he has such a penchant for the dramatics

Nyx-Chapter 6

Summary: Nyx was an ancient deity usually envisaged as the very substance of the night–a veil of dark mists drawn across the sky to obscure the light of Aither, the shining blue of the heavens. Her opposite number was Hemera (Day) who scattered the mists of night at dawn. she was doomed to walk the earth in search of her consort Erebus.

Warnings: My usual. Angst, Violence And Smut

Pairings: Bucky X Reader, Avengers x Reader

“Friends? Truly? I know you’re old, sister, but I did not take you for senile,” Loki’s voice comes from behind you making you gasp and jump.

You whirl to face him, hand over your heart as you struggle to keep your fright under wraps. “Brother? What in Valhalla’s name are you doing here?” you half yell, half whispered. The ache in your bones intensifying with the sudden movement.

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blackbutlersecrets  asked:

Hey! I just stumbled upon your account and took a liking to it. I love your blog! I have another sebaciel prompt, if you still feel like writing! Here it is: Ciel gets an injury that isn't REALLY all that bad but he exaggerates it in order to get out of some work and socializing for a few days. Of course Sebastian catches on. I'll leave the rest up to you! I was inspired to send this prompt in after reading your other one- your writing style is something to envy!

Hello! :) This ask is super nice; things like this are the best kind of pick-me-up on tough days, so thank you! <3 

I confess I was stuck on this prompt for a while, and I may have cheated a tiiiiny bit. There is a scene where Ciel fakes an injury, but it’s not… it’s probably not what you were expecting. However, this fic was a ton of fun to write, and I hope it’s just as fun to read for you! *smiles hopefully*

Rating: G

Warnings: Modern AU. I tried and probably failed, because I’m not British to make it sound British. Human!Sebastian. Also, very mild inappropriate language.

Sebastian is having an especially lovely dream about the white cat with the unbelievably soft fur that always greets him on the house steps when he is abruptly awoken by a demanding, and unfortunately loud, ten year old.

Ciel is small for his age, which, considering the amount of sweets the boy blackmails out of him on a daily basis, is rather surprising, but that fact doesn’t do much to make Sebastian enjoy waking up to his chest being crushed under the boy’s weight.

‘’Ciel,’’ he says, blinking blearily, ‘’what’s the matter? Did Mey-Rin set the towels on fire again?’’

‘’Sebastian,’’ the boy wails, moving in way that makes Sebastian worry some of his bones might not escape this as unbroken as he’d prefer them to. ‘’You promised you’d take me to the park today.’’

Sebastian’s gaze drifts to the calendar hanging next to the door opposite his bed. A bright red circle surrounds today’s date, with the words ‘’take Ciel to the park’’ scrawled hastily underneath. Shite, he thinks.

Ciel, observant little thing that he is, eyes Sebastian suspiciously. ‘’You didn’t forget, did you?’’ he asks.

Sebastian immediately slaps on the cheeriest smile he can muster. ‘’Forget? Why, of course not,’’ he says, ruffling Ciel’s hair as he picks him and sets him on the ground. He pushes the covers off, putting a pair of slippers on before picking the boy up anew and taking him into the kitchen. ‘’But let’s get you some breakfast first.’’

‘’I want cereal,’’ Ciel proclaims, holding on tightly—a bit too tightly— to Sebastian’s neck.

‘’Sure thing, little one,’’ Sebastian says, putting the boy down on a stool and watching as he places his elbows atop the kitchen counter, small feet dangling in thin air as he tries to reach the cereal box all the way on the other side of it. It makes for an endearing sight. The half-formed smile on his face wilts the moment he remembers, however. Shite, he thinks again.

After making sure Ciel is well and truly focused on his meal, Sebastian rushes to grab his phone. ‘’Mey-Rin,’’ he says, frantically running a hand through his sleep-mused locks. ‘’Where are you?’’

‘’Mister Sebastian,’’ the maid asks, voice shaky and uncertain. ‘’You gave me the day off, remember? Said you were going to spend the day at the park with Ciel, you did.’’

Shite, Sebastian thinks, for the third time that morning.  He makes sure to lower his voice to an almost inaudible whisper before continuing. ‘’I forgot, Mey-Rin,’’ he says, with the guilt of a man who knows he has committed an unabsolvable sin.

‘’B-but, but,’’ Mey-Rin stutters, suddenly just as uneasy as her contractor, ‘’Ciel—it’s, he’ll—he’ll be crushed.’’

‘’I know,’’ Sebastian says, fighting the urge to sigh.

‘’Why don’t you just take him, Mister Sebastian? I mean, it’s too late now. If you don’t, he will… Oh the poor thing…’’  

Sebastian can picture Mey-Rin theatrically clutching her heart as she speaks. The image doesn’t make it any easier for him.  ‘’But I haven’t prepared anything. Won’t he be more disappointed when he finds out?’’

‘’Miss Rachel always took him.’’

‘’But… Mey-Rin… the cake—‘’

‘’Take him, Mister Sebastian. He misses her. It helps him.’’

With a sigh of resigned agreement, Sebastian ends the call.

He walks back into the kitchen to find Ciel right where he’d left him, chocolate milk staining the sides of his mouth. A fond smile spreads across his features. ‘’Little one,’’ he calls, leaning on the doorway, ‘’finish up. We need to get going.’’

The boy turns around, beaming at him. He’s rushing out the door before Sebastian can even make sense of what happens. ‘’Don’t forget to wash up properly,’’ he calls after the small thing.

It’s raining dreadfully, and Ciel insists on stepping into every puddle that catches his sight, gifting Sebastian with glares that demonstrate his immense displeasure rather artfully—the boy always has had a penchant for the dramatic, Sebastian wonders where he gets it from sometimes—whenever the other tries to gently direct him away from them.

Oh well, Sebastian thinks, resigned, I’ll just have to get him new boots… and new pants, and a new raincoat, and—no, Ciel, not the lake. He brings a hand up to his forehead, And I mustn’t forget to pick up some painkillers at the pharmacy as well.

Fortunately, Sebastian manages to disabuse the boy of any desire for a morning swim.

When they arrive, they find the park almost completely empty. It is to be expected, no one in their right mind would go anywhere in this weather, and Sebastian is starting to severely doubt his parenting skills—surely there must’ve been something about setting boundaries in one of those books he’d picked up all those years ago—but then Ciel is smiling, free and wholly sincere, and Sebastian can’t help the grin that tugs at the corner of his own lip.

‘’Do you remember when we first met?’’ he asks the boy, pulling him into a small, covered alcove in front of a closed coffee shop. The storm is getting worse by the second.

Ciel looks up at him curiously. ‘’Of course I do,’’ he says, as if affronted by the sheer implication that he could ever forget.

‘’It was raining then too, wasn’t it?’’


‘’I was late for work, taking a shortcut through the park, when, to my astonishment, this small thing bumped into me,’’ Sebastian recounts, smiling all the while.

‘’I wasn’t that small,’’ Ciel protests, nose scrunched up.  

‘’Oh, but you were. Tiny little thing, I almost didn’t spot you,’’ he counters, pinching Ciel’s cheek. ‘’Then your mother rushed over, started lecturing me about being more cautious, and you, even though you were perfectly fine—you were a devious thing—started complaining about your ankle. Even struck your tongue out at me when she turned her back.’’

‘’I didn’t really like you at first,’’ Ciel admits, as if confessing a shameful secret.

Sebastian chuckles. ‘’It’s okay little one, you like me now, don’t you?’’

‘’Yes,’’ Ciel says, blushing, eyes focused on the ground. ‘’I lo-love you now.’’

Sebastian feels his eyes start to water. He knows, of course, has known since the first time Ciel had clutched his sleeve and begged him for a bedtime story, that night after Rachel’s accident. But hearing Ciel say it always makes something inside him ache with an uncontainable sort of joy.

‘’I love you too, little one. Very much,’’ Sebastian says, kneeling down and enveloping the boy in a suffocating hug.


‘’Yes, Ciel?’’

‘’I miss mum a lot,’’ Ciel says, voice choked up from unshed tears. ‘’I miss the cakes she used to make for us when we went to the park, I miss the way she’d smile, I miss her.’’ He tries to discretely wipe his eyes on the corner of his jumper.

Sebastian looks at the boy. ‘’I miss her too,’’ he says, voice barely higher than a whisper, as if he can’t bare the truth spoken any louder. ‘’Do you want to go visit her…’’ Even after four years, he still can’t bring himself to say the word grave.

‘’No,’’ Ciel says. ‘’But—Sebastian, you won’t, you’re not leaving me too, are you?’’

‘’Never. Not in a million years.’’

‘’Good,’’ Ciel says, with the sort of finality one uses when terribly overwhelmed.

Sensing the boy’s discomfort, Sebastian smiles—it is, perhaps, a bit more watery than he’d have liked, but it’ll do. ‘’Do you want to go annoy Mey-Rin on her day off?’’ he asks. ‘’We could even bake some cake together. What do you think, little one?’’

Ciel responds with a watery smile of his own, and, clasping Sebastian’s hand tightly, pulls him along.

‘’Oh, would you look at that,’’ Sebastian notes cheerily, squeezing Ciel’s hand as if to remind him of his promise once more, ‘’the rain stopped.’’

… … … … … …

A/N: This isn’t the kind of thing I normally write, and, as fun as experimenting with their portrayal was, even as I type this, I feel a bit… apprehensive, I suppose. I hope it’s not completely horrible, though. :)

Here in The Morning

“I think the poster on your ceiling is winking at me.”

James, who has taken off his glasses, squints upward. “That’s the Wimbourne Beater, Ludo Bagman,” he says, inclining his head. “He flirts.”

Lily turns towards him, propping herself up on her elbow and raising an eyebrow. “And you can sleep with him up there, making eyes at you?” 

“He’s not normally so overt about it,” James tells her with a shrug. “I think it’s mostly for your benefit. I don’t normally have birds up here.” 

The eyebrow arches further and James finds himself impressed. He expects the snarky grin that appears on her face as she asks, “No? So you don’t take every girl up here on a ‘tour of the house’ hoping they’ve taken to your big, fancy manor and they’ll want to fool around?”

He laughs, giving her a dubious look. “My parents were alive for the turn of the century, Evans. If I wanted to give them heart failure, I’d have them listen to your record collection.”

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(AU where Neal cracked and said “fuck off” to August and went to see Emma when she was in jail, and she was so confused because she never got visitors and she barely let herself hope - 

And there he was, in that stupid jacket of his, looking all nervous, waiting for her. 

She’s not showing yet, and she’s glad for it. 

And he apologizes, and explains as best he can, and he tells her he won’t give up on her, he’ll prove to her that he’s worth her trust again, he’ll be back every visitor’s day, and she doesn’t quite believe him (but God, she wants to) and so she just nods and says nothing.

And he does come back, every time, and eventually she can’t hide it anymore and she tells him about the baby, tells him she’s giving it up, and they get into a blowout fight there in the visiting room and he ends up escorted out by the guards - 

And he tells her she doesn’t have to give the baby up, tells her he wants this, her, it, themtogether

And she believes him. 

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anonymous asked:

Do you think Gabe and Raphael (and maybe lower ranking angels too) have True Vessels? Or was it just a one-time apology gift thing for Luci and Michael from God, for all the shit he's done to them?

I’m not sure that I’d call it a “gift,” but I do think it’s unique to Luci and Mikey. Every angel has a “bloodline,” I believe, or certain people who are more compatible with their Grace, but none of them seem to burn through their vessels as Lucifer did, regardless of how long they possess them. 

That probably has something to do with Michael and Lucifer being the two most powerful Archangels in creation, as well as their “destiny” playing into God’s penchant for overreacting (and just being dramatic, in general). It all stems from the “As it is Above, so, too, shall it be Below,” ideal, with Sam and Dean’s paths paralleling those of Lucifer’s and Michael’s so closely. 

It also seems to suggest that God did, in fact, keep some control over his supposed plan, as, with two True Vessels being preordained, the sequence and timeframe of events were far easier to pinpoint, given that Sam and Dean would need to be alive, and their relationship in a certain state before anything more became possible. 

Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up here.” If we consider how certain both Michael and Lucifer seemed to be about how things would end, it seems that little was left to chance. I’d even venture so far as to say that Michael’s indifference toward Dean was, in part, due to the knowledge that he had another option at his disposal. 

As for the gift thing… I think, in Lucifer’s mind, Sam being his True Vessel was a gift. It was one of the few things his Father promised him in the way of hope -  the one light at the end of the dark tunnel he had been cast into. For Lucifer, Sam was a chance to finally have someone who understood him and understood that he was constantly struggling with his own heart, and that he was not just a monster bred of hatred. But, as we’ve seen, that hope he put into Sam backfired on him horrifically, if only because Sam didn’t have the promise of being rewarded for his patience. To Lucifer, Sam was a God meant to save him, and for Sam, God was a man who told him no one else would care if he was saved. 

So, yes, in sentimental ways, having a True Vessel had been a gift. Logically, however, it was just another way to bind the Archangels -  to contain their power at a certain time and place, so that they might have a chance at being controlled and predicted. It also served as a way to reiterate the importance of Free Will (something Lucifer has always treated with reverence), making consent absolutely essential, and putting into check and, perhaps, even humbling two powerful creatures who were accustomed to simply taking what they wanted. 

Maybe God had hoped that, with these intimate connections to two humans, his sons would learn to appreciate humankind - to see them as something more than just careless, mindless monkeys, and I think it could have worked, if only Sam and Dean had considered attempting to reason, rather than to fight (not that Michael probably would have listened to much reason…).  In the end, none of it seemed to make a difference, and it’s hard to say what God really had in mind, if anything, at all. 

{{I’d say we might learn more in S13 with the AU world…  but let’s face it -  post S5 is irrelevant to the true Archangels, so far as Kripke’s work is concerned.) 

Blonde European with a taste for the finer things in life and a penchant for murder become enamored with a younger dark-haired man from New Orleans. The blonde attempts drag the other into a life of darkness, but is met with resistance, as the dark-haired is deeply conflicted about who he has become and is full of guilt over the violence that he has done and that he wishes to do. 

The blonde is of the view that his friend is simply torturing himself, and undertakes a number of increasingly dramatic gambits to convince the dark-haired man to embrace his “true nature” and accept that he is a killer and that that is a glorious thing to be. 

To convince the dark-haired man to stay with him, the blonde arranges to have the family of a young girl killed and positions the dark-haired man to feel paternal and protective towards the girl, while also ushering said girl into the same life of death and blood, to which she more easily adapts than did her other new father. 

For a time, this cements them as a family, but it all ends in a night of bitter pain, resentment and spite, leaving part of the family bleeding out on the floor of their home.  


we’ve wasted our lives

so i wrote regina kind of comforting killian in underworld here. so now i’m writing killian comforting regina. 

kind of like a missing scene/deleted scene, or honestly lets be real, something we all wish happens in this show between the two of them instead of just constant snarking (as fun as that is). 

thanks a lot to @oparu for looking this over for me <3

Hook sat at the doorstep of Emma’s, of their house, a book borrowed from Belle perched on his lap. The telltale signs of someone walking was apparent but it neither were the slightly crouching ones of Henry, or quick paced and determined ones of Emma. They were hard, and commanding, and clinking – the latest characteristic making it quite clear which guest he was about to (slightly unwillingly) entertain.

“Did Emma already kick you out?” She smirked, pouting her perfectly painted red lips and raising a teasing eyebrow.

“Why, your majesty, I’m sure you would offer me your most humble accommodations so should that be the case. I wager that I’d make a better roommate then your wicked sister,” he answered, not taking his eyes off of his book. After finishing the page, and surprised at the fact that the woman waited patiently for him to do so, he looked up.

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to pick up Henry for the night,” she informed him, “I’m sure Emma told you.”

“Aye. The lad and Emma have gone to get ice-cream,” he said, a silence descending them both as Regina nodded. She could tell the wheels in the pirate’s head were turning as he was staring at the empty space just beside her but she didn’t know how to ask him about it without it seeming as if she cared.

(She didn’t care, of course not. Zilch.)

She was relieved when he surprisingly confessed himself, “I thought they’d want some time alone. Not sure Henry would appreciate me tagging along everywhere with the both of them; give them some mother-son bonding time.”

Regina pursued her lips and sighed in annoyance at herself for what she was about to say, “Henry does like you, you know? He talks about how cool you are – in my defense, what about would a pirate with a hook for a hand, a ship, an abundance of eyeliner and leather, and a penchant for danger, not make him seem cool to a thirteen year old?”

Killian laughed, surprised in seeing the corners of Regina’s lips curve slightly as well.  

“In my defense, when his mother is the strict and orderly mayor of the city, he would find a pirate more entertaining.”

“Well, you’ve got competition now. The Evil Queen has a penchant for dramatic flair and…danger.” She tried to pass it off as teasingly, but Killian caught the slight tremor in her tone. Being afraid of your own capacity of evil is not foreign to him.

“She’s not going to stick around much longer.”

“Really? Cause Snow is currently under a sleeping curse while Charming sits beside her in bed and they exchange notes like long distance lovers. Emma has a death penalty on her head, Zelena is finding her sisterly love with her, and Gold…who the fuck knows what Gold is up to!” She sassed, not quite meaning to put this much heat in her words but it’s Killian, he can handle it.

“Seems like you’re in need of a drink, love.” He procured the flask from his jacket and offered it to her, Regina just shaking her head in refusal.

Killian sighed, “Look, I know you think this is all your fault–”

“I think? It is.” She clenched her fingers in a fist to stress her words, “Only if I’d been stronger then and hadn’t made this absolutely stupid decision –“

“You were mourning, Regina!” The use of her actual name cuts her short, “We all make mistakes. If I’d lost Emma…I would have done much much worse.”

“You wouldn’t,” Regina muttered, making him snap his head to hers, “You’ve changed quite a bit from the revengeful pirate.”

“Well, you’ve changed quite a bit more from the revengeful evil queen.” He muttered back, slightly uncomfortable with the line this conversation was crossing. He can manage indifference and sassiness with Regina; actual heartfelt supportive emotions he couldn’t. The way her face was grimaced slightly meant she felt the same way as well.

“Apparently not. The situation currently withstanding.” She made a dramatic gesture with her arms. She sighed, long and slow, “I should just end this. Once and for all. Save everyone.”

Killian quirked an eyebrow up, “You don’t mean –“

“Yeah,” she nodded, “It’s the only way out of this. If I’m dead –“

“Regina –“

“— She dies too. Problem solved. Everyone would be safe and happy. I’m sure Emma will be able to fight off the dark hooded figure, having all the Charmings hope and fighting for the good blood inside her. If not, then Henry will still have the Nolans and I guess, you.”

“I didn’t think you would back down from a fight this easily, love.” It wasn’t the actual claim he made, but with the teasing glint that he said it with which set her off.

I’m not! At this point it’s just foolish to think anything else can work! I’m just not strong enough. It turns out the strength in me comes from the Evil Queen, not Regina.”

“You’re the same bloody person!” He rubbed his hand on his forehead, ignoring the way she was staring daggers at him.

Keeping his gaze steady with hers he started, “Listen, Regina. I hate to be the one to offer any optimism and comfort, and especially you of all people –“

“Oh god plea-“

“- stop interrupting me, please.” He raised his eyebrows in question, waiting for her nod of whether or not he could continue without being interrupted again.

He took her crossing her arms and tilting her head slightly to look at him as his answer.

“I was friends with Cora. We talked sometimes; I told her about Milah, she told me about you.” He searched her face for any discomfort but except of her clenched jaw found nothing.

So he continued, “I don’t remember my mother; she died when I was just a boy. But I do know that mothers are not supposed to be how Cora was to you.”

Regina’s hands dropped to her sides with a jerk, and she carefully masked her quite emotional reaction by clasping her hands together in front of her and nodding at him to continue.

“The way she talked about you…I don’t think she viewed you as anything but a passage – a way for her to gain everything that she never could, out of pity revenge or insatiable sate, whatever, I don’t know. The way she treated you as a young child, and then killing your first love – yes she told me all about that - and then shipping you off to get married to a King against your wishes…that’s not what a mother does.”

He clenched his jaw as he noticed the way Regina’s lower lip was wobbling lightly and she was blinking rapidly. This reaction was not something he would expect out of from the fiery woman, but wounds made during childhood and from the ones we love do hurt the most. He understands that all too well.

“All I’m trying to say is that – if you can survive Cora, can survive being separated from Henry, can survive Robin’s passing – surviving and winning from your own evil counterpart is nothing.”

Regina tilted her head and let out a shaky breath, pushing her stubborn tendrils behind her ear a couple of times, and Killian let her just be – understanding that she needed time to compose herself.

Finally, she let out a long and loud exhale and moved to sit beside him, startling him slightly as this was not what he was expecting.

“Can I still have the rum?” She asked, her voice just slightly shaking.

“Of course, love.” He grabbed his flask and handed it to her, watching in surprise (and slight pride) as she downed down whatever rum (almost half of the flask) was left and after wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, handed him the flask back.

He didn’t know if it was him or Regina who were more relieved when the Bug came to a park in front of the house and Emma and Henry get out, giggling at each other with ice-creams in their hands.

After handing Regina her ice-cream, Henry quickly ran inside, mumbling about grabbing his bag, and Emma gives them both a weird look as she’d never seen them sit so closely (and peacefully) before. Neither of them looked pissed off and Regina actually looked upset so she asked, “You okay?”

Regina nodded, offering a convincing smile.

“I got you a rum and raisins,” Emma informed Hook, smiling at him softly as she handed him his cone. She turned towards Regina, “I suggested maple walnut but Henry said you preferred pralines and cream.”

“I actually prefer no ice-cream at all, but seems like I finally understand what people mean by ‘eating your feelings out’” Regina quipped, taking a lick out of it, “But does it have to be this ill-civilized? Sticking your tongue out to lick it? What happened to standard bowls and spoons?”

“I agree,” Killian smirked, before darting his tongue out to taste this new flavor which Emma promises he’d like. Just having rum be in the name was enough for him to give it a try. He smiled at her in approval as the sweetness hit his tongue, Emma quirking an I told you so eyebrow at him.

“You’re a pirate, you were probably used to eating on leaf plates using your hands and well, hook. I was royalty.” Regina teased him, a hint of her usual self coming back again.

He took the bait all too easily and this time when he retorted back, he was delighted with Emma’s laugh echoing loudly, Henry’s own chuckle being heard from behind, and Regina turning the other way to hide her own sly smile.

(A good hour later when Henry and Regina were finally leaving, all of them lost in conversation at the front porch with ice-creams in their hands, and Henry had hugged Emma goodbye, and thrown Killian a smile and a wave, it was a nice surprise to him when Regina smiled at them both and teased them for having the house all to themselves.)

(If someone had ever told him he would one day actually like the Evil Queen and be friendly with her, he would’ve killed them and worn their ring on his finger.)


anonymous asked:

If you guys are just lackey's to Bowser, why do you stay?

Ludwig: Oh, ignore her. She has a penchant for dramatic prose, even when only mildly inconvenienced, and her envy often supersedes her reasoning. She misses being “daddy’s girl”.

The work we provide for Lord Bowser is far from what falls under the duties of a mere lackey. We hold great power over this land, as we rightfully should given our talents and triumphs.

True, he acted as a father-figure to us when we were younger, but his intentions were made clear from the beginning concerning what he wanted from us in the future. He seems to have somewhat of a… a soft spot for the children of the Darklands, a spot upon which we linger no more.

The work is easy, the pay is phenomenal, the power is… well, a lesser man wouldn’t know what to do with it. Giving up something like this would be irrational, just plain stupid honestly, and so we stay, because being here is infinitely better than being out on the streets.

Ficlet: One Party

Here’s a little ficlet that I wrote for the Interlude Press One Story Fic Project. It takes place in the same universe as my story Somewhere in the World, and will make more sense if you have read that first. 

Many thanks to Emily for reading it over and being my perpetual cheerleader. :)


Blaine is on Cloud 9, Kurt plots various murders, and Olivier is not an actual demon

Blaine loves kids’ parties. When he was small, he would pester his parents for grander and more elaborate parties every year for his birthday. They usually caved. Cooper said it was because Blaine had more eyes than face, but he was just jealous that he’d never thought to have a cowboy themed costume rodeo roundup party until Blaine suggested it. And by then Cooper was sixteen and a little old for cowboys. But Blaine never really grew out of his party stage. He still secretly wished he could have a costume party or a bouncy castle on his birthday.

Luckily his husband had a nephew, since Blaine doubted he would ever have one of his own. Unless Cooper had some mystery children somewhere out there with killer smiles, jewel blue eyes and a penchant for dramatic pointing and winking at anything in a skirt. Blaine shudders at the very thought. But Kurt’s actual, non-pointing nephew is also a fan of birthdays and their parties. And Blaine has been enjoying this year’s in particular.

“Uncle Blaine, Uncle Blaine, come see this clown!” Olivier comes screaming from the other side of the park, face paint smeared to an indistinguishable mess of black and red and his hands full of animal shaped balloons. He stops abruptly at Blaine’s feet and waves a giraffe at him. “He can make anything. Auntie Snix asked him if he can make a lady place and he winked at her.”

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anonymous asked:

oq + fortune teller au

Outside it is damp and crisp though inside the tent you wouldn’t know it. Light from the white, overcast skies is still enough to brighten the stripes of purple silk, and just as any other light from any other sunnier day, it does not come in through the patches of heavier cloth. Every oil lamp and candle is alight to chase away the cold, burning a scent of myrrh and lavender into the air.

Regina frees her long dark hair from the tie she’d used to keep it from getting wet on her way here, but the ends of her curls still drip as they fall loose against her back.

“Madame,” her assistant’s voice floats from just beyond the curtain that makes the entrance to the place. “Whenever you are ready, your first inquirers are here.”

“Thank you, Sidney,” Regina tells him, adjusting her skirts as she sits on the cushioned red velvet chair. “Give me one minute and then show them in.”

It is clear from the moment they step through the curtains that these are not people who would ordinarily be able to afford to consult with her. From their simple clothes and worn-out boots, Regina can gather that they are the kind of folk who count their fortunes from one day to the other. From the woman’s sickly appearance and her large, round belly, Regina understands that this couple is spending their every last penny to be here.

She smiles kindly and urges them to take a seat. The woman’s eyes are coal black and they flit around the tent, taking in every shimmering treasure. Most of these serve no real purpose but to give a sense of ambiance; candles and treasures — they give the tent an otherworldly appearance. Regina has always had a penchant for the dramatics. 

The man doesn’t seem too impressed, however. His every countenance is of a man who would not have chosen to do this. He looks at the table, at Regina and at the way out.

Regina has seen plenty of men just like him.

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Do You Ship It?

Prompt // Y/N and Stiles are the newest target of Beacon Hills High School's anonymous Twitter, @DoYouShipIt — and yeah, they kinda do.

Notes // This is just a little something something I wrote after reading a really good fic. Y/S/N stands for Your Ship Name and Y/T/H stands for Your Twitter Handle, by the way. If you enjoyed this, leave feedback, constructive criticism, and more requests !

Warnings // I hope you like long rants about intersectional feminism because that's kinda Y/N's thing !

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I’m actually super SUPER tired tonight, today was my last day of classes before finals and I’m still busy so apologies for not having the art trades posted tonight. Both are in the process of being colored though so they should be up by tomorrow. If not, I’m working on school projects.

Also while I was waiting for the bus/train/etc on my way back home, a thought hit me. It’s stated quite a few times that Karamatsu isn’t being his “true” personality, there’s even a compilation of him speaking in his regular voice.

So it got me thinking, “Okay, so what is he like when he’s not doing the whole ‘cool guy’ facade? What was this guy like in, middle school/high school/whatever before he decided to do the whole cool guy thing” and it hit me.

Sad, theatric, poetry nerd who enjoys music and who’s constantly doubting himself and SUPER indecisive. I think what people forget about Karamatsu sometimes is that underneath the facade he’s literally a sensitive nerd with a penchant for dramatics who has trouble accepting what he actually is.

I feel like Wirt could be a good example of how Karamatsu was before he decided to create a new persona for himself to hide his real one. Like a good indication of how he was in middle school or early high school?

(I, II, III)

That night Stiles is stiff and twitchy and stays turned away. When they wake in the morning, Derek leans over the line of his body and sees one hand clutched desperately against the sheets, his nails dug in like he’s hanging on.

When they get back to school, Stiles takes up with Peter.

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