“Can I help you, m’lord?” 

Vlad turned, then started at the unexpectedly close proximity of the barmaid who was smiling coyly up at him. If she were any closer he’d have felt compelled to propose out of propriety.

“Um,” he said, watching as her fingers trailed slowly up her neck, head tilting to the side in an inviting manner as she reached to tuck an errant curl away from her face. “You haven’t seen a werewolf around here, have you?”

“What?” She blinked. 

“Dark hair, blue eyes?” Vlad hazarded, gesturing the length of himself “About my height but about twice as broad and looks like he could bench press a horse and carriage if he wanted to?”

“Oh, him.” her tone flattened like a punctured souffle. “There was a fight and he broke it up. Cook’s resting his hand on ice.”

“Of course he did,” Vlad rolled his eyes.

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can get for you, m’lord?” the barmaid tried again, twirling the end of a piece of silk which acted for a poor woman’s choker. “Whatever you’d like?”

Vlad smiled politely, “No, thank you,, now if you’ll excuse me…”

“Look, sorry…is that it?”

“What?” Vlad blinked.

“Only I thought…we thought…”

Vlad looked up and found himself the subject of scrutiny from several pairs of eyes, all of them belonging to a gaggle of pretty girls in possession of varying degrees of ample bosom very nearly on display, and hungry, hard smiles. One of them had even managed to conveniently prick her finger.

Oh dear…he thought, fang chasers.

“Look, I’m sure you’re all lovely and you’d make wonderful drones,” Vlad sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Some of you might even survive the full bite. But you can’t just flash a bit of clavicular notch and expect a quick nip and an invitation to eternal darkness. We’re not all balcony jumpers you know.”

I’m not sure if this will make the final cut, but Vlad being forever indignant about the stereotype that vampires are soulless ravishing blood suckers rendered senseless at the sight of a bit of negligee and some blood is my favorite.

#notallvampires #vampireshavefeelingstoo #thanksbutnofangs

                             it  had  been  an  expected  victory,  more  exhibition  than  true  rivalry  /  regardless  of  time  spent  away  from  pixelated  warfare  and  engaging  in  it’s  ream  equivalent,  hana  song  remained  the  best  and  it’s  craft.  status  of  celebrity,  near  suffocating  in  it’s  usual  madness,  had  near  wore  the  woman  from  her  shining  intention.  exhausting  company  was  found  in  gentleman  with  his  greeting,  no  less  an  adoring  audience  and  more  an  admirer  of  war  hero.  compliments  were  easy  drink  from  his  mouth,  causing  mech  pilot  to  flush  a  muted  shade  of  pink                     marrying  the  same  soft  tones  of  an  ensemble  than  another,  arguably  more  charming  man,  had  once  professed  to  having  true  combination.  thought  struck  her,  causing  chin  to  cant  and  chocolate  hues  to  flirt  through  thick  lashes  /  no  longer  leaning  away  in  posterity  as  she  was  leaning  forward   …  laughing  at  a  joke  only  they  could  hear.  she  heart  familiar  voice  in  her  head,  prompting  her  to  curl  errant  tress  behind  her  ear  in  a  slow  act  of  satisfaction  /  baritone  that  had  always  had  her  SHIVER  causing  fingers  to  play  along  sheer  neckline  of  rose  coloured  fabrics.  ❛  if  you  ever  wanted  to  know  more  …  i  wouldn’t  mind  showing  you.  ❜ 

           strangers  touch  nearly  had  her  losing  her  resolve,  that  unwelcome  hand  that  attempted  quivering  travel  down  the  length  of  her  cheek  /  thankless  work,  as  strand  of  raven  had  already  been  previously  minded.

@bloodthirstygod  /  sc.

Vodka - Cheryl/Pavel


(continued from here )

“Can I say both?” Pavel teased, a lazy smile on his face. He had to admit that both her company and her hand in his hair made this an almost perfect moment.

“You mus’ be reeeeal drunk, Pavel,” she slurred, tugging at an errant curl hanging in the middle of his forehead.  “Dontcha remember?  You don’t like me in that way.” 

thesorcererslibrary  asked:

Cupcake! I need soon-to-be-Daddy!Killian talking with Henry about having/being a brother. I want Henry having a hard time to share Emma's attention and being comforted by Killian. Love you!

A/N: Oh, thesorcererslibrary, you always send me the best prompts! I love me some Captain Cobra, and I don’t know if you really wanted this, but it’s a bit of angst.

Anyways, enjoy!

the heir (and the spare).

Finally, Emma was asleep.
Killian sighed as he walked into the living area to see her sound asleep on the couch. She’d been so sick earlier, and he tried everything he could, but nothing would aid his Swan.
Now, it seemed it had subsided enough for her to get some well-deserved rest.
Their little pirate sure was giving her a hard time.
He walked to her side before crouching down and smiling at her. He brushed an errant curl from her face before setting his hand on her swollen belly. They were really doing this, they were truly having a child together. Killian couldn’t have been happier.
“Killian?” Emma mumbled.
“Oh, apologies, love.” He whispered, “Would you like me to carry you up to our bed? I believe that would be more comfortable for you.”

Keep reading

is it just me or is something burning? maybe
it’s the smell that clued me in, or the
smoke seeping in under the door. maybe i’ve
just had a fire detector heart for way too long and it’s like-
okay, i’ll start at the start:
i was gonna cook you dinner.
i know, i know.
you once told me i would burn water as if
that was even remotely innovative, as if
it had anything to do with me specifically.
i can’t bake a soufflé but i can at least keep
myself alive. and i wanted to do something nice,
maybe, something to get you to stay.
you were mocking my little teflon
pots and pans and i was dreaming about you
feeding me a strawberry, and later me feeding you
my laughter, and the two of us exactly how it’s
supposed to be.
i don’t even like strawberries.
in this dream world you tuck an errant curl behind my
ear while i stir the pasta and my skin is
flushed from the steam of the boiling water and
you tell me you love me and
i have every reason to believe you.
but you stepped inside and the whole night went acrid.
but the way your eyes said sorry before you even said hello.
but all that awful light.
this is why i don’t write poetry anymore, you know. i try
to be sweet and my hands catch flame. i try to forgive you
and the whole damn place
goes up in smoke.
—  disappearing act  |  ncp

When I saw the above image of Mr Cumberbatch at the recent Esquire/Tommy Hilfiger London Collections event, I thought “Isn’t that sweet? Even stylish magazine logos long to be Benedict’s Errant Curl™.” Then I had another thought: maybe the Errant Curl would like to be a stylish magazine logo? Well, its hairy wish is my command…