This is a home for all of the drabbles I write on Tumblr and will be updated with every few I write. If you'd like to request one, drop me a note on Tumblr, or leave it in your review.

in another life.

In an alternate reality, Harold doesn't get a taste for fine wine or even finer Italian male models, the world forgets to end, and Blair attends the Sheppard Wedding dressed in purple and possibility.

In an alternate reality, Chuck Bass wears a matching tie, slinks behind her because Nate is too tipsy to mind his date, Serena is too tipsy to mind her friendship - and has the nape of Blair's neck always been so smooth?

In an alternate reality, love doesn't always need limos to get someplace, and when the wedding violins begin to hum, Chuck decidedly prompts her, "Waldorf, have you seen the barroom?"

- and has the devil always been this handsome?


basses hate waiting.

Chuck loves Blair a bit more than what the priests mean when they declare two lovers "man and wife", which is why he's been prepared to murder for her since the moment she was sure.

He calls her fifteen times, then another ten, and he knows he's being irrational, and he knows that she'll pretend to hate him for days if this is just a result of Manhattan traffic or a hectic day at Waldorf Designs, but love and hate have always flowed synonymously in this relationship - so he doesn't bother to care.

Three hours later, Blair tiptoes home to find that her husband has fallen asleep angry, has broken his phone with overuse, has dozed off at an angle which will undoubtedly cause a cramp that he'll ask her to massage out later - so she's quiet when she slips the scarf she was out late buying around his neck.

He's always had one from before, it's about time he has proof of the after.


fuller circles.

"You're like magic," Blair whispers into his ear, a small hand cups his jaw, prim lips find his cheekbone, and time is just an illusion for two lost souls who've victored over it again and then again. "All you have to do is touch me, and I'm seventeen again, you're asking me if I'm sure…"

"Are you sure?" Chuck asks her atop leather seats, Chuck asks her in a little hotel room after that engagement ring finds itself on the right finger.

It always comes back to that.



When Henry is three years old, Blair nearly has a breakdown because the two male Basses of her household are fighting over the fine threads of an Armani scarf - one must wear it, the other must use it as a pacifier - so she steals it away from both and decides it makes a fine addition to her outfit that day.

When Henry is ten years old, Blair nearly has yet another breakdown because the two male Basses of her household have taken up residence of their sitting room chaise to watch Battle Royale - Scotch in the bigger hand, apple juice in the tinier one - until, of course, the remote is charmingly stolen away and the two watch Breakfast at Tiffany's with sullen faces on for the rest of the afternoon.

When Henry is sixteen years old, Blair nearly passes out when Gossip Girl 2.0 reports on her son's recent deflowering with a dark-haired girl named Charlotte, and cannot fathom what to do when the moody teen closes his door with a slam upstairs - until her husband murmurs with a smug grin, "I've got this one."


tell me.

"I don't want to talk about this," Blair pleads and huffs as Chuck trails her around their apartment, pinching the hem of her skirt, kissing the back of her neck, only to get slapped on the cheek and hand with every advance he makes.

"I'm predicting a stealthy combination of premature ejaculation and repulsive bodily hair," Chuck smirked. "Tell me, was Humphrey able to count how many times you faked an orgasm for him?"

"Tell me," Blair suddenly purrs, and Chuck sees the devilish grin reflected back at him. "Will you be able to count how many times I bring you to your knees tonight?" - and with that, she flounces off to fetch the handcuffs.


and Chuck falls ill.

He doesn't even want to roll out of bed to bathe until her dress comes off, followed by one pearl earring, followed by another, followed by his favorite combination of La Perla's spring catalogue, not until he cranes his muggy head, parts his lips with a heavy breath, and hears her call, "Your bath is ready…as is your wife."

He's infuriating when she tries to offer him Tylenol and no, Chuck, you cannot drink it with whiskey - but the thick red syrup holds a whole new appeal when it's dripping down her navel, and he's happy enough to take his dose when it's pasted all over Blair.

He snores when he's sick - you know, more than usual - and Blair will never admit that she loves when he's like this, loves when his rise is a bit delayed, loves that she can temporarily worry herself with picking up the pieces of a man who hates being so broken.