on the inside we're all the same
Title: braving weather to still the storms
Fandom: gossip girl
Characters: blair waldorf, serena van der woodsen, dan humphrey, nate archibald, chuck bass and louis grimaldi
Pairing: blair/louis/nate/chuck, blair/dan!friendship
Warnings: none
Summary: this movie, this life? she doesn't want it anymore.
+
Blair watches the colours blur and the frames speed up around her. The Director is a omniscient voice whispering 'you're ruined' while the extras glare at her in wordless didactic. Her audience are her inhibitions and their droll satisfaction at her failure makes the despair seem to carve destruction into her bones.
This movie, this life.
She doesn't want it anymore.
Somewhere between 23 and maturity, Blair realises she cannot live this fantasy anymore. She was indulged, bloated with the achievement of childish whims. Everyone did what they thought was best and somehow it ended up being the worst.
Louis wanted to trap her in a contract, Chuck in a cycle of damage and she let them.
Because the one thing Blair wanted was a fairytale.
So when her debutante ball came around, she took Nate because Nate was perfect and she would marry him and they would be happy.
And when Chuck left peonies on the observation deck of the Empire, she knew she would marry him and they would be happy.
And when Louis promised palaces and royalty, she knew she would marry him and they would be happy.
But when the fairytale crumbled, Blair always thought she just needed to recast, write a new screenplay and start living in her biopic.
It never occurred to her that it wasn't everyone else, but herself she needed to change.
She screams, c u t.
But there it doesn't stop, there are only scars to remind her of this storie's never-ending misery.
The pictures make her want to cry: Princess and Prince.
But there is no happy ending, no fairy godmother to fix up her mistakes and the Prince leaves her for a lowly peasant.
When did she turn into the wicked witch?
Dan is just there. When he tells her he'll be there no matter what she wants to cry.
She doesn't deserve it.
Doesn't deserve him.
She is evil, tainted. Everything she touches ruins.
But god everything Dan touches turns to gold.
Pure spun perfection wrapped in a gilden box of d e s i r e. (she spells out lust with her head but her her heart doesn't agree.)
She doesn't want him. Doesn't need him. Doesn't require him in her life.
She'll be fine.
She'll manage.
But when the pieces of her kingdom come crumbling down, none of the queen's horses and all the queen's men could put it back together again.
Except Dan Humphrey.
Cabbage Patch.
She never hates him more.
He texts her. Stupid, incessant messages that leave her irate and constantly checking her phone.
She doesn't reply.
Just deletes them as methodically as they arrive.
He makes Thursdays movie night.
After a few weeks, a month, it may have been two, she stops going.
The ritual, the routine, the familiarity with him, is something she can't stand.
So she stands him up and then makes him fall.
He's almost sad.
(he should be thankful, she thinks. softly, quietly, in the middle of the night when she doesn't tell herself that she finally rid herself of some sort of disease.)
Stuck permanently. Between adolescence and maturity.
She spells out the word like glue and her throat sticks and her hands are slick and she wonders if the world is trying to punish her.
Parents teach their children manners, Blair's taught her how to distinguish between elite and socially indeterminate.
Life turned the tables and she didn't know how to deal.
She watches Roman Holiday by herself and cries herself to sleep.
Louis arrives on her doorstep the next morning and the irony is palpable in her pores.
She tries not to grimace.
(Dan's chuckling 'funny face' in her ear)
Chuck fucks it up, Louis screws her over and Serena get's stuck in the middle but ends up unscathed.
Everyone recovers, but Blair doesn't think a bandaid will fix her.
(What did they do for Humpty Dumpty?)
The upper east side is comforting, home.
(suffocating, prison)
Serena tries to console her after the wedding but she is busy and the words career tumble from her mouth so easily Blair could've sworn they'd come from her own.
Chuck is preoccupied in the dirty, twisted sheets of another woman.
Blair can't remember Nate's number nor his purpose in her life anymore.
So she goes to Brooklyn.
(even the cabs are filthier on the other side of the bridge.)
He is surprised but he tries not to let it show.
'Oh.'
'The polite thing is to invite the person in, Humphrey, or did your father never tell you it's rude to stare?'
He realises he shouldn't quit filling silence with conversation and hands her a mug of hot coffee.
Bitter. Without milk. But with sprinkles(?)
She hands it back to him, resolutely.
'I don't need you to cheer me up.'
'So why are you here?' He asks, indifferently.
He coerces her into checkers and halfway through a packet of Hershey's Kisses, she runs out of breath she's laughing so hard.
He smiles at her, slowly, widening into a grin.
'I forgot that.'
'What?' She questions defensively, sobering at his intrusion.
'Your laugh.'
The girl ditches Chuck and Chuck ditches pride.
He crawls back with his tail between his legs and Blair almost feels sorry.
Louis stops sucking up to his Mummy. But Blair doesn't return his calls.
'Out. Call later. B. x'
Dan and Blair fall back into routine.
Except it's Tuesday's at the Retro.
(she can't stand art house movies and he has to ply her with expensive dinners and a visit to the degas at the guggenheim before she agrees to come with him.)
Strangely, she more often than not comes to him.
She begins to think the loft is quintessentially quaint.
Chuck tries again.
'Busy. Out. Call me? B. x.'
(she wishes she could reply 'fuck you' but even then it would be half-hearted.
she'd much rather he just leave her the hell alone.)
He doesn't get the message and appears in her bedroom when she's trying to reply to Dan's email about the 94 year old latvian woman that can fit 18 golfballs up her you know.
He drowns her in his sorrys and i wish's and it could be different and there's a lot of we are epic before she tells him that Chuck loved her despite of her flaws and that she should be loved because of it.
(watching him walk away feels better, easier, not so much like dying.)
He tries to call her and the voicemail messages start deleting themselves when his drunken slurring fills the allowed quota.
She realises through his pathetic groans is that she loves him, will probably always love him, but she doesn't like him anymore.
Dan doesn't ask anymore when she shows up at 3 am.
Eventually, she tells him.
He doesn't try to sympathise he just listens and it's more, it's better, it's what she wants.
(she braves the cabs. once in a while. she thinks, quietly, silently, in the dead of the night that it's worth it.)
Fandom: gossip girl
Characters: blair waldorf, serena van der woodsen, dan humphrey, nate archibald, chuck bass and louis grimaldi
Pairing: blair/louis/nate/chuck, blair/dan!friendship
Warnings: none
Summary: this movie, this life? she doesn't want it anymore.
+
Blair watches the colours blur and the frames speed up around her. The Director is a omniscient voice whispering 'you're ruined' while the extras glare at her in wordless didactic. Her audience are her inhibitions and their droll satisfaction at her failure makes the despair seem to carve destruction into her bones.
This movie, this life.
She doesn't want it anymore.
Somewhere between 23 and maturity, Blair realises she cannot live this fantasy anymore. She was indulged, bloated with the achievement of childish whims. Everyone did what they thought was best and somehow it ended up being the worst.
Louis wanted to trap her in a contract, Chuck in a cycle of damage and she let them.
Because the one thing Blair wanted was a fairytale.
So when her debutante ball came around, she took Nate because Nate was perfect and she would marry him and they would be happy.
And when Chuck left peonies on the observation deck of the Empire, she knew she would marry him and they would be happy.
And when Louis promised palaces and royalty, she knew she would marry him and they would be happy.
But when the fairytale crumbled, Blair always thought she just needed to recast, write a new screenplay and start living in her biopic.
It never occurred to her that it wasn't everyone else, but herself she needed to change.
She screams, c u t.
But there it doesn't stop, there are only scars to remind her of this storie's never-ending misery.
The pictures make her want to cry: Princess and Prince.
But there is no happy ending, no fairy godmother to fix up her mistakes and the Prince leaves her for a lowly peasant.
When did she turn into the wicked witch?
Dan is just there. When he tells her he'll be there no matter what she wants to cry.
She doesn't deserve it.
Doesn't deserve him.
She is evil, tainted. Everything she touches ruins.
But god everything Dan touches turns to gold.
Pure spun perfection wrapped in a gilden box of d e s i r e. (she spells out lust with her head but her her heart doesn't agree.)
She doesn't want him. Doesn't need him. Doesn't require him in her life.
She'll be fine.
She'll manage.
But when the pieces of her kingdom come crumbling down, none of the queen's horses and all the queen's men could put it back together again.
Except Dan Humphrey.
Cabbage Patch.
She never hates him more.
He texts her. Stupid, incessant messages that leave her irate and constantly checking her phone.
She doesn't reply.
Just deletes them as methodically as they arrive.
He makes Thursdays movie night.
After a few weeks, a month, it may have been two, she stops going.
The ritual, the routine, the familiarity with him, is something she can't stand.
So she stands him up and then makes him fall.
He's almost sad.
(he should be thankful, she thinks. softly, quietly, in the middle of the night when she doesn't tell herself that she finally rid herself of some sort of disease.)
Stuck permanently. Between adolescence and maturity.
She spells out the word like glue and her throat sticks and her hands are slick and she wonders if the world is trying to punish her.
Parents teach their children manners, Blair's taught her how to distinguish between elite and socially indeterminate.
Life turned the tables and she didn't know how to deal.
She watches Roman Holiday by herself and cries herself to sleep.
Louis arrives on her doorstep the next morning and the irony is palpable in her pores.
She tries not to grimace.
(Dan's chuckling 'funny face' in her ear)
Chuck fucks it up, Louis screws her over and Serena get's stuck in the middle but ends up unscathed.
Everyone recovers, but Blair doesn't think a bandaid will fix her.
(What did they do for Humpty Dumpty?)
The upper east side is comforting, home.
(suffocating, prison)
Serena tries to console her after the wedding but she is busy and the words career tumble from her mouth so easily Blair could've sworn they'd come from her own.
Chuck is preoccupied in the dirty, twisted sheets of another woman.
Blair can't remember Nate's number nor his purpose in her life anymore.
So she goes to Brooklyn.
(even the cabs are filthier on the other side of the bridge.)
He is surprised but he tries not to let it show.
'Oh.'
'The polite thing is to invite the person in, Humphrey, or did your father never tell you it's rude to stare?'
He realises he shouldn't quit filling silence with conversation and hands her a mug of hot coffee.
Bitter. Without milk. But with sprinkles(?)
She hands it back to him, resolutely.
'I don't need you to cheer me up.'
'So why are you here?' He asks, indifferently.
He coerces her into checkers and halfway through a packet of Hershey's Kisses, she runs out of breath she's laughing so hard.
He smiles at her, slowly, widening into a grin.
'I forgot that.'
'What?' She questions defensively, sobering at his intrusion.
'Your laugh.'
The girl ditches Chuck and Chuck ditches pride.
He crawls back with his tail between his legs and Blair almost feels sorry.
Louis stops sucking up to his Mummy. But Blair doesn't return his calls.
'Out. Call later. B. x'
Dan and Blair fall back into routine.
Except it's Tuesday's at the Retro.
(she can't stand art house movies and he has to ply her with expensive dinners and a visit to the degas at the guggenheim before she agrees to come with him.)
Strangely, she more often than not comes to him.
She begins to think the loft is quintessentially quaint.
Chuck tries again.
'Busy. Out. Call me? B. x.'
(she wishes she could reply 'fuck you' but even then it would be half-hearted.
she'd much rather he just leave her the hell alone.)
He doesn't get the message and appears in her bedroom when she's trying to reply to Dan's email about the 94 year old latvian woman that can fit 18 golfballs up her you know.
He drowns her in his sorrys and i wish's and it could be different and there's a lot of we are epic before she tells him that Chuck loved her despite of her flaws and that she should be loved because of it.
(watching him walk away feels better, easier, not so much like dying.)
He tries to call her and the voicemail messages start deleting themselves when his drunken slurring fills the allowed quota.
She realises through his pathetic groans is that she loves him, will probably always love him, but she doesn't like him anymore.
Dan doesn't ask anymore when she shows up at 3 am.
Eventually, she tells him.
He doesn't try to sympathise he just listens and it's more, it's better, it's what she wants.
(she braves the cabs. once in a while. she thinks, quietly, silently, in the dead of the night that it's worth it.)