soaked in rum

glawarelmagolben  asked:

Hey Joy! (I'm older than you so it would feel weird calling you Mom) I just wanted to say - since I'm currently suffering the pain of having horrible tooth with a rotten root canal taken out - that you have all my sympathies with your teeth problems and I'm sending you massive hugs. Because the tooth I just had taken out was my top right canine I am now imagining the whining and misery that this would cause Vlad (or any vampire tbh) and it's making me smile!

Oh no! I hope you feel better soon *offers hugs* (rotten root canals are the worst, I hope it heals well for you <3)

And for whatever it’s worth, it’s canon in my universe that the vampires lose their canines fairly often. They’re constantly growing teeth (an evolutionary trait, sort of like an elephants tusks in that they can get broken off during fighting or—in Vlad’s case several times throughout his life—biting into a highland toffee, but so long as they don’t break at the root they will keep growing back) that they need to file down to keep them at a comfortable length. They can also be quite brittle, so they can break during filing, so many of them wear yellow or white gold caps over them, both a practical solution, but also somewhat of an aesthetic status symbol to show that they are wealthy enough to have willing drones/servants who bring them food so that they don’t actually need their teeth to hunt anymore, so it’s not uncommon to go to a vampire ball and be surrounded by gleaming teeth. Literally.

One vampire Nathan meets through Vlad actually has diamonds on hers.

As you can imagine, this can be quite painful, but some deal with it slightly better than others.

“Don’t.” Ursula said, without even bothering to look up, and Vlad, hand halfway to his mouth, flinched. 

“I wasn’t—”

“You were going to prod your tooth,” she said, looking up from her book and giving him a level stare, “again.”

“It hurts,” he whined plaintively, contenting himself with bracing his face with the palm of his hand. 

Usually by now he’d be blitzed out of his mind, four bottles deep and several narcotics down the rabbit hole towards oblivion. But he’d been sober for just over a year and had no desire to give it up—pain lanced through his face and he cringed—yet

“Put clove oil on it.” Ursula told him, and Vlad rolled his eyes mournfully toward her.

“I have.”

“Put more on.”

“Put more on what?” Nathan asked, emerging from the other room, running a towel over his wet hair so that it stuck up at all ends. 

“He’s teething.” Ursula said, and Vlad glowered at both of them.

“I am not teething. My canine is regrowing.”

“So,” Nathan began, a smile tugging at his lips, “teething then.”

“Fuck off.” Vlad muttered, pulling his knees up and wrapping the throw over the top of his head and shoulders. He heard Nathan’s amused chuckle at his sulk, and curled further inward, refusing to be coaxed. He yelped a moment later when he felt the world shift, the couch dipping as Nathan sat down and pulled Vlad effortlessly into his lap.

“Oh, there now, no sulking.” the other man soothed, rubbing his hands up and down Vlad’s back.

“I reiterate my previous statement,” Vlad muttered, hiding his face against Nathan’s chest, “fuck off.”

Nathan chuckled again, the sound vibrating through Vlad’s bones. “Look up.”



Vlad looked up, watching as Nathan unscrewed the top of his hip flask, upending it but keeping it stopped with his finger. “Open.”

Vlad opened his mouth, going cross eyed to try and keep Nathan in focus as his lover gently, oh so gently pressed his rum soaked finger to Vlad’s tender gum.

“Spoiled.” Ursula said beside them, though not unfondly as she reached out and raked sharp fingernails through his hair.

“I know.” Nathan crooned, quite serious in his dulcet indulgence as Vlad melted into him. “But we all need a little spoiling sometimes.”

Pirates of the Caribbean sentence meme!
Quotes from all four movies under the cut - 300 total! Send in a sentence or send in  for a random starter!

1. A wedding? I love weddings! Drinks all around!
2. Best start believing in ghost stories. You’re in one.
3. I feel nothing.
4. You’ve seen a ship with black sails that’s crewed by the damned, and captained by a man so evil that Hell itself spat him back out?
5. But I have seen a ship with black sails.
6. So this is where your heart truly lies, then?
7. I’m actually feeling rather good about this.
8. I thought I had you figured. Turns out you’re a hard man to predict.
9. A dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest.
10. Honestly, it’s the honest ones you have to watch out for.
11. So we’re all men of our word, really.
12. Well, you’ve proven they’re mad.
13. That’s not much incentive to fight fair then, is it?
14. In a fair fight, I’d kill you.
15. Put it away. It’s not worth getting beat again.
16. I want you to leave and never come back.
17. I’m disinclined to acquiesce to your request. Means ‘no’.
18. Well, I suppose if it is worthless there’s no point in me keeping it.
19. The code is more what you’d call ‘guidelines’ than actual rules.
20. One good deed is not enough to save a man from a lifetime of wickedness.

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The Proposal

A/N: This is my canon divergence for the CS proposal and the big secret that came out. I am happy they’re engaged but feel like there was such a missed opportunity. This story picks up after Killian sees the pages August brought him of David’s father. This was written right after 6x13 and before watching 6x14. This is all fluff, no smut (yet 😉). I may add to it as the story progresses. It is fun to give an alternate option and a look at another way it could have played out. I hope you enjoy it!

He knew he shouldn’t have drank so much bloody rum. But learning that he had been the one who killed David’s father had been too much. How can I be the man worthy of the savior when I’ve killed her grandfather Killian thought to himself? He was going home, it was time for Emma to learn the truth of what he’d done. He would beg her forgiveness and hope she gave it. He knew his hope of making Swan his bride had been killed the moment those story book pages hit his hand. He felt as if he’d been hit by a cannon when he saw the picture of David’s father. He had done so many things wrong, hurt so many people, but knowing he had done this…he wasn’t sure he could live with himself. Killian felt sick to his stomach and it wasn’t the barrel of rum he had swishing in his belly. It was guilt. Agonizing, painful guilt. He stopped, he could see the house up ahead. It was his home, the home he’d made with Emma and Henry. The moment he had seen the house he knew he wanted to live in it with his Swan. This home with her was easily the most scared thing he had and he knew the moment he told her the truth, it would be ripped away from him. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. One thing he was not was a coward. He would tell Swan and he would tell David. He steeled his spine and continued the journey to his home for the last time.

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a little wicked, just like you said - youatemytailor - Black Sails [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Black Sails
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Captain Flint/John Silver
Characters: Captain Flint (Black Sails), John Silver
Additional Tags: naked arm wrestling, don’t even ask, flint’s really mad until he’s really horny and then he’s less mad but more horny, SILVER’S HALF NAKED A LOT AND FLINT’S LESS THAN HAPPY ABOUT IT except he’s really happy about it, i don’t even know man i’m trying to heal my soul after 410 okay, silverflint, lots of cursing because i assume flint says fuck like 800 times a second in his head, me too tbh


“Best of three, then,” Silver says, clapping and rubbing his hands together. “When you lose, you–”


“If,” Silver corrects, immediately, but with a tone like he’s indulging the idea of Flint winning rather than actually entertaining it. “If you lose, you’ll have to remove an article of clothing.”

Flint stares at him. Silver smiles back, mouth like a scythe.

Excuse me?”

If Silver’s got the balls to organise a rum soaked nudist arm-wrestling ring on Flint’s fucking ship, in the middle of the fucking night, in the middle of the fucking ocean, he’d better stand up and the credit for it - and whatever else may be coming his way.

@cutiemcgraw Well, dearest. Here you go. This got away from me, entirely. I hope you’re happy. 

anonymous asked:

Can you do one where Harry talks about how lovely you are in an I interview?

It’s not explicit gushing (there’s an unfortunate phrase #yikes), but I do hope you enjoy it. x. 

GENTLE REMINDER: Requests are closed (see information on the last few fics posted if you’re confused). 

025. The Interview

He’s notorious for keeping his lips tightly sealed when it comes to his love life. He’s learned that no good can come of it – for himself, or the person he’s associated with – and it’s easier to navigate interviews if he insists on playing coy and refuses to acknowledge any prying questions about who he’s last been seen with.

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I have never bought ANYTHING for myself when I’m with my SD!!! However, major 🔑 alert, every so often I buy him little treats.

For example on my weekend in London at the savoy (which he payed for entirely, including for the person I took with me and our transportation) I bought him his favourite rum soaked chocolate raisins from hotel chocolate.

They cost me about £8 but this man has the world and more at his finger tips so the fact that this young, pretty girl has thought of him while she’s away will stroke his ego and associate me with things that he loves then when I ask for things he’ll have no problem getting me them because he feels appreciated and important!!!

In short, show appreciation through treats (nothing huge, they can afford those things for themselves) and you’ll condition him to want to do things for you

The More Things Change

So @phiralovesloki, here is my gift to you for the OUAT Positivity Gift Exchange! I had such fun chatting with you and being your Rather Dashing for the past few weeks! I hope you enjoy what I’ve whipped up for you!

Summary:  He found it dreadfully poetic that the very thing that had landed him in this latest hornet’s nest of self-hatred was what he still went back to for comfort. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same, he supposed.

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She Left No Instructions

So, I sat down to write a sweet, little fluffy piece in keeping with the theme of @csjanuaryjoy​. Somehow (as is always the case when I try to write fluff), I ended up with this monstrosity of an exploration of grief and death. So be warned, this whole thing revolves around character death. But before you accuse of getting too far from the theme, I’ll just say it’s always darkest before the dawn…and joy comes with the morning. As always, you can find this on (I’ll work on getting that collection on Ao3 eventually, I promise). Thank you to everyone involved in putting this together. @icecubelotr44

Word count: 8.9k

It happens exactly as she said it would.

A dark night. A hooded figure—a dark sorcerer Killian hadn’t heard of until Jasmine spoke his name. The flash of streetlights on metal. The crunch of sword piercing flesh.

He remembers rushing forward. He remembers knowing it was too late before Emma’s body hit the ground. He remembers a hoarse shout beside him—hoarse, young—and the scrape of pavement under his boots, the brush of fine wool under his fingers. He remembers tackling Henry to the ground, shielding him from the heat of the sorcerer’s flames and the sight of his mother’s burning body.

Jafar leaves them nothing more than ashes to bury.

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Sunset in the Quarter

Saturday night near the midnight hour I met a straight couple in a dive bar. They walked in loaded with beer for the gentleman and blush for the lady, ready to make new friends and dance without warning. He does carpentry work in the Quarter and she cares for the elderly. He was a redneck with one eye who spoke true philosophy, and she had a quick mind and a good heart. I spent an hour with them talking about drugs and personal histories, learning how his mom owned a whore house and how she was married to a man for 18 years who beat her every weekend. That’s just the shorthand, but I enjoyed their company a great deal. Later in the evening at another dive bar I met a young elected official flush with that special brand of Louisiana crazy that I know and love so well. We partied until 2am in a near empty bar and got twisted, even posing for a number of sodomy themed photos with a plastic Santa Claus.

When I got home I ran into an artist and former resident who is crashing in the apartment above mine. She told me that the upstairs neighbors own a local music club in the quarter and that I should go over and meet them. I found them quick and had some chat. They bought me a drink and gave me free admission to the show, which was an all-night tribute to “The Last Waltz” by the music group “The Band.” It was glorious, at one point 25 musicians were on stage singing “The Weight.” I then took a piss in the Mississippi River and went home, passing what was left of the red-clad Ragin Cajun fans (my alma mater) in town for the bowl game, tuxedo wearing tuba players done with the evening’s gigs, and rum soaked tourists searching for their hotels.

It wasn’t a special night, but it was a New Orleans night. You can meet strange and wonderful people anywhere but there’s something about this place that cultivates random meetings and interactions. The lunar howl of the city draws forth those oddly placed in the world and also releases the strange from otherwise normal people free of their natural habitat. You’re always going somewhere to meet someone or waiting for them to show up, even if you don’t know who they are. Doesn’t matter really. It all hangs on good will and a sense that the rules here are somehow different. All you need to do is show up and keep your hand open for the lipstick smeared lady spirit of the city to take it.

Health Diary || 27-04-17

What I ate

Breakfast: coconut nicecream with figs and activated buckwheat

Snack: turmeric latte 

Lunch: homemade pizza (again) - gluten free base, salsa, tomato paste, mushrooms, spinach, pineapple, olives, semi-dried tomatoes, nacho cheese

Snack: cereal with soy milk

Dinner: gluten free pasta with broccoli, brussel sprouts, mushrooms, broad beans, peas, spinach and basil

Dessert: berry sorbet with balsamic rum soaked strawberries



Healthy habits

Water: 2L

Tea: 1

Coffee: 2

Supplements: probiotic

davekat popstar au 3/3

davekat humanstuck AU where Dave is a popstar and Karkat is some rando who’s never heard of him. sfw, about 2300 words.

first parts are here and here

Ampora laughs at you. Straight up points a finger and chortles. Dave–Strider, whatever– doesn’t. If anything he looks chagrined.

Yeah, well, maybe he should be, you think savagely. Maybe if his music was better I would have heard it. As if you don’t relentlessly avoid anything considered ‘popular’. Popular shit is for the masses, and the masses are idiots. It’s been scientifically proven.  

You’re too busy hating yourself and the rest of the human race to catch what Dave says to get Ampora to leave, but he does. Dave slumps back against the railing, palming at his eyes and smearing his makeup further. “Dude, chill. It’s not a big deal.”

You will not chill, you will slop the hysteria inside you all over this goddamn balcony.

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