pusher love girl
serena/carter. 2305 words. post-s5.

summary: Serena never believed in love at first sight but as soon as she looked at Carter, she thought: yes. You're for me.

note: for sing_song_sung! love u boo <3 basically this fic is one of those 'I wish this had happened instead' sort of things lol. actually more friendshippy than shippy, not sure how that happened, and pretty angsty which I imagine you'll enjoy. also bless your prompt I love that song.








Serena calls Carter from a payphone and says, "Let's get fucked up."

"You're fuckin' kidding me, there are no payphones in service any more," Carter says. "You're pulling my goddamn leg."

"I'm in the Midwest." Serena casts a cursory look at her surroundings, but there's really nothing to be seen there. She doesn't know exactly where she is.

"Shit, honey," Carter says. "You really do need me."







Serena still remembers the very first time she saw Carter, which is saying something because she'd had a lot to drink that night. She was all of fourteen years old and Carter was older, freshly kicked out of St. Jude's for some infraction that had already been spun into legend. He had a brick of heroin in his locker, she heard. He fucked the headmaster's kid on school grounds, they said.

He told Serena he just bombed all of his tests and stopped going to school. Even his parents' hefty monetary contributions couldn't wave away all the work he'd missed.

But that was later. That first night she saw him, they'd never exchanged a word, though she'd heard of him as he'd presumably heard of her. It was at a club. Carter was dancing in the middle of a pack of people – sweaty, shirt sticking to him, looking wild-eyed and dangerous. Serena will always remember how her heart went crazy, thump thump thumping in her chest.

She'd never believed in love at first sight but as soon as she looked at Carter, she thought: yes. You're for me.







She calls Carter because of the whole mess back in New York. She calls Carter because he's her rock-bottom guy. She doesn’t mean that in a bad way, exactly: he's the one who understands. She met him there, all the way down on the rockiest of bottoms.

"We're not staying in the goddamn Midwest, Jesus Christ," is the first thing he says when she meets him at the airport. So they just get right on another plane heading further west. He doesn't ask her why she called because he doesn't really need to know – not yet. He's answered a dozen calls like that before. He knows the drill.

In Los Angeles Carter catches her up on what he's been doing. They're at a diner. "So I spent – and I'm not lying now, beautiful, cross my heart – a good year in school, got my G.E.D. and everything, all in the hopes that Daddy and Mommy might love me. But you know how that gets old. I flaked out and shacked up with an old guy out in Venice who liked to pay for everything and –" Carter's expression turns thoughtful as he dabs a fry in ketchup. "Well. I didn't mind him so much, but I fucked it up, you know. So I went out to this yoga retreat in Nepal and dried out for a while, but we must have a psychic connection, sweetness, because you caught me just as I was leaving." He pauses. "Now you got anything to share with the class?"

A day by the water has left Serena sweetly sunbaked and almost feeling okay – as long as she doesn't think too hard about anything. She shrugs. "Dated some guys, sort of went to rehab, dated some more guys, Blair got married, Blair got unmarried, I fell for Dan again, he shot me down, I filmed us having sex, and he told me I was nothing."

The words hurt in a dull way, like a bruise under the nail.

Carter looks at her for a long moment. Then he says: "Can I watch it?"

She throws her napkin at him.







Carter used to wear silver rings on almost every finger. In high school she used to cut class at the end of the day to go to the beach with him and she remembers holding his hand on the long train ride, tapping her finger against each ring. He gave her one once, a silver skull with blackened eyes, and she wore it on her thumb whenever he was out of town.

It seems stupid to think of how crazy she was for Carter once. She was crazy over so many boys, what made him different? And what made him fall out of her head as soon as Dan Humphrey reached back for her hand at a party neither of them were invited to?

These are the mysteries of life, and Serena cannot solve them.







"Still hate me, beautiful?"

They're on a little plane going out to Hawaii. L.A.'s baked beauty and cheerful vapidity had left Serena unsatisfied. She craves distance. She craves big flowers and blue water and nice hotels.

In L.A. they mostly went to clubs, did gross amounts of coke, and made out for the paparazzi. Serena never had a drug of choice (she chose all the choices) but coke had always been Carter's true love, long before she ever met him. It made her feel kind of brittle. She preferred booze bubbling in her chest, MDMA making her light up.

She got the feeling at first that Carter wasn't going to do it. She watched indecision crawl over his face, his hands clenching, and she felt suddenly guilty. "You don't have to," she said, like the peer-pressuring boyfriend in an afterschool special.

"I promised you a party, didn't I, honey?" he said, bent down and did the lines.

She was reminded, in a sudden and strange way, that she was no longer fourteen and Carter was no longer her older, dangerous hook-up. They were just two messy people stumbling towards some inevitable future they couldn't seem to see clearly. Carter was an addict who had been clean until she called him. Serena didn't know what she was. She was a big fat question mark. She was a whole lot of nothing.

In the plane he holds her hand. He doesn't wear rings anymore. "Still hate me, beautiful?"

She leans her head onto his shoulder. "I don't hold grudges very long."







Together they have lived a life on beaches. Tonight they drive out somewhere secluded enough to see the stars, a powdered-sugar sneeze across a blue-black sky. They lay together on the hood of the car.

"How'd you fuck it up?" Serena asks. Carter raises an eyebrow with a laugh already on his lips, question clearly implied: which time? So she specifies, "With the old guy. In Venice."

"He wasn't really that old," Carter hedges. Then, "He had a kid our age. A daughter. She came to visit and, well." He shrugs. "That's how I fucked it up."

Serena tilts her head curiously. "You liked him?"

"Yeah, I liked him fine."

She doesn't recall ever thinking much about Carter's bisexuality, just accepting the fact of it with little fanfare. Blair used to say he was gay a lot, but Blair said stuff like that, always trying to present some kind of made-up worst-case scenario to crush Serena's buzz. But Serena messed around with girls sometimes too, so she figured she understood it pretty well.

"What was his name?"

This is how she knows it was something real: Carter's eyes get crinkly at the corners and his mouth goes sad and wistful at once, the name leaving him on a sigh. "Matteo."

"Hot?"

Carter seems almost offended. "Obviously."

Serena smiles but her next question is relatively serious. "So why'd you do it?"

Carter laughs but she doesn't hear a trace of humor in it. "Well, you get what you pay for, don't you, beautiful?" He takes out his cigarettes and lights one. "He shouldn't've been surprised."

She's not sure what makes her say it right then, or at all, but that's the moment she chooses to say, "Dan's in love with Blair."

Carter gives her a look of appropriately cartoonish surprise, each eyebrow a parenthesis over his widened eyes. "That kid of yours from Brooklyn?" he says. "Little Waldorf?"

Serena nods. She returns her gaze to the stars.

"There's a twist," Carter says. She waits for a Carter-typical insensitive remark, probably about the size of Dan's dick or something, but instead Carter slips his arm around her and pulls her to him. "No room for you then, huh, honey?"

He says it so sympathetically, so unlike himself, that Serena starts crying a little, without sound, tears slipping from her cheeks and soaking into his white t-shirt.

"I know," he says, still so sympathetic, "I know, Serena."

She is so used to him calling her everything else that the sound of her own name is alien in his voice, like a foreign language.







Serena genuinely does not know how many people she has been with, most of them people she didn't know and didn't care about. Maybe that's bad for someone as young as she is, or maybe it's super depressing like Dan used to say. Maybe it's just a fact of her life. She slept with a lot of people to try and assuage that empty feeling inside of her, but it always just made her feel emptier.

She thought she'd changed, but it doesn't really seem like it. She's still sleeping with people trying to chase some imaginary sense of fulfillment, only now she mostly pretends to love them.

"Is that better?" she asks Carter.

"Does it feel better?" he says.

"Sometimes," Serena murmurs, but the times she's thinking of are the times it was real: with Dan in a faux snow storm, with Nate on a borrowed couch by borrowed coats, even with Carter, in the shower at Blair's.

"I was never really scared of falling for somebody." Carter sits by the window of their darkened hotel room, shirt off, smoking. The light from outside falls on his right side, but the rest is dark. "And I almost always felt good when it went to shit, like – ha. Got what's coming to you." He takes a drag. "Maybe good's the wrong word."

"Who have you loved?" she asks. "Really loved."

She can count that on one hand. That's a number she knows.

"Ah, a few people, in my day," he says with that put-upon wise voice he does when he's being evasive. She thinks that's all he'll say on the topic when he adds, "You. But you know that."

She's heard him say it before, that's true. But she's learned to take everything Carter says with a grain of salt.

Still, she isn't exactly surprised.

"I know, Carter," she says. "I know."







"So why Dan, exactly?"

"What do you mean, why Dan?"

Their days are lazy and nice, off the grid. Carter surfs – for about six seconds before crashing into the water and then emerging, soaked but grinning. Serena almost gets a dramatic haircut but chickens out. She doesn't have a phone. She doesn’t go online.

"I get it, he's a good-looking pseudo-intellectual with a not ass-backwards sense of humor," Carter says, waving a hand. "But I don't mean the shit you tell your friends when you've got a crush. I just mean… Why him?"

Carter is generally too blunt to ask roundabout questions based in personal interest; basically, if he was asking why Dan instead of him, he'd probably just ask that to begin with. So Serena tries to really think about her answer.

"Well," she finally comes up with, "I love him."

But he shakes his head at that. "Ain't no reason to love someone who don't love you, kiddo."

Serena rolls her eyes. "I don't think it works like that."

"Yeah, but it's not like you're fine just loving him. You're not, you know, looking at him with fond affection as you let him do as he pleases. You want love back. You want proof." Aware of how he sounds, perhaps, he adds, "That's not a bad thing, honey."

Serena has never liked being told how she feels. Who does? "Everybody wants to be loved back."

He looks at her intently. "Sure," he says. "But not everyone expects it."

She frowns at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means…" Carter blows out a breath, thinking. Sand sticks to his wet skin. "Some people need love to survive. Any kind. Real or not real. Good or bad. Some people don't."

"And that's better, I guess?" Serena huffs, staring at him. "A better, more evolved person would hand Dan off to Blair wrapped in a bow?"

His lips quirk in a half-smile. "Maybe," he says. "I'm not trying to make distinctions, though."

Annoyed, Serena says, "She doesn't love him."

"That sounds like Dan's problem," Carter says.

Serena looks at him for a long moment, impossibly irritated, and then gets up, stalks off across the beach with her arms crossed. A real bratty walk-off, though as far as she's concerned, she earned it. She walks close to the waves so they lick at her ankles. And she replays their conversation in her head again and again: that sounds like Dan's problem.

She was never trying to make it hers.







Serena returns to the hotel room late that night and finds Carter just getting out of the shower, toweling his hair. "Fuckin' sand," he says.

No apologies, not even for hurting her feelings, no hellos: just fuckin' sand. It doesn't bother her, somehow. It's honest. Carter isn't sorry and he doesn't necessarily have to be.

"I want to move on," Serena says firmly, ignoring double meanings. "Let's go somewhere. Let's go to Tokyo."

Another person might ask what her plan is, if she's ever going back to New York, if she's okay, if this is what she really wants, if this is the smart thing to do. But Carter just grins at her, wide and toothy, and says, "I'll pack my bag, baby."

Serena smiles back at him, more tentative but just as true. There is something to be said for being understood.

le coup de foudre.
lestat, louis, claudia. 803 words.

summary: three vignettes about desire.

note: for thisismylie! i am terribly sorry about the short length of this one! i hope you enjoy it. :) on ao3 for those that prefer that.





I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me,
all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
Pablo Neruda




Lestat is in a tavern in New Orleans, the especially rough kind that he enjoys on nights like this, when the wind is rough and his father's pleas grate especially. He has been in the New World for two weeks. Everything in him thirsts for the old one.

He spends the best part of the evening flirting with a beautiful girl with warm brown skin – until the crowd parts and he sees, well. He sees Nicolas.

Only not Nicolas, because Nicki has gone into the fire and this man is plainly human. His skin is flushed with warmth and drink, his dark hair falling messily out of its tie. He grins once, quick, but it seems to pain him and he falls afterwards into despondency, to the coddling attention of the women at his side. He wears homespun fabrics, well loved and often mended. Nicolas wore gold brocade and Italian lace, tied his hair with silk ribbons.

"But it's impossible, you see, I'm impossible," the man is saying. His voice is deeper than Nicki's and his accent is different. "And it is all my fault, what they say – have you heard what they say? It's all the truth and I'm to blame –"

Again his companions seek to comfort him, seek his money and attention.

I too am impossible, Nicolas said, that very first day.

Lestat forgets all about his girl and instead follows the young man out into the night.







At their little mock dinner, Lestat amuses himself by throwing grapes one by one across the table at Louis. Louis can never tell if Lestat is bored by him or only pretends to be bored; if the latter, then he does not know what could possibly be of interest to Lestat about him.

Finally Louis snaps and grabs up a handful of the fallen grapes, throwing them forcefully back at Lestat. Most of them bounce harmlessly off the table, or pop against the walls. Lestat starts laughing, his big wide laugh with teeth showing, head tipping back and hair golden in the light.

Louis lives every day feeling mocked and he cannot bear it anymore. "Is this what I am to you? An amusement? A creature to taunt until it reacts?"

Lestat stops laughing and his lip curls a little. "Sometimes."

Louis frowns, nearly pouts, anger making him still. Lestat looks at him with restrained fury in his own expression, but slowly the furrow in his brow seems to be confusion and then it shifts to pity. He moves closer, chair dragged heavily across the floor to bridge the gap between them. He brings his hand up to Louis' mouth, to touch very gently the full shape of it with his fingertips. Briefly, his touch even invades the open mouth to find the needle-sharp fangs.

"Once," Lestat begins, like the telling of a tale, only he falls silent. The silence stretches and his hand falls away; the tease of knowledge hangs heavily between them, exacerbating Louis' unhappiness. "Let's go out, hm?"

"Why will you never tell me anything?" Louis implores, wretched, desperate.

Lestat, as ever, does not answer.







Claudia is a miniature study in perfection; when very still she might appear inanimate. Perfectly delicate little fingers on little hands, a small face shaped like a heart with full childish cheeks, a mouth like a closed bud, long dark eyelashes. She looks at herself in the mirror often. She can imagine the kind of woman she might have been, had she been given the chance. She thinks she would have been very fine indeed.

She takes cosmetics from the home of an actress she kills. Respectable women don't wear much in the way of cosmetics but Claudia has studied what it can do to the faces of actors and so she paints her own face very, very carefully: carves out the plum cheeks until they appear to come to high points like Louis', makes the round eyes long and feline, brings the mouth to blossom.

Lestat finds her at it and she feels incredible embarrassment. "Ma petite, you look as though you fell face first into your paints," he says, lips showing his amusement.

Louis is at his side, much more forgiving. "Oh, but darling Claudia, you're most beautiful as yourself."

She lets him wipe her face clean and does not bother to explain that it is not a matter of beauty, not at all.

wanna be your lover, baby (don't wanna be your boss)
dan/blair. theatre au. 2383 words.

summary: Dan met Blair six years ago when she was the understudy for the lead girl in a play he was working on. "Sure, she's got star power," he remembers Blair saying. "But I've got talent." When that line showed up in the next play he wrote, Dan knew he was a goner.

note: for corleones! I switched the last two prompts for ~creative reasons. hope no one minds! ao3 link.







"The thing is –" Dan has the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he fishes around in a container of leftover Chinese. His relaxed posture belies how serious this conversation really is, for him. "There's no one else who can do it. It's yours."

He can almost hear the smile in her voice. "Oh, is it?"

"You know it is." He sets the carton down, taking his phone in hand again. "I wrote it for you."

"That's not fair." Her voice has a laugh in it now, so he knows she's going to agree. Flattery always works for her. "You know those are the magic words."





Dan met Blair six years ago when she was the understudy for the lead girl in a play he was working on. "Sure, she's got star power," he remembers Blair saying. "But I've got talent."

When that line showed up in the next play he wrote, Dan knew he was a goner.





The Bedford Avenue Theatre used to be a movie palace back in the forties or fifties. It was purchased by Dan's father at the height of one-hit-wonder glory for a grossly low price and has been, at various times, a semi-functioning art gallery, a venue for bands, and (briefly) a used bookstore-coffee house hybrid. None of the attempts ever made much money, and when Dan took it over he remade it into a proper theatre and sank nearly all his money into it while doing so.

But it's a beautiful building: red velvet seats, a once-opulent ceiling of fading gold, and a proscenium arch like a gaudy frame. It beats the black boxes where Dan did his early stuff. And he likes the look of Blair in this place, all of her put-on glamour amongst the broken-down glitz. It's all very Tennessee Williams.





Blair flounces into the theatre on the first day of rehearsals with her customary melodrama, dressed in a big loungey capelet with her tiny black pug in her arms. An assistant follows.

Dan rolls his eyes. "Your adoring public isn't here today, Waldorf."

She smiles at him meanly as she drops into her folding chair. She sits in it like a throne. "Just be happy that I'm doing you this big favor."

She sets the dog on the floor and it immediately scurries off to investigate and probably pee on something important.

"Remember where you started," Dan reminds her.

Already it's beginning. The stagehands and assistants and other actors are all beginning to look at them like prime reality TV. They haven't worked together in two years – not since the breakup.

Blair arches a well-groomed eyebrow. "Remember where I ended up," she says.





They got together in the whirlwind following that second play, the first in a line of roles he would write specifically for her. It got him criticism as time went on, people saying he wrote the same role over and over: a kind of Zelda Fitzgerald meets Blanche Dubois in different disguises and scenarios. Dan can't help it. It just suits her.

Still, they did well enough together that she got a string of movie deals and a couple of awards. Dan got attention too, but it was always a big fight between them: that his ambition wasn't greater than his need to maintain a certain indie image. He refused to leave his Brooklyn roots for big-budget success. She wanted more. She always wanted more.

Dan found he couldn't give it to her.





Blair had a literary background, in that her life was the stuff of turn of the century novellas. She grew up a spoiled heiress but her family lost half their fortune thanks to the messy end of her first marriage – to a Monégasque prince, no less. That was undeniably a draw to Dan, those shades of Wharton and Isherwood, and he liked the silly things she did, like save up for Chanel eyebrow pencils and blow measly paychecks on French pastries or Italian Vogue.

How exactly she stumbled into acting, Dan was never quite sure, aside from a lifelong dedication to Audrey Hepburn taken to extremes. He thought maybe it was a reaction to being told that she couldn't do it. Once they got together, she told him a story about how she was going to model for her mother's clothing line but got replaced for being too stiff, and she ended up running to the competitor out of spite. Blair could never be told no. She'd always find a way to prove herself and then some.

This worked for the two of them, for a while. Blair could be stiff when she was acting, too prim and mannered, and Dan would push her buttons to try and startle her out of it because when that happened, she could be electric. He would be mean and argumentative. He would make her so angry her cheeks would splotch red enough to be seen through her overpriced foundation. But it worked. She'd be amazing.

They'd go back to their loft apartment afterwards and fight some more, get drunk, have sex. The good, rough kind that left them both with bruises and bites, so mellow afterwards that they could never even remember what they were fighting about.

It was the best time of Dan's life.





Blair takes to antagonizing him about the new play.

"A writer, an actress, a failed romance," she muses – in front of everyone, the whole cast and crew. She flips through her script carelessly. "Wonder where you got that idea."

Irritably, Dan says, "It's set in the twenties."

Blair arches an eyebrow. "Oh, okay. That makes it fiction then." The pug scrambles by (it has become a fixture of rehearsals) and she scoops it into her lap. "I hate to give the critics much weight – we all know how they can be – but it does seem a certain repetitiveness is plaguing your work, Brooklyn."

His jaw tightens. "Let's try to make it through a scene without digressions, how about that?"

"Okay." Blair's eyes are locked with his as she leans forward, red nails on his pages. "Let's try."





"You're such a cliché," she hisses backstage.

"Oh look who's fucking talking," Dan snaps.

Blair gives him a pointed up and down – which, okay, he's wearing a vest and a big knit scarf and a hat, but it's a valid look.

He frowns at her and lists off on his fingers, "Tiny dog, too much makeup, Botox, superiority complex, cringing assistant."

Blair glares at him. "Neckbeard, ostentatious fake glasses, black coffee that you do not even like to drink."

They stare at each other, furious, and this is the moment it would happen, in the past: this is when they would kiss, rip at each other's clothes, and fuck right here backstage without even a hint of courtesy to anyone else. But they can't do that now, so they just turn on their heels and stalk off.





They entire play hinges on Blair's character: she's protagonist, antagonist, anti-heroine, all at once. He wasn't lying when he said it was for her. He wrote it for her, and he wrote it to play to all her strengths and vanities.

So sometimes they end up alone at the theatre, the two of them, very late at night.

"Again," Dan sighs, before she's even finished speaking. Tonight they're working on her long monologue, her show-off moment. "Try to act this time, maybe."

Blair's tongue presses against her teeth as she fights rolling her eyes with everything in her. "Don't you get tired of being such a pain in the ass?"

"Do you?" he asks mildly.

She's in her version of casual tonight: a comfortable little dress, her hair tied back with a silk scarf. She kicked off her flats so she could tuck her bare legs underneath herself. She keeps a fluffy cushion on her folding chair now.

The dog (who is called Regina, which Dan maintains is hardly an appropriate name for a dog) has taken up her customary spot in Dan's lap. He's sort of powerless against dogs. Her happy, labored huffing is the only sound besides Dan's tapping pen, Blair's fidgeting.

"Maybe try getting up, walking around," he says. "You know…doing literally anything besides sitting still and disinterestedly reciting your lines."

"Maybe if the lines were interesting I'd be interested."

"Hey, if you don't want to be here, you don't have to," Dan says. "Your understudy can just take over. She's a lovely girl, that Penelope."

Blair's eyes narrow. "Fine," she snaps. "Let's do it again."





Sometimes Dan would go see her movies. There was the teen movie she was slightly too old for, the thing set in the sixties, the Wharton adaptation (technically a miniseries, which Dan watched from the comfort of his couch, somehow annoyed at her invading his living space in even that small way). And finally the Clara Bow biopic that at least partially inspired his current endeavor, though Fitzgeraldian delusions should not be discounted.

If he was honest, he'd say she's a better screen actress than a stage one.

Her large, luminous eyes, her expressive mouth: they need the camera right up close to be effective. The close-up was her best friend; it was the minute, subtle shifting of her face that was her best asset. Body language was always hard for her. They used to work on it for ages but she just didn't naturally know how to take up the stage, to use that big empty space to her advantage. Sometimes she'd go all Norma Desmond because she just didn't know what to do with herself. He hates to admit it even now but giving her up for the screen was the best thing for her.

He just wanted to keep her close, with him, and he hadn't been willing to compromise. So they'd split, just like that.





Late at night, again.

Blair sits on the edge of the stage with her legs hanging off – tonight it's heels with little ankle straps and a ruffled romper with an oversized sweater. "They get back together at the end," she points out.

"Uh-huh." Dan shuffles his papers and notes, looks busy. "I'm a romantic. Sue me."

Blair smiles a little. He isn't looking at her directly, so he only sees it in his peripheral vision, but he knows it's there. She's smiling. "Last time we saw each other, you weren't very romantic."

"Maybe sentimental's a better word." He finishes pointlessly putting his things in piles and looks up at her. "You ready?"

Blair doesn't answer right away, looking back at him. "Dan," she says.

He knows that tone of voice, soft and cajoling. "No," he says automatically. "Nope. No way."

Her smile stretches a little. "Come here."

"You gonna be nice to me when no one's around to see it?" Still, he finds himself standing, body unfolding from the cramped chair and drifting towards her.

"Yup," she says. "That's the only time I can be nice to you."

"It's fiction," he warns her. He's close enough now to touch her, fingers and palm slowly settling on her legs. Her stockings are just a little scratchy against his dry hands. "It's not about us."

Blair puts her hands on his jaw. "I'm not the one having trouble telling the difference."





The set, at least for the first half, is a bedroom, lived in and feminine. He and Blair have sex in a bedroom that is a copy of a bedroom that used to be hers. Dan takes the sheets home after to wash them and then arrives early the next day to put them back. He feels incredibly stupid.

Dan used to get a major kick out of Blair whenever she would try to do normal people things. He liked pretending to be exasperated when she had no idea how to clean a bathtub or fix a loose button. He liked showing her things like that; he's aware of what that says about him.

But she wasn't stupid and she wasn't helpless, just overly indulged and obstinate. She figured things out. She didn't need him – not that she ever really did. He just liked to be thought of as needed.





There are things it's impossible to forget about another person, and then there are things you don't mean to forget, but you do. Like the exact smell of Blair's shampoo, expensively fragranced and impossible to place until he smelled it again. It had slipped from him entirely. Maybe if he'd come face to face with it out there in the world in the last two years, it'd have stuck with him – but he hadn't and it hadn't, and so it's something of a shock to him to have missed such a detail. He doesn't even know what the brand is anymore.

Blair makes him stupid like that, makes him overly concerned with things that don't matter, makes him count each affection and stack it against the others. If she does this, does it mean she loves him? It must, right?

She won't come back to his and he won't go back to hers, so the affair goes on in the theatre. Sometimes on stage, which appeals to her, and sometimes in Dan's undersized but private office, which appeals to him. He finds a stray diamond earring caught in one of his notebooks once. He doesn't know what it means, in the grand scheme of things.





It's opening night and Dan is fussily micromanaging everyone backstage – until he sees Blair in the wings, watching surreptitiously through the curtains as the audience files in. She has the look of a young girl waiting for Christmas, excited and nervous.

"You'll be great," Dan says, studying her in her glittering flapper dress.

Blair glances over her shoulder, and her response is as genuine as it is flippant. "I know."

He steps up beside her so they can look out together. "You know," he reminds her, "it's fiction. It's not about us."

"Yeah, so I've heard," Blair says. "It's got a nice ending, though."

"You don't think it's sentimental?"

"I always liked happy endings." Her hand slips into his, her own in a long white glove. "So maybe I'm not the one to ask."

Dan squeezes her fingers. "Yeah," he says. "I always liked them too."

The fic that I am supposed to post today is definitely not going to be posted today – both a good and a bad thing. Bad because I really wanted to finish all my prompts this month and tbh I'm disappointed in myself! But good because it needs a little more time and care than I can spare at the mo, so it'll probably end up a little longer. But since I have about a third of it written so far, I thought I'd post a teaser. That's got to be less disappointing, right? Right.

So, for lookinglassgirl, love you mucho, here is a snippet of a fic that you will be receiving – a la your prompt, a kind of My Fair Lady/Selfie pastiche with a bit of Drive Me Crazy thrown in for good measure. Set in a s1 that only barely resembles our own.



Blair ran into him in the library a few times after that. Not that she spoke to him – hardly. But she would see him, sitting alone a couple tables away. Once their eyes met and he nodded, curt and perfunctory.

She had no idea who he was, that he was even in her grade, until she happened to catch him filing out of a classroom after Nate one day. Not that she was looking for Nate or anything. She couldn't control every single thing her gaze happened to fall on.

Their schools were not large schools, so it was strange for her to not recognize someone in her grade. The library guy could be a transfer, but then it would be even stranger for her to not have heard of him. It was all highly suspicious.

"You know," she said in the library one lunch period, "I wasn't crying. The other day."

He looked up from his book, startled. "Okay?"

"I had something in my eye," she said. "Just to clarify."

He nodded and they returned to their books. Then he said, "You know my sister, I think. Jenny?"

Blair blinked; Jenny had a brother? She looked over at him again, this time searching for similarities, and found very few. Maybe around the mouth. "Ah. Right. Jenny Humphrey."

Jenny, to her credit, had tried to stick around post-fallout but Blair wasn't interested in charity case friendships.

"She feels really – uh, well, she likes you a lot, and I don't think she necessarily agrees with, uh, everything," he said. "She doesn't think that –"

"That I'm a big slut who got what's coming to her?" Blair said bluntly. She liked to say things very bluntly occasionally, if only to get ahead of other people saying them instead. "Well, she's the only one."

"I'm sure that's not true," he said.

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then why am I sitting all alone in the library with –"

She had no idea what his name was. He supplied, "Dan."

"With Jenny Humphrey's brother," Blair continued. "Everyone thinks I'm awful. And maybe I am. I cheated on Nate. I did it specifically to make him feel bad, as revenge. And it isn't like I'm a stranger to things like that. There was this girl, Lane Macy, who scored higher than me on last year's history final, so I had the girls serve her a Nairtini at Isabel Coates' pool party. That's not a normal thing to do, right? I do things like that all the time. The girls were just putting up with me. And now they don't have to."

He was quiet like he didn't know what to say. "Have you ever tried being nicer?"

Blair rolled her eyes, now stupidly wet. "Gee, never would have thought of that."

With the kind of good humor often reserved for people about to cry, he said, "C'mon, give it a shot. Say something nice to me."

She had no idea what kind of nice thing one said to a stranger. She wrinkled her nose. "Your clothes are rumpled and your blazer is ill-fitting."

He stared at her. "That is actually the opposite of what you were supposed to do."

"Well I'm not very good at this!" she exclaimed.

"Obviously."

"I just don't know how." Blair slumped in her chair a little, arms crossing. "This is stupid."

"Hey, it's not so bad on this side of the fence," Dan tried. "Quiet. No one bothers you. It's like you're invisible. You just have to get used to birds flying into your head and automatic doors never opening."

Blair refused to crack a smile.

"Oh, what do you know," she huffed, and was luckily rescued by the ringing of the bell. For once she was eager to go back to class.





The idea came to her sometime between the end of that day and the beginning of the next one. It was a little crazy, but the best plans always were.

In the library, she sat directly next to Dan.

"Nobody likes me," Blair said. She felt a twinge of hurt at the words, but there was really no use dancing around it at this point.

Dan didn't seem to understand where she was going with that, exactly. He tried commiseration. "Nobody knows me."

She had researched him a little bit in the interim between idea-having and plan-executing. "I do, now," she said, and off his look, "I like to keep an eye out for academic rivals. You're in the top five at St. Jude's."

He contemplated her with very faint suspicion. "Top three."

Blair pressed her lips together to prevent a smile. "Look, I need an image overhaul. Image rehabilitation, if you will. And you need relevancy. Desperately."

Amused, Dan asked, "Oh, do I?"

"Don't tell me you like hiding out here every day. You just do it because you don't have any other options."

"Please, stranger, tell me more about my life and what I need."

Blair ignored him. "You can help me, okay, and I can help you. A mutually beneficial arrangement. Symbiotic."

His brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

And Blair told him.

Last post of the year! If you requested a fic for December, it's listed here (though I don't think anyone missed theirs, actually). I'm outie until January when I will return to do my yearly fic meme, post that one December fic I failed to post, and probably doing some more of the Five Things Meme. Potentially taking a little writing break, mostly because I'm tuckered out, but that's not set in stone: inspiration might make me her bitch. Either way, see y'all in the new year! (oh god why does time keep passing tho)


+ expectation/reality. nelly yuki fic. for lusimeles.
+ wild romantic blues. fanmix. for ladymercury_10.
+ long ago and far away. steve/natasha fic. for catteo.
+ oh the humanity. gossip girl superhero au. for ivy32.
+ ride or die. serena/carter/blair fic. for prefectlives.
+ the masochism tango. dan/georgina terrible married au. for thecruelone.
+ miss teen cactus flower. lauren cooper fic. for kinselllas@tumblr.
+ pusher love girl. serena/carter fic. for sing_song_sung.
+ le coup de foudre. lestat, louis, claudia fic. for thisismylie.
+ wanna be your lover, baby (don't wanna be your boss). blair/dan theatre au. for corleones.
+ tell me something true. unfinished fic teaser. for lookinglassgirl.

T E L E V I S I O N
• MONDAY: x
• TUESDAY:Agent Carter
• WEDNESDAY: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, The Americans
• THURSDAY: x
• FRIDAY: Constantine





T E L E V I S I O N   R E W A T C H E D
• seinfeld, svu, GOSSIP GIRL ACAPULCO





M O V I E S
JANUARY
  • Elecktra ★★&
  • The Spirit ★★&

FEBRUARY
  • x





M O V I E S   R E W A T C H E D
JANUARY
  • Heathers ★★★★★★
  • Enough ★★★&
  • For a Good Time, Call... ★★★★





B O O K S
• Queenpin. Megan Abbott. || currently reading.





C O M I C S
•





F I C
• turn. saras_girl. hp; harry, draco, ginny, ron, hermione, the kids.





M U S I C
•





M I S C. || articles & podcasts
•

Hello, everyone! I spent the last leg of 2014 as a crusty swamp monster covered in scales, aka sick, but now I am beginning to evolve back into human form. I was debating doing a 2014 wrap-up post but...I don't know, does anyone care? I'm pretty tired. I'm probably not going to do it. Here's my 2014 scrapbook post if you want a sense of what I was up to. Honestly the biggest fandom-y thing that happened to me this year was becoming a comics nerd. Truly didn't see that one coming. Anyway, let's talk fic!

If you want a quick way to peruse my fic for the year, or any of my fic really, there's the masterposts but also the monthy recap posts.



S T A T S :
fics: 34. Slightly up from last year's 29. 2012 was truly my best year, haven't topped it since.
      gossip girl: 22. lulz.
      vampire chronicles: 3
      marvel: 3
      misc. (jennifer's body, thg, btvs/tvd, the royal tenenbaums, faking it): 5

ships: 15
      hetero: 9
      slash: 2
      femslash: 5
      gen: 6

female POV: 16
male POV: 16
most written character: I didn't count but we all know it's Dan, right? I mean it's gotta be.
most written ship: Dan/Blair still wins, with around 9, give or take.




O V E R A L L :

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted?
I thought I'd written a lot more! I was surprised, actually. I felt like I was writing CONSTANTLY this year.

Did you take any writing risks this year?
I don't think so.

Do you have any fanfic goals for the New Year?
Hm, not particularly. I have more original writing goals, tbh. Though I would like to write more Marvel fic and explore that universe a bit more. Also in general I'd like to expand my writing and improve upon my style. I need to level up. I think I'm in a rut.

Did you meet your goals from last year?
I did! I'm quite happy about it, actually. I wanted to write more femslash and finish off my WIPs, both of which I did (or nearly did. My only current WIP is 'the age of dissonance' and that's only got a few chapters left).





B E S T   A N D   W O R S T :

My best story of this year:
I'm not really sure! god help the girl was really fun for me. professional disaster human was short but I was really happy with it, and it was a right-place-right-time kind of thing – like, inspiration struck and I was able to actually accomplish what I set out to do. I was also very happy with and sometimes she loved me too.

My most popular story of this year:
Probably either and sometimes she loved me too or god help the girl– the fluffy DB stuff tends to get the most reaction, lol. Though I feel like the recent GG superhero au was also popular. And professional disaster human did well over on ao3, which made me really happy. My Yuletide fic seems to be doing pretty well too.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion:
without a key! I busted my butt finishing that fic this year and I was so proud of it but it seems like everyone lost interest in it.

Most fun story to write:
Tbh this might be a story I haven't posted yet. There's a bit of it in the teaser section. It's a Dan/Carter fic I started for the lols, intending it to be quite quick, and now it's like 12k and I don't know how or why. It's been a lot of fun though. It's a very light fic. Lately I've been enjoying writing more comedic, less emotionally wrought stuff.

Story with the single sexiest moment:
I think lesbian much, my Jennifer's Body fic. I was dead proud of how that one turned out. I think on it fondly as one of my best porn fics.

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters:
Probably judy is a punk, which I enjoyed writing very much. I have really liked exploring The Royal Tenenbaums in fic; I feel like it opens up so much more of the film to me.

Hardest story to write:
Maaaybe kill your darlings, kill them dead, which is a crazy Peggy/Natasha AU I did for an exchange. In it, Natasha is a rogue vampire slayer and Peggy is her watcher. There was a minimal amount of plotting and action, which are SUPER hard for me, like. I am so bad at plot, guys. Can someone please teach me to be good at it? I'm so jealous of people who can do plotty stuff, because I am not one of them.

Biggest disappointment:
I don't know if I would call it the BIGGEST disappointment, but I felt I could've done a lot more with the DB theatre AU. I think because it came at the end of the month, I was feeling both a little rushed and a little drained. I don't think it was bad or anything, I just feel I could've done more.

Biggest surprise:
I genuinely don't know. Maybe the elusive Dan/Carter fic again.

Most unintentionally telling story:
Ummmmmmm





W I P   T E A S E R S :

the best you ever had. stupidly long dan/carter porn fic.

      Two weeks later, in the middle of the night, Dan's buzzer goes.
      "It's a tall, dark stranger," comes the low rumble of Carter's voice. "Who wants to stick it in you."
      "You're a regular Casanova," Dan says, and buzzes him up.


tell me something true. blair/dan. a s1-set, my fair lady/selfie au.

      That set off a chain reaction: because Blair found herself in the middle of her junior year suddenly friendless, she did pathetic things like lurk
      in the library during lunch hour. And because she was lurking in the library during lunch hour, she met Dan Humphrey, who had spent every
      lunch hour of the last three years lurking in the library because he hadn't had any friends to start with.


Also while I was poking around in my old stuff I found notes for a fic I never started (the notes are from, like, 2012) and I'm a bit disappointed, it seems quite cute. It's a Harry Potter nextgen fic centered around the kids starting a band, from Lily Jr.'s PoV. I'm debating turning some of my attention to it. I've been in an HP mood lately. Anyway, here's one of the bits I found cute:

      Lily makes a kissy face at the boys, holding her fingers in an L shape against her forehead, the silly little sign they used to do to each other in
      the hall as firsties. Love, it means, and loser and Lily and Lorcan and Lysander.





R E C   L I S T :
I was going to try to keep this list to fic written in 2014, but w/e, if I read it for the first time in 2014, that shit counts.


make one dream come true (you only live twice). beardsley. 2012. captain america, steve/bucky.
      Steve finishes his last lap around the pool. He was hoping a swim would help with the tension in his shoulders, or the ominous feeling in his gut,
      but no dice. It's ridiculous, but he can't help thinking his head might be in the sights of a sniper rifle right this second, and the hair at the back of
      his neck stands on end. He walks out of the water, brushes his hair out of his eyes.

      There's a moment of intent staring from the Avengers; Tony is pointing his phone in Steve's direction. Bruce slowly puts down the journal.

      'What?' Steve demands, confused. 'What did I do?'

      'Nothing,' says Tony, 'now stop talking, I'm making YouTube history.'

Lol this is my favorite Cap fic. I just love it. James Bond shenanigans! Tuxes! Steve emerging from a pool! Winter Soldier amnesia sex! That's probably something Steve would not do, morally, but it's okay because Bucky is holding a gun to his head. It's all great.



no heart to recall. KiaraSayre. 2014. captain america, steve/bucky.
      "I'll have you know that my War Cake won the blue ribbon at the Fourth of July block party three years in a row," Rogers says. "And with my
      mother's recipe, no less."

      Barnes thinks it absently, like an argument so well-worn it's more of a comfort than a disagreement: My mother's recipe. And he remembers that
      Steve had first had it at his house and liked it so much that he'd gotten the recipe for his mother, and then forgotten that it hadn't been hers in the first place.

      But that's all he remembers - it doesn't even feel like a memory but like something he'd heard someone say one time that had happened to stay with
      him, or something he'd learned in school, a fact devoid of context or color, but it's his mother. He knows she had a cake recipe but he doesn't know her
      name, her face, anything else about her -

This is one of my favorite post-CA:TWS fics. I thnk it does such a perfect job of capturing Bucky's character and transitioning him from Winter Soldier!Bucky into someone on the road to healing. Plus I'm a sucker for Bucky defending and protecting Steve without really remembering why he has such a need to do so.



figure drawing. thingswithwings. 2013. marvel, steve/bruce.
      The treadmills are pointed toward a giant television screen that hangs from the ceiling, but Steve has never seen Bruce turn it on.

      Biting his lip, not sure exactly what he's doing, Steve picks up Bruce's usual treadmill and turns it about sixty degrees, until it's facing the area
      with the heavy bag where Steve usually works out. Then he goes to wrap his hands and get started.

      Bruce comes in about ten minutes later, and takes all of two seconds to notice the new orientation of the treadmill. This time when he looks up at
      Steve, Steve looks back, still punching the bag. He forces himself to keep looking, even though Bruce's gaze is intense and frankly evaluative;
      a moment later Bruce's expression breaks into a small smile and he gives Steve a quick nod before stepping up onto the treadmill. Steve nods back,
      then faces the canvas again, not letting himself look at Bruce, letting Bruce look at him.

I reeeeally love this fic. I went through a Ruffalo/Bruce phase this year and found myself surprisingly enjoying this pairing. This author also has another great fic that's Steve/Bruce but also involves Natasha as Bruce's non-sexual dom; I really like that one too. I enjoy Bruce and Natasha's friendship a lot. But this one, figure drawing, is particularly great in how it draws all these comparisons of experience between Bruce and Steve that I had never noticed – how their bodies are so changed, what science has done to them, and how Bruce is really the only one of the Avengers who can understand just what the serum has done to Steve. Also the porn is good.



kissing the lipless. stainofmylove. 2014. gossip girl, blair/dan.
      “It’s just not what I imagined, that’s all. Am I not allowed to mourn the death of print?”

      When he grins warmly in response, she can’t be blamed for reaching out to hug him tightly. It’s a celebratory moment and he’s the only one there,
      one hand coming to rest lightly on her back and the other at the nape of her neck.

      It’s a strange sensation. Wanting to be close to Dan. Wanting—

      “Okay,” she jerks back, “Moment over. Imagine if Serena walked in!”

I looooveee thiiss ficcc. It really gave me that FEELING again, you know, that jolt of shippiness and emotion that I hadn't felt in quite that way since the show ended (if that makes sense). I truly love DB where they are mostly friends, but with tension they refuse to address, and this did that beautifully. The sexy hug that will live in infamy!!



chemistry, biology (as long as he's on top of me). sing_song_sung. gossip girl, dan/serena.
      He gets out of the car and tries to call up his big-brother protective instincts, and he scoops Serena in her short, glittery black dress up
      off the ground and deposits her in the backseat before collecting her shoes and purse. He gets into the driver's seat and turns around to look at her.
      "Did anyone hurt you?" he asks.

      Her makeup is smudged all over her face, black around her eyes, red around her lips. She looks confused by the question and finally says, "I can do it myself."

This fic was perfectly timed, because I had been really craving basically this exact thing when it fell into my lap. It's funny (I was straight-up cackling at Dan throughout) and sexy and also quite sad. I love singsongsung's Serena, but especially as she's presented here: falling apart but refusing to admit it, very young but pretending she's not. I love pre-series Serena a lot in general and she's perfect here. And of course beautiful idiot Dan, being so vastly inappropriate but just pretending like if he doesn't address it it's not happening.



the pure and simple truth. lettered. harry potter, harry/draco but essentially gen. also: hermione, ron, pansy, blaise, ginny, luna, erryone.
      Harry decided, then and there, that he was going to try and see if he could make Pansy Parkinson form a third expression. “I had a terrible
      childhood,” said Harry. “My aunt and uncle locked me in a cupboard.”

      “You were a very Victorian orphan, then,” Parkinson said. “Draco was raised very Victorian also. I suppose we all were.”

      “Malfoy stands up when girls come to the table,” Harry said.

      “That’s what you’re supposed to do.” Malfoy glowered. “And anyway, it’s not like I’d do it for Pansy.” He put his nose in the air. “She’s not a lady.”

      “I hope not.” Parkinson turned back to Harry. “I had a terrible childhood too. I suppose I could tell you my story, about how I was lonely and
      spoiled and rich, but you would never understand, having been raised in a cupboard. It’s just like every other spoiled rich girl’s story. I suppose
      Draco has already told you his.”

      Harry shook his head. “Malfoy almost never talks about being a spoiled rich girl.”

This really reignited my HP feelings. I kind of gave up on HP fic not only because I'd moved on from being actively in the fandom but also because I was having a lot of trouble finding fic that made me feel how the books did, that wasn't total fanon characterization. But this was so great! I'm trying to sum it up in a way that doesn't sound lame, but it's mostly about friendship and ~learning about other people~ and it just feels very real and fresh and fun. It bridges the gap between certain characters in a great way. And it does redemptive!Draco in a nice way too, presenting him as changed without forgetting who he is as a character. It's quite smart and interesting. I'm also always down for Draco and Hermione becoming friends. Plus it is fantastically long and a delight throughout, so please hunker down and treat yourself.



family portrait, c. 1840, oil on canvas. littlerhymes. 2014. interview with the vampire. lestat, louis, claudia.
      The portrait shows Louis seated with Claudia standing beside him, while Lestat rests his hand on the back of Louis' chair. The painter has captured
      their likenesses well, and the colours almost burst out of the frame: her golden curls, his green eyes, and Lestat's too-wide white-toothed smile. The
      brushstrokes emulate the smoothness of silks and satins, and their eyes shine with the bright lustre of jewels. It is, by any standard, an accomplishment.

      [...]

      He looks at the portrait again, trying to see it through Louis' eyes. Does it seem like a memorial to all he's lost rather than gained, the lives he's taken rather
      than the one he's living? Or perhaps it's too close to parody, this portrait of cosy familial bliss, three in a row all smiling through their pointed teeth.

Despite having ventured into writing for this fandom this year, I didn't read much of it, but I checked out the available Yuletide fics and was so happy to stumble upon this one! It's really perfect. It captures the dynamic of their undead little family so well, and Lestat is also so on point – mean and playful and horrible and great. IwtV!Lestat is hands-down my favorite Lestat.



beautiful. breathedout. heathers, heather/heather/heather.
      Usually bringing up her passion for puke puts a damper on Heather's good spirits. Not this time, though. She just sidles up in her undies and stands in front
      of me with a little smirk. I smirk back, and take out my scrunchy. She takes my glass and drains it in one, and Heather McNamara across the room does a stupid
      little whoop. At this point I'm wondering if she's gonna chant us on to victory. Heather Duke with her face between my legs, and Heather McNamara doing the splits
      on her mom's beige wall-to-wall Berber, cheering Let's! Get! Physical! And Beat That Other Team, Go! Westerburg! I'm almost laughing, thinking about it. Then I
      meet Heather Duke's eyes and I do laugh, and so does she, and she makes this little face behind Heather's back like Heather McNamara sometimes makes when
      she's not expecting something, and I wasn't expecting that, so I laugh even harder, and Heather Duke's big grey-blue eyes go all narrow and tickled fucking pink.

      Whatever, then I pull off my pajama top. It was a nice little Hallmark moment, okay? Christ on a stick.

Arghhh this fic is so perfecttttt. I never even knew I wanted Heatherx3 porn until it arrived in my life and was perfect. Not only does this author somehow make first person PoV their bitch, but the tone and language is absolutely perfect. I love Heather Chandler. I'm so happy this exists.





So there you have it! I hope you enjoyed the post and take much advantage of the fic recs.

lélio & ophelia
the vampire chronicles. lestat/louis + claudia. 4k.

summary: Find me, Lestat is saying in a thousand different ways, find me find me find me.

note: Linking to my Yuletide fic because I'm too lazy to actually crosspost.


( a bond more eternal than death. is that not the definition of family? )

I am insane and so my original intention was to keep all the music in this pre-1945, but I quickly gave up on that pipe dream; however, even if I used later recordings, I'm pretty certain all of these songs were written pre-1945 or thereabouts. A lot of pretty, sad songs that are close to my heart on this one. Vaguely disappointed at myself that there's no Bing Crosby.





01. bewitched, bothered, & bewildered.rita hayworth.
men are not a new sensation; I've done pretty well, I think.
but this half-pint imitation put me on the blink.

I've tripped again. I've slipped again.
the way to my heart is unzipped again.


02. smoke gets in your eyes.the platters.
something here inside cannot be denied.

when your heart's on fire
you must realize
smoke gets in your eyes.


03. a cigarette and a silhouette.mildred bailey.
all through this dreamy heaven, I go back to days gone by
when the moon was real and you were real
and my hopes were in the sky.






07. these foolish things (remind me of you). billie holiday.
a cigarette that bears a lipstick's traces
an airline ticket to romantic places
and still my heart has wings
these foolish things remind me of you

a tinkling piano in the next apartment
those stumbling words that told you what my heart meant
a fairground's painted swings
these foolish things remind me of you

the winds of march that made my heart a dancer
a telephone that rings, but who's to answer
oh, how the ghost of you clings
these foolish things remind me of you


08. suite bergamasque: 3. clair de lune.alexis weissenberg.
[instrumental]


09. I'll see you in my dreams.matt berninger.
though the days are long
twilight sings a song
of the happiness that used to be.
soon my eyes will close
soon I'll find repose
and in dreams, you're always near to me.

Been feeling like posting lately but none of the stuff I have planned is exactly ~ready~ yet so I thought I'd do a bit of a television chatty post? I've been wanting to do one for a while, actually, since I always love reading everyone's what-I'm-watching type posts but for the past few years I haven't really been watching much, or haven't felt like talking about it. But I am actually watching things lately!


Agent Carter. AGENT CARTER. Agent Carterrrrrr giving me everything I neeeeeed. Having been a hardcore Hayley Atwell fan since Brideshead Revisited (and enjoying bragging about it as though I discovered her or something), I am intensely delighted to get to look at her gorgeous face every week, but getting to watch her play a character as amazing as Peggy? Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good. I'm sure anyone who has been on the internet has seen the waxing poetic about Pegs, but I will do some more of it: I did not even anticipate just how much fun she is?? Like I did not expect the zaniness or lolzy side eye?? I don't know why but I did not and I am so happy. I watch this show LIVE. I don't even know the last time I watched a television show live. Peggy is everything I could have possibly wanted. So capable! So hilarious! So tragic! Such fashion! So lipstick! Jarvis!!! SWEET PRINCE JARVIS. Angie!! I have nothing of value to add about this show, I'm just rolling on the floor and crying about Peggy and reapplying red lipstick in her honor over and over again.

Jane the Virgin. I kind of expected to be more into this show than I am? Like, I totally get the appeal and love Jane, Xo, and Rogelio, but... I don't know. I'm not excited for the next episode, you know what I mean? I'm not really attached to either of Jane's romances. It's just sort of cute and there.

Empire. Really enjoying this! I'm sure anyone who has followed my journal for any length of time or is friends with me or whatever will be unsurpried to learn I am All About Cookie. Taraji is gorgeous and serving some camp excellence, but I also quite like the show as a whole! Especially the brothers. Give me messy family dynamics all day every single fucking day. (However, I remain unsold on Terrence Howard. Is it just me or is he kind of sleeping through the performance? Like, imagine if someone incredibly powerful was in that role, how good that would be.)

Broad City. Just fully caught up with this! V. funny, digging it, much lols.

Constantine. I want to love this show more than I acutally love it, I think. The lead guy is REALLY GOOD. I actually do love him a lot. He gives a great performance despite not having a ton to work with and I keep tuning in in the hopes the show rises to his level. It's sort of glaring, at times, how much it is mediocre whereas he is great. I really want this show to be Angel, kind of? In a way? I have an Angel-shaped void in my heart and it's not filling it, really, but I WISH. I'll keep watching until it gets cancelled, though; I have no doubts it will be cancelled. I read some Constantine comics as a kid (really just a few, whatever showed up in Sandman) but he's a very interesting, gripping character, so I will continue to hope the show surprises me. It could be SO GOOD if it would just BE GOOD. Rise above supernatural procedural dullness, show!!

AHS: Freak Show. Total trash. I suffered through it but I don't even know why at this point. Watching the finale as I type this up and just. Bleh. Here's hoping s5 is totally the opposite of everything this season was.

Looking. Apparently I watch this show now??? I tried the pilot back when it first aired and found it SO UNSPEAKABLY DULL. I was like, this is just a bunch of hipsters talking quietly in low-lit rooms, why would I bother with this. But on a whim, I tried the first episode of s2 and was oddly into it, so I went back and caught up with everything. It's just too easy to catch up with half-hour shows. There are some parts of it I'm indifferent too (fuckin Agustin I swear to GOD) but Jonathan Groff is so fucking cute someone should slap him right in his face. And I love seeing a History Boys alum popping up in things! I find myself genuinely on the fence as to the triangle it's got going, though I know tumblr is all over Patrick/Richie (and Richie is hella handsome so I get it) but I find both relationships appealing for totally different reasons, so. Not obsessed but enjoying the show and happily along for the ride. Did I mention Groff is the motherfucking cutest?


The Slap (the Australian one). Speaking of slaps. Just finished this, like mere moments ago. It's a miniseries and maybe y'all have seen that they're remaking it for NBC with a load of good people (Peter Sarsgaard, Thandie Newton, Quinto, Uma Thurman). I first heard about it because Penn Badgley's got a small role and thought it sounded pretty lame. The first episode is about a man slapping another couple's child at a barbeque and the series is, partially, about the resulting fallout, which just sounded massively uninteresting to me, though I planned to check it out for Penn. But the original Australian series is all on Netflix, so I figured I'd give it a shot out of boredom and to see what Penn's role would be like (fangirl extremis, I know) and I ended up really enjoying it quite a lot! It was really a great show, much more interesting than its conceit would have one believe. It was eight episodes, each from the PoV of a different character, and I found myself really enjoying/missing that format. It reminded me a bit of Skins that way – not the content, because obviously it's very different, but the idea of an episode telling a contained story about a specific person in a very poignant way while at the same time contributing to a larger narrative. It was very well done, really well acted, and just on the whole very compelling. I basically watched it straight through. Great character work. It's funny, when you get used to watching shows with sort of lazy character work or character work that's secondary to plot stuff, you can forget what it's like to see it done very well. I loved the women most, unsurprisingly, but I found even the characters I didn't find likable presented in a fascinating way. Really, this show was what pushed me to make the post, I really would love to talk to someone about it! I highly recommend it.

My favorite character was perhaps not one of the major major ones, though she had the second episode to herself. Her name was Anouk and she was played by Essie Davis (Uma will play her in the NBC one) and I kind of wish she'd come along to do the role again (Melissa George is reprising her role) because I have a really hard time imagining someone else in the part. She was just very much the kind of character I like to watch (capable, indepdent, slightly selfish, sort of bitchy, strong-willed) and I liked her entire storyline and growth. So... I'm very interested to see how much changes in the remake and I'm now eagerly looking forward to the show! I really hope it's good. I found the world of the characters so interesting and so full that I was sort of disappointed that it was only eight episodes.



Also, I said it on tumblr, might as well say it here too – I'm pretty sure I'm going to do lolzy recaps of Gossip Girl Acapulco, so...stay tuned for that?

other stuff
dan/serena. r. 5k words. set in s1.

summary: Serena has never been conscious of somebody else's limits before; she's not sure anyone's been quite so conscious of hers.

note: some fluffporn, which is apparently all I am capable of writing anymore. set from around 1x05 to after 1x11.



I must say, Dan has been surprisingly good at everything we've done.
Which is…? Everything?
No! But feel free to ask any personal questions.




Finding out Dan is a good kisser is a huge relief for Serena.

Not that she expected him to be a bad kisser. She just assumed he hadn't necessarily done much in the way of kissing, considering he hadn't ever had a girlfriend – but then again, she'd never had a boyfriend and she was about as far from unkissed as a girl could get.

It was just that she wanted him to be good so badly. It was totally normal to have a healthy amount of worry; at least that was what she gleaned from Blair's advice on the matter.

"You haven't even kissed him yet?" Blair had leveled her with one of those you are absurd looks she was so good at, like Serena was wearing a teapot on her head or something. "I wouldn't get too attached, S. He practically has 'virgin' tattooed on his forehead, I bet it'll be a disaster." (Serena was a good friend, so she kindly refrained from pointing out that Blair was also a virgin.)

The trouble was Serena was already attached. But it turned out that healthy amount of worry was all for nothing, because Dan is a fantastic kisser.

Dan also likes to kiss probably more than anyone she's been with; or, at least, he doesn't kiss her like he's waiting for the next step, like this is a thing he has to do to get under her skirt. Dan doesn't even try to get under her skirt. Kissing seems to be a more than acceptable endgame for him.

They're on his bed while his family's out, after school and still in uniform, though Dan's tie is missing and so is Serena's sweater. He has one leg between hers and his hand is smoothing over her thigh repeatedly, though he's sticking to the exposed skin between the hem of her skirt and top of her kneesock.

"Who was your first kiss?" Serena murmurs, soft and curious, ignoring the steady thrumming of her heart that wants to hear you were.

"Uh…" Dan laughs a little, looking uncertain, like maybe he's not supposed to talk about another girl to her. "Her name was Melody. We were, um. Twelve, I think? She was the kid of this guy in my dad's band." His eyebrow lifts slightly, interested. "Who was yours?"

Serena suppresses a tiny smile though a little bit of a giggle slips out anyway when she answers, "Blair," and watches his eyes go dinner-plate-size. "Don't tell," Serena adds in a whisper, leaning back in to kiss his parted lips, enjoying his little overwhelmed huff before he kisses back.

Serena has never been conscious of somebody else's limits before; she's not sure anyone's been quite so conscious of hers. It's not just that Dan doesn't do anything without asking her first – he doesn't even ask, some combination of insecurity and courtesy keeping the words from his lips even as it pushes them to hers. "Can I?" she asks, and waits for an affirmative reply before unbuttoning his shirt, and, "Will you?" so he'll put his hand under hers.

"It's okay, I promise," Serena says, a little impatient, as kisses get quicker and rougher, her whole body arching up into Dan. She wants to wrap herself around him, all her limbs, like an eager octopus. She brings her knees up around his waist and feels Dan move into the space between, a rush of breath escaping him, a nervous flexing of his fingers against her lower back.

Serena strokes his cheeks with both hands, her mouth insistent against his. "It's okay," she says again. "I want you to touch me. Here."

She tugs her own shirt buttons free, letting it fall open over her thin camisole, her hot pink bra just barely showing through. She moves to pull the cami untucked but Dan stills her hands and sits up between her legs, holding her up slightly so he can help her arms out of the shirt and get the camisole over her head. They both laugh when it gets caught first in her earring, then in her hair, and Dan untangles her each time.

His hands skim over her waist as he leans down to kiss her. Dan's lips always seem to fit just right with hers, never landing awkwardly or bumping noses. He has a way of kissing that reminds Serena of how he talks: earnest, usually, and intent and deep, sometimes a little teasing. She thinks she likes it best when he smiles into her mouth, or laughs. He kisses her like there's nothing else he ever wants to do.

She catches his bottom lip between hers, gives him a gentle nip, and lets her legs fall apart further, tips her hips up against his. His shirt's open halfway and she relishes the press of skin to skin, however brief. He still seems to be holding back a little, dipping down to kiss her, long kisses that she could sink right into, but otherwise keeping himself separate.

"What? What is it?" she says, wanting to get his shirt off the rest of the way, wanting more.

"Nothing, I'm just…" Dan swallows, flustered maybe, and looks down for a quick second; Serena follows the look and laughs, though that seems to make him more nervous.

Mouth on his once more, she says, "That's a good thing; kind of means the kissing's working."

Dan laughs a little. "I don't want to be, like, the creep with the erection pressed up against you."

"But what if that's what I want?" Serena arches, slips her hands down to his ass. "What if that's really, really what I want?"

He laughs again but this time finally lets his weight settle on her. She can feel him then, hard against her, and her body answers his desperately, pulse fluttering every time their lips meet. They start moving in an imperfect, unpracticed rhythm; Serena kisses his jaw, a hint of stubble under her lips. Dan's touch trails over her legs and arms and sides until finally he gropes her through her bra, bright pink satin with a lace overlay and a price tag that would shock him. She started wearing good lingerie to school under her uniform in the hopes that after class Dan would get to see it.

His breath stutters against her cheek as he rubs her nipple through the lace, feels it tighten. It's not just you, she wants to say. It's not just you being driven crazy. "Here too," she says with sudden determination, taking one of his hands and putting it between her legs. "You can touch me here too."

She thinks it might be too much for Dan, hesitant as he generally is, but the surprise fades from his body before it fades from his face. He strokes over her panties (pink lace to match), learning the way she feels with his fingertips. Serena knows she's wet and wonders if he can feel that too.

Serena lets herself learn him by touch right back: nails over his lovely shoulders, hands on his chest and the stomach that contracts under her fingers, and finally the hard shape of him through his uniform pants. Not bad, she thinks with another silly rush of relief. Not bad at all.






Lazy Sunday studying devolves quickly into lazy Sunday kissing. Dan has come over to help Serena with her English paper, but she can't help deviating from the plan: his serious, furrowed-brow concentration demands a kiss. And when he smiles, caught between wanting to kiss back and his studious dedication, it demands another.

Eventually they end up stretched across her bed, Dan's hand under her loose white t-shirt; he doesn't need quite as much prodding anymore. Serena admits to teasing a little today, not wearing a bra and pressing against him a lot, leaning farther every time his eyes dropped to the low V-neck of her shirt. But it's to his credit, she thinks, that he's starting to take her at her word, that he's no longer nervous about touching her.

"God, you're so beautiful," Dan says. It isn't the first time she's heard that from him but he says it like it's a revelation each time. His mouth is soft over her throat, down along the neckline of her shirt, briefly pressed to her hard nipple through the cotton while the hand underneath teases.

Two pairs of jeans make things more difficult in terms of sensation but Serena isn't exactly complaining; the seam is pressing against her in just the right way and she can't stop fidgeting, especially when Dan's hand slides between them to palm her, the heel of his hand grinding against her.

Dan came like this once, rocking against her through their clothes. Serena hadn't minded but he'd been so embarrassed that ever since they've avoided crossing the line, instead breaking apart to lay next too each other breathing too hard until they can function again. They're getting close to that point now, Serena can tell.

Dan pushes her shirt up so he can trail his mouth over the curve of one breast, tongue tracing around her nipple. He kisses the flat plane between her tits and moves over to the other, his teeth gentle and daring. She's still rubbing against his hand, the seam of her jeans, but she wants more like always – though before she can speak, Dan does.

"Can I…" He trails off, biting his lip, and lays his hand on her stomach. "Can I touch you – uh, you know –"

Serena can only imagine how she looks, on her back with her shirt rucked up, hair messy and undone, but she know how she feels, thrumming with tension. "Yeah," she breathes. "Yes."

The look he gives her then is near-wistful. He keeps his eyes on hers as he opens her jeans and slips his hand in. Her underwear is damp and clinging; Dan has touched her like this before, through her panties, and to Serena it's almost innocent in a bizarre way, keeping the thinnest of barriers between them. But now he nudges the fabric aside and for the first time touches her.

They both suck in a breath, Dan's gaze dropping down to where his hand disappears into her jeans. His fingers just slide over her at first, gently stroking. She can feel his erection pressing into her hip but he seems unconcerned for now, focusing instead on slipping one finger along her folds. The newness of doing this with Dan is enough to make Serena's skin prickle, but when his lips part, tongue swiping out to wet the bottom one, her anticipation is a painful thing in her chest.

He surprises her by locating her clit almost immediately, and it must show in her expression because he laughs. "I have looked some stuff up," Dan says, a touch smugly.

Serena snorts, which is probably not very sexy, and yanks him down for a kiss. "You trying to earn an A plus?"

"I hope," he murmurs, fingers working tentatively. His mouth lowers to press just underneath her ear, sucking lightly.

Serena wriggles a little, regretting her constricting jeans. The pressure on her clit is good but not enough, and a little too dry – she should tell Dan. He likes to know these things so he can do his best. But when she opens her mouth what comes out, breathier than she expected, is, "You can – um, put your fingers inside. Too."

Dan sucks in a breath. "Right."

He tries, hand moving too-slow and overly-cautious, but instead of the easy slide inside Serena is hoping for, he just sort of…pokes her. Serena gives him a minute but when his fumbling does not become more successful, she's unable to keep a slight wince from her face.

Dan's brows knit. "Uh, can you, uh, show me, maybe…"

He looks so disappointed with himself that Serena can't help a giggle – not laughing at him, exactly, but not not laughing at him either. It's just too impossibly sweet, how much he wants to be good for her. "It's not the end of the world," she teases him. "It's really not that – It's okay, just be…gentle, right?"

She finally shoves her jeans down her legs, kicking them off and delighting a little in Dan's widened eyes. This is the most naked she's ever been with him but it just feels natural – not that Serena has ever really been one to be self-conscious without her clothes on.

She covers his hand with hers, bringing it back between her legs, directing him as she lets her head fall back and her eyes close. She tries to concentrate so she can get things going a little and falls back on an old reliable as their hands glide together over her pussy: the beach, maybe, on a blanket at night with the waves in the background – no, day would be better, thinking of the hot sun on her skin, that dreamy feeling that comes with being overheated, suffused in all that light. Usually in the fantasy she's just touching herself, sometimes wearing a bikini or a flimsy sundress tugged off one shoulder, but always with someone watching her breathlessly. Sometimes the someone is a person she knows, Blair or Carter, but sometimes it's a lot of people, strangers.

She releases Dan once it seems like he's got the swing of it, her hands coming up to cup her breasts, toy with her nipples. She keeps her eyes shut while she thinks of lots and lots of eyes on her – her in public doing something she's not supposed to be doing –

"Oh, shit," Dan breathes, at what must be the first wet rush against his fingers. She can feel it, everything suddenly easy and slick. "Wow."

It makes her laugh, palms against his cheeks. "You're just – you're so cute," she tries to explain. He smiles, sweet and crinkly, and that demands a kiss too.







Serena drags Dan home from school with her most days, keeping him late and then sending him back to Brooklyn in a hired towncar, the acceptance of which is determined by how tired he is (he usually takes the car, but he pouts about it). Today she makes him skip his last class because she's still hyped from a lacrosse victory in gym, too hyped to sit through her final class of the day: algebra, made almost too easy to skip thanks to its schedule placement.

Getting Perfect Attendance Dan to skip a class or two is a tiny victory Serena wouldn't trade for anything.

She deposits him in her bedroom with magazine and laptop access while she goes into the ensuite bathroom for a quick shower. She's a little sweaty and gross, hair in a fall-down ponytail with strands sticking to her cheeks. She strips off, kicking her gym clothes into a heap, and tugs her hairband free. She looks at herself in the mirror for a long second and then looks at the door, beyond which Dan waits, wasting time.

It isn't a difficult decision to make.

She wraps a white towel around herself before poking head and shoulders out into her bedroom. "Hey," she says, casually. "I was thinking. You sort of look like you could use a shower yourself."

Dan had been flipping through Vogue with a perplexed expression, but at the sound of her voice it shifts into playfulness. "You thought so, huh."

Serena nods solemnly. "And there's really no reason to waste water, so I thought I might invite you to mine."

Dan smiles but doesn't get up just yet. First he asks, "You sure?"

"More than," Serena answers without missing a beat.

She gets the water going, steam filling the room as Dan shuts the door, his hands already at his buttons. "Should we talk about, uh," he starts, a touch of anxiousness in it, "like, how far we're going to –"

"Dan," Serena says firmly, raising her eyebrow slightly. "We're taking a shower. Don't overthink it. And take off your pants."

She flits around the bathroom checking the water temperature and putting on music and trying to not to straight-up watch Dan get undressed like she really wants to do. He can be shy, she knows from experience, and she wants him to be comfortable. But she also really wants to look.

Finally, seeming amused, Dan steps up beside her and kisses her shoulder, hands on her towel. A minute later it's on the ground and they're in the water, a dizzy-hot cocoon of steam.

She stands behind him in the spray, nearly his height, and rubs the soapy shower puff over his back, thinking about how he'll smell like her, her body wash and her shampoo. She's given Dan a lot of her body but not taken much advantage of his. She touches him everywhere, his arms and sides, his slightly jutting hipbones, his flat stomach, small nipples, skinny thighs. She just wraps him up in her arms and feels him breathe, awaiting her next move. He doesn't have a lot of marks on his body: no scars, no bruises, no stray dark brown freckles. Untouched, she thinks.

Serena kisses the back of his neck as her hand curls around the base of his cock. He blows his breath out slow, pacing himself. She runs her fingers over him very lightly, getting a sense of how he feels in her grasp, tracing veins and listening to every little huff and sigh of breath.

One of Dan's hands braces flat on the white tile in front of them, and Serena can't help trailing a touch along the strong line of his arm. His head tips back against her shoulder, wet hair tickling her cheek, his eyes closed and mouth open. The shower spray hits him square in the chest, a little reddened patch of skin.

Serena turns her face against his, kissing his cheek and jaw. "You feel good," she tells him.

He has his lower lip between his teeth, but he releases it to say, "You're not getting much out of it."

Serena's brows draw together slightly and she leans up to kiss his open mouth. "I'm getting a lot out of it," she says. It isn't a lie. Serena's boy-craziness has been exaggerated to legendary proportions but at the end of the day she can't help the way they do drive her crazy: wide shoulders and sharp collarbones, prickly jaws and flat chests, slim waists and slim hips. With Dan it's his nice hands, bony wrists, the vein that runs along his forearm. It's his nose, his eyes, his lips. It's his dick in her hand, his gasps close to her mouth.

"Turn around and kiss me," she says, so he does, water spilling over both of them. His hands are all over her body immediately, curling against the curve of her ass and bringing her close, so close they're pressed together and she doesn't have much room to manipulate her hand – but it doesn't matter because Dan comes with teenage boy abruptness, evidence of it washed from her skin almost as quick.

He breathes against her throat, kisses her skin.

"Wash my hair?" she asks hopefully.

His laugh is quiet, more air than sound. "Least I can do."

He falls asleep in her bed later, redressed but still damp. Serena, in pajamas now, lays awake. She lets her fingers sink into his hair, still wet and slightly curling. He'd said he had curly hair but it's too short to really tell and she likes the idea of a silly little mystery between them. She wonders what his family will say when he shows up with wet hair, wonders if she could keep him here, dozing next to her, for a whole night.

She wonders at wanting to keep him for a whole night.







After the sex-that-wasn't, Serena had harbored a tiny fear that maybe Dan wouldn't continue being so patient – that his niceness and understanding had a limit, and any day she would reach it. But it was irrational; Dan genuinely didn't seem to care that she wanted to wait, and if he felt otherwise, he'd probably say so. That was one good thing about Dan, that he never kept stuff like that to himself. If he felt something, she was bound to hear about it sooner rather than later. And Serena likes that. She likes to know these things so she can do her best, so she can be better than before.

And one day he says, "I want to go down on you," point-blank, not even bothering to lower his voice for decency.

They're not even kissing, they're not even – nothing sexy is happening, Serena isn't trying to turn it on, it's just normal. They're having coffee together Saturday morning and Serena is reading a novella she bought at the used bookstore Dan likes. She thinks he's reading too until she realizes he's just looking at her. Her smile is a quick quirk of self-consciousness and her eyebrows lift, questioning. And then he says it.

Serena feels the words all the way down to her toes but she still jokes, "What, right here?"

"Dad's going in to the gallery at one," Dan says.

Serena worries her lip, fights a smile. "Jenny?"

"With your good friend Blair, being made to feel insecure and lacking in self worth," he sums up neatly.

Serena gives that a fond roll of the eyes.

"So?" Dan prompts, book closed now, leaning forward. "Can I?"

Half an hour later finds her on her back on Dan's bed, tights peeled off and dress twisted up, blue-and-pink floral panties dropped on the floor. His cheap jersey sheets are soft under her hands and hips, slept-in and well-used. She pushes up on her elbows, looking at Dan looking at her, which is what he's been doing for the last minute or longer, touching her lightly and just looking.

"Dan," she prods.

"Huh? Oh. Sorry." The look he gives her is slightly sheepish but also strangely heated, and she feels her stomach clench pleasurably. "I've never really been up close before. Uh, obviously."

Serena laughs, nose wrinkling. "It's not much to look at."

"I think it's beautiful," Dan says, in that Dan way he has that makes her skin tingle, before he leans in to press a kiss to her pussy. "Will you tell me what to do? What you like?"

She rubs a hand affectionately through his hair, ruffling it. "You're good with your hands," she says. "Now add your mouth."

Dan gives her a wry smile and lowers his head.

Serena always liked Dan's mouth; it was one of the first things she noticed about him, one of first things that comes to her mind when she thinks about him. She likes the shape of it, likes that he knows when to be soft and when to be firm. She likes his mouth that has proved to be naturally very good at kissing but spends most of its time talking, saying weird things and interesting things and sort of mean things, too.

Now his mouth moves gently over her, not hesitant but building anticipation. He tugs her a little closer to the edge of the bed, which he's kneeling beside, hands wrapping around her thighs. Serena has found herself a little shy with Dan since the sex-that-wasn't, but she isn't sure it has anything to do with him, really. That twinge of vulnerability is in her whenever they touch now, and it's good but it's scary too.

His nose nudges against her lightly, oddly a little cold, and then his tongue parts her folds, dragging slowly upwards, flat as it passes over her clit. He keeps the pace hurried. Serena isn't sure if it's an attempt at technique or if he's just unsure but either way it works for her, warm bursts of sensation washing through her like waves. Shallow waves, still, but very promising ones.

"You'll tell me, right?" Dan's voice is low, a sweet hum against her. "What feels good?"

"It's all good," Serena says, maybe impatiently, as she threads her fingers through his hair. "Keep going."

His lips close around her clit, sucking while his tongue flicks against it, and Serena gasps.

"Did you do more research or something?" she breathes, honestly curious, and feels Dan's silent laughter, his face turned into her thigh, before a little bump from her leg redirects his attention. He keeps it up insistently, the sucking and flicking, a few long slow licks, and then he slips his fingers into her.

"Oh, that's good," Serena moans, pressing his head against her, "That's so good, that's –"

He picks up the pace a little, tongue quick against her clit as his fingers curl slightly, his free hand gripping her ass. Serena pulls her knees up a little, holds her legs farther apart, arching against his mouth and clutching his hair way too tightly.

"Dan, Dan," she says, head thrown back, "Dan, I think –"

Her toes curl, her hands fist in the sheets, and her body is a tight arch, everything focused on Dan. The moan that pulls its way from her throat is more of a cry, sharp and sudden and so good. Her pulse flutters and flutters and she thinks Dan must feel it under his tongue, still working against her.

"Oh, Dan," she murmurs, stroking his hair, the back of his neck, his ears, his jaw. "Dan, that was really good."

"See, you make fun of me," he says, and then kisses her thigh. "But research helps."







Christmas cheer has given way to the usual New Year letdown, all quickly broken resolutions and January chill. In the past, Serena has spent the entire post-holiday season pretty out of it, emerging sometime around spring to fumble through exams and plan summer vacation.

This year is different.

She and Dan spend all of winter break finding excuses to get wrapped up in each other, a feat made much more difficult by the return to school. They try to work around it: back to kissing in the courtyard, rushing back to her empty apartment after school. Serena sends Dan increasingly filthy texts throughout the school day until he has to turn off his phone. But some days require a few stolen moments.

She whisks him away after third period, Dan protesting that he has class but with a smile on his face that belies the objection. She drags him up and up and up the stairs, uses her key (Serena always has a key) to get the door to the roof open and pushes him into the February cold.

"Oh no, too cold, way too cold," Dan says, but he lets Serena keep pulling him along.

"You'll be warm in a minute." She leans back against the brick of the building, eyebrow quirking cheesily, and tugs Dan against her, arm looping around his neck. "Give me your hand."

She presses his hand under her skirt, between her legs, and smiles at his soft swearing; she'd slipped her panties off in the bathroom right before coming to get him, shoved them into the side pocket of her purse. He's confident and unhesitating now, knows from months of practice where and how to touch her. The slide of his fingers is skilled. Serena bites her lip, keeping a quiet cry from escaping, and hooks one leg around his hips.

"Right here?" Dan asks. His nose brushes hers, lips moving over her face.

"Right here," Serena murmurs in confirmation. The breeze isn't strong but it's undoubtedly cold, whipping her hair into both of their faces, pinking their cheeks. Blair likes making fun of what she refers to as Serena's "exhibitionist streak," but there's just something she likes about having sex outside – not the getting caught aspect so much as it just feeling free, sun and wind and wide blue sky.

Dan is good to her, always making sure she's ready, every single time. Jackets had been left in lockers so she's only got a cardigan and thin shirt between herself and the elements; it's easy enough to untangle her tie, open buttons. Dan smiles before he bends to kiss along the lace-edged cup of her bra, his fingers inside her so careful. Serena scratches her nails luxuriously through his hair and kisses his temple – happy but not knowing what to do with it, with feeling so much.

She reaches for his zipper as they kiss, Dan giving a little shiver that could be cold or desire and laughing against her mouth. It edges over into a groan when her fingers curl around him.

"I don't," he breathes, "I don't have a condom."

Her Dan, always so responsible. Well, she's picking up tricks from him. "I do, it's okay."

A few moments later and he's easing into her. It's a discordant feeling, the cold bringing goosebumps to her skin while Dan makes her flushed and hot. Her hair is catching on the bricks. Her hands are pressed to Dan's cheeks as she kisses him and laughs because it's chilly and moans because it's so good, so impossibly good.

He's got one hand on the bricks and the other under her ass, telling her all kinds of nonsense, that she's beautiful and wonderful and she feels amazing, all that sex bullshit that, inexplicably, Dan actually means. His eyes close only in the brief, hurried moments when their lips meet; otherwise his eyes are on hers, dark brown and warm.

Sometimes she still wishes there hadn't been anyone but Dan, and sometimes it even feels like it.

Like right now: Serena has fucked plenty of boys in inconspicuous places but at the moment all of it pales, pales compared to Dan laughing and losing his balance and catching it again and cursing. Pales against giggly kisses passed between them and Dan's forehead pressed to hers.

Best of all is when Dan gets serious about it, holds her up with both hands and catches her mouth on every other thrust, his brow getting that solemn little crease. She knows she's the only one who has this part of Dan. She's the only one who has seen it. It belongs to her and she'll never have to share it, Dan's quiet moaning of her name before he comes, Dan's fingers finishing her off.

Owning things has never been important to Serena; she's not really possessive by nature. But there is a fierce protectiveness in her she can't deny and it wraps its hand around her heart whenever she thinks about Dan. They go back to class, Dan looking particularly dazed, and Serena doodles her way through English feeling not only the shivery tension of dissipated orgasm, not just the thrill of having broken some rule, but a bizarre and private kind of pride.

The best part is knowing that when she's sitting here thinking of Dan, he's out there thinking of her too.

Welcome to the first of an indeterminate number of recaps (how long do we think I'll be able to keep this up?)! Also welcome to the world of Gossip Girl: Acapulco, where everyone has their dramatic showdowns in bikinis while standing next to killer views and the boys hardly bother putting on clothes at all. Strangely, it often makes more sense than the original. Welcome: you're safe here.




I'm going to refer to the characters by their names in this show because it's easier to differentiate from the original and because…those are their names. It's not that hard to keep track but juuuust in case any little angels get confused, I made a little key. Look at those delightful faces. You'll notice the poor people pretty much got to keep their names. This is truly Bizarro Gossip Girl; like, the people they cast are so within the same genre as the original actors that it's a little weird. It's probably the kind of thing you have to be watching to notice. I don't know. Sofia serves some weird as hell Blake realness sometimes.

We open on Gossip Girl blathering to a catchy theme song (side note: I was always kind of bitter GG hit in the era when longer intros were passé. Let's pretend we lived in a world where Frank Ocean was around in 2007 and "Super Rich Kids" was the theme song of that show.) and our first glimpse of Sofia's sadfaced return home! Unlike our Serena and her sad train, Sofia is drinking sad champagne in a private jet. So, this should give you a hint of how things are different over here in Acapulco. She also checks Gossip Girl, which on this show is a Twitter feed, which makes SO MUCH MORE SENSE OH GOD, bless emerging technology (sometimes).




Sofia emerges at Not-Grand Central where someone still snaps her picture and Daniel still gets all flustered eyeballing her. However, unlike the Humphreys of Brooklyn, the Parras are of Buenos Aires and (I think) have just moved here to Acapulco so Dan hasn't been stalking her from afar for years and years. Also, he's a surfer, not a writer. Yes, that's right. No hints in the entire 25 episodes that he would ever even want to be a writer. Bro surfs. He's also like eight feet tall and wicked hot.

The party at Blair's house from the pilot is now a pool party full of naked teens. ACAPULCO. Bárbara, also adorably called Barbie, trots around in her leopard bikini making sad faces about Sofia's return. Chuck-Max creeps on her, because of course, and then creeps on Sofia by proxy, because of course. Barbie goes to find Nate-Nico to drag him off to fool around but they stop to have a conversation with their parents, which I find extra hilarious because all these dumb teens are half-naked.

Eleanor is Leonora, and also about six times more terrifying than the original; sis has got robot eyes. The Captain, or El Capitán, is also about six times worse, befitting someone called El Capitán. He sleazes all over Barbie and calls her Barbarita and Princess and he's so gross, you guys, just wait until I bother to include him in a screencap.

In Barb's room, Nico is all YOU ARE SUCH A TEASE and MY DICK IS IN PHYSICAL PAIN and IT'S BEEN THREE YEARS, CAN'T WE PLEASE HAVE SEX. Poor Barbie wants to wait until MARRIAGE because she's vaguely more into God from the start here. While she blueballs him some more, Sofia arrives and her mother and Leonora immediately sends her off to change from her pants and long-sleeved shirt into a monokini. What were you THINKING, Sofia? You can't face your best friend for the first time in a year in NOT a bathing suit. God.




(Hilarious-horribly, Leonora is all "I have a bathing suit that looked TERRIBLE on Barbie, but it'll look so great on YOU!")

Same shit different day: Nico gets wind of Sofia's return and all but throws Barbie off the bed to run to her. Real smooth, Not-Nate. Everyone gets their first look at each other: Barbie glares, Sofia makes Blake-lite confused-sad faces, and Nico just sort of stands there perplexed while his shirt billows open attractively. Never, ever change, show.




The Humphreys-Parras own a hotel; that's their thing here. Little angelic Jenny is busy making invitations for Barbie's 18th birthday party, which is the party of the episode. Everyone is slightly older here and it's their last year at school, because the first season of this show combines s1 and s2 of ours, which is partially why stuff flows better. (Forever bitter there will never be a s2.) Also I find myself immensely more charmed by Jenny on the first go around than I was originally. I grew to like Jenny but I'd been indifferent to her at first – and tbh as much as I like Taylor in the role, I think it was sort of a mistake for Jenny to be visibly so much younger than everyone else. It kind of isolated her storylines and made it weirder/creepier when she'd try to have romances with the mains. This Jenny doesn't come off quite so young but I also just think the actress is kind of delightful.

Dan and Jenny are very cute and siblingsy. No one cares about Rufus ever. I did not bother to learn Rufus' Acapulco name.

The school they all attend is called Harold's. Sofia and Nico have that same conversation Nate and Serena had in the pilot but with the ocean in the background. Nico's thirst is a visible thing. Max creeps around and drops that still-repulsive line about Sofia's ~perfection needing to be ~violated. Nico tells him he has issues and Max's response to this is to go on about Barbie's flower and getting into her garden and other garbage.

Jenny impresses Barbie and the Budget Mean Girls with her Photoshop invite skillz. Sofia tries to get her ass invited to the party but Barbie is all "no one knew where the hell you even were, for all we knew you were in rehab" except she says rehab in English and makes an adorably snide face worthy of Le Meester in her heyday. Other great mean shit Barbie says: "We didn't count you in for the liquor and it'd be a big difference." SNAP.




S and B have their semi-making-up chat not at a bar but next to the ocean in bikinis as has become tradition on this show in such a short time. Glorious. All awkward convos should be had by sexy girls in bikinis. Sofia wants to make up. Barbie is still mad and accuses Sofia of always wanting Nico (it should be noted that at this point B does not know NS happened). To distract her, Sofia points to the hottest and tallest guy at the beach and is all DON'T WORRY I'M TAPPING THAT.


Luckily for her and for us, it is Surfer Dan. He knows an opportunity when he sees one so goes along with it, smooches both of them on the cheek like fifty times, and also gets Sofia's number (on his surf board, with lipstick, why not). He's a charmer, Acapulco Dan. He loses her number because it was written with makeup on an item that goes in water and they meet-cute yet another time later on so he can get it again. It's kind of pointless but they're cute, so. Sofia calls him "surfer" and I think later he calls her "blondie" and I cry a little, honestly.

Sofia checks on Eric in rehab; Lily is terrible; no1currs, but Lily especially does not care.




Barbie has a legit montage of making pseudo-sexy lingerie faces in the mirror while her maid looks on in growing horror (she even does a precious little rawr which I assume is an homage to the most precious little rawr of all time). Dora the maid says the lingerie is "of the devil" and Barbie mentions wanting to wait for marriage again but says God will forgive her because this is a sex emergency. She also calls her priest on speed dial (!!) and says Dora has been having sex thoughts and asks if it's really a mortal sin. Honey. Honey, really.




Max is helping Nico find a birthday gift for Barbie and he does this by arranging actual living breathing human women in a pool in bikinis and using them as necklace displays. He tells two of them to trade necklaces "slowly." It's a weirdly specific fetish, I guess. Nico storms off before Max can molest him, so Max finds Sofia to harass instead. While Max is creeping on her, Barbie is laying in wait for Nico in her sexy lingerie. Despite the fact that he'd been bugging her for sex earlier in this same episode, Nico decides to choose this exact moment to tell her he fucked her best friend. Happy birthday!




Max sleazes about how he watched Sofia and Nico fucking and also took video of it to crysterbate to later, because it's not 2007 and he has an iPhone instead of a fuckin' Sidekick or whatever the fuck. The scenes are intercut like in our pilot buuuut there are some differences:

• Sofia and Nico champagne-fuck in a pool instead. I'm sure you are all sensing a theme by now.
• Nico and Barbie have a full conversation about it instead of it being a montage, which is honestly a nice touch.
• Max does not assault Sofia. He just says pervy things and she throws her drink at him. This will also be a trend with Max: they soften the character a fair amount. He's still sleazy but less of a serial rapist and when they get the hotel-selling storyline out of the way later in the season, he's pretty much absolved of his responsibility in it. Despite all these changes to make him less of a creep, I remember ChucknBlair fans disliking Max and Barbie, so. That tells you all you need to know about why they like that garbage.

After that's done, Barbie throws herself and her devil lingerie and her hooker pumps onto her bed and cries. Poor Barbarita.




Dan gets ready for his date with Sofia (another change: their first date is pushed up to the first episode). It goes pretty much how Dan and Serena's 1x05 date goes. He embarrasses himself and she's not into it, so they decide to leave and have actual fun. Daniel leads her to the top of some very large cliffs with the ocean in the distance even though the poor thing can barely walk in her heels. He tells her how he was obsessed with the idea of jumping off the cliffs into the water and one day he finally did it. She does not believe him so he immediately starts taking off all his clothes (so suave, Acapulco Dan) and dives into the ocean basically naked. I mean, those briefs leave little to the imagination. He makes some metaphorical allusions to how he is still diving in ~even though he could get hurt, like with Sofia. She says YOU'RE CRAZY. He says YES, BECAUSE OF YOU. She's aroused. He jumps.

But now the poor girl is stuck alone on top of a mountain.

(Side note: I think we can all agree that the most important facet of a Serena is a sick weave, and our Sofia certainly serves Blake teas with that one. ALSO, I wasn't sure where to fit this into the recap but it's so hilarious I had to squeeze it in somewhere: I was stalking Acapulco Dan's actor a bit because he's hot and I discovered A BUNCH OF MUSIC VIDEOS. He is a SINGER, you guys. What is it about the role of Dan Humphrey causes young men to grow out their hair and start belting out tunes? But the real question is: are his moves better than Pfunk's? (No, they could never be.))

Lily and Rufus have a scene, but no one cares. Nico and El Capitán have a run on the beach (of course) and Nico is topless (of course). El Capitán is like PLEASE FUCK YOUR GIRLFRIEND OUR FAMILY DEPENDS ON IT while Nico makes a sad, confused face. Ah, Nate Archibald, you are the same in any language.




At Barbie's waterfront (of course) party, she is super duper sad but trying to act not sad. Max perves on little Jenny from a distance. But then! Out of the darkness! Emerges Nico on a motherfucking BOAT with an armful of flowers and a man serenading and also jewels and fireworks. Brother went IN, I'm telling you. Knowing little Blairbarita as we do, we know she is powerless in the face of such romanticism. It's truly unfair. But a lot better than having sad sushi and staring up at her mournfully through your bangs, cough cough, Nate.

Max calls Jenny "Nenny" while trying to seduce her because he's a fucking idiot. But even this is slightly less overtly rapey. It's still an assault, don't get me wrong, but it's a LOT less explicit. Anyway, her texting interrupts Sofia and Daniel before they can smooch – though, very cutely, he fakes seeing an eyelash on her cheek so he could go in for the kiss and Sofia was too overcome with adorable giggles to follow through on the kiss anyway. It was really cute, guys. Anyway, they rush off to save Jenny from Max!

The party resolves. Nico kisses Barbie and feels dead inside. Barbie thinks her life is not shit for one moment, but she is wrong. Daniel punches Max in the stomach, then in the face, which sends him CAREENING over the railing and INTO THE SEA. Dan punches Max INTO THE OCEAN. And there the episode ends, beautifully, on Max's pissy baby face while he bobs around like beach trash.




I hope you enjoyed a glimpse at this marvelous monokini extravaganza! If y'all think this is lolzy I will happily continue with them.

This post is JAM-PACKED. Or at the very least just packed. Which is partially why I didn't make my own graphics for it; I've had the answers picked out for a while, but the idea of churning out all these graphics was daunting to say the least, lol. So I have just stolen gifs from tumblr. Hope no one minds!

I am afraid by posting this one so quickly on the heels of the first, I am setting a precedent that I will not be able to maintain.



potentially important links:
+ the last recap
+ the faces guide
+ links to watch that I haven't checked out in a year



And we're back! Episode 2! This episode combines our 1x02 and 1x03 – the brunch episode and the Ivy mixer episode. Secret sex mishaps, only at school! Faux drug addictions! Mixin' stuff up!

We open on Sofia going to Bárbara's to chat. There is a view that made me weep a little as I gazed hopelessly at the snow outside my window. Also Barbie is wearing a bikini to breakfast, which we have already established as de rigueur for this show. It's could be a drinking game rule, except, you know, good luck with liver disease.

Barbie is having none of Sofia's heart-to-heart, probably because Sofia is not wearing a bikini and therefore not following proper etiquette. B goes IN. Here are some mean things she says:

• threatens to rip out Sofia's extensions
• Sofia has ruined her relationship, her birthday party, AND NOW her breakfast
• asks if Sofia is drunk and calls her a bitch
• Sofia is all of these things: promiscuous, a horrible friend, a slut (she really wanted to drive this point home I guess), and a liar

Sofia cries a single tear and then leaves.




School! Jenny has a sparkly backpack. Daniel is trying to make sure Jenny is okay post-assault and offers to find her someone not-her-brother to talk to, which is very sweet. Jenny is super uninterested in this entire conversation and says she's fine and only really cares about having messed up Barbie's party. Jenny, honey.

Gossip Girl has been Gossip Girling about both the Parras but it's all embarrassing shit and they are freaking out about being a party-ruiner (Jenny) and scaring Serena off with his violent show of masculinity (Daniel). They also spot the list of invitees to the stand-in for the Ivy mixer, an alumni event that university reps also go to. Wait, is that what the Ivy mixer was too? I think it was. I recall the word "alumni" being thrown around but I don't fully remember and I'm not checking.

Anyway, Danny (they call him that) bombed his interview and is not invited. Being middle class is the worst! It flashes back to the interviews, where Dan is rambling about how his family was always on tour because his parents (both of them?) are musicians and bb!Dan on tour is one of my favorite headcanons, so that is nice for me. Nico actually semi-tries in his interview. Max does that I'm Chuck Bass thing and I can't wait for Daniel to punch him again (oh yeah, it's coming).

Meanwhile at rehab, Sofia and Lily argue about Eric coming home and I'm so sorry, I do not care. I had to force myself to care about NYC Eric and I could barely do that, so. Sofia loses this one and on her way out is conveniently spotted by Max, who immediately calls up Barbie like the snitch he is.




Do you love that face.

Barbie, meanwhile, is having a cuddle with Nico (bikini & coverup), who is inexplicably wearing a shirt. What's up with that? She demands he cease speaking to Serena lest he want to incur her wrath, but Nico is unconvinced. Max's call interrupts them and Barbie pretends he's her mom on the phone for some reason I don't fully understand. Perhaps it's another of his highly specific fetishes?

Anyway, he snitches, she's thrilled, and we all know where this is going. Barbie thinks Sofia lied about being in boarding school and was in rehab instead. She also says that if Max wasn't a pervert, he should work for the CIA. Honey, it was honestly a coincidence, he is not even half as useful as you think he is.

Daniel drops into the fancy hotel to find Sofia, looking hot. Instead he finds Nico and Lily, who is old-lady flirting with Nico like her life depends on it. She laments that Nico is not dating her child and Nico does not ask why all the parents want him to fuck their kids, but he should. It's weird.




Daniel and Nico both take a seat to wait and make some cute/awkward small talk until Max shows up to cockblock them. His father owns this hotel, and also TWO HUNDRED others. He class-shames Daniel a bit and calls him trash, but Daniel pretty much just laughs it off because he's super hot and taller than both of them.




Jenny goes to Barbie's! I hope it's as lesbionic as the original.




Close enough!

While Barbarita sunbathes, Jenny apologies for almost being raped and for Daniel hitting Max, saying she's embarrassed and feels horrible for ruining the party. Oh, honey. Please take your brother up on that offer to talk to someone, especially someone who is not Acapulco Blair Waldorf.

Barbie says GG does not even care about Jenny, so whatever; Barbie is the only one GG cares about. She also says she is basically Mother Teresa and Jesus rolled into one (yes, she does), so she will forgive Jenny. Legit every single time Jenny says something, Barbie says OBVIO in the sassiest, bitchiest way possible. Drink for that, like five times.

Aw, and there's a nod to the lesbian power hydrangeas! Remember those!

Dan whines to Acapulco Rufus about the alumni event. Looks like someone's gonna be blowing up Lily's phone.

Nico and Max are golfing and drinking mimosas, because they're hardcore like that. These crazy teens, what will they do next! Nico points out that Max should maybe, just maybe, just try to not attack girls, but Max is like "whatever, bro" and calls Nico "Nicolas" while trying not to have an obvious boner. He explains, with the delicacy and lack of vulgarity that is Chuck-Max's hallmark, that if Nico cannot fuck Sofia, he should just man up and fuck his hot girlfriend. And then he gives Nico a key to some poor stranger's dorm room so Nico can fuck Barbie mid-alumni mixer. Ok.

Nico turns it down but Max physically puts the key into his pocket, probably feeling him up in the process.

Even though he was stressing about not being able to find Sofia, Daniel has now apparently found her and they are having a heart-to-heart on the beach (of course). Sofia has been trying to have a heart-to-heart with literally every character she has crossed paths with all day and so far this is her first success. She tells him about Eric's depression/suicide attempt; Dan is hot and concerned and asks what he can do to help. Sofia says no one else has even offered to help! No one cares! Dan cares!




A call from Lily interrupts them before they can throw down in the waves. She reminds Sofia about the event (we KNOW, Lily) and tells her to bring Dan along. There was "a mistake in the list." Yeah, sure. A mistake corrected by Rufus' dick.

Getting ready montage! Jenny actually dresses Barbie, like zips her up and fastens her jewelry. It's no casual stripping and fancy lingerie, but I'll take it. Also, Sofia's business-casual-school-event look involves all of the following: drag queen eye makeup, a huge side braid, a blazer, and skintight teal capri pants. God bless. This is like the time Serena wore that blouse with the plunging neckline to her Yale interview.




At the event, everyone is made to feel like shit by their parents. Max is trying to get Acapulco Bart to not hate him, but it's a no go, especially as Daniel snakes the random suited men he's talking to out from under him. But even Acapulco Bart does not hate Max as much as El Capitán hates Nico! He calls Nico a beauty queen, or not even good enough to be a beauty queen, or something.

Sofia tries to talk to Bárbara, who is still not fucking having it. Sofia is like: maybe you should talk to some of the important people here? And Barbie is like: maybe you should go fuck yourself?

Nico decides that this moment, when everything is already going wrong for him, is the best time to have a heart-to-heart with Sofia, who is only interested in heart-to-hearts with not-Nico-shaped people because she's pissed he tattled to Barbie about the champagne sex. He gives her the key to the sex dorm so they can "talk" and Max of course notices, because he is overly concerned with Nico's sex life. Max then pulls Barbie aside and gives her a key to the sex dorm so she can have sex with Nico and he can live vicariously through her, I guess. Barbie says he's gross and in English he says, "I know, I know." Well, at least you know.

Even though by this point Nico's stress levels are visibly through the roof, Barbie peer-pressures him into fooling around. They make out all over the hallway. Barbs goes straight for his dick. And then surprise! Sofia is waiting the sex dorm. Everyone fights! Sofia goes off! She is over asking for Barbie's understanding! Have fun with your ill-advised quickie! Nico is an idiot! All of this is valid.




Sofia's face is killing me here.

B stalks right up to the podium and does that whole spiel about Sofia's drug addiction and honoring the rehab clinic. Amazingly bitchy, she puts one hand over her heart and then blows a kiss to Sofia with the other. Unlike our Serena, Sofia declines to save the moment with a heartfelt speech and instead just runs off. Max says something snarky about her to Daniel, who hauls off and punches Max right in the face again. Beautiful.




Gratuitous shot of topless Dan.

In a hilarious addition to the show, Max has arranged it so that Daniel either gets sued/kicked out of school for the punch, or he goes to anger management classes. Rufus is PIZZED. Dan tries to defend himself while flexing his abs. He only punched Max like three times! He was defending the honor of multiple women! Max tried to RAPE YOUR DAUGHTER, Acapulco Rufus! When this is revealed, Jenny acts like that is the craziest thing she's ever heard and also like she has never even met Dan before in her life. Who is this crazy guy? What is he talking about? Certainly nothing that is true, that's for sure!!!!

Rufus has a coronary. He has some dick-measuring contest with Bart later, yadda yadda, no one cares. Dan ends up in anger management anyway, and what's worse, Max is his SPONSOR. This would be pretty great if I did not hate Max. A list of pretty funny things Max says while Dan tries really hard to not punch him a fourth time:

• Tranquilo, Daniel. (Repeated like sixty times.)
• I just want what's best for you.
• Fight me – with peace.
• Repeat with me: I am love.

Also Max's black eye just looks like eyeshadow fallout.

All of this just makes it look like Daniel does have genuine anger problems (which…sorta does) and he is adorably infuriated by the entire situation. He even says my favorite thing to say when I am infuriated: I AM AN ADULT. An essentially meaningless statement. However, despite BEING AN ADULT, Daniel can't get out of this one.

Jenny is having a cute girls' lunch on Barbie's dime. Daniel arrives to pick her up and tries to pay for Jenny to no avail while Barbie teases him a bunch. I am sad we never got to experience Acapulco DB, because they are both the hottest people on this show. Jenny takes eight years to kiss every single girl goodbye, presumably because lesbians, and Dan takes this opportunity to have a little chat with Barbie. He explains all about Eric, which is not his place AT ALL, and implores Barbie to not be cruel to Sofia because her family's going through so much. It's an interesting tweak to the original.

Barbie now feels like shit.




There is a montage: Barbie creepily leaves tissues in Sofia's room while Sofia is sleeping (that's…really weird, Barb). Jenny buys herself some lesbian power hydrangeas. Dan kumbayas through anger management while Max watches (I think Max is as thirsty for Daniel as I am. Remember how super gay Chuck was in s1?). And then we segue over to Nico, who is wearing suspenders, which he does a lot even though it is unnecessary – his pants are so tight he probably needs a seam-ripper to get out of them.




He's talking to someone on the phone, potentiality the bank or something? His checks haven't been going through! Uh-oh! Needing to jot down some bank info, he goes to get a pen but instead finds his dad doing buttloads of coke. Whoops! That's not a pen!




For next time: will I get even thirstier for Acapulco Dan? Will he and Serena finally smooch? Will anyone put on a full outfit? We'll see!

(Spoiler alert: yes, I don't remember, probably not.)

lovely
1083 words. pre-series. blair-centric.
w: disordered eating, bulimia

summary:Blair thinks she's being practical. Afterwards it does feel better, and she thinks that means she did the right thing.

note: Written for this prompt! This was actually something I've been wanting to write for ages, like since s1 of this show.







For breakfast, Blair has: six grapes, half a grapefruit no sugar, and two spoonfuls of thick, gluttonous oatmeal – but that was only because Dorota was watching too closely.

Her mother is coming in from an overnight flight, sunglasses on and assistant trailing behind with bags. She kisses Blair on both cheeks and says, "Darling, is that uniform from last year? It looks like it's pulling a little." She looks over her frames with professional concern, indicating the waist of the skirt and buttons of the top, even the seams running over Blair's shoulders. "Perhaps a size up, hm?"

Blair does not eat lunch.





Sometime after Serena leaves, Nate begins to act like touching Blair will burn him. Blair has never felt less wanted.

For lunch she has: the remaining half of a spinach and cheese quiche found in the fridge and two dark chocolate-chile cupcakes from the half dozen sent to Eleanor as a thank-you for designing some society snot's wedding dress. Frosting smears Blair's lipstick.

Very methodical, she takes off all her makeup with her Shu Uemura cleansing oil, brushes out her hair with a boar-bristle brush, and puts it back in a smooth chignon. Flyaways are tamed with a few spritzes of hairspray on the spool end of her eyebrow brush, which is then brushed over the errant strands. She looks at herself, assessing. Her brows are too sparse. She can see the pores over the bridge of her nose even from this distance. Her jawline is fat, there's no nicer way to put it.

She washes her hands three times, leaves the water running, and sticks two fingers down her throat.

As always, she feels better.





Three things happen in quick succession: Blair's father cheats, Blair's father comes out, Blair's father leaves the country.

Blair sits in the kitchen listening to him move around upstairs, waiting for the sound of him coming down the stairs. They'd had a party that night, much earlier. It hadn't ended well, obviously. There are leftovers everywhere. There are two entire cakes on the counter, heavy and dense with buttercream frosting and sugared violets.

Harold comes downstairs and looks very, very sad but keeps checking his watch. He doesn't want to miss his flight, of course. "It won't be forever, Blair-bear."

Blair lets her eyes get red and filmy with tears. She tries to make him feel guilty in a last-ditch effort. "What if I get sick?"

He meets her eyes like it pains him but he doesn't even put his bag down before he hugs her. "You'll be okay, little girl," he promises. Empty. "You're so much stronger than you know."

Blair doesn't eat the entire next day. She feels empty, empty, empty.





Blair goes out with the girls. She has six cocktails, sugary sweet, full of syrup and juice and booze. She has three neon-pink shots and doesn't ask what's in them. She has fried-up appetizers, gooey with cheese, breading flaking off. She has two crumbling cookies, the chocolate chips melting on her fingers. Drunk as she is, she still washes her hands three times before sticking two fingers down her throat, only this time the other girls are her soundtrack, giggling and teasing each other in the bathroom around her.

Blair pretends she's only throwing up because she's drunk, and they let her pretend.





Blair has four glasses of champagne on an empty stomach and giggles as she sidles up to Nate, kisses his cheek and then his neck. They are at a Vanderbilt event, but the compound is big enough that no one notices two kids necking at the fringe of the party. Nate only laughs and gently pushes her away. "You're drunk."

"I'm fun," Blair counters, because that's even rarer than her being drunk. Serena was drunk all the time. No one ever cared about that.

Nate laughs again and pushes her away again. Contrarily, his eyes look immensely sad. His voice is soft. "No, sweetheart, no, not right now."

"What, are you gay too?" Blair snaps, rough and mean. She turns away. The next day they will both pretend nothing happened.





Blair starts telling lies when she's twelve: no, mom, I didn't eat half the box of cherry cordials, I don't know where they went; no, I'm not hungry; no, I had dinner at Serena's; I think Dorota had the rest of the pie, I mean, have you seen her waistline?

The summer she's twelve, Blair won't take off her bathing suit cover-up. Serena is already tall, slightly gangly limbs unnoticeable under the cloud of honey-wheat blonde, the sunny tan. Serena already has boobs and hips and men stare at her on the street, call out things that make Serena sheepish. Blair feels like a little girl next to her. Her mother keeps telling her things like your baby fat will be gone soon, darling but Blair's sick of waiting.

One night they eat so much ice cream Blair feels nauseous. Serena falls asleep before the movie ends, which Serena always does, and Blair slinks away from the television room, from Cher's honey-wheat hair and candy-colored wardrobe. She stares at herself in the bathroom mirror, awkward and flat-chested, her stomach a soft childish curve. She presses her hands to the skin and another jolt of nausea rumbles through her and she thinks, god, it would feel so much better if she could just get rid of it.

Blair thinks she's being practical. Afterwards it does feel better, and she thinks that means she did the right thing.





For dinner Blair has: one sweet potato no butter, a single grilled chicken breast no oil, and a heap of wet, uninteresting spinach. Afterwards she has plain green tea and one square of sugar-free dark chocolate.

The house is empty. It is Dorota's night off. Both of Blair's parents are abroad. Nate has not returned her texts since Serena came back. Serena already has a new boy in love with her, defending her.

Blair knows the exact contents of the fridge, the cabinets, the fruit bowl. She knows where Dorota keeps her secret stash of goodies. She knows her mother ordered an entire box of Danish for a brunch meeting and left more than half of them behind, buttery pastries encasing cheese and cream and fruit. Once upon a time her mother had wanted to lock the fridge, thinking it would prevent Blair from making a mistake, but the doctor advised against it. Blair goes to her doctor appointments now.

She's better.

This is a mix that I'd wanted to make for a while, and then sort of threw together quickly because I felt like posting something.




Also, sidenote, I don't know why 8tracks hates me, but "It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)," also known as the pièce de résistance and the whole reason I even made this mix in the first place, refused to load. I tried to fight with it but it still refused, so I used a weird soundcloud cover of it that didn't sound too bad. I'm pretty annoyed about it but not enough to put more effort into fixing it. IT IS THE CENTERPIECE OF THE ENTIRE MIX but whatever whatever.







GIRL OF CONSTANT SORROW. joan baez.
I am a girl of constant sorrow
I've seen trouble all my days




BABY'S ON FIRE. venus in furs.
photographers snip snap
take your time, she's only burning
this kind of experience
is necessary for her learning




IT'S ALRIGHT, MA (I'M ONLY BLEEDING). bob dylan.
you lose yourself, you reappear
you suddenly find you got nothing to fear
alone you stand with nobody near
when a trembling distant voice, unclear
startles your sleeping ears to hear
that somebody thinks they really found you

although the masters make the rules
for the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, ma, to live up to

Goddammit how did I end up watching so much TV this year? I swear for years I was watching like NOTHING, idk what happened. Did television get better? Did my standards change? I think maybe I was just really burned out for a while. Anyway here I am saying stuff about all of it. Some stolen gifs to spice up the wall of text!


Jane the Virgin. I was underwhelmed last time I brought up JtV but I've actually been enjoying the last two or three episodes a LOT more. I think because the love triangle aspect is essentially over it's been allowing more focus on the parts of the show I actually like: namely, Jane's family stuff, Xo and Rogelio, and Bridget Regan's face/hair. Gina Rodriguez's face is also very excellent and tbh little preggo Jane is adorable, even though I have to continually make my peace with the entire conceit, lol. (Who DOESN'T get an abortion in that scenario???????) But I have been liking it a lot more – the episode where Jane wrote Rogelio's death scene on the Passions of Santos was excellent, and I really liked the most recent one too. I'm still indifferent to Rafael but he is at least mostly aesthetically pleasant.



Agent Carter. PEGGY SERVING TEA TO THOSE FEDORAS!!!!! Hayley Atwell is truly a gift, to me and to the world. My only real gripe with the show (and I hestitate to even say it, because AC is a spot of true joy in my week) is that there's too much focus on the Fedora Gang for me, and not enough women outside of Peggy. Like, I don't care about Chad Michael Murray's douchebag sob stories (has anyone ever been glad to see CMM on a show? Like, does anyone in the world have a reaction to him besides 'that fuckin guy'? Inquiring minds). I didn't care about the chief dude's regret visions and I imagine I was supposed to be affected by his fiery demise but I only felt a distant satisfaction. Even despite my deep love for Enver, I find Daniel underwhelming as a character and his subtle Nice Guy stuff is of no interest to me. Not-Dottie is giving me life, and I loved seeing all the baby Widows, but I already miss the ladies of the Griffith! Not enough Princess Angie! Anyway, I'm still honestly riding really high on the fact that Agent Carter is even a thing. I would never have anticipated getting a show like this about that character. So I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm also honestly shocked there are even talks of a s2, if only because of low expectations re: the world, but I'd be obviously thrilled if it happened.



Fresh Off the Boat. I know the universe takes all good sitcoms from me BUT CAN IT NOT TAKE THIS ONE TOO? Jessica is too amazing. Too too amazing. I love those kids too, fucking adorable.



It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. I was kind of eh about the first few eps of the season (will anything beat the season of Fat Mac and Pregnant Dee?) but Charlie Work and The Gang Misses the Boat were really great. Also, I'm trash, because I was into Dee and Charlie hooking up. There's no denying Caitlin Olsen and Charlie Day are often the best and even though I love Mac and Dennis, Dee/Charlie plots are always standout hilarious for me. Dennis' further descent into rage-fueled serial killer is also amazing, and they're pushing Mac's closeted gay thing so much lately I feel like it's going somewhere, no? Anyway this show is one of the best comedies around, I will always say this.


Empire. Okay moment of respectful silence for Naomi Campbell's gorgeous alien face when Hakeem tried to give her a nameplate with his own name on it. Also is it bad that I want to keep Jamal's random baby? That kid is so fucking cute and I really enjoyed everyone in that miserable family cooing over her, lol. Also here's hoping Jamal's second boyfriend has an actual personality, though tragically Boring First Boyfriend had the looks. Really though, nothing is as important as Cookie. It is just such a joy for me to watch her be competent and fun and also fuck up and try on outfits? And thirst after security men. (I'm not the only one relieved to have a legitimate reason to hate Anika, though, right? It is SUCH A RELIEF.)


Broad City. A GIFT. Between Fresh off the Boat, It's Always Sunny, and Broad City, I am spoiled for comedy, I have been getting so many genuine cackles. Abbi's fantasy of visiting an extravagant flea market with Mark Ruffalo!! So relevant to all of my dreams in this life, tbh. I don't even know what to say about this show that's not gushing?



How to Get Away With Murder. I enjoyed the scenes with Viola and Cicely Tyson, if only because it's rare Viola ever gets to interact with someone on her level on this show. But I have to say...on the whole, my interest in this show has decreased drastically since the break. I'm all caught up yet I feel like I have retained nothing from it and I have trouble even paying attention. I just don't care about any of the characters anymore. I mean, Viola is always incredible to watch no matter what she's doing, so there's that. And I have occasion stirrings of interest in Laurel or, even more rarely, Bonnie, but on the whole I'm just... meh. I'll finish out the season but I don't know if I'll bother when s2 rolls back around.


The Slap. So, the US version is garbage. I did not have high hopes, because NBC, but I thought: you know, this is not a shitty cast of actors. These are good people! But they are transmuted by the power of this terrible show into terrible actors, somehow, like, none of them act like actual living breathing humans? They are more like slightly bored robots. The only person I think doing a passable job is Zachary Quinto, who indeed is believable as a living person if not 100% as that character. It's not entirely his fault, though; he is not being helped by the script even a little. I admittedly have a problem with constantly comparing it to the original, which I loved (how pissed was I when they switched the order of Harry and Anouk's eps and instead of the forty minutes of Penn Badgley I expected I got exactly zero minutes of Penn Badgley), but I don't think there is any denying that this is a poor adaptation. It's sanitized, overly-expository, and just plain dull. I found it especially glaring in the scene where Quinto (who is the one who slapped the kid) goes to the kid's house to apologize to the parents. The mother is played by the same actress, Melissa George, in both, so it makes comparing the scenes too easy – in the original, I thought it was one of her best scenes, like her performance was honestly a bit terrifying to me, it exposed this side of Rosie I had no idea existed. But here she was AWFUL. It was stilted and weird and very Actory in the worst way.

Well. I'll be here to the bitter end regardless of quality, but I'm quite sad about it. Let's look at this handsome little fuck and his ridiculous hair:



Constantine...ended, and that's all there is to say about that.


Looking. Groff continues to be an adorable little poodle but... guys, am I the only one who doesn't really get the Richie thing? I mean like, why is the entire internet obsessed with him? I like him, I like the character, don't get me wrong, but I don't get the intensity of the outpouring of love for him? Am I at fault??? Also Agustin and Damian from Mean Girls are cute.


Girls. I don't know, I don't even LIKE this show, but I get sucked into the entire HBO lineup on Sunday. It's like twenty minutes of straight rage with one or two passably funny lines thrown in.


The Jinx. Like I said, I get pulled into the lineup! Which is how I ended up watching this. It's a docu-series about a murderer, basically, and I am a true crime junkie so I got sucked in easily. It's basically the ID channel but classy and HBO-y. Really interesting. They made a movie about the guy – Robert Durst – with Kirsten Dunst and Ryan Gosling that I always meant to watch but never got around to.


Alsoooo I have not yet started this season of The Americans, because I am almost TOO excited. I may have to save them all for the end of the season and just mainline that shit.

posts where I just talk about nothing
+ 2014 in fic
+ tv post 1, tv post 2
+ five things meme: cinema edition

gossip girl acapulco recaps
+ 1x01
+ 1x02

fanmixes
+ someday, sweetheart. steve/peggy.
+ if I don't make it, you know my baby will. thg gen.

fic
+ other stuff. dan/serena.
+ lovely. pre-series & s1 blair. w: eating disorder. 

Potentially Relevant Links:
+ the last recap
+ links to watch
+ other links + subs



Before we start, I have something beautiful to share with all of you. Remember how Acapulco Dan has a hilarious music career? Well, there's a new video! Hilarious things of note: the A in his last name is now a triangle for some reason, there are WOLVES (?????) (gossip girl loves wolves), and he has a ton of hideous hipster tattoos (why always dreamcatchers? what is it about dreamcatchers?). But that is not why I'm so eager to share! Well, not entirely why. Because a minute or so in, I recognized a familiar face!

needle in the hay
dan/serena. 9k words. AU.
w:incest (though dan and serena are not blood-related), drunk teen sex, general malaise and ennui, other shady things probably


summary:Serena's not your sister, a voice in his head insists.


note: I started this fic back in 2012 (ikr) but somehow I lost my rhythm on it and it has been laying around ever since. It was originally inspired in part by The Royal Tenenbaums, hence the title, but really only vestiges of that remain. My main interest was in bb!wild!Serena and angsty!loner!Dan, but be warned this fic is relatively high on creep factor. Anyway, this is for sing_song_sung, happy belated birthday!!!!!







Dan's seventeen and it's the summer, his third in Southampton. He's staying at the house of a woman who is his grandmother by marriage, who pats his hair with French tipped talons and says he reminds her of her late husband. The third, she specifies.

He's waiting for the Hamptons Jitney to arrive, sitting on a bench with his moleskin open but untouched, one leg crossed over the other.

She's late, as usual.

She emerges from the bus with her usual light step, like she’s floating, and a timely gust of wind blows golden hair back off her shoulders. A bright smile is already widening on her face, turning her eyes into two cartoonish half-moons. She's got on red Converse high tops, tiny denim shorts, and a bikini top with a jacket over it. There's one bag slung across her chest and two more in either hand.

She stops a few feet from him. "Hi," Serena says, voice gentle and warm.

"Hey," he says softly, getting to his feet.

The space between them might as well be a gaping chasm.










Serena’s brother is how he comes to be known, no matter how many times he insists I’m not.

Dan’s parents get divorced when he’s seven and it’s fine, it’s cool, everyone deals with it and stays good friends. Dan and Jenny live with their mother in the loft they grew up in. Their father lives two stops away on the train and they see him every day. It’s almost like nothing has changed. Everything’s fine until it's not.

Dan’s father remarries first, to an icy blonde who shakes Dan’s hand upon first meeting him as though he is a peer and not a nine year old. It’s a perplexing experience, that handshake. She never says anything patronizing like you can call me mom if you want to, for which Dan is grateful. She simply introduces herself as Lily and then her eyes slide off him and Jenny as though they're just room decorations. The mere mention of Lily’s name is enough to make their mother’s jaw clench.

Lily has a massive townhouse on the Upper East Side and two children of her own, a girl Dan’s age and a boy Jenny’s, like some kind of freaky Brady Bunch matched set.

They see their dad slightly less. Jenny and their new stepbrother bond instantly, become glued to each other’s sides. Dan is jealous in an impossible-to-pinpoint way. He does not bond with Serena. Dan isn’t in the market for a new sister and, anyway, he’s learned from the old one that they’re nothing but trouble.

Everything’s fine until it isn’t. His mother meets Alex and marries him and Alex does say things like, “You know, kiddo, you can call me Dad if you want.” He makes their mother starry-eyed. Dan imagines blowing Alex up like something from a comic book.

The first time Dan cries throughout the entire shifting families ordeal – the divorce, the new kids, the abandoning of their tightknit little mother-father-daughter-son arrangement – is when his mother sits him and Jenny down to say they’re moving to Hudson. She can really paint there, she says, and she’s always wanted to be an artist, don’t they like Mommy’s paintings? And they’ll have fresh air and a backyard and a dog. A brand new start.

A brutal row erupts between his parents, and at the end of it Dan and Jenny move into Lily's townhouse. Their mother leaves the city. Jenny cries more than Dan and she’s the baby, so everyone coddles her.

It’s then that they really become a matched set, marched to school in identical uniforms – Dan, Serena, Eric, and Jenny, alternating dark and light heads bent into the wind, looking just like the family they aren’t.

Dan can handle exactly one week of that stonewalled prep school, full of carbon-copy kids who curl their lip at him for reasons none of them even understand yet. Dan handles a week of eating lunch alone and getting glared at when he answers questions right in class and getting his books smacked out of his hands in the halls before he cracks. He’d never suffered such indignities at public school, where he actually had friends and even if he hadn’t, nobody would have bothered him.

It takes a week, but he cracks and punches Chuck Bass in the face. He doesn’t regret it, even as the shocked stifled gasp ripples through the room and the teachers all rush to Chuck’s side. Blood blooms brightly on Chuck’s shirt, both hands held to his nose. Dan’s knuckles hurt.

He is sent to the office to wait for his father, sitting sullenly in a sturdy chair in the corner, kicking his legs back and forth. He doesn’t know how she heard or where she came from, but Serena is there, missing class. She sits next to him, sits on her hands as though she must to keep them still, waterfall of blonde hair over her eyes. “Is your dad here yet?” she asks. Her legs cross at the ankle. Her shoes are non-regulation sky blue Converse.

“Do you see him?” Dan snaps.

Serena bites her lip. “Chuck’s the worst,” she blurts a moment later. “He tried to look up my skirt the other day.”

Secretly appalled, Dan only shrugs.

“Everyone picked on him, before,” she continues. “He was new.”

Dan still doesn’t respond.

“I’ll wait with you,” Serena offers, and she does.

Serena’s brother is how they come to accept him, because everyone loves Serena.










“Oh, Serena, darling,” Lily says, like an afterthought. They’re at dinner. Lily is speaking to Serena but looking at Dan’s father, removing her glasses and letting them hang from the elegant gold chain around her neck, smiling flirtatiously. “Why don’t you take your brother to the party, hmm?”

They’ve settled on doing that for years now and Dan still hates it, dropping the step as though calling him her brother will make it so.

Serena is half-ready for said party, glitter shimmering golden down her arms and hair in messy curlicues that Lily's stylist had carefully hot-ironed.

She plays dumb, rolling her eyes. “Mom, I’m not bringing a kid to the party with me. Eric’s a baby, he’s too young.” In revenge, Eric flicks a pea at her that Serena bats away with a playful grin.

“You know what I meant,” Lily says, in that arch tone of hers. “You’d like to go, wouldn’t you, Daniel?”

“No,” Dan says, pushing his food around.

“Come on,” his dad cajoles. Concern is evident on his face. “You could use a little bit of fun.”

His dad has been worried about him for a while now, sharing low-voiced distant phone calls with his mom about how Dan is withdrawn, moody, not himself. Allison wants Dan to move in with her and Alex. Dan doesn't know what he wants.

So he gets dragged along to one of Serena’s friends’ stupid parties. He’s never gone before but he’s seen her stumble back from them, drunk and giggly, and he’s seen her spend the night vomiting. Sometimes her best friend Blair, the haughty brunette who never warmed to Dan, accompanies her, sighing heavy sighs Dan can feel in his chest as she cleans Serena up.

No one else seems to notice how Serena comes home drunk in the middle of the night and how that’s not quite right. Except maybe Eric, whose alert dark eyes Dan has met more than once they peer out of their rooms, wondering which one of them is going to go hold Serena’s hair while she barfs.

Serena wears a glittering dress to the party, too short over pitch-black tights and boots. Everything about her glitters and when she links arms with Dan she leaves gold sparkles all over his left side. Her smile is wide and beaming and white, shiny with lipgloss, and she tells him not to worry. Dan lies, says he never worries, and that makes Serena laugh, gold-tipped finger reaching out to smooth the furrowed knot between his eyebrows.

“I’ll be there the whole time,” she promises.

When they get there, Blair groans, unlatching from her boyfriend long enough to hug Serena tightly and grumble, “I can’t believe you brought Brooklyn with you.”

Brooklyn, a place he left six years ago and hasn’t been able to shake since.

He and Nate nod at each other, both used to tagging along with little to say.

“B, don’t be mean to my brother,” Serena says, turning her wide smile Dan’s way again and giving him a wink. Dan smiles back automatically and then flushes, knows there is something wrong about the way his stomach turns over, whooshes.










Dan is fifteen when he overhears a bunch of boys talking about his stepsister in the locker room. Serena van der Woodsen is so easy, they say, like they have any real idea of what that means yet, she'll do anything.

They know who Dan is and he's sitting close enough that they must realize. Dan doesn't know why he doesn't say anything; he's frozen, his spine tense. Dan's gotten into fights for less before. He and Chuck Bass practically have a standing start-of-the-year scuffle, so it's not like he's afraid to throw a punch.

I heard she fucked Carter Baizen at Graham Woods' party.

Dan's fingers tighten on the latch of his locker. If Nate were here he'd get into it with them, not out of temper but a sense of honor, because Nate is one of those stand-up guys.

Serena's reputation is not unfounded. But Dan knows that's no reason for anyone to talk about her like these boys are, his face getting progressively redder with anger and shame as he listens. Dan had gone to Graham Woods' party. He'd sat in the corner and smoked with Nate while Serena danced with half of St. Jude's, her arms up high and hair haloing her with every spin. Dan had seen her go off with Carter. She'd lost her top at some point earlier in the night and her bra was hot pink, a little too small, the strap riding up her back and tits swelling over the cups.

No one seemed to care much at the time, but the next day at school no one would shut up about it. At the time, Dan remembers thinking someone should do something, that Carter was too old, that Serena was too drunk, that the whole thing was just wrong. But Dan didn't move then and he doesn't move now, doesn't do anything except listen stock-still on the nights Serena brings boys and men home, sleeps with them either in her room or on her mother's sofa, sends them back out into the cold night before the sun dawns chilly yellow.

The boys' conversation slips further into vulgarities and Dan's honor finally kicks in, or something. He faces a week of suspension for the fight and when he is implored, first by teachers and the headmaster and then by his father, to explain why he lost it in the locker room, Dan only shrugs and looks away.

Later Serena tiptoes barefoot into his room and sits at the edge of his bed, her back to him. Warily, Dan tugs out one earbud and waits for her to speak.

"I heard about what happened," she says softly, glancing back over her shoulder at him. "What they said. And what you did."

Dan says nothing, teeth sinking into his lower lip to keep the words back.

"Thank you," she says.

"It wasn't right," Dan starts, falters. She turns towards him a little more. "Uh. For them to…say those things. About you. About anyone, but, uh – It just…wasn't right. You're not – um, you're – you're not what they…were saying." She's just a girl, like any other girl, except for all the ways she shines so brightly.

Serena looks at him, almost puzzled. "I like that you think that," she says finally, then gives him a sad smile and leaves.

Dan is fifteen and his stepsister's always been gorgeous but it has only just dawned on him.










Serena sits on the kitchen counter eating peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon. Her hair is in two messy braids. She's wearing a cotton nightgown with skinny straps, light blue startling against her tan. Her feet swing bare against the cabinets, nails painted Barbie pink. With each tiny shifting movement her short nightgown rides a little higher on her thighs. Dan looks away.

Passing by her room on the way to his, her door not quite closed, Dan sees her release her hair from a clip and send it spilling down her back. She lifts her shirt over her head and unhooks her bra, her naked back hidden behind all that shining hair.

Dan's father is trying to institute a weekly family movie night that they all suffer through with sibling solidarity. Serena tucks a blanket around them all, her arm linked through Eric's and her head on Dan's shoulder. She wears a bulky sweater over possibly nothing, every so often wriggling around to tug on the end of the sweater, making sure it covers her ass even under the blanket. She smells sweet and fresh, and her happy laughter is close to Dan's ear. This is who he thinks of as the real Serena, not the smoke-scented loud-drunk girl who trips inside at two a.m.

Dan is stepping out of the shower when the door pushes in and Serena laughs, spinning around quickly and clapping a hand over her eyes. "Sorry, sorry," she says. "I lost my tie and I wanted to borrow your extra." Dan rolls his eyes affectionately and wraps a towel around his waist. Their ties aren't even the same. He tells her he's covered and she peeks around, smile sunny as ever. He moves past her to go get the tie and she pinches his wet side, teases, "Looking good, bro."

They're always knocking into each other, in hallways or the kitchen. Serena never looks where she's going and Dan is always distracted, book in his hand or homework waiting for him. They always end up in that stupid little laughing dance: one going to move around the other, who accidentally mirrors the movement, rinse, repeat. Once he turns into the kitchen just as she steps out and is doused in orange juice for his trouble. All apologies, Serena grabs a dishtowel to fruitlessly dab at it, and Dan knows he does not imagine the way her hands linger, her eyes linger, just as he knows what he's doing when he wraps a hand around her wrist to gently push her back but doesn't let go until a long moment has passed.

Sometimes she comes in to sit on the edge of his bed as he does his work and listens to music. At first, he hadn't been able to get anything done, only pretending to write his essay while he stared at her back instead, Elliott Smith punctuating the moment with a painful wistfulness. She reads magazines or talks on the phone to Blair, careless of Dan hearing her gossip. She reclines along the foot of his bed, leaves golden hairs on his sheets; bored, on her back, she kicks her legs up, chatting away as she examines her pedicure, skirt falling back. Dan shuts his eyes and counts to ten, which is what the Lily-prescribed therapist told him to do whenever his anger flares up, but he's found it works in other situations too.

At night he finds it's harder to push the images of Serena out of his mind – Serena's skin, Serena's thighs, Serena's shoulders touched by her beautiful hair, Serena's tits always seeming poorly contained by her clothing, Serena's bright shiny smile, the thoughtful tilt to Serena's head as she talks, as she listens.

Their parents think it's wonderful that they're finally so close.










Serena is wearing a dress that's got to be illegal somewhere, red and tight and strappy, revealing a long strip of sternum. It cuts off high on her thighs, leaving about eight miles of long tan leg until it hits metallic heels. Dan thinks he could probably see her internal organs if he squinted.

She fluffs her hair, looking into the mirror by the elevator. "Like it?" she asks, giving Dan a playful eyebrow raise. He drops his gaze even as he smiles, looking at the book in his hands but unable to see any of the text in it clearly. She teases him, "Don't wait up."

"I always do," he says automatically, without meaning to, and flushes with embarrassment.

But Serena doesn't look at him like he has anything to be embarrassed about. She looks all soft, almost serious. "I know," she says. "I know you do."

It's a bad habit Dan has developed. It used to be waking up when he heard the door but now he's unable to fall asleep without hearing her heels on the hardwood, the click of her door pulling shut for the night. Some nights she doesn't come home at all, and Dan twists fitfully until he falls into an uneasy sleep. Sometimes Blair texts him to say that Serena's with her. Sometimes she doesn't.

Tonight the front door slides open on the other side of four a.m. and the quiet shuffle of Serena's bare feet carries across the living room and up the stairs. It passes by her door and stops in front of Dan's. The knob swivels and then there's Serena. "Hey," she says. Even standing there she weaves a little.

Dan nods at her. "Uh, how was the party?"

Serena only shrugs. "Take off your shirt."

Surprise must register on his face but neither of them say anything. She's seen him without his shirt plenty of times - in pools, around the house - but it feels different when she requests it and his skin prickles as he pulls it over his head. He's just wearing boxers now, not even nice ones. But she just looks at him, her eyes a little glassy-drunk, skin a little shiny with sweat, hair a little flat, overall a little decompressed after her night at the club.

She drifts over to sit beside him, tucking her legs under her. The door is still open. Slow with sleep, Dan wonders if he is in fact dreaming as Serena's fingertips traipse over his chest, nails chipped but nevertheless filed into perfect, identical ovals thanks to weekly manicures. "You're so nice," she murmurs, "To me."

She touches his stomach, palm pressing. "I'm, uh, I'm a nice guy," he says, lamely.

Serena smiles. "I've never ¬–"

"Serena, did I hear you come in?"

They both jump out of their skin, Dan yanking his blankets higher and Serena hopping to her feet. "Yeah, Mom," she calls back, irritation in her voice. "I'm home!"

"Well go to bed, darling, you have school tomorrow!"

Serena rolls her eyes.

"That's Lily," Dan says. "She mothers once every seventeen years, like locusts."

A stifled laugh twists Serena's mouth. Maybe it's for the best, they both think and don't say. "Goodnight, Dan," Serena says, leaning in to press a light kiss to his cheek, leaving lipgloss behind.

He catches her hand before she moves away, squeezes her fingers. "Night, Serena," he says softly.










"I hate weddings," Serena says and then punctuates it with five shots in a row, all procured by flirting with the bartender.

It’s the wedding of someone's cousin to someone's cousin, the kind of event that seems to happen constantly since Dan became a tagalong to the rich kids – became one of the rich kids – only most of the time he can get out of attending. School is mandatory but bearable; the parties he goes to only when Serena expressly asks. This is like some heinous prom precursor, everyone from school here in formalwear sneaking drinks under their parents' less-than-watchful eyes.

At some point Nate gets so drunk that he starts telling Dan about this horse he had when he was a kid, hand gripping Dan's jacket as though the information is urgent. Dan cannot tell if it is supposed to be a metaphor. He nods and mhm's, wondering who on earth has their own horse until he remembers Serena does too, at some farm, and its name is Snowflake. The thought makes him look around for her but she's nowhere to be found in the sparkling crowd. He sees Jenny looking fit to burst with happiness in her floaty pink dress, some boy chatting her up. She sips champagne like its something she does every single day. Dan's gaze finds Eric not too far away from her, so he doesn't worry. Jenny's taken to this life like Dan knows he never will and it makes Dan resentful of her, jealous of her, angry with her.

She's just a kid, though. She's just doing what kids do. Dan is only sixteen but he thinks he's already old, past the point of having champagne fun.

Blair appears as Blair tends to appear, a swooping vindictive presence beneath a layer of crackling sugar. Her smile is fixed but her gait reflects clear irritation as she shoots like a bullet through the crowd, directly towards Nate and Dan. Once again she and Dan are the only sober ones at the party, something they both recognize and both choose not to address.

"Go take care of Serena," Blair snaps, nary a greeting to be found. "I've got Nate." She unhooks Nate's fingers from Dan's jacket.

"I don't know where she is," Dan says.

Blair rolls her eyes, pure impatience as she pushes Nate away, sloppy drunk and trying to kiss her. "Then find her." Dan always feels there's a threatening edge whenever Blair Waldorf speaks to him, a silent or else.

Dan emerges into the lobby, leaving the loud reception behind. He doesn't know where to start – the bathrooms, maybe – and walks slowly down the wide hotel hallway, crowd thinning as he goes. He hears Serena before he sees her, her off-key alcoholic singing echoing over the distant sounds of blaring Top 40's. Her voice leads him into an empty room, maybe a ballroom, some wide expanse with a polished bar at one end. She's there, rifling behind it for booze.

"Dan!" she exclaims happily. "Dan, I'm craving mojitos, come help –" Then she starts in on another verse, her singing so utterly toneless that it makes Dan smile.

"I think you've had more than enough," he says, approaching her with his hands in his pockets.

Serena sticks out her tongue. "No such thing. Ooh, champagne!"

She sets the bottle on the bar and swings herself up after it. She's barefoot. The sun filtering in from the high windows lights her up, her golden dress and golden hair and golden skin, makes her all a-flame for a minute.

His notebook is in the pocket of his jacket, which he left on the back of his chair in the reception hall before setting out, so he'll have to remember this.

"Dan," she sing-songs. She holds the bottle out to him, legs folding as she takes a seat. "Help me."

Dan sighs. "You shouldn't drink more. Your mom'll be pissed."

"She doesn't care," Serena says. There's no emotion attached to it – casual, like commenting on the weather. Her mother doesn't care that her fifteen-year-old daughter is drunk and getting drunker. And, really, it's the truth. "Open it. Pleeeeease, come on, Dan, have some fun for –"

"Blair will be pissed," he tries, more sternly. That should at least carry weight. "And she'll blame me when –"

Serena grabs his tie, loose around his neck, and tugs him over. She presses a finger to his lips, murmurs, "I won't tell if you don't."

Her eager, pretty eyes; so blue. Dan will have to remember that too. Fine, he thinks. He'll help.

The champagne pops between them with a frothy spill, covering their hands. Serena laughs, head tipped back, a bright sound. She presses the cool lip of the bottle to Dan's mouth and tips it up so champagne fizzes over his tongue. He swallows it like water, swallows and swallows until he's dizzy, and then pulls away abruptly. A wayward gush splashes between them, soaking into Dan's shirt, before she rights the bottle again.

"We should go back," Dan says, a call to responsibility he can never quite quell. His brow furrows, he frowns; he does everything but wring his hands. Serena's champagne-sticky hand is on his cheek, her forehead against his forehead as she brings the bottle to her lips. Dan watches her throat working in a swallow.

His head isn't clearing at all, just going soft and cloudy like falling asleep. Soft like Serena's voice as she says, "You're so nice. I've never met anyone so nice."

"Well, I guess we're…" Family is what he's about to say, but they're not that, they're not family. They're family only in the most technical sense of it. They have breakfast together every morning and dinner together most nights. He grew up down the hall from her. He's seen her at her embarrassing worst, her hair in a topknot and facemask drying to a cracked green on her skin. He takes care of her when she's sick, which is just mom-code for hungover. He walks with her to school when she actually goes. Jenny calls Eric her brother but Dan refuses to accept it, refuses to let Serena be his sister. She's not, she can't be, because people aren't supposed to look at their sisters the way Dan looks at Serena.

"We're?" Serena repeats gently.

"We're –" he starts again, loses his words again, and then it doesn't matter anyway, because Serena's mouth is on his and his brain goes blank trying to justify that. The kiss is fierce, rushed – hardly the poetic musings he'd entertained late at night, imagining their heads tilting together like something in a movie trailer, music swelling. It's nothing like that. Her mouth crashes into his and the hazy atmosphere splits down the middle, cracks and will never be the same.

There is so much of her, she's everywhere. Her lipgloss tastes like strawberries. He presses his face to her neck, salt-sweet and perfume hot, and can't catch his breath. He's never kissed anyone before, and he feels ashamed of that, that innocence. Dan thinks they can still stop and probably continue to be as normal as normal can be; they're tipsy enough and fucked up enough that it can be suppressed. They can stop right now and keep pretending, go on pretending.

So he harnesses every last shred of his willpower and pulls away from her. "Blair told me to find you," he says. "So I did." He meets her eyes, which are hurt and betrayed. "And now we should go back."

She looks extinguished, suddenly, and sober. Her mouth is twisted, unhappy.

"I'm sorry," Dan says automatically, but Serena simply slips off the bar and moves past him.

She ignores him for the rest of the night, dancing with Blair and the other girls, flirting with Hazel Williams' young stepfather. But when the reception draws to a close, she comes home instead of going out, makes tea and curls up on the couch with a huge slice of pure white wedding cake. Everyone else drifts off to bed except for her and Dan, sitting on either side of the sofa and not speaking.

"Want some?"

Dan starts, but Serena is only holding out the plate, expression guileless if a little subdued. He shakes his head.

"C'mon, have some." She shifts over, her knees pressing now against the outside of his thigh, and holds out a forkful expectantly. The bodice of her gold dress has twisted around her slightly, a little akimbo, and the chiffon skirt fans around her legs, pale gold deepening to a dark autumnal shade in the folds.

Dan gives in, leaning forward to accept the mouthful, sugary cake melting on his tongue, frosting thick and vanilla. He swallows hard. He has a feeling that he knows what she's doing and sure enough her fingers brush a real-or-imagined crumb from his mouth, her eyes focused on his lips intently before she moves closer and kisses him.

She's not your sister, he tells himself. She is not your sister.

She gets into his lap, curling her hands in a shirt still stiff with dried champagne, and kisses him harder, catches his lower lip in her teeth. This is wrong, he thinks as he grips her waist, as he grabs her hair. Serena a whirling force to which Dan's stillness can only bend.

This is so wrong.

Brain not working as fast as it ought to be, Dan catches on two seconds too late as she yanks his belt open, his zipper, her hand closing around him ¬–

"I want to, do you want to?" Serena murmurs, mouth sugar-sweet on his. What else can he do but nod? He's in her hands, figuratively and literally, a cringing pun.

They move together on the couch in the living room, hushing each other, burying mouths against shoulders when the sounds become impossible to stifle any other way. Serena whimpers, startlingly loud in the hush, and it makes Dan groan; her hand slides over his mouth and he returns the favor, covering hers.

But it's over abruptly. He's almost incredulous that that's it, that's already it. The beating of his heart echoes all throughout his body; he can feel Serena's pulse underneath his lips, but maybe it's just his own. He didn't touch her enough. He barely touched her at all, and now it's over.

Dan breathes against her collarbone until Serena pushes herself away, standing on unsteady legs. "I –" Dan starts. "We should –"

"I'm going to go meet Georgina," Serena interrupts. She twists her dress around so it's lying right again and pushes her hair out of her eyes. "I don't know when I'll be back. If anyone asks, say I'm with Blair."

They both know no one will ask.

"Okay," Dan says, because he doesn't know what else to say. She doesn't look at him as she grabs her clutch and her shoes, barreling towards the elevators, vanishing from the dim apartment.

He just sits there, alone and rumpled and half-undressed. Not a virgin.

Dan is sixteen when they sleep together, and sixteen when Serena runs away.










She's gone a year, one entire year that sees all the changes of the seasons. Dan calls her until her phone is disconnected.

"I had no idea she was even considering it," Lily says to Dan's father, as though what Serena did was remarkable instead of messed up. "I'd brought home the brochures but she never wanted to look at them. It'll be good for her. I always said boarding school would be good for her."

She left the night of the wedding and hasn't spoken to anyone except her mother since, which on its own is enough of a sign that something is wrong. Dan is repulsed by how easily everyone goes on without Serena here, barely missing a step. The girls at school rearrange around Blair. Nate gets a little more sullen. Lily seems freed of a burden. Eric seems worried like Dan is worried, but neither of them say anything.

The feeling he had that night never dissipates. Instead it seems to settle into his bones. The abruptness of their coupling paired with the abruptness of her departure has left Dan in some kind of arrested fog he can't seem to shake off.

Blair's the only one who gets it, he thinks. Everyone's caught up in the mystery of Serena leaving but they don't really care. It's just another story. But Dan looks at Blair and sees the same acute longing, missing Serena.

In the year Serena is gone, Dan starts going to parties, returning home drunk and morose. He becomes as popular as he's probably ever going to get; who knew the secret to that was total willing self-destruction, allowing anyone to do anything to you without caring? He hooks up with a lot of people. He develops a regular drink that stops tasting weird to him after awhile. One weekend the whole family goes away so Dan allows a party to be thrown at the townhouse, though he escapes from it a few hours in. He goes upstairs, trailing fingertips along the wall as he passes door after door until he reaches Serena's.

The maid has cleaned up since Serena left so her room is spotless in a way it never was before. Her clothes are freshly pressed in the closet. Her shoes are lined up on the floor. Even her computer waits, hooked up to the charger and pulsing with light because no one has thought to turn it off. Dan picks up a bottle of perfume from her abandoned collection and releases a cloud of it into the room, soft and flowery. He feels a pang he hadn't quite anticipated.

"Jesus, Humphrey."

Dan jumps at the soft exclamation, turning to see Blair in the doorway of Serena's bathroom. "I didn't know anyone was in here."

"Lurker," she accuses, but it's lacking her usual punch. When he looks closer he sees that her eyes are red-rimmed.

He frowns. "Are you okay?"

She glares at him, but again it seems diminished somehow. "Yes," she says, but then surprises Dan by sitting beside him on the end of the bed. Her fingers curl in her skirt. "You haven't heard from her, have you?"

"No," he says.

"I keep thinking…" Blair frowns, mouth a hard little line. "We had a fight at the wedding, you know, and I keep thinking this is something I did – that she's punishing me, or something."

"Serena doesn't have it in her to punish anyone," Dan says. As sure as he knows that Serena leaving is his fault, he knows that Serena probably thinks it's hers. "You didn't do anything, Blair."

She looks at him, face softening reluctantly, eyes sad. "How do you know?"

Dan sighs a little, reaching up impulsively to push her hair behind her ear. "I just know," he says.

The moment lasts one inappropriate second too long. Blair's lips part as she takes a quick breath. Dan's mouth fits easily with hers, unthinkingly, a gentle silent kiss that they both chicken out of halfway through. He looks away, and so does she.

Then her fingers are tilting his face back, are climbing into his hair, and they kiss again, more assuredly.

"I haven't –" Blair says as they fall back onto the bed; she's pulling at his shirt, hurried and impatient.

"It's okay," Dan says, kissing her hard, and lies, "I haven't either."

After everyone has left and the house is littered with bottles, cups, and cigarette butts, Dan sits on the floor finishing off a joint and a fifth of vodka. The house feels very empty, and very large.

"I fucked my sister," he tells the empty room.

The room does not react and the world doesn't end, but the well-trained voice in Dan's head tries to reassert that Serena is not his sister, not in the ways that count. Not blood. Just time and love and trust and shared space – just all the other ways.

He doesn't sleep that night, instead spending the remaining hours until dawn scouring the house until it's picture-perfect again. The idea of the maid having to clean up after his carelessness is too guilt-inducing. It's his mess, and he should be the one looking after it.

Once afternoon hits he finally looks in the mirror, finding his reflection wan and distorted. Dan runs a hand over his face and then his hair, overlong and bedraggled. A scissor glints from the countertop, left there after some quick practical task – sniping tags on Lily-sanctioned clothes, maybe. On impulse he picks it up, pulls one curl of hair straight and snips it close to the root, and then does so with another, and another, until his hair litters the sink and the tiles and his clothes.










Dan is seventeen and it's the summer, his third in Southampton. It promises to be long, lonely, and parched. One morning like any other, Lily is excusing herself early (places to be, spas to go to) when she says, "Daniel, dear, could you get Serena from the jitney? She'll be coming in in an hour or so. Someone really ought to meet her, and I have a massage booked."

For a minute Dan just carries on having his breakfast as though he hadn't heard her at all, and then slowly her words reach him. He puts down his toast. "Serena?" he repeats, like her name is a foreign word. "Serena's back?"

He suspects it's a hoax right up until he's watching Serena sail towards him with that familiar sad smile. Her face seems thinner, older. Different.

"Hi," she says.

"Hey," Dan answers.

Serena reaches over and rubs a hand over his buzzed head, a gesture so startlingly intimate that he almost flinches. "This is new."

It isn't, really; he's been keeping it this way since his post-party crisis, which was months ago. But he nods and confirms it, because what difference does it make?

"I liked it before," she says softly.

Dan doesn't respond to that, instead reaching for one of her bags. Their hands touch, spark; the duffle hits the sidewalk with a dull thud as they both jerk back. They keep the breadth of the pavement between them when they head home, Dan walking the curb like a tightrope.

"How's Eric?" Serena asks, a little anxiously, fingers twisting in the fringe on her jacket. "Is he mad at me? How's Jenny?"

Dan shrugs. "Fine. Everyone's fine."

Serena nods and smiles but she looks a little stung nonetheless. Everyone's fine means without you. "That's good."

"Yeah…" Dan shoves his hands deep in his pockets. His next words come out in a rush. "Why are you here?" Serena blinks, looking very stung then. "Now, I mean. Why now?"

She doesn't answer, and then deflects, bridging their gap so she can stick her arm through his. "I was craving gelato the whole bus ride," she says, like nothing has changed. "Is that place still around, the one Jenny was, like, obsessed with?"

Dan is stony for a moment, frowning, but he gives in. Of course he does. "Yeah. Yeah, it's still around."

Dinner that night is a tense, awkward affair – Lily, Cece, and Serena doing their best to fill the room up with false chatter while Eric and Dan are sullen, Rufus and Jenny caught in the middle. Eric is mad at Serena, as it turns out, and even though Dan is at least half to blame for her leaving, he takes comfort in Eric's anger, using support for his stepbrother as a shield for his own. Dan knows it's a facade but he can't get over Serena's casual, effortless sunniness, as if she was just on an extended vacation this whole time.

As if nothing had changed.










Sometime around three in the morning, Dan gives up on sleep. He has a prescription to help the insomnia, because kids who live on the Upper East Side have prescriptions for everything, but he doesn’t like taking them. It feels like a failure, an inability to control himself and his body; he does the same thing when he's sick or has a headache, like it's nobler to reject medicated help.

He goes down to the kitchen to pick at Cece's fully-stocked shelves but instead gets started on the pile of dishes in the sink. He could never get used to leaving them around. The mindless repetitive action is calming and the sluicing rush of water drowns out his thoughts. Or it does until quiet footfalls and a quieter voice interrupt him.

"Dan?" Serena stands sleepily in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. "I heard you get up."

Her hair is in two braids and she's wearing an oversized gray t-shirt; she looks comfortable, and normal. It irritates Dan like her cheerful disposition at dinner had irritated him, even though he knows it's juvenile. She'd been gone so long he'd gotten used to the empty space and here she is sliding back into it as though she never left.

"Sorry to wake you," he says with more attitude than is really required. He begins to put away the dry dishes roughly, the tinkling and clattering disrupting the still nighttime quiet.

"Dan," she says again, only with a touch of exasperation this time. "You're mad, I get it."

Dan scoffs, "Oh, you get it, huh?"

Her lips purse but she steps into the room determinedly and takes a deep breath. "I know," she begins hesitantly. "I know you had…feelings for me and things got out of hand but I want it to be different now, I want us to be a real family –"

"Real fucked up."

But Serena barrels onward, "I've always thought of you as a brother."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"Dan," she says sharply.

"Running away didn't undo it," Dan says just as sharply. "Pretending it didn't happen isn't going to work either."

Her cheeks go slightly red. "As far as I'm concerned, it didn't," she says. "That's not why I'm here."

Dan bites back his response. Then why are you?










They find out the next day.

Dan has always been difficult and reluctant when it came to embracing his new family, still thinking of them as new even though it has been nearly a decade since his father married Lily. Those eight years return to him in a rush while sitting in the living room that night after dinner – Christmases, birthdays, rolling their eyes at each other across breakfast tables, all the enforced family movie nights. It washes over Dan all at once because Cece has gathered them together so she can tell them she's dying.

Lily's gasp is so theatrical it circles back around to painful, but Serena has an expression of calm acceptance on her face, and she's holding Cece's hand in hers. Dan realizes that she already knows. That's why she's here. The grandmother she always loved best is dying and Dan has been sniping at her over something they both knew was a mistake as soon as it happened.

He hesitates outside her room that night before knocking. It's strange to do, stranger still to hear her voice beckoning him in – he'd gotten so used to that extra empty room. She's wrapped up in her comforter, computer open beside her, though she doesn't seem to be paying much attention to it. Her face is puffy and red, lashes wet, and when she sees it's Dan, she hastily wipes her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he says. "About Cece, about…" He clears his throat.

"Me too," Serena says, and she manages to hold it together for half a moment before crumbling again. Dan goes to her automatically, response born from years of holding back her hair, fetching aspirin and water. "I didn't want to cry in front of Grandma, you know, because she hates it, and Mom was doing enough, plus Eric and Jenny…"

Dan listens and rubs her back, waits for her to cry herself out. There isn't much he can do except be there for her and he almost feels ashamed of how much he'd missed doing just that. Once she winds down, slumping into him exhaustedly, Dan starts to pull back, to excuse himself to his own room.

"Don't," Serena murmurs, voice small. "Stay."

Dan shakes his head slightly. "Serena…"

"I want you to," she says, face tear-streaked but gaze clear.

He really should know better by now.

Serena lays beside him in the dark room, fingers brushing the back of his hand. "Did you get taller?"

"Nah, I'm wearing lifts," Dan says, and Serena stifles unexpected laughter.

"I missed you," she says.

Dan's heart does a stupid thing. "I missed you too."










They're good at first, respecting of distances and resisting old habits. But it's going so well that they start to get comfortable, and comfort is where the danger lies. Serena can't seem to help leaning on Dan all the time: her head on his shoulder, her chest pressed against his back, her arms around him.

Blair, whose forgiveness is still being slowly won back, observes archly, "You treat Brooklyn more like a boyfriend than a brother."

Serena laughs, but the sound of it is brittle. She pulls her limbs back to herself, warmth disappearing as she slinks away. "Funny, B. You're really funny."

Every time she touches him Dan thinks of the wedding, the spurt of champagne drying on his skin, the strawberry taste of her mouth. After so long away he can't seem to get enough of looking at her, finding her somehow restrained since her return. It takes him too long to realize she hasn't been going out or drinking, taking pills or anything else.

"Oh, Humphrey," Blair adds, "Penelope's been asking about you. Bet you wish you hadn't done that, hm?"

Dan rolls his eyes and laughs it off, used to Blair's needling by now, but Serena looks between them with an unreadable expression. Dan puts it from his mind until the walk home, when Serena asks, "Are you seeing Penelope?"

He laughs instinctively, because he hadn't even remembered hooking up with her until Blair brought it up; he'd assumed Penelope had been just as eager to forget about it. "No, it was just… It was just a party, you know how those things are." Serena doesn't say anything so Dan just keeps talking. "It didn't mean anything. I guess you didn't, uh, look on Gossip Girl while you were gone? I've – There have been some girls. People. Some people." When she still doesn't say anything, arms crossed over her chest, he sighs. "What?"

"Nothing," Serena says, but her step picks up a little.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," she repeats, but then, "I guess I thought you were different."

The statement makes his skin prickle. "Different?"

"That you wouldn't treat girls like that," Serena says, fast, not looking at him.

There's an edge to his voice. "Like what?" But Serena only shrugs, so he defends, "Everyone does it. It's not like I'm lying to anyone. No one expects anything out of it, Penelope's just – she probably just doesn't want me to tell anyone because she's embarrassed about being seen with me."

She glances at him, softening. "I doubt that."

Dan drops his gaze. "What, was I supposed to wait?"

Serena gives him a sharp look, but then just quickens her pace.










That night he looks out his window just in time to watch her disappear into the pool, a flash of gold slicing through blue. It's the middle of the night. Dan had been contemplating his sleeping medication in between parts of The Post-Office Girl but it hadn't gotten him anywhere.

He knows what's going to happen. As soon as he chooses to go outside, he knows.

Serena's decision to go swimming appears to be a spontaneous one, because when she emerges – just as he's sliding the door shut – it's in a striped blue tank top and panties, wet fabric sticking to her heavily. When she meets his eyes, she bites her lip but doesn't seem shocked to see him. "Coming in?"

It feels inevitable, the whole thing feels inevitable, so Dan just nods before pulling his t-shirt over his head. It isn't too hot out and the water is cooler still, chill enough to send a ripple of gooseflesh up his arms. He drifts towards Serena, who looks faintly mermaidesque with her hair slicked back off her face and droplets clinging to her cheeks.

"This isn't why I came back," she says.

"I know," Dan says. "But it's why I wanted you to."

Her mouth is wet and tastes like salt – only very slightly of chlorine, that distinct sourness missing from the expansive pool on the Rhodes property that only gets used once a year when they visit. Even the water feels nicer than regular pools, softer. Dan acts like he wasn't raised with this kind of casual luxury because he went to the YMCA when he was a toddler, but in all honesty this is probably more familiar to him now than anything else.

The edge of the pool is under Dan's hands, rough and gritty, Serena caught between him and the tiled wall. She wraps her legs all the way around his waist, floating there against him, buoyed by the too-soft water. "Not outside," she says, and then she's out of his arms, pushing up onto dry land again, and holding out a hand to bring him out too. "Come on."

They leave wet footprints through the house and even go so far as pretending to return to their own rooms, just in case, before Dan steps through their shared bathroom. It's as effortless as if it were planned. Dan thinks maybe he's been planning this in his head the whole time.

Serena kisses him as soon as he's through the door, her skin clammy but quickly warming. They peel away drenched clothes, leaving them in soggy piles on the floor, and fall against Serena's satin coverlet. This is what he wanted last time without being able to admit it – to have her, all of her, all to himself without rushing it.

Dan doesn't know how many people he's fucked in the last year, only that it was more than he ever thought he would back when sex was still a terrifying secret club he hadn't been invited to. He's not sure how much he's really learned. Some things are practice (he'll probably last longer than thirty seconds) and some are trial and error (this girl Susie had a major hair-pulling thing, and Dan has been successful utilizing that more than he's failed). But none of it makes a difference right now, because this is Serena, who he wants so much it makes him dizzy and guilty and reckless.

"We just can't tell anyone," Serena gasps, fingers digging into his back. "No one can ever, ever know."

That much goes without saying.










Under the table, Serena's fingers tangle with Dan's, a secret practically out in the open, a metaphor. It's been going on for three weeks.

Mornings are a no-go; early afternoons are ideal; nights are always good. It's almost too easy to carry on together in the way they never openly promised they wouldn't, to grab moments and sneak around. Everyone is always busy with one thing or another and it's the summer, so for Dan and Serena there's a surplus of time. They still do the things they're supposed to do. They take care of their siblings and sit through family meals. Serena goes along to Cece's appointments. They attend the garden parties and galas and polo. They do everything they're supposed to do, and everything they aren't.

Early afternoon finds Jenny and Eric at the beach, Lily at the spa, Cece resting, Rufus locked away writing songs. That leaves several hours of uninterrupted time for Dan and Serena to pretend before giving in, sometimes laying out side by side at the pool or reading in the shade of the porch before someone brushes against someone else, on purpose or by accident. Then it's only too easy to slink upstairs and sink into bed.

Or in the middle of the night, after everyone's asleep, there'll be a telltale knock at a bedroom door and whoever is waiting beyond it, sleepless, will sigh and give in. It's an affair categorized by desperation in every direction, unable to resist and yet unable to stop.

But there will be at least one enforced break to whatever it is they're doing, when Dan and Jenny are shipped off to Hudson for the end of the summer, about as far from their life in the Hamptons as possible. And it's with that time ticking away that Serena is finally compelled to say out loud what they can't stop thinking: this is wrong.

She's sitting on the edge of his bed in her unbuttoned denim shorts without a shirt on, sweeping her hair into a ponytail. Her back is to Dan, tanned skin with distinct bikini lines, bisected by the sharp red racerback of her bra. "This is wrong, you know," she says, conversationally. "This is so wrong."

Sarcasm is quick on Dan's tongue (really, because I thought this was totally healthy) but he just lays there watching her, blue sheets around him, and doesn't say anything. What is there to say?

Serena pulls her knees up and rests her chin on them, still not looking at him. "I love Jenny," she says, in an abrupt turn Dan doesn't follow for a second. "I love her, I think she's so smart, I think she'll be trouble. I remember when you guys moved in, and she was just like this little doll I got to dress up and play with. I love Rufus too. I didn't want to, because I never liked the guys my mom went out with, but…" She shrugs. "I love that he always makes us dinner and always asks what I'm up to. He used to check my homework for me, when I did it. I didn't realize until I left, how much I… How much I counted on you guys. You too." Her face tilts just slightly, glancing at Dan over the curve of a golden shoulder. "I didn't realize how much I needed it."

"Needed what?"

"A family. My family." A hand comes up to brush her cheek. "I don't want to be that girl I was before."

Dan is quiet for a long moment before he asks, "What does that mean for us?" But he knows, just like he knew this couldn't go on forever and wasn't even sure if he wanted it to.

Serena shrugs again, though it's a less ambivalent gesture than it was before. "I think you going to Hudson will be good," she says. "We can talk when you're back."

"Yeah," Dan sighs, shifting in bed so he's turned away from her too. "We can talk then."










Hudson is uneventful, to say the least.

If nothing else, the sheer, unrelenting normalcy gives him perspective and room to breathe. This could have been his life: helping Alex in the studio where he does his carpentry, going grocery shopping for Allison, living a quiet suburban life with a big backyard and a dog. But it's not Dan's life; Dan's life is bigger and messier. He may be worse off where he is now but there really isn't anything he can do about it. It's like he told Serena that night in the kitchen that now feels so long ago: pretending and running are not going to undo what they did, especially not now.

He comes to no conclusions in his time away – or, rather, to no conclusions he wants to face. The right thing to do is stop it and move on but right does not account for all the ways Serena is under his skin now, like roots delving deep into the earth. The year without her is not something he would ever do again. He's not sure he could.

Allison decides she wants to do portraits of her children and Dan predictably chafes under the scrutiny. While there is something of the detached artist in the way she studies him, sprawled in an armchair, there is definitely something of the concerned mother too. After several long moments she says, "You grew up into such a serious young man," with the tone of someone who had anticipated a much different outcome.

Dan doesn't like the painting when it's done but he pretends for his mother's sake. He sees something in it, those oils on that canvas, that speaks to something secret, someone changed.

He grew up into such a serious young man.










Lily and Rufus are fit to bursting with excitement, gazing at each other over the long table in a way that is truly nausea-inducing. It's the first night Dan and Jenny are back and they've arrived to find their parents have some big announcement planned. "Renewing you vows?" Jenny guesses, unimpressed.

"Is Cece in remission?" Dan asks, and there is a flash of interesting guilt on both their faces.

Leaning back in her chair, Serena suggests, "Moving to Switzerland?" Her voice sounds dull and toneless.

"Giving up all our money to live as self-sacrificing monks?" Eric jokes, to which Lily replies with a tinkling laugh.

"Oh, no, nothing like that," Rufus says. "Lil, just tell them."

Lily looks into each of their blank faces in turn, smiling expectantly. "We're going to have a baby!" she exclaims. "I'm pregnant!"

For nearly a full thirty seconds the room is silent enough to hear a pin drop. Jenny is the first to recover and offer congratulations, with Eric following uncertainly. But Dan meets Serena's eyes across the table and finds a mirror of himself there. Another brother or sister, one they both have shares in. Their brother or sister, shared, joint.

We're fucked, Dan thinks, and then mouths it at Serena. She blinks and then laughs, a helpless low sound that makes Dan start laughing too – both of them totally fucked, sitting there in the midst of familial cheer.










Later they go up to the roof. Dan looks out at the city spread before them, distant and vague, and lights a joint. A moment later there is the weight of Serena's chin on his shoulder, the smell of her shampoo, her hair brushing his cheek. She plucks it from his lips and takes a drag.