Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

“You¡¯re so good at stuff, Moony.¡± He slurred, leaning heavily on Remus¡¯s shoulder.
¡°Yeah,¡± Remus grunted, ¡°Picking locks and holding my drink.¡±
¡°And magic.¡± Sirius murmured, sleepily.
¡°Yeah, we¡¯re wizards, idiot.¡±
¡°I¡¯m good at magic,¡± Sirius sighed, ¡°But you, like¡­ are , magic, y¡¯know?”
― MsKingBean89, All The Young Dudes - Volume One: Years 1 - 4

“Oh ho,' he says. 'My darling seneschal. Let us take a turn around the room.' He grabs me and pulls me toward the dance.

He can barely stand. Three times he stumbles, and three times I have to hold most of his weight to keep him upright.

'Cardan.' I hiss. 'This is no meet behaviour for the High King.'

He giggles at that. I think of how serious he was last night in his rooms and how far he seems from that person.

'Cardan,' I try again. 'You must not do this. I order you to pull yourself together. I command you to drink no more liquor and to attempt sobriety.'

'Yes, my sweet villain, my darling god. I will be as sober as a stone carving, just as soon as I can.' And with that, he kisses me on the mouth.”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King

“This is happy! Your face opening is in sad mode. Why, question?'

'Going to be a long trip and I'll be all alone.'
...
'You will miss me, question? I will miss you. You are friend.'

'Yeah. I'm going to miss you.' I take another swig of vodka. 'You're my friend. Heck, you're my best friend. And pretty soon we're going to say goodbye forever.'

He two tapped gloved claws together. They made a muffled sound instead of the usual click that comes along with the dismissive gesture. 'Not forever. We save planets. Then we have Astrophage technology. Visit each other.'

I give a wry smile. 'Can we do all that within fifty Earth years?

'Probably not. Why so fast, question?'

'I only have fifty years or so left to live. Human's don't'- I hiccup- 'don't live long, remember?'

'Oh.' He's quiet for a moment. 'So we enjoy remaining time together, then go save planets. Then we are heroes!'

'Yeah!' I straighten up. I'm a little dizzy now. I've never been much of a drinker, and I'm hitting this vodka harder than I should. 'We're the moss imporn't people in the gal'xy! We're awesome!'

He grabs a nearby wrench and raises it in one of his hands. 'To us!'

I raise the vodka. 'To ush!”
― Andy Weir, Project Hail Mary

“Cardan is lying on a blanket, his head tipped back and his loose white shirt unbuttoned. Although it is still early in the night, he appears to be very drunk. HIs mouth is flaked with gold. A horned girl I don't know is kissing his throat, and another, this one with daffodil hair, presses her mouth against the calf of his leg, just above the top of his boot.
...
Cardan's gaze goes to me. His eyes are barely open, but I can see the shine of them, wet as tar. He watches me as the girl kisses his mouth, watches me as she slides her hand beneath the hem of his silly, ruffly shirt.”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“You're mortal,' he informs me. In his other hand, he's carrying an empty goblet, tipped over absently, as though he's forgotten he still carries it. 'It's not safe for you here. Especially if you go around stabbing everyone.”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“I don't suppose you have anything to drink around here?' Cardan asks. 'I don't imagine that whatever happens next is going to be particularly comfortable for me, and I would like to stay drunk in order to face it.'

'Do you really think I care if you're comfortable?' I demand.”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“He looks around in amazement, taking in the mess. 'Where- Do you really sleep here? Perhaps you ought to set fire to your rooms as well.'

'Maybe,' I say, guiding him to my bed. It is strange to put my hand on his back. I can feel the warmth of his skin through the thin linen of his shirt, can feel the flex of his muscles.

It feels wrong to touch him as though he were a regular person, as though he weren't both the High King and also my enemy.

He needs no encouragement to sprawl on my mattress, head on the pillow, black hair spilling like crow feathers. He looks up at me with his night-coloured eyes, beautiful and terrible all at once. 'For a moment,' he says, 'I wondered if it wasn't you shooting bolts at me.'

I make a face at him. 'And what made you decide it wasn't?'

He grins up at me. 'They missed.'

I have said that he has the power to deliver a compliment and make it hurt. So, too, can he say something that ought to be insulting and deliver it in such a way that it feels like being truly seen.

Our eyes meet, and something dangerous sparks.

He hates you, I remind myself.

'Kiss me again,' he says, drunk and foolish. 'Kiss me until I am sick of it.'

I feel those words, feel them like a kick in the stomach. He sees my expression and laughs, a sound full of mockery. I can't tell which of us he's laughing at.

He hates you. Even if he wants you, he hates you.

Maybe he hates you the more for it.

After a moment, his eyes flutter closed. His voice falls to a whisper, as though he's talking to himself. 'If you're the sickness, I suppose you can't also be the cure.'

He drifts off to sleep, but I am wide awake.”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King

“Have I drunk too much? Merely a cup of poison for my breakfast and another for my dinner," Cardan says.”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King

“One of her hands was at her hip, touching her belt, as though she might draw the weapon sheathed there. The idea was hilarious, He certainly hadn't buckled on a sword in preparation for coming here. He wasn't even sure he could stay standing long enough to swing, and he had only beaten her when he was sober because she let him.

Jude looked up at him, and in her eyes, he recognised a hate big enough and wide enough and deep enough to match his own. A hate you could drown in like a vat of wine.

Too late to hide it, she lowered her head in the pretense of defence.

Impossible, Cardan thought. What had she to be angry about, she who had been given everything he was denied? Perhaps he had imagined it. Perhaps he wanted to see his reflection on someone else's face and had perversely chosen hers.

With a whoop, he rode in her direction, just to watch her and her sister run. Just to show her that if she did hate him, her hatred was as impotent as his own.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“I shouted over the music, 'I don't need a keeper"' I wanted to spin and spin and spin.

'No, you don't,' Tamlin said, never once stumbling over his playing. How his bow did dance upon the strings, his fingers sturdy and strong, no sign of those claws that I had come to stop fearing... 'Dance, Feyre,' he whispered.

So I did.

I was loosened, a top whirling around and around, and I didn't know who I danced with or what they looked like, only that I had become the music and the fire and the night, and there was nothing that could slow me down.

Through it all, Tamlin and his musicians played such joyous music that I didn't think the world could contain it all. I sashayed over to him, my faerie lord, my protector and warrior, my friend, and danced before him. He grinned at me, and I didn't break my dancing as he rose from his seat and knelt before me in the grass, offering up a solo on his fiddle to me.

Music just for me- a gift. He played on, his fingers fast and hard upon the strings of his fiddle. My body slithering like a snake, I tipped my head back to the heavens and let Tamlin's music fill all of me.

There was a pressure at my waist and I was swept away in someone's arms as they whisked me back into the ring of dancing. I laughed so hard I thought I'd combust, and when I opened my eyes, I found Tamlin there, spinning me round and round.

Everything became a blur of colour and sound, and he was the only object in it, tethering me to sanity, to my body, which glowed and burned in every place he touched.

I was filled with sunshine. It was like I'd never experienced summer before, like I'd never known who was waiting to emerge from that forest of ice and snow. I didn't want it to end- I never wanted to leave this hilltop.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Do you sometimes get drunk and take a bath in a pile of cash? If so, you may be suffering from hyperinflation.”
― Jarod Kintz, I design saxophone music in blocks, like Stonehenge

“He had heard Auntie talk about the veterans - drunk all the time, she said. But he knew why. it was something the old people could not understand. Liquor was medicine for the anger that made them hurt, for the pain of the loss, medicine for tight bellies and choked-up throats.”
― Leslie Marmon Silko, Ceremony

“Alcohol is man's universal translator.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

“I was never able to tell if the sight of Iliza was sobering or if it was intoxicating. I just knew that her presence had an undeniable influence on my perception.”
― Sean Norris

“The gaining, or maintaining, of some reputations was, or is, made possible by the loss of sobriety.”
― @Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“I would have to have a head filled with nokwold petals to not notice.¡± At Feng¡¯s confused frown, she awkwardly mumbled, ¡°They¡¯re¡­ they make you¡­ loopy¡­ and inebriated."
"You eat petals to get drunk?"
"Would you please focus?”
― Heather Chambers, Earth Sucks

“Drunk I am today.
Today I am drunk.
With the book of life open before me,
thwarted, blank, I sit here before you all.”
― Bhuwan Thapaliya

“A sober outlook on life makes someone drunk.”
― Tamerlan Kuzgov

“CAPTCHAs are digital sobriety tests.”
― rolodexter

“Mon oncle, que Dieu ait son ?me, ¨¦tait l'ivrogne officiel du village. Il s'y engageait en chancelant. Il criait : ? Mon Dieu, je vous en prie, laissez-moi passer, je ne boirai plus jamais. ? Mais, quand il arrivait sur l'autre rive, il dansait, il chantait, il criait : ? Je boirai encore. Ah, ah, ah! ?”
― Eug¨¨ne Ionesco, Man With Bags

“Be the beer everyone desires to drink, and your love, everyone will be happily drunk on.”
― Anthony Liccione

“I was passed out cold while my family was murdered. It's hard to fall more lowly that that.”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“My girlfriend going out to bars without me is how the failure of our relationship started.”
― Steven Magee

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― ÀîÇåÕÕ, ÀîÇåÕÕÊ«´ÊÈ«¼¯£¨×÷¼Ò°ñ¾­µäÎĿ⣩

“I wanted to be in the music, wanted to ride its speed and weave between its notes. I could feel the music around me, like a living, breathing thing of wonder and joy and beauty.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Years are like wine : You go, we will catch up with you.”
― Ljupka Cvetanova, Yet Another New Land

“It was a fine hat. Had a plume... Made her eyes so green..."
"Very good color---green," Bullton agreed wistfully.
"Particularly for eyes," Kit mused. "But I'm partial to hazel. Hazel is green with blue and bits of gold in it," he explained to Bullton.
"Are you, sir? Are you really partial to hazel?" Bullton solemnly wanted to know.
"Very, very partial," Kit said dreamily.”
― Julie Anne Long, Beauty and the Spy

“The rest of the evening was a blessed blur. She spent it mostly in a chair alone, near the door, waiting, drinking the red wine and trying to forget the taste of the black mixed with whiskey coming back up. At home, she fell into bed and passed out immediately. She wakened with a headache, hours into the next day, angry with herself for her sullen behavior the night before. But her hand hadn¡¯t noticed, and although their headaches were as bad as her they bore them cheerfully: the price, said Gata, of a good party.
¡°Everything seems to have a price, thought Essa, and I seem to be broke all the time.”
― Candas Jane Dorsey, Black Wine

“Twitter gives hundreds of idiots the opportunity to speak when once they only spoke rubbish at a bar after five pints of lager. - Chris Geiger”
― Chris Geiger