#y'all can ask questions about the memory in this drabble

[penname-artist]

An update? An update.

So I posted a slightly vent-y fic this evening, not actually related to the fic itself but just in terms of "this story sad. Me also sad. Sad together."

But I figured I'd take a second here and explain why, cuz the last couple of days have been, heh,

B u m p y.

So I'm resigning from my current job, thanks to crippling mental health and my inability to effectively work retail any longer. Or, I'm trying to. For financial reasons, I may have no choice but to stay, as I have no planned alternatives for work and my household is at ends as it is.

So the melting pot this week has been trying to decide what to do and not to do about work, while being in a depressive state, while getting the floor of my room redone, while dodging bad memories as per usual.

And gee gosh golly, wouldn't you guess it, did you know that stress can trigger your body to break out in hives? I sure didn't!

So yeah, I'm on a four day weekend right now and I'm trying to keep my cool and at least stay, like, alive until I can function like a normal person. It's a process. I have until the 9th to figure out my work situation and either A. Stay at work, B. Find another job in town, C. Find work remotely (because um, hi hello I'm 20 and I cannot drive), or D. Be half-dead for a few months until [unknown error] [unknown error] [unknown error]

So yup, that's where we at. It's cold as fuck here right now and my hands are in constant pain, I have to keep adding lotion so they don't turn red and cracked and die. I literally do not understand how anyone who lives further north than, like, Missouri, can handle the fucking cold. If it's below 50F I need to go into hibernation.

Still working on content at least, I have my Superlist out officially and that one drabble, and some other fics are, ehhhhh they're on their way to completion but nothing else is quite "there" yet. I'm not sure what I'm prioritizing just yet, I have a Cabbie one-shot that's maybe three quarters done, and a Dipper and Windlifter piece that's probably around the same. And the next chapter of Chance of Rain. Cuz y'all crazy about that one, lol XD

That's all I got for now, until the morrow.

(oh by the way my asks are open as always in case you have any sorts of questions; fanfic, headcanon, personal, random, whatever ya got. Let your imagination wander)

[wildcatofgreen]

-Slice of life or plotted ideas?

Mun Questions

Slice of life or plotted ideas?

((good question! i dont know!

((i [mostly] kid, but like

((okay, lemme like, take this as more of a "random events pull the muses together" vs "the muns have an idea in mind"(

((in all my years of rp BEFORE this specific blog, it's always been the first one. and that's fun! it's lead to a lot of drama and a lot of funny things happening. like i still remember sonic teaching carol how to spin dash, or discord landing in carol's theoretical lap and chillin', or some random fights that happened all because carol is a hard headed idiot

((however, this year has kind of been my first REAL intro to plotted rps

((thaaaaaat i remember, anyway

((like, okay, im 100% sure me and sonar-mun plotted on the previous blog, but i literally do not remember a single lick of it. and it's never been to this extent where we have EVENTS PLANNED fucking WEEKS in advanced.

((dont quote me on this but i think as soon as sister's intuition finished there were thoughts about how carol confessing to sonar would go. i think we are both surprised at how it actually ended up but i know thoughts were thrown around and we've had this vague idea on how itd go

((IMs didn't EXIST back then! people had to talk through ASKS and FAN MAIL and shit. i even remember being MAD that tumblr did IMs in the first place.

((what a fool i was.

((ANYWAY! i think back then i was against the idea of plotting because it goes against what i felt like rp was/is--the SPONTANIETY OF IT ALL

((carol and fucking flowey meet, shenanigans ensue. that's it that's all you need and you have awesome interactions.

((or carol and sans. she tries to steal from him, sans threatens a murder. awesome! this is awesome!

((but like, with actual plotted THREADS you get these cool things that happen and then these spontaneous moments can happen BECAUSE of it

((it's like writing a story with someone and nobody knows what the outcome'll be--assuming y'all havent plotted that far ahead

((or, something something THE JOURNEY IS GREATER THAN THE DESTINATION. stuff like that.

((carol fuckin' used her jump disc WAY EARLIER in the jet race thread than i planned. me and them planned for it to tie but we didn't plan how we'd GET to the tie. and that's FUN. IT'S SO MUCH FUN.

((but then carol interacts with shigaraki on a whim and becomes... frrrrriends...? with a murderer. that's awesome. you cant get that anywhere else.

((there's a lot of give and pull between these two concepts and i find it incredibly fascinating. i love planning out shit with my friends. but i also love throwing this cat at my friends and seeing how their muses react! there's some things you just cant GET from either side and it's kind of magical.

((and this is all probably funny coming from me, the gal who writes a drabble every other day. but god i really DO love how cool some non plotted things are.

((side tangent about all my drabbles--A LOT OF THEM AREN'T PLANNED.

((CAROL IS ENGAGED RN BECAUSE AN ANON TEASED HER ABOUT IT. THIS IS HOW UNPLANNED MY DRABBLES ARE

((THAT ONE ANON ALONE SPIRALED OUT OF MY HEAD FIFTEEN OR MORE SEPARATE POSTS DETAILING THINGS I NEVER WOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT OTHERWISE

((the lilac confession's been a long time coming, lets be real

((BUT IT WAS PEOPLE WHO SEND IN THESE FUNNY ASKS THAT MADE IT BE AS BIG OF A DEAL AS IT IS

((it's a collaborative writing project, all of this is. it's so fucking awesome and i feel honored everyday i get to be apart of someone's world or someone wants to be apart of mine or AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

((you have no idea how HAPPY it makes me to rp and make all of these awesome memories and things happen. i would have been speedrunning instead of this if sonar-mun didn't egg me on to write for carol again.

((musical tea 4evr

((oh! and one last thing!

((plotted threads or plotted THINGS in general are SUPER DUPER FUN because like

((when you have that MOMENT in mind, that moment that you so desperately wish to HIT, it can cause a calvacade of consuing conumdrums figuring out how the hell you GET there

((i wanted to get to the confession really badly but i knew that carol would never do it on her own

((so, how does one get her to do it? have her vent to cory. then to tangle [THIS WAS UNPLANNED, DO YOU SEE WHY I LOVE RP SO MUCH], then talk to milla, and then confess to LILAC, FIRST.

((lilac's confession was the only thing in my mind that made me go ''carol would definitely want to confess to sonar after this. itd give her the confidence she needs. "if lyli can do it, then so can i!!!" ''. and i mean it didnt really turn out like that but STILL

((and THEN, AFTER ALL OF THAT, THEN DOES THE CONFESSION TO SONAR HAPPEN, AND OH FUCKING MAN DID IT HAPPEN.

((raw emotions on display for everyone involved. it was so short but it was also so fucking exciting. i LOVE HITTING THOSE MOMENTS. ITS SO MUCH FUN!!!!!!!

((but uh, yeah.

((tl;dr: theyre both good. i have a lot of passion for both and im totally down to do either or.))

[ladydaemon]

QUEEN OF CROWS

kaz brekker x female! reader

prologue /

A/N: Mmk so I've had this in my head for a while but am just now publishing it. If y'all like I could make it a drabble series because I honestly really like the concept. Also it's suuuuuuper short so I apologize in advance.

Summary: I really don't know how to explain this it's kind of just a backstory for the reader??? idk kinda angst not really. Just setting it up for a series I suppose.

Warnings: swearing, blood, non-descriptive rape, teenage mother idk, choppy writing.

They called her the Queen of Crows.

~

Brekker's bitch, they snarled. It was only a matter of time before he got someone pregnant. Why does he keep her around, anyway?

Poor girl, the nicer ones whispered. Such a waste of a pretty face. She would have made a nice wife.

No one really knew where Y/N L/N had come from. Only that at some point, it was a rarity to Kaz Brekker without her and the black-haired, doe-eyed child on her hip.

They made up stories, impossible rumors and tales. She can transform into a crow. She's one of those Saints from Ravka. She drinks blood instead of wine. She can kill a man with a glance. She's possessed.

Y/N didn't care. Didn't care, because they would never know.

~

A woman, he face gaunt and stretched, her face dirty, eyes lustful. There's a wailing girl in her arms, barely six months old. She looks down at it in disgust.

"How much for her?"

"How much will you offer me?"

~

The girl is fourteen now, walking down the street, late at night. Holes in her shoes, clothes worn through. Her hair is dirty, her face unwashed. A peasant.

But also a young girl, a weak girl.

Broken bottles.

Slurred laughter.

A young man.

~

It's barely been two weeks. The girl can still feel his hands on her body, her thin clothes being ripped from her skin. His fist in her hair, his drunken words.

She vomits in an alleyway, praying to whoever's listening that it isn't for the reason she thinks.

~

Her belly is round now, and her feet and back ache more than usual. She can't afford to eat, yet each day her hunger grows worse. She knows she should resent the child inside her, but she can't.

She can't.

She can't, for she loves it unconditionally.

~

The child, whom she named Raven, is three months old. Like the most of the now-fifteen girl's life, it was painful and hard, and she used up all her money for a proper medik.

But she has a daughter now, and she knows, with absolute certainty, she would do anything for her.

~

The girl is sixteen.

She has killed thirty-seven people, and she does not regret any of it.

She still lives on the streets, her hair is still matted, but she can afford food and some decent clothing for her two-year-old. On bad days, she goes hungry while she lets Raven eat, and on good days, she watches as her daughter's face breaks into a wide grin at the sight of a small piece of candy.

~

The room is lavish, for the lower streets of Ketterdam. She doesn't care who owns it, only if they have money in the drawers of their desk or food in the cabinets.

She finds a small velvet cloth jangling with spare kruge, and almost cries in relief.

A cane knocking on the stairs.

"Just what do you think you're doing, love?"

~

She isn't quite used to owning a mattress, or frankly, a room. But she is thankful, for every night she and her child go to sleep with full stomachs.

The crows outside her window are friendly enough.

~ Friends.

A foreign word, but not an unwelcome one.

Jesper, with his easy-going demeanor. Inej, with her quiet thoughtfulness. Wylan, bashful and shy, but smart and kind. Nina, ever-hungry and playful, witty and snarky. Matthias, frightening but calm.

She wasn't sure if Kaz counted as a friend or not.

Raven loves them all, though.

~

Kaz taught her how to deal, and she excels, used to snatching fruit from vendors and bread from bakeries.

She deals the cards, and the men play the game.

But one man, drunk and high and basking in the glory of winning his round, slides his arm around her waist.

No.

Nononononononono.

She reminds herself that she is safe. That someone would come to her aid if she screams. But memories come rushing in and she wants to sob because she can still recall exactly how it felt to be violated all those years ago, and what the cost was.

His hands drop lower.

No.

Nonononononononono.

A cane, soothing her with the familiarity of its heavy steps.

"Sir, I suggest you leave."

~

He squats in front of her, watching with his dark eyes as she breaks down, tears streaming down her face.

"I'm here."

~

"Am I a good mother?"

She asks the question tentatively, looking at Nina with heartbroken eyes. Raven is three now, and Y/N is seventeen. She can't help but see the children on the streets, bedecked in silk and pretty petticoats, swinging happily between both parents.

Nina takes her face in her hands.

"Absolutely."

~

The daughter is sobbing as she bursts into the first door she sees. Kaz looks up from the negotiations he was in the middle of, confused at first, anger flickering across his features as he sees the bruise on her face.

He gets out of his chair, crouches down beside with a gentle expression.

"How about we go downstairs and you show me who did this to you, and then we get Nina to help with the swelling, hmm?"

Her bottom lip juts out. "And then hot chocolate?"

He laughs then, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. "A true Ketterdam native."

~

The girl wasn't born noble. She was born out of a night of passion and then sold for drug money. She knows that. She knows that both her mother and father are far gone.

She still wants to know which she got her powers from, though.

~

"You're Grisha?"

The question is more an exclamation.

~

Her boot lands square in the man's chest, and he staggers back.

This is where she feels at home.

In the chaos.

In the streets.

In the blood.

Not with the perfect-people, with their perfect lives and their maids and servants and playthings. Not with the Second Army, with their kefta and their rules and their laws.

No.

She belongs in Ketterdam.

~

They called her the Queen of Crows.

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Christmas Cookies

Genre: Fan Fiction (Sand Castle) Pairing: N/A Warnings: It’s so fluffy! Pure Absolute Christmas Fluff! Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: I just wrote multiple pages of Sy being an absolute marshamallow, with his nieces and nephews. It’s as sweet as Maple Syrup! Enjoy. 

Henry Cavill Master List

“You're sure that it's okay if the kids come over?” The concern for her brother didn't go unnoticed, the blue eyes they shared were locked on his face as if she didn't believe him, when he had given the green light.

He looked ridiculous in the white and red ugly Christmas sweater. The knit garment depicting Santa on a beach. Leave it to Sy. Aimee had lost it laughing a few weeks ago, when her brother had called to tell her that he'd got ugly Christmas sweaters for his nieces and nephews, too.

A smirk curled his lips under the thick beard that had been growing on his face for the last ten or twelve years. Running a hand over his grown out hair, her little brother laughed. “Yes, Aim. I am sure. I wouldn't have told them to come, if I didn't want them here. Go on, we're fine. I am sure Mike will appreciate the night off.”

Early this morning, Sy had been woke to his phone ringing on the night stand beside his head. Stupidly loud, the phone screamed at him, begging him to answer. After the fourth ring, it was clear that the person on the other end was not giving in. Despite the headache and heartache from hell, he reached over and answered.

On the other end, his youngest niece greeted her hung over Uncle. “Uncle Sy, I want to come stay with you tonight. Mommy said that I can't invite myself over, but I want to see you. Please say yes.”

“Morning Wispy,” Sy muttered sitting up, rubbing his hand over his face. “Uncle Sy is a bit hazy this morning, I'm gonna need ya to repeat that. Slowly.” He shook his head and chuckled at his niece.

Repeating her request, Willow waited for her uncle to give her the all clear. She was his favourite person, after all, he would never tell her no.

“Sure can bub. Let me talk to your ma, please. And Wispy, I love ya bug.”

Taking the phone from her over excited daughter, Aimee greeted her brother. Her first round of questions assaulting the youngest Syverson.

“Four kids, are you really sure?” Aimee raised her brow looking at her brother. “I can't believe we let Willow talk you into this. I had no idea she was calling you until she came in with the phone. Apparently she and Harley had planned this yesterday.”

“Whatever. I'm cool with it. I didn't have much to do anyway. Probably spend another night down at The Hole.” Sy shrugged. His favourite dive bar had become his temporary home, since his girlfriend of five years had decided she wanted more than a cranky Army vet to share her life with.

Willow had heard her parents discussing Sy's break up, when she coerced her cousin Harley into the plan for a weekend with their uncle. Uncle Sy was her favourite person in the whole wide world, they even shared a birthday, and Uncle Sy was the most fun! He would often let Willow paint his nails and decorate his beard. Why wouldn't that silly woman want him? Willow had grumbled about her “Aunty Nina” being a bit meany who probably ate boogers for breakfast.

“If you think you are okay with this, fine.” Aimee laughed peeking around her brother into his house to see her two children, plus niece and nephew running around his kitchen like four wild beasts. “But if you need help...”

“I will call in the Army.” Sy's laugh rumbled. “I'm kidding. If we need you, then we will call.” He leaned in giving her a kiss on the cheek, straightening up he called to the kids. “Come say good bye to your ma and aunt.”

Children thundered to the door, rushing Aimee and Sy. Hugs and “I love yous” exchanged as Aimee gave her brother one last out for the weekend. Raising his hand to wave her off, Sy wore the biggest, goofiest smile. She'd behaved like he had never had all four children on his own before. Hell during his Army days he had been responsible for a lot more bodies than four. All had made it home, too. Most on their own accord, but he wasn't going to relive those memories right now. Those were the sort of things he thought about when he was alone in the dark. This weekend was going to be anything but dark.

With only a short span of time to plan, Sy did his best to get a few activities together for the children of various ages. Ben, 12; Annie, 10; Harley 7; and Willow, 6.

Ben had likely only agreed to his sister's impromptu weekend because it was better than staying home with his parents. Besides, he loved hanging out with his Uncle, even if it meant three other children tagging along.

“Okay, listen up.” Sy clapped his hands together, grabbing attention. He bent to gently scratch behind the ears of his beloved shepherd. “You know where your bedrooms are, go take your stuff up. Then meet me back here for our first item on the list.”

Lagging behind her brother and cousins, Willow bounced over to Sy hugging her arms around him as tightly as she could. “Do I have to share a bed with Annie? She kicks me.”

“She kicks you?” Sy stooped to scoop her up in his arms. Her dark curls tied back in pig tails, gently he tugged at the end of one. “Well then good thing I got them pillows you asked for.”

“The really big ones? With the pink sparkle unicorns.” Willow's eyes went wide as she gasped. Sy nodded and laughed. Vibrating with excitement she hugged her uncle's neck tight kissing his cheek. “I want to make a fort in the bed and then Annie has to stay on her side. But it's okay, because we can still share the blanket and my night light.”

“Is that so? Well, you best go tell her that. The others will be back down before you get up there, hurry up.” Sy let her down. “If you need some help, ask Annie. Okay, Wispy?”

“Okay.” She shouted, little legs carrying her to the stairs. Thumping and running through the house, Sy smiled and went to the kitchen to begin planning phase one of their weekend.

With Christmas right around the corner, he had broke down and dug out a few early Christmas Eve gifts. Since it was Syverson tradition to spend Christmas Eve with his momma and daddy, decorating and what not, he was in charge of supplying the kids with gingerbread houses and cookies to decorate. Momma would forgive him, if he told her that the houses were done early this year. If she was adamant about it, he could buy a few more for Christmas.

Pulling out the kits, Sy laughed when Ben trudged into the kitchen. Clearly the kids had gotten the message when they found sweaters laid out on the beds. In a blue and green sweater with penguins at a disco on the front, the twelve year old rolled his eyes before laughing.

“It suits ya.” Sy laughed.

“Sometimes I wonder if you love us or secretly hate us.” Ben laughed along with his uncle. Laughing harder when Harley strode in wearing his green and red sweater, two reindeer on the front throwing snowballs.

“I think you secretly love it.” Sy nudged Harley with his elbow. “Should have gone bigger, huh?”

Harley nodded, the arms of his sweater a little too short. “Do I have to wear it long?”

“Nah,” Shaking his head, Sy pointed to the gingerbread house kits. “Long enough to get a photo for Nana and your momma.”

Giggling, Annie and Willow rushed into the kitchen. Purple and pink ugly sweaters worn with pride. Annie stood straight to show her uncle how well the new shirt fit. Purple decorated with dancing snowmen in a ballerina scene, a nod to Annie's love for dancing. And of course Willow, in her pink sweater with cats in Santa hats with red and green mittens.

“I love it, uncle Sy!” Willow exclaimed jumping up and down. “We look very pretty.”

“We look something.” Her big brother snickered.

“Are those gingerbread houses?” Annie eyed the items on the counter suspiciously. Sy nodded and grinned. “Nana is going to be mad at youuuuuu.” She sang out.

“Well this year, Nana is fine with us decorating early. We can get more for Christmas Eve.”

“We better!” Harley exclaimed wide eyed. “Santa will be upset. He always gets a gingerbread house and he eats it all!”

The tradition of leaving a whole house for Santa had began when Sy was a little boy. Perhaps even before, Aimee and Will had left houses surely before he was born. Over the years Santa had devoured a lot of houses at the Syverson's. He'd even had a few to eat while Sy was over in the desert, serving his country. His momma, without fail, had managed to get him a kit or two. Sy would set them up and let the other soldiers have their fill before sending photos to the kids back home to tell them Santa had came by.

“You know that Santa isn't...” “Going to be upset, because he will still get Nana's homemade cookies.” Ben cut in glaring at Annie.  This was her first year on the “Santa isn't real wagon”, but Ben wasn't going to let her ruin that for Harley and Willow.

Nodding and giving Ben a subtle thumbs up, Sy picked up to defuse the tension. “Right, he's still going to get lots of treats. And I don't know that I'd want a boring store made gingerbread, if I could have my momma's homemade shortbread and peanut butter blossoms.” He clicked his teeth together and made a show of rubbing his hand across his stomach.

“Uncle Sy, do you think Santa ever takes cookies home for the elves and Mrs. Claus?” Harley stared up at his uncle, his face scrunched at the thought.

“Sure does, bud. I bet he takes one cookie from every house home to share.” Sy winked at his youngest nephew.

Pulling out the hard as rock cookie house pieces, Sy instructed Ben to get the candies from the counter that he'd set out for the purpose of making these a grand master piece. Even The Grinch would appreciate the work that went into a Syverson House.

“So, what's everyone been up to? I feel like I've hardly seen y'all lately.”

If he asked the kids to talk about themselves, it meant that Sy would have to talk less. He loved hearing what the kids had to say. They chattered and laughed, Annie and Harley bickered a little over who got to put the door on the first house. A squabble ended when Sy reached in, putting the pretzel door on the house himself.

Lost in their good cheer, Christmas songs, and general chaos of four children with limited rules – for the time being – Sy sighed and began to relax. Something he hadn't done since Nina had decided to pack up her things and leave him nearly two weeks ago.

Whatever. Five years wasted. If she had known that she didn't want to be with him, then why had she stayed? His brother had a few ideas about that, stating that it was the perfect opportunity for any gold digging – Sy wouldn't even repeat the word to himself. Living in a house that was paid off. A car that was hers. Never having to pay bills, it all allowed her to work and save while she decided one day she'd had enough and wanted something better.

Better. More money.

Well, whoever took her next, Sy wished them luck. He hated that he was so broken about this. But he'd loved her. Maybe. He had his doubts these last few nights, as he sat thinking over a pint or eight at the bar.

“Uncle Sy,” Willow's soft voice broke his thoughts. Glancing down at his niece, he smiled. “When we finish, can we make cookies?”

“What if we make some cookies tomorrow, Wispy?” Wiping his hands on a tea towel, Sy bent to scoop her into his arms. “We can make some sugar cookies to decorate. I also thought I could make ya some snow crackles that you love so much.” he nudged cheek her with his nose.

“The gooey chocolate ones?” Her eyes were wide. Sy nodded. “Benny!” She turned, calling excitedly to her brother who was less than four feet away. “Uncle Sy is going to make us those crack cookies!”

“Crackle.” Sy gently corrected her with a deep laugh.

Sy's snow crackles were always a welcomed hit. Family, friends, even the post man loved the damn things. Hell if he'd had those over in the desert to hand out, the war could have been over in an hour. Or so a few of his superiors had always teased him.

“Can we make them with the candy cane?” Harley asked wiggling in his seat.

“Absolutely!” Sy agreed with a wide smile. A touch of peppermint in the cookies were the perfect Christmas treat. Even better when enjoyed with a nice cup of rum and homemade egg nog. Although he would save that for the adult parties.

“I love Christmas!” A giggling Annie exclaimed, not going unnoticed that she and Ben were enjoying the left over icing for the houses. A tube each, the two older kids were trying to be stealthy about their activities. Nice try Sy thought, they knew nothing got by their Uncle.

“My favourite holiday is my birthday.” Willow declared.

“That's not a holiday.” Ben laughed at his sister, shaking his head.

“Yes it is! It's a holiday, because it celebrates me and Uncle Sy. Right, Uncle Sy? It's a holiday?” Willow pouted at her uncle, hoping for some back up. If Uncle Sy said it was, then it was true.

“I think birthdays are kind of like holidays. We just don't get time off work or school.”

“See!” Willow stuck her tongue out at her brother Ignoring his sister, Ben had already moved on to something else.

“Okay you two, enough.” Sy let Willow down. “Let's get this mess cleaned and we can get some plans for dinner going.”

“Can we have ice cream?” Doing her best puppy dog eyes, Annie looked at her uncle.

“After we eat dinner.” Sy smiled kissing the top of her head.

“Candy cane ice cream?” Harley was hopeful. Sy had never met a kid, or anybody, who loved candy canes as much as his nephew.

“I have some candy cane. I also have chocolate and pecan. Something for everyone.”

“And grape nut for you?” Wrinkling her nose, Willow shivered in disgust. Ice cream was one of the only things she didn't agree with her Uncle on.

“Yes, grape nut for me.”

“You're such an old man.” Ben added gently tossing a candy piece at his uncle's head. Nailing Sy in the side of the cheek, Ben laughed and threw up his hands in victory.

“Oh is that how you want this?” Sy picked up a few candies, launching them back at his nephew. Nailing Ben with four our of five, Sy straightened himself up. “Still got it.”

Gingerbread construction cleaned, photos taken, Sy announced that the children were free of their ugly sweaters. Rushing upstairs to change, shouts and laughter filled the house. Sy, comfortable in his sweater, worked out the decision for dinner. Ordering pizza seemed like the clear winner and nobody would complain.

Four pizzas later, enough variety that everybody had something they liked, Sy announced it was time to settle for a bit and watch some movies. Who could resist? Pizza, as promised ice cream, and various snacks that he always had on hand for the kids. It was the perfect way to spend an evening getting over a break up.

Sprawled out around the den, the kids got comfortable. Blankets and cushions all over. Sy resting on the leather sectional, Willow curled up on his lap – of course. A bowl of candy between them and Harley, who laid stretched out. Annie and Ben occupied a bean bag each, blankets pulled up around them while the decided upon “Miracle on 34th Street” played on the screen.

Dozing on and off, Sy didn't know when it had happened, but at some point the movie had come to an end the dvd menu replaying over and over. A soft whine of his beloved shepherd is what roused him this morning. Scratching his nose and sitting up, Sy scrambled to grab Willow before she slid off of his knee. Around him the kids were asleep, the house quiet and his watch informing him it was nearly dawn.

Gently sliding Willow into his spot on the couch, Sy stood and raised his arms, joints popping and his body waking. Tiptoeing out of the den and to the kitchen, Sy opened the back door letting the dog out. Rubbing his eyes, he watched the dog zoom around, before debating coffee or going back to bed. The kids would sleep another hour or two at least, which would be nice to sleep as well. Coffee won, brewing a fresh pot Sy looked around the kitchen.

His house still, the presence of the kids not going unnoticed, it felt nice to have someone else in the house. The bodies moving and bringing merriment. A kick to the gut, really. Nina having told him that part of her leaving was because she wanted children and he didn't. He loved his nieces and nephews, but full time parenting wasn't a project he was cut out for. Sy sniffled, fuck it. Shaking his head, he grumbled under his breath. She and her notions were gone now.

Opening the back door, he let the dog in. Giving a morning scratch and cooing to his faithful friend. Coffee filled the house with a delicious aroma, Sy poured his first cup and sat at the table watching the backyard. Once this coffee was gone he would get to work on his crackle cookies, they would need to freeze before baking. Tiny, nearly silent foot steps caught his attention. Willow hummed softly as she walked, her momma always told her that it wasn't polite to sneak up on people. Especially Uncle Sy. No matter how much he loved her, sneaking up could scare him and Willow didn't want that.

Sy hated the thoughts of his family feeling like they may not be safe in his presence. But he appreciated her attempt to let him know she was awake and moving around.

“Morning Wispy.” Sy's voice was steady and quiet. Willow giggled lightly. She loved that he knew it was her, without having to look. “Come here.” Sy held out an arm. Willow rushed her last few steps. “Have a good sleep?”

“Uh huh,” she rubbed her eyes and nodded. “Morning, Uncle Sy. Did you sleep good?”

“I did,” he nodded taking a sip of his coffee and pushing out his chair. “Have a seat, Miss Henning.”

Climbing into the kitchen chair, Willow sat quietly.

“Hot chocolate?”

“Yes, please.” Willow yawned and nodded. “But no coffee, it's yuck and daddy says I'm too little.”

“Your daddy has the right idea,” Sy smiled fondly, pulling out the cocoa mix and Willow's favourite mug. A big mug with a photo of her and Sy's old dog Aika.

“Uncle Sy, are you happy that I came over and brought my brother, Harley, and Anna?”

“Of course, Wispy.”

“Good, because I think you were sad but I didn't want you to be sad. I told my momma that we would make you happy if we came over. I think I was right.” she beamed through tired eyes.

“Wspy, bug, nothing could ever make me happier than you kids.” Scooping the cocoa into the mug, pouring cold milk until the was half full to save it from getting too hot.

“Not even if you had your own kids? Do you think you'll get married and have kids? Momma said...”

“Wispy,” Sy held up a hand to stop the unintentional prying. It was too early. “I will always love you. You're my best gal, yeah? All you need to know, bug, is that I will love you forever.”

“Do you love me more than Christmas cookies?”

“Well,” pausing for effect, Sy took a beat to pretend he was thinking, “I do love Christmas cookies. But yeah, I suppose I love you more than Christmas cookies, even.”

“Good, because I love you more than Christmas cookies, birthday cake, anddd Nana's biscuits.” the little girl wiggled in her seat, giggling.

“More than Nana's biscuits? Oh boy, that is some loving.” Stirring the hot cocoa, Sy lifted the mug and placed it on the table in front of his niece. A can of whipped cream in hand, he shook it before adding more than required to the top of her mug. Sitting down, he glanced at his coffee and shrugged, the hiss of the can when he added a dollop to his coffee. “Cheers,”

“Cheers!” Willow slid her mug a few centimeters to clink it against Sy's.

[slytherinnbitch]

i'm glad you don't hate my asks, i didn't send much this days bc i was scared that you did hated them🚶

and ok i agree angst is cool BUT MY SAD PERSON LIKES THEM WHEN THERE'S A HAPPY ENDING THAT ONE JUST BROKE MY HEART BC IMAGINE HOW HARRY IT'S GOING TO FEEL WHEN (OR IF?) HE REMEMBERS EVERYTHING MAKES ME WANT TO CRY LIKE PLEASE DON'T DO THIS TO YOURSELF POTTER!!!!

by the way, i'm really curious about how do you think draco would react if he was the one that lost his memory. do you think he would be a brat like harry or he would be more calm at the idea that they're married and have a child together? i have a lot of feelings about that bc i can't get my finger around it like ughh i think he would be more calm but at the same time i think he would react worse than harry did 🤧

I NEVER TOLD YOU BUT ENGLISH IT'S NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO I'M SORRY IF I TALK HORRIBLE AND YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY (I PROBABLY MAKE A LOT OF MISTAKES, SORRY)

ok this is already too long so i'm saying my goodbyes~ (by the way, i'm glad you're having or had a good weekend, i hope you have a nice week too, you totally deserve it!) and help you make me feel special saying that you like my asks, i want to hug you and protect you from the world 🤲

Hey Darling! Firstly I have no idea how I forgot to reply to this because I read it then I thought I answered as well but apparently not.

Never ever think that any of your asks bother me. Asks are just so nice. I love them.

As for the sequel. I have gotten enough requests that I will do it. After I finish proposal part 3. Don't ask me when is that, idk. Can't really promise on a happy ending but I'll try. There sure will be angst tho. So much of it, haha.

As for the Draco forgetting about Harry. What first comes to my mind is this:

_______________________________________________

Draco wakes up with a pounding headache. He scrunches his face as the noise overwhelms him and gives him a terrible headache. He hears three gasps from beside him. As he lifts his head up and opens his eyes, he finds himself in a hospital. He racks his brain in an attempt to remember what had happened that landed him there but comes up blank.

"Draco-" someone whispers beside him and when he turns his head, it's none other than Harry fucking Potter. What the actual fuck and why does Potter look so bloody fit- not that he wasn't before but holy Merlin, this is on another level. Potter also looks older, so he frowns at him and when did he start calling Draco by his given name?

"Potter, why the fuck are you here?" That's the first thing that comes out if his mouth and now Potter is frowning at him.

"I don't know, Malfoy. What does one do when their husband lands up in the hospital after trying to save them from an unknown spell? And for future purpose, it's Malfoy-Potter now." Potter snarks back and there's no actual venom in his voice just mirth and humor.

Draco has never heard him talk like this to him before. And wait- did he just say husband? Is that supposed to mean him? And Malfoy-Potter? What the fuck is happening?

"Mate, you really scared us this time." Weasley says from his other side and Granger's sitting beside him with slight tears in her eyes?! Is he in the same universe or what? What's the joke here?

"We should call an healer," Granger replies before he can even begin to contemplate whats happening.

He remains quiet, trying to figure out what is actually going on when the Healer comes in.

"Auror Malfoy, how many more times do I need to tell you that you need not run headfirst into any situation if you see that your husband is in danger. Had you not gone to save Auror Potter then you would not have these severe injuries and Auror Potter would have been fine as well. Getting two completely different curses at the same time is very very harmful." They finish and seriously who is this? Why are they talking as if they have known Draco for a long time?

"Draco, are you quite alright?" Granger asks in a soft voice and he looks at her in disbelief. Did she forget who she is talking to?

"I would ask if you would like to get everyone outside for the examination but it's really a futile effort at this point." The Healer smiles at him and shakes their head.

"Uh, uhm actually I would like some privacy if that's not too much." Draco says and really that might not have been the best thing to say. The shocked expressions on everyone's face conveys that fantastically.

"Well then, out all of you. Even you, Auror Potter." The Healer says, the epitome of professional.

"Zia, I have asked you multiple times to call me Harry." Potter says almost absent-mindedly, like it's almost instinct at this point or something.

.

After Zia had asked their questions and Draco had told them that he doesn't remember anything about what happened. And they ask him what was the last thing he remembers and he replies that he remembers turning to the Apparation point in Diagon Alley on Christmas Eve and Zia looks at him with wide eyes.

They ask him about the year and he eyes them suspiciously before replying 2000.

"Draco, I think you have lost a fair amount of memory. It's actually May 2015 and not December 2000." Zia informs him regretfully.

"Okay. No seriously, it's okay. But why is Potter saying he is my husband and he is a Malfoy-Potter now?" Draco asks them incredulously.

"That I think you should ask Harry himself." Zia says, biting her lips in a way that can't really be pleasant.

.

When Potter and his sidekicks finally finish explaining him about the last 15 years of his life. His first response is to laugh. Apparantly, he has a child. A literal child? How did that even happen? And he has been married for the last 10 years. To Potter.

"This feels like a childhood fantasy come true, you know? Being a part of the golden trio. Líke seriously, this is something I have to believe? Who set this up? Pansy? Was it Blaise? I mean it's got to be one of those bastards." Draco finally says and laughs.

"Well, I'm sorry the three of you but really, you can go now. Sorry for wasting y'all's precious time. Please send those goons in." Draco continues. He looks at the three of them, hoping they would finally agree with him and tell him that it was a good one though and go their merry way. But Granger looks like she wants to cry and Weasley looks much the same, except he is looking shocked as well.

He turns to Potter, his apparant husband and the other father of his child, and finds him actually crying. There are tears flowing down his face almost constantly and all Draco wants to do is reach out and-

No, that's not what he wants. He feels his heart clench but why? This is afterall a joke.

Right?

_______________________________________________

Okay this was totally unplanned. I just had the childhood fantasy line in my mind and well, this is the result. Hope this answers your question? And sorry, I got carried away. It happens at times. (I was supposed to be writing today's drabble but I wrote this instead)

Your English is just fine! Infact, English isn't really my first language as well. Like it was what I first started learning in school but I spoke another language before. Like my mother tongue is something else and my first language is English if that makes sense? So you're just fine, no worries!

Hope you like small scene! Love you <3

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

i saw you liked kataang and was wondering if you have any fic recs? there seems to be such a lack of kataang fics in the world!

lmao oh do i!! i've been through the entire kataang tag on ao3 over the past month and a half i gotchu (although this list is nowhere near comprehensive; it's mostly just taken from my bookmarks 😂)

spicy (but rated T)

Insinuations by kuchi

Katara and Aang come across some ridiculous insinuations about their relationship in a tabloid.

Public Display of Affection by NerdChild644461217

She was torturous. A beautiful, dark-skinned water witch, and she had him completely under her spell. Aang decided a long time ago he was okay with that.

Fire Burns and Fire Warms by LightSage89

Katara is curious about Firebending. Who better to satisfy her curiosity than the only Firebender she trusts?

Desire and Will by The_Clockwork_Monk

With Aang still having trouble letting loose with his firebending, Zuko asks an alarming question:

"Have you ever kissed a girl?"

kataang family

Voices of Power by itsmoonpeaches

His mother let out another breath. “Please clean up and get ready, you two,” she added. “I can help you with your hair, Kya. Just come to the bedroom when you and your brother have put on the clothes I’ve laid out for you. Bumi will help you with your shoes.” She turned and walked through the gateway, intent on doing what she needed to do.

“Okay, mom!” shouted Kya.

Or, on the 20th anniversary of the end of the Hundred Year War, Bumi realizes just what his dad being the Avatar means.

Oral Traditions by itsmoonpeaches

“Are we gonna meet your family too, dad?” queried Bumi innocently. His pale blue eyes were wide.

“Yeah, daddy!” echoed Kya with a great yawn.

“You did meet my family,” Aang stated carefully. His back remained toward them as he gripped the reins atop Appa’s head. “You and your mother are my family. Your Gramp Gramp, Sokka, Toph, Zuko, Suki, Mai…they’re my family.”

Bumi tilted his head. “No, they’re not,” he maintained.

Or, Aang and Katara bring their children to the second annual Glacier Spirits Festival in over one-hundred years.

Not The Last by binkabonkahankeydoo

And then she's crying too, her arms around them both, and he's so, so grateful for the little family that they'd created together, and the love that they'd found in each other.

heightened senses by peroxideprncss

in which Toph Beifong reveals a secret that nobody knew they were keeping

angst and hurt/comfort

The Warmth of Memory by purplecrescent

While Katara shaves him, Aang reflects on his childhood in the Southern Air Temple and the things that tether him back. In other words, time is an illusion.

Three Times by Silver Thunder

They happen to have kissed three times - but he's still just 'someone', and not a boyfriend.

To Take With Him by Roselightfairy

The kiss from the Day of Black Sun, in Aang's perspective.

Lightning by Roselightfairy

The fight in Crossroads of Destiny, from Katara's point of view. "Katara's hand leapt to her mouth and she prayed, prayed to whomever might be listening that he could deflect it, that he could defend himself, that he wouldn't get hurt – " In which Aang is struck by lightning.

Unbendable by cloudymagnolia

The human body doesn't stop functioning just because it's in a coma. A look at all that Katara went through to care for Aang, after the fall of Ba Sing Se.

Not Just an Airbender by The_Clockwork_Monk

Days before Sozin's Comet, Katara tries to reassure Aang about the task he now faces, and he tries to explain to her why he feels he can't go through with it.

The Price of Mastery by Stonehill

“I've always been taught,” she begins, voice slow and tired, “that water was life. Waterbending was a way to interact with our environment and bodies in a way that healed and created. Now it feels like death.”

In her infatuation with her craft, with her identity as a Waterbender, she’d forgotten that the ocean is a terrible presence full of storms and monsters; a volatile presence that, once it’s grasped hold of you, might never let you go.

Now she, too, has become one of those monsters of the deep.

you cut through all the noise by wanderinghooves

A year is such an excruciatingly long time.

Aang is sent abroad for a year of diplomacy while Katara helps to rebuild at home. Distance makes the heart grow lonely.

love is just a word (you give it meaning) by thriftedstars

He's falling and she's riding the wave, falling, falling, falling, and then he's in her arms and Spirits, he's so small. So small and burnt and quiet and still, and so, so young. His eyes are closed, his mouth gaping wide, and when she gives him the gentlest of shakes his head just flops, and she feels sick to her stomach because no, no, not Aang, not Aang.

or, a look into katara's thoughts immediately after aang is shot by azula.

Own Worst Enemy by ADCurtis

When Katara is… damaged – caught in the crossfires of men, spirits and the Avatar – Aang is forced to leave her. A choice made to protect her from their most terrifying foe – the monster within himself.

drabbles

Snapshots by RMarie124

This is all for Kataang week 2020, but finished a week late. A small collection of short drabbles that take place pre-, during-, and post-canon.

fluff/soft/humor

Staring by BetterThanCoffee

Katara finds Aang distracting. Post-The Blind Bandit

Can I Kiss You? by Marie

He’s smiling at her and she can’t help but smile back, the corner of her mouth quirking. She continues to stand, her fingers now worrying at the end of her still damp braid and she can see the confused tilt of his eyebrows as he stares at her.

These Moments by portable_tragedy

Aang waited a hundred years for his favorite worldly tether. This is their life. Vignettes. Fluff.

Overheard in Ba Sing Se by cloudymagnolia

At Zuko's seventeenth birthday party, Zuko dances with Katara, and Aang overhears some malicious gossip. The only thing that could make the evening worse for him? Toph trying to be comforting.

general recs

literally anything by itsmoonpeaches

Aang/Katara Missing Scenes by The_Clockwork_Monk

Kataang Raid by LightSage89

again this is not a comprehensive list!! especially bc there's so many good fics i read and then don't bookmark bc im just really bad. at remembering bookmarks exist for some reason. basically. if anyone else has some kataang recs, feel free to add on!! also i encourage y'all to rb this bc all these links mean this post probably won't show up in the tags 😂

[juhakn]

"Tell me what you wanna do in this covid-19."

Warnings! : Explicit language, a brief mention of alcohol

Words count: 682

Description: lol y'all must have thought it was something more intense. Nah, it's just plain old covid 19. Also, we're having another lockdown so yeah. I have lots of free time but I also have finals.

A drabble.

______

"What do you want to do?" Moonbin asks as his eyes rest on the screen. Crash Landing On You is playing, and it's a must to watch it without pausing, glancing at something else for even 0.0001 sec and that's also why he's prepared popcorn, other snacks (chips, cookies, etc), water and a bottle of a soda. Also, lots of pillows to throw and punch and to cry on with fluffy blankets.

He couldn't miss a single tea or it'll spill and stain.

"We've been stuck here for months." Your answer. Not for his question, he should've known better. The two of you were together when the lockdown was announced, you couldn't be any surprised — and happier. The government should've done it earlier but they probably think it's bad for the economy which is true by the way.

"We just went out." He says, stuffing chips onto his mouth. He looks like a squirrel for some reason and you have the desire to squish those beautiful cheeks of his and just kiss them. Because you love them — so much. You would do anything for his cheeks except, food.

"Yeah, but it was for 'groceries'!" You remember the time you both went out just to get doughnuts and you lied to the police officers saying you went out for groceries when it was literally because both of you were craving for some sugar.

"Shut up, you love it when we do stupid things." He scoffs and laughs at the end. He loves it too anyways.

He loves it when the both of you sneaks out when you were still (stupid immature) teenagers, afraid of getting caught by parents but still does it anyway somehow. He loves it when you were scared to ride his bike at night when you two sneaked out but in the end, you grew to it anyways. It was like a routine, and it still is.

Yeah, he used to wear leather jackets while riding his bike with black skinny jeans and converse. You wonder how the emo boy changed to a sweet casual guy. It's as if he's a new person, but you know he's just Moonbin who grew up and is now mature.

He loves it when you both lied to your parents about not going to a party but somehow ended up with you two getting scolded because you made out in the front porch after the party and you smelled like alcohol. After that night, you swore to never touch any alcoholic drinks ever again as you couldn't keep up with the burning sensation in your throat when the drink slips their way in. It felt as if they were slitting your throat.

He loves doing stupid shit with you. Fuck, he's in love with you so bad it makes him go all crazy over you.

And you love it when he tiptoed to your room at night when his family were staying in and the two of you cuddled for the night, whispering cute things, talking about the future and just held each other under the moonlight.

You love it when he kisses you softly and slowly. He's a gentleman, always asks for your permission even if you always remind him that it's okay because he can kiss you anytime he likes — not like you're complaining. You love it when his soft lips or his slightly chapped lips connect with yours, your cheeks would bloom whenever he does it. It sends you dizzy and hazy, you felt joyous, with him.

It was a great memory to look at.

He's the home you've been looking in your life and you're not planning to let go. You hope this lasts forever. You hope someday you two would say vows to each other and kiss while the crowd cheers for your relationship and have kids. Someday, Moonbin. His presence is enough for you. And you hope he feels the same too. You know he feels the same.

"I love doing stupid things with you, Moonbin."

[wittyrosebush]

The Afterparty

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Summary: After one of Tony Stark's parties, you need to recharge your social battery. Luckily, you don't have to be alone to do that.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Fluff, lil bit of angst, mentions of anxiety, depression, & panic attacks

Word Count: 686

Date Posted: 10/3/2020

A/N: Hey y'all! This is my first drabble so please give me some constructive criticism if you can. Also, if you have a request for mw to write please let me know!

This Stark party was no different than the rest. You met with a few celebrities, exchanged autographs, watched people get drunk off of the expensive liquor, and felt alone despite so many people.

Luckily, your boyfriend of 5 months, Steve, stayed by your side the entire time. Whenever you felt your anxiety start to rise in your chest you would hold his hand and he would rub his thumb along your knuckles as you tried to avoid strangers eyes.

Even though you hated these parties, you were told to attend because it would make the Avengers look better. "You know there are other ways to look good without it being a party," you said under your breath once the decision was made.

"I'll be with you the whole time, doll," Steve whispered as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You sighed, the memory had distracted you from the loud gossip between people who barely knew you and you were removed from the quiet bliss of your mind by a familiar hand being placed on your back. "Are you ok?" Steve asked.

You softly shook your head and Steve instinctively kissed your cheek and squeezed your hand. "Do you want to go up to our room?" You gave a small nod as you both started moving towards the elevator.

Once inside the cramped space, Steve cupped your face. You moved your eyes from the floor to his face and gave him a tired smile. His eyebrows were furrowed in a way that made you melt because you knew from the worried expression that he cared.

Up until that moment you had felt like you were alone despite so many people. Now you felt like the whole world because of the man in front of you.

You were just about to say something before the elevator doors had opened. Steve walked you down to your shared room. He opened the door for you and you immediately went in the direction of your bedroom.

While you were removing your make-up, Steve was getting you a glass of water and a small bowl of your favorite snack. When he returned he saw you in a tank top and pajama bottoms slowly getting under the covers. He jogged over to your nightstand and quietly put down what he had brought for you.

The male hurriedly took of his formal attire and changed into a pair of sweatpants. Carefully getting under the covers, Steve was immediately wrapped in your arms as you let out a shaky breath.

Laying your head in the crook of his neck, you let your eyes close as you felt him run his fingers up and down your back. You caught a scent of cedarwood and nutmeg, recognizing his cologne. "How are you feeling?"

Steve was surprised to hear you ask him. "I'm felling okay, how are you feeling, sweetheart?" After all, how could he feel good when his best girl isn't?

"We don't have anything going on tomorrow right?" You ignored his question, making him sigh. At the shake of his head you hummed in acknowledgment.

"Do you want to stay in tomorrow? We can watch a movie and sleep in," Steve suggested, knowing where this was going. Nodding your head, he hummed which made you look up at him. "Did you not want to stay in?" you asked nervously.

Steve's mouth quirked into a smile, "Why would I ever want to leave the love of my life?" You felt your face heat up. Even after a month you still got flustered when he said things like that.

"I love you," you whispered before connecting your lips to his. He kissed you back, softly yet with all the passion and love he felt for you.

After a minute you both pulled away, your faces displaying a wide grin like a pair of teenagers. Your head returned to the crook of his neck, a smile not leaving your face as he said, "I love you, too."

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Issues (Carter Baizen x You)

Characters: Carter Baizen x Fem! Reader.

Summary: You've seen it on the news. Carter Baizen and a woman who can make your insecurities go wild. Serena Van der Woodsen kissing the love of your life.

Prompt: "I want to help you through this, I really do, just not as your girlfriend.", "Please, just stay a little longer.", "Why won't you admit it?!", "When she told you to leave, you should have stayed." (Forgot where I got this from, but I think its from Tumblr)

Warning: Mention of ya'no but no ya'no? Do ya get me? Heehee! 😂 Sad reader and Carter. ANGST!

Words: 1,600+ (This was supposed to only be a drabble but what happened. Damn it.

A/N: THIS IS MY FIRST ONE SHOT OF CARTER. PLEASE BE GOOD TO ME. I HAVE NO IDEA ABOUT THE PLOT OF GOSSIP GIRL. I'VE JUST WATCHED SCENES WHERE SEB IS IN IT AND I TRIED TO KNOW HIS BACKGROUND BY ASKING MY FRIEND. I'M NO CARTER BAIZEN EXPERT. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE TYPOS AND GRAMMATICAL ERRORS. I'M CURRENTLY SICK WHILE WRITING THIS AND I DECIDED TO UPDATE SO Y'ALL KNOW I'M ALIVE AND KICKING. HEEHEE!

LIKE, COMMENT AND REBLOG PLEASE, TATER TOTS? 

Disclaimer: GIF'S and pictures used are not mine. Only the edits are and the oneshot of course. 😉 Credits to the owners of the GIFS and pictures.

Oneshot taglists: @anxiousamandapanda​

You've heard the news. It was on the internet and even spread by Gossip Girl itself. People of Manhattan knew you were his girlfriend. The accused gold-digger, garbage collector of some rich woman's trash that you gladly accepted because you were more of a trash than Carter Baizen in the flesh.

You huffed, trying to ignore the way his eyes were pale waves of the ocean that meant that tears were threatening to fall as you finally bursted his happy bubble.

"I want to help you through this, I really do, just not as your girlfriend." You mumbled, clicking your tongue out of habit. You could feel his gloomy, piercing blue eyes staring right through you. Begging for you not to leave his miserable, pathetic, complicated ass.

"No," Carter pleaded, his voice turning smaller like you were slowly killing him. You were. On the inside. "Please don't do this," He repeated over and over again, wanting nothing more than to fall down on his knees and keep his arms around your knees, praying to the heavens that you wouldn't leave him. "Please, just stay a little longer."

Your eyes were stinging for it to leave tears from your eyes. But, you didn't want to cry. No. You didn't want to cry for Carter. Despite of how you gave the only thing that you could give. Your heart. "Do you really love me?" You spat, staring straight into his puffy, reddish Steele blue eyes that looked nothing but hurt. "Or is it still Serena?"

The question made him shake his head furiously, he knew how insecure you were with the famous, rich, gorgeous, meticulous Serena Van der Woodsen.

Well, who were you anyways? You were just a mere human who works as a waitress in a restaurant in which you happen to meet Carter Baizen who was dating Serena back then.

"Y/N--" He started, his eyes pricking tears that were threatening to fall any minute now. "Why won't you admit it?!" You shouted, completely hopeless and wanted nothing more than to erase the fresh memories of Carter kissing Serena in a field full of trees.

"It's you! It's been you all along, Y/N!" Carter answered back with the same intensity. Though his eyes tell different. Carter didn't want to lose you, however he fucked up. He knew he fucked up and because of it he knows what consequences will be charged from his stupidity. "You know I love you,"

"Wow," You faked a laugh. Those laugh of yours was full of pain and betrayal. Carter had never seen you laugh so hostile and he wanted nothing more than to bring back the time and push Serena out of his way. "I've never heard that in months, Baizen."

"--When she told you to leave, you should have stayed." You muttered nonchalantly, voice all monotone and swerving his eyes as you stare at the parked car beside you. Your next words adding salt to the wounds he created. "So, you wouldn't have used somebody else's heart for the sake of your happiness,"

Traitors. Your tears were your best traitors because it fell before you could even know it. Carter tried to reach out for you, he planned to wipe away those tears that he happened to make. Though, all his plans were wasted when you pushed his hands away with fury. Spitting your next words like it was vile. "That is if you were even happy with me!"

Your tears were left to dry from the city's polluted air and Carter can do nothing but stare at how his girl was breaking because of his doing. It was all his fault. Everything was. "--Because you've meant the world to me, Carter." Your voice began to helplessly crack and Carter could only stare back at you with his bloodshot eyes. Everything you were saying was giving him pain because seeing you burst and cry in front of him was the last thing he wanted to see.

Yet, you still did and it was because of his mistakes.

It was like your hands have a mind of its own when it automatically lifted halfway through to wipe the subtle tears that fell on the sides of Carter's eyes. Though, he was quick to harshly wash it away with the back of his hands. Not wanting to let you see how bad you were breaking him but he was too late.

You choked in your own tears, as you stuttered. The undeniably painful truth was hurting you the most. "I-Is it because I'm not those high-socialites you've hanged out with?"

After a blink, another tear came flowing down your face. You were lucky you didn't use any mascara because if you did, you probably looked horrible as hell as of the moment. It was like your tongue felt numb, some kind of bane that poisoned your tongue from saying the next painful, distressing truth. "Or is it because I wasn't as beautiful as Serena or Blaire?"

From the moment you said those words, Carter was quick to grab your face with his soft palms, his Steele blue eyes completely broken in despair. Desperate to wash away those horrible thoughts that was haunting your self-confidence or yourself.

"D-Don't say that!" He pleaded, tenderly wiping your tears away with his thumbs. You gave in and let him hold you like you were fragile. You just missed how he cradled you when you were feeling down. The look in your eyes made him desperately scan your face. You bit your lip, attempting to stop the tears from falling but that just made it fall even more. "I-I know I am not the slightest ideal woman that you've ever wanted, Car." You paused, sniffing. "I have never been," You choked, voice cracking and sounding hoarse from the cries. "And the only useful thing that I could do was to love you unconditionally,"

Carter have desperately grabbed onto you, wrapping his desperate arms around you and constantly giving your forehead a lot of desperate kisses which came with his pleads. "No, no, no," His voice cracked as he sobbed through his beseeching. "I love you, Y/N."

"--I love you very much,"

He hugged you tight. So tight that you were wondering how you were able to breath. You could faintly smell the masculine, spicy scent of his cologne that you loved that was always trapped in your sheets whenever he came over to spend the night. Though, you might need to not get used it anymore.

"No,no,no.." Carter pleaded for the hundredth time, hastily grabbing your face and melting into his gorgeous, watery, Steel blue eyes. "Don't go. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It was all a misunderstanding! You got it all wrong--"

You blinked, hopelessly staring back into his eyes. Completely disappointed and broken. "I know what I saw, Carter! I'm poor, uneducated but not entirely stupid!" On a weak attempt, you grabbed onto his hands. Unclasping his hands as he dropped it on either side of him defeatedly.

Carter wanted nothing more than to keep you in his arms. His faithless eyes pierced into your pained heart, snapping the melancholy state of Carter Baizen, saving it inside the memories that you've been keeping to remember it forever.

"Good bye, Carter Baizen." You spun on your heels, another set of tears falling from the sides of your eyes like Niagara falls. Your next words seeming quieter as it cracked for the tenth time.

"I hope it hurts to think of me,"

Y/N hoped at the back of her mind. Wanting nothing more than for Carter Baizen to cry in his sleep. As he tries to remember how precious and important she ever was in his complicated life.

"What am I going to do without you?" Carter whispered, his breath hitting your ear. The both of you were cuddled in his king sized bed, his warmth was enveloping you in a hug. Not that he wasn't being the big spoon and you were the little spoon. You shivered as his fingers cascaded from your arms towards your back. The coldness of his rings was comforting you in a way that can make your heart beat pump so hard, knowing that only one touch can make you feel like you were in cloud 9. It was definitely the Baizen effect that only he can give.

You laughed ever so tiredly from your previous toing and froing beneath the sheets. "Probably crash and burn?"

"I bet cha', Baby." Carter chuckled, lifting his head to lightly kiss your naked shoulder.

Crash and burn. Well, the same goes for you if it was the other way around.

HOW ANGSTY DO Y’ALL WANT IT? HEEHEE! FOLLOW MY BLOG! REBLOG AND COMMENT IF Y’ALL LOVED THIS! SEND ME AN ASK OR DM ME IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED BY ALL OF MY WORKS! 

[galaxysgal]

Fanfic asks: #1, #7, #13, #22, #24, #29, #35, #47, #48 :))) I love your writing

omg anon tysm 💕💞💖💕❤💗💗💞💕

1. What was the first fandom you got involved in? Well the first fandomy things I read were Harry Potter and then pjo/hoo stuff, but then I didnt really get involved in a fandom until I became obsessed with Dear Evan Hansen and Newsies, and, well, now I'm here!

7. List your NOTPs from each fandom you've been in.

Harry Potter: Harry/Ron

Pjo/hoo/all that: Percy/literally anyone other than Annabeth. They're my babies and I love them. I'm sure there are others but its been so long since I read those lol

Hamilton: literally everything that isnt "canon" bc its history and I'm a history nerd, so I just can't ship that stuff

Dear Evan Hansen: I'm not super opposed to it, but I just dont really ship Alana with anyone, I hc that she's on the ace/aro spectrum

Newsies: I dont hate them, but I'm not a fan of Jack/Spot, Race/Jack and Race/Kath... Tbh I'm pretty plain and boring for newsies, I stick mostly with the more common pairings, with a few rarepairs (unrelated but hhhh do y'all remember when ralbert was a rarepair ahbsnaj my baby boys theyve grown so much

Supernatural: Sam/Dean. Its literally incest y'all are fucking insane. No apologies. Also Cas/Meg bc Twist and Shout traumatized me.

Marvel: STONY!!! Idk why y'all, i just do. not. ship it. But I can see where people are coming from so I guess its not exactly a NOTP... Anyway others are thor/loki, thor/valkyrie tony/rhodey, thats about it

Star wars: r*ylo. luke×leia. kylo×anyone. I'm pretty sure anything else is fair game tbh, its space and everyone is queer, let them have their fun

Psych: Shawn/Gus, Shawn/Lassiter, Lassiter/Juliet. Yes, I hc Shawn as bi, but that doesnt mean I ship him w/ any of the guys in the show... Shawn and Juliet are soulmates. Period.

13. Any NoTPs? Anon, sweet baby ily, you either picked random numbers or accidentally said both of these... Either way its the thought that counts babe <3

22. Is there anything you regret writing? Ugh yes I had this Stucky fic where Steve was a tiny asthmatic dude just living his life and Bucky was the strong one armed contractor that was fixing his deck and there was super weird sexual tension and it was badly written. I have since deleted it from ao3, my fic doc, and my memory. It lives on within the depths of the mind of my bestie/beta reader/editor/confidant/number one supporter @thelazyhero-ttums who read it and was the one who made me realize how terrible it was. It was a rude awakening but im glad I had it bc it made me the writer I am today lmao

24. What fic do you desperately need to rewrite or edit? Hshsjajs RIGHT AND RECONCILIATION!!! Right and Reconciliation are the first two newsies fics I ever wrote. The plot is solid and could be great if I just rewrote it... My aforementioned bestie is the leader (and sole member) of the Rewrite Right and Reconciliation crusade but tbh I don't think ill ever rewrite them unless theres a college assignment thats like Rewrite Something You Wrote In Middle School Even Though You Hate It

29. Do you have a beta reader? Why/Why not? I don't have an official beta reader, but between running things by @natthemess, my bestie from before, my friend missa, usually about 80% of every fic I post has been read before I post it bc I thrive on,the validation of my friends

35. Do you write drabbles? If so, what do you normally write them about? Okay so by technical definition a drabble is 100 words or less, but I consider everything under like 750 to be a drabble, so by those rules yes I write drabbles. I actually have a series of Assorted Newsies Drabbles on my ao3, and I mostly write them about fluffy stuff, a lot of soft cuddly morning fics, little projections of things I'm feeling if ive had a particularly bad day/strong emotion stuff like that

47. Archive, fanfic.net or Tumblr: which do you prefer to post and why? Archive and Tumblr. Archive bc its the Superior Fanfic Site, and tumblr bc I feel like it boosts my platform. Also yes, I shamelessly linked my ao3 up there in the question, check it out if you like :P

48. Do you leave reviews when you read fanfiction? Why? Yes. Yes! YES!!! Why, you ask? Because I am an author and I know how it feels to have 600 hits, 100 odd kudos and 12 comments (including your own replies to comments.) It just hurts a lot knowing literally only 1% of people took the time to comment. Literally all it takes is a "I loved this! Great writing!!" Or a "HAHAJSHAJJSHS BABIE,BABIES BABIEST ILY" that shit makes my day.

[copper-wasp]

Even a Devil May Drabble - Vergil & Reader

**New Series!**

Title: Wind and Rain

Rating: G

Words: 1,070

Ugh, Fucking Vergil. I blame @xalmasyx @tehrevving @blindedstarlight @ofburisms 

This is pure fluff <3

You pulled on a set of rubber gloves, scowling at the mountain of dishes Dante had left you to do. He finally brought down the ones he had been hoarding in his room, so many that there was no longer any open counter space, so they had to be washed.

You filled the sink with hot, soapy water, and with a sigh, began to scrub. This wasn’t technically your job, but your Type A kept showing, brain forcing you to clean for him even though he was a grown ass man.

After a few minutes, you absently began to sing, an old song that your mother would sing to you if you couldn’t fall asleep, or woke up from a nightmare. It was about a sailor and his wife, bidding each other goodbye as he left, only for his ship to be sunk in a storm, leaving his wife heartbroken, but hopeful that they will meet again in the afterlife. Perhaps not the best song for a six year old child, but it still calmed you down even now, when the occasional nightmare would rear its ugly head.

“It was in a gale the ship set sail, His love was standing by; She watched the vessel out of sight, And the tears bedimmed her eye,” you sang softly, volume not much louder than the running water, gently setting the mismatched glasses on the drying rack.

“She prayed to him and heaven above, To guide him on his way; And all the parting words that night, Still echoed round the bay....

Farewell, farewell my own true love, This grief it makes me sore....” A baritone voice joined you on the second line of the chorus, and you dropped a glass into the filled sink with a thunk, soapy water splashing onto your face.

Whipping around, you saw Vergil, mug in hand as he went to fill it with coffee. You looked at him in disbelief, using your shoulder to wipe the suds off of your cheek.

“Do you...know that song?” you asked, incredulous.

“One would assume, since I was singing along with you,” he replied with a smirk, bringing the mug to his lips.

You tried to hide your smile. “Ah, yes, that would make sense,” you replied sheepishly, turning back to the sink.

Digging around, you located the dropped glass, checking it for cracks, and when there weren’t any, rinsed it off and placed it to dry with the others.

Well, you thought, grabbing some plates next, that’s half of them.

“You can keep singing, if you’d like,” you heard him say behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you watched as he took a seat at the kitchen table, cracking open a dusty old book to read. He met your eyes with an intense gaze, and you quickly looked away, embarrassment flooding your face.

“You’re sure I won’t be disturbing you?”

“Not at all. I do I hope you don’t mind if I make it a duet.”

You smiled at Vergil, appreciating this strange turn to the softer side. “Not at all,” you echoed, scrubbing at some congealed substance on a plate. “I’ll start at the chorus, then?”

“Very well,” you heard him say softly over your shoulder.

“Farewell, farewell my own true love, This grief it makes me sore; And you will be my guiding light, Till I return once more.

My thoughts will be of you my love, When the storm is raging high; So farewell, farewell, remember me, My faithful sailor boy, my faithful sailor boy....”

He let you sing the last line yourself, another repeat of “My faithful sailor boy.”

You didn’t want to look at him, fearful that this kind illusion would break if you made eye contact again. He didn’t give you a choice, as he came up to stand next to you, pulling dishes out of the strainer to dry with a towel.

“It seems you still have some dishes to do, I suppose we should sing another to make the chore seem less arduous,” he commented, and you bravely turned to look at him, trying to keep you mouth from hanging open in disbelief.

He looked down at you with an amused expression, but didn’t say anything.

“Any ideas?” you finally asked, still not quite over his behavior. You weren’t complaining, though, it was better than the sarcasm and silence that you usually got when trying to talk to Dante’s twin.

“Do you know ‘Wind and Rain?’” he asked, opening a cabinet to put the dried glasses into.

“Oh, you mean the one about the older sister who murders her younger sister by pushing her into a river, and then various bones of hers are taken by a questionable musician who turns them into a fiddle that only plays ‘Wind and Rain?’....That ‘Wind and Rain?’”

Vergil stopped in mid-glass-raise, turning his head to gawk at you. You smiled brightly at him, and he cleared his throat to try to hide the smallest little laugh.

“So you are aware of the tune, then,” he replied softly. You barked out a laugh, accidentally bumping your shoulder against his arm. You muttered an apology, but he just looked at you with that amused expression again, like he was studying you, trying to figure you out as much as you were trying to figure him out.

You turned your head to focus on the remaining dishes as Vergil began to sing. Your hands came to a stop after only a moment, though, because he was singing the song in Gaelic.

You sucked in a harsh breath, turning to watch him as he sang. When you failed to sing your part, he trailed off until there was only silence between you.

“Is something wrong?” he asked softly, placing the towel down on the countertop.

“I haven’t heard anyone sing to me in Gaelic since my grandmother died,” you admitted, looking away shyly. “It just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

You felt his hand on your shoulder, tentative and light, and you flushed, still not able to look at him.

“I hope,” he began, voice nary above a whisper, “it evokes good memories of her.” He removed his hand, leaving a pleasant warmth, and began to sing again from the beginning.

You chimed in with your part, in English, finishing up the mountain of dishes and feeling just a little bit closer to Dante’s opposite.

Thank you for reading!!

The songs described are:

Kate Rusby - Farewell Julie Fowlis & Eddi Reader - Wind and Rain [The song is based off of the folk tale of The Twa Sisters, and there's about a billion different iterations of songs of their story, I just prefer this one. Gotta love murder ballads, y'all.]

Find me on:

AO3: copper_wasp

Twitter: copper_wasp_

[har-rison-s]

apology

freddie x oc from “inner problems” series

A/N: Hi. People have requested for more June content, so here y'all go. I'd honestly like to write out every aspect of June and Roger's story, but of course, can I write more? Not really :D, but I can try. There are more parts coming, and they're all in complete disorder. I write them when my inspo comes, and now I want to write this part. Perhaps I'll post them in correct order, I'll try. This one's after all the previous parts, including the drabble (that's the last one before this), and let's pretend that Queen (in the movie) started rehearsing for Live Aid a month before hand, it's fiction, darlings. It's still my birthday now, hehe. Hope you like this. Happy reading!

warnings: None.

disclaimer: in no way do i condone and romanticise insomnia or anger issues/behavior problems. lord knows i suffer enough from them to know that i don't wish them on anyone, nor to make them “cool”.

series masterlist

main masterlist

borhap masterlist

borhap!roger masterlist

Many tears spilled and nights spent thinking how unfair anything can be, June and Roger had somehow accepted the fact that their dear Freddie would pass away soon. They both were much more quiet at home, most times, and when they weren't—it was because of the kids or Roger playing the drums in his music room. He was practicing for Live Aid, perhaps the most incredible music performance there could be. It's due in a week, and Roger's quite stressed. June can feel it, and so she lets him be most of the time, if he doesn't pay attention to her first thing in the morning.

It breaks her to see him like this. Sulking, not talking, only playing the drums or making food for all of them. He's broken, and so is June. She can't believe that Freddie's got an unfair sickness that's affecting his voice. It's just too bad. Seems like there would be no better days ahead of them.

One day June walked in on Roger and their son William playing drums together and almost burst into tears that exact second. It was a pleasant surprise, and she couldn't stop smiling while making dinner.

Currently, June's sitting at home all alone—Roger's out with Brian and Deaky, the kids are at school, so she's got the house to herself. June sits on their living room sofa, knitting a sweater for Roger and watching the telly. It's the middle of summer, but since she's bored and has got time on her hands, she decided to make him a Christmas present earlier than usual. She's already planned gifts for the kids, as well, so they're on their way after Roger's sweater.

What surprises her is a knock at the door. June furrows her eyebrows and looks at the telly, considering it maybe a noise from the program, since she'd zoned out a little. It wasn't, and the knock repeats, only twice as long. She throws down the unfinished sweater and stands up from the sofa. Her bare legs move against their soft carpeted floor as she walks towards the entrance door through the corridor. 

June wants a double surprise, so she doesn't look into the door eye to see who it is. She instead locks the door open and swings it wide. June gasps. No other than Freddie Mercury is standing on her porch, he's wearing a leather jacket, light blue pants and a striped shirt. His signature moustache is probably freshly shaved, his hair pushed back with gel, but his face is a little... Strange. A mix between sadness and sickness. 

Memories of him at the studio, with and without Paul, flood her mind, including that horrible day when she and Roger had to leave the studio to end the day without a fight. June also immediately remembers about Freddie being sick. Everything she knows about Freddie, and everything she remembers about him, comes back to her.

“F-Freddie.” She says and gulps down any tears that have threatened to come up and join the party. Freddie looks deeply into her eyes, capturing her soft orbs with his confident gaze. But he still looks a little sad.

“June.” He says finally. She can hear that his voice sounds different. Perhaps he's now caught a cold? Freddie shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants just as Rose leans against her door frame. “I know... I know that I'm the last person you'd expect to see.” June listens to him, waiting to explain what he's doing here. “But... I thought I'd visit you.”

June offers Freddie a smile and notices a slump of relief in his posture as Freddie sighs quietly. “Sure, come in.” She says and steps to the side to let him walk in. Freddie—a little hesitantly—steps into the Taylors' home and his lip twitches in a sort of smile at June. Her smile stays. “Would you like tea?” She asks after closing the door and locking it once, just to be safe. Freddie walks through the hallway, looking at all the drawings, photos and paintings hung upon it, glancing into them curiously. June's question takes his attention back to her.

“Y-Yeah, alright.” He stutters a little, and nods. June gives a nod in response and hurries into the kitchen. While she prepares water and cups for their tea, Freddie speaks to her from the hallway. “I don't think I've ever been here, at least not consciously.” He admits and June chuckles. “These are so beautiful.” He points out, and June thinks “he probably means everything that's on the walls.” She's not wrong.

“Well, you were invited on several occasions.” She says to him from the kitchen, after a short while. She's busy making them tea. “You just never showed up.” June admits, bringing the kettle and two cups, as well as the sugar bowl, into the living room, all placed upon a small plastic tray. Freddie reaches out to help her settle the tray on the coffee table. She gives him a nervous glance, but lets him help.

“I'm sorry about that.” Freddie responds. They both sit down on the sofa and June sighs. “I've missed countless birthdays and pregnancies—are the misfits upstairs?”

June shakes her head. “They're at school. William's second year and Lilly's first.” She responds, and looks at Freddie properly. He's shaken by anxiety, she can tell by the way he's sitting and looking at his hands, as well as around the room, from time to time. 

“I'm sorry about being an arsehole.” Freddie says, now looking into June's eyes strongly. His mere sincerity and visible regret brings a tear into June's eye. “I've been horrible to you, and the lads. I regret ever picking on you, and I must apologise on Paul's part, as well, since...”

“I saw the absurd interview he gave on the telly.” June says, and they both nod. June sighs quietly after she and Freddie exchange knowing looks. “I guess that's partly the reason why you're here.” She says and Freddie raises his eyebrows slightly, nodding.

“Mary made me see all that was wrong.” He responds. “And that made me regret a lot of things.” 

June nods, and after a while of reminiscing and thinking—while Freddie watches her—she speaks. “I accept your apology, Fred.” She says and looks at him. “I knew and I saw that... you were not in your right mind, not in your own mind at all, actually. I'm glad you're out of that state now.”

Freddie nods and reaches out to hold June's hand, and she lets him, her soft skin touching Freddie's rougher fingers. Freddie caresses the top of her hand and sighs out. 

“Freddie, I know you're sick.” June says and her voice cracks. Freddie raises his head at her and furrows his eyebrows. “Roger told me, if you're wondering.”

“Is that why you're accepting my apology?” He asks, starting to draw his hand from June's, but she holds on tighter, not about to let him slip away.

“No, Freddie.” She says, offense very visible on her features. “No. I...” June trails off, but realises that Freddie will probably stay with the wrong message in his mind, and draws away from him, turning her side to Freddie, her knees up to her chest. “Never you mind.” She says and sighs, running a hand through her hair. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I didn't mean—“

“No, Freddie, I didn't mean it.” June responds. “I explained why I accept your apology, and if you still think that pity is the reason why, then...” She sighs. “I don't know.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Freddie says. “Not your fault, I just got a little angry.” He says and offers June an apologetic smile. She looks at him for a moment, but then breaks down her facade and smiles, as well. Freddie notices her eyes look glossy and reaches back to her right hand, and holds it between his own hands. “How are you?”

“Fine, Freddie, just fine.” She says. “Sad, of course, and angry, but William and Lilly help keep me happy. As well as Roger.” She admits and glances at Freddie. “How are you, Freddie? Oh, and, I haven't told anyone about you being sick.” She buts in before Freddie can answer, and he nods.

“Alright, darling.” He says and chuckles. “Well, I'm good, better. If it's possible, I'm enjoying every day even more than before.” Freddie admits and June smiles. “I appreciate more of every day. And the people around me.” He pats June's hand and she smiles. “That's why I came here. You're one of the brightest stars I know.” Freddie winks at her, and June scoffs with the same smile on her face.

“Well, Freddie, you're the brightest star I know.” She responds and Freddie gives her a smile as a 'thank you', even though her statement adds a little ounce to his inner arrogance. “I think the tea's gone cold.” She admits.

“I can warm the kettle.” Freddie offers. June shakes her head, and starts to stand up, but Freddie stops her, getting up with her. “Really, I'll do it.” June sits back down and nods. 

“Sure. It's in the kitchen.”

“That far I can think, darling.” Freddie says, walking towards the entrance of the kitchen. June chuckles at her own naivety and watches Freddie walking away. Her smile fades a little and tears threaten to flood her eyes and cheeks. Before they can, though, June takes a deep breath and stands up eventually from the sofa.

“We've got cake!” She announces to Freddie and runs after him through her own house.