gif courtesy of kingblaine
Dehli Gate in Lahore, Pakistan (via hassaantanwir)
GIF REQUEST MEME // eliaofdorne requested ASOIAF + favorite familial relationship ➝ Oberyn and Elia
title: Secret Santa
pairing: seblaine with a subtle hint of niff
word count: ~1.4k
summary: The Warblers have a Christmas celebration and Sebastian can’t make it…
notes: Merry Christmas!!!!! Thankfully I managed to finish it just on time (let’s pretend I live in a different time zone than I actually do) so here it is. As usual, English isn’t my first language so I apologize for any mistakes I may have made and feedback is always appreciated. ♥Blaine loves Christmas, he does. He just hates the fact that Sebastian bailed on the Warblers’ Christmas celebration just a day before the actual event. He spent weeks looking forward to it, coming up with unrealistic scenarios of Sebastian kissing him underneath the mistletoe before confessing his love for him. Or Sebastian pulling him close while they sit in front of the fireplace before kissing him while all the Warblers watched. Or the two of them staying behind to clean up and somehow ending up horizontally on the couch of the common room. Just to name a few.
The couch he’s sitting on dips on either side of him, and he looks up to find Nick on his left and Jeff on his right.
Blaine has plans he’s keen to keep this New Year’s Eve. Even if they are with a man who may as well be a stranger. {G, 2,248 words, ao3}
for the Seblaine Holiday Extravaganza, #17: Nightflash patrolling the streets on Christmas/New Years day/eve
Blaine has been feeling increasingly twitchy since the clock flicked past eleven, the beer in his hand the same one he’s been sporting all night, with no more than a sip or two taken. He’s very obviously the sober one in a room where tipsy has begun to border on drunk, even as far as messy in some people’s cases. The party is loud and busy and no one pays Blaine all that much attention, but he is there.
He is in a few photos, he has socialized, it will be noted that yes, Blaine Anderson did attend Rachel’s annual New Year’s Eve party. A checkmark next to his name. Which is why when he slips out sometime in the next half an hour, no one ought really to notice, or question it the next morning.
His thumb digs into the peeling label on the side of the bottle, scratching at it insistently. His foot taps off the floor in an erratic beat. Five more minutes. Five more minutes, and he will leave. Eleven minutes at most to get back to his own apartment and change. Seven, maybe eight to get down to the right end of the city, where he’s supposed to be meeting him. He’ll be there by half past.
“[Actors] are all narcissists. Every single one, I promise you. To have that verve, to get up and want to be watched. It comes from a place — either you were denied that attention as a child, or you were given lots of it and want more. Which is where I stand.”