems like an odd night to be out wandering, wouldn't you say?" he said slowly, each word emphasized more strongly than it should have been. This was not a good night to meet Montparnasse.

[emma-swan-x-archives-blog]

So this is how we interact: I like your reblogs and I reblog them.  Over. And over. And over...and over...and over, again.

[busiedwithclouds]

Idioms || Open

It had struck him last night how curious language was.

In truth it had probably struck him around the age of eleven, when he had first discovered a love for poetry, but it had never ceased to surprise him since. The latest surprise had come along after several hours worth of crafting long, involved metaphors and wishing that there were more practical uses for them--for he did love them quite a bit--so that he might use them in every day life.

Then he'd realized that indeed there were plenty of practical metaphors, and he had, for some time now, been taking them for granted. It had seemed such an unforgivable waste that he had now decided he was going to make up for lost time by fitting as many idioms as he could into every conversation he had today.

"Hello! Shall we hit the books? Let's not bite off more than we can chew, however! We'll be sure to take things one step at a time." He was practically giddy with his greeting, wondering how long it would take for anyone to catch on.

[willyouweepforme]

[text] Merry Christmas, Marius. Try not to Pontmercy too much. Make sure to get a snog or two out of Blondie.

[ Text ] I didn't know my surname was a verb in and of itself. Merry Christmas, Grantaire. And I'll leave that job to you.