miss whoever-you-are
Blair Waldorf. 544 words. PG.
References to: Nate/Blair, Chuck/Blair, Dan/Blair, Louis/Blair.
Summary: At the end of a hallway, in the back of a limo, under the falling snow: she is still Blair, whatever that means, and that's always the problem. In the blackout dark, in the spotlight, in front of a painting: she'll never know how to be any different.
Note: Written for this prompt. I tried to give it a sort of desperate tone, but I'm not sure it worked. Also I am running on like zero sleep so forgive any errors plz.
The problem is she's still herself at the end of the day.
At the end of a hallway, in the back of a limo, under the falling snow: she is still Blair, whatever that means, and that's always the problem. In the blackout dark, in the spotlight, in front of a painting: she'll never know how to be any different.
Blair grew up with certain expectation and those expectations included a blue-eyed, fair-haired someone who would hold her heart in his hands and say he loved her, loved all of her, loved her more than Serena, loved her more than anyone. Then it wouldn't matter that her mother didn't. It wouldn't matter that Blair was sharp and cruel sometimes without trying. It wouldn't matter that everywhere she went all anyone ever said was, Where's Serena?
At first she thinks her edges can be smoothed away. She is a something to be fixed, like a light bulb that won't stop blinking. She can become someone worthy of Nate's love if she clutches tightly enough. She preens under his gaze. She is ridiculous. She just has to do everything right and his eyes will stop following Serena across the room. He'll be the most popular boy in school and she'll be the most popular girl and they'll go to prom together and get married and have kids with her hair and his eyes. The goal is that simple. Blair will cease to be rough and vicious and vile. Blair will be perfect.
Blair will be anything but perfect. Blair will be some kind of red-lipsticked femme fatale with a sweep of dark hair and a taste for vengeance. Blair will be nothing but angles and she'll cut Chuck to shreds and that will be how they like it.
But at the end of that, only she ends up in ribbons.
Blair will be a princess. Louis is a prince and so Blair will be a princess. She will wear silver gowns and tiaras and have servants and a castle. They'll discuss art and host charity balls. She supposes she'll have a baby. Everyone will know who she is. She will love him, she will love him, she will learn to love him.
She'll be in pieces. That's okay. It's okay because Dan has a hero complex that fits perfectly into her needs-a-hero complex and together they can be a mess of complexes, him just slightly more stable. It's okay because Dan loves her when she is ridiculous – despite the fact that she is ridiculous. It's okay.
It's not okay – but Blair will claw her way out of it like she always does. Blair will make bets. Blair is wearing her red lipstick again and she can find a way to do this without getting shredded. She can learn how to withstand Chuck. Love is supposed to save her, that's what she always thought. Through the years she's clung to that idea despite love always letting her down.
She can be strong. She isn't strong. Being weak is okay. Someone will pick her up again. Someone will have to.
She'd stood in front of Dan in her black gown with her wet eyes and confessed: no matter where she runs, she just ends up running into herself.
Blair Waldorf. 544 words. PG.
References to: Nate/Blair, Chuck/Blair, Dan/Blair, Louis/Blair.
Summary: At the end of a hallway, in the back of a limo, under the falling snow: she is still Blair, whatever that means, and that's always the problem. In the blackout dark, in the spotlight, in front of a painting: she'll never know how to be any different.
Note: Written for this prompt. I tried to give it a sort of desperate tone, but I'm not sure it worked. Also I am running on like zero sleep so forgive any errors plz.
The problem is she's still herself at the end of the day.
At the end of a hallway, in the back of a limo, under the falling snow: she is still Blair, whatever that means, and that's always the problem. In the blackout dark, in the spotlight, in front of a painting: she'll never know how to be any different.
Blair grew up with certain expectation and those expectations included a blue-eyed, fair-haired someone who would hold her heart in his hands and say he loved her, loved all of her, loved her more than Serena, loved her more than anyone. Then it wouldn't matter that her mother didn't. It wouldn't matter that Blair was sharp and cruel sometimes without trying. It wouldn't matter that everywhere she went all anyone ever said was, Where's Serena?
At first she thinks her edges can be smoothed away. She is a something to be fixed, like a light bulb that won't stop blinking. She can become someone worthy of Nate's love if she clutches tightly enough. She preens under his gaze. She is ridiculous. She just has to do everything right and his eyes will stop following Serena across the room. He'll be the most popular boy in school and she'll be the most popular girl and they'll go to prom together and get married and have kids with her hair and his eyes. The goal is that simple. Blair will cease to be rough and vicious and vile. Blair will be perfect.
Blair will be anything but perfect. Blair will be some kind of red-lipsticked femme fatale with a sweep of dark hair and a taste for vengeance. Blair will be nothing but angles and she'll cut Chuck to shreds and that will be how they like it.
But at the end of that, only she ends up in ribbons.
Blair will be a princess. Louis is a prince and so Blair will be a princess. She will wear silver gowns and tiaras and have servants and a castle. They'll discuss art and host charity balls. She supposes she'll have a baby. Everyone will know who she is. She will love him, she will love him, she will learn to love him.
She'll be in pieces. That's okay. It's okay because Dan has a hero complex that fits perfectly into her needs-a-hero complex and together they can be a mess of complexes, him just slightly more stable. It's okay because Dan loves her when she is ridiculous – despite the fact that she is ridiculous. It's okay.
It's not okay – but Blair will claw her way out of it like she always does. Blair will make bets. Blair is wearing her red lipstick again and she can find a way to do this without getting shredded. She can learn how to withstand Chuck. Love is supposed to save her, that's what she always thought. Through the years she's clung to that idea despite love always letting her down.
She can be strong. She isn't strong. Being weak is okay. Someone will pick her up again. Someone will have to.
She'd stood in front of Dan in her black gown with her wet eyes and confessed: no matter where she runs, she just ends up running into herself.