participation medals of the heart (1/1)
Jun. 14th, 2014 10:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lynzie914title: participation medals of the heart
fandom:: gossip girl
characters: blair centric, but most of the ensemble is mentioned (squint and you might see references to blair/dan)
rating: pg (but warning for one brief/vague reference to her eating disorder)
word count: 973
summary: blair is not a writer. blair is—
a/n: written for the prompt ‘I could write the best book on underage tragedy' for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fluffyfrolicker's awesome women-centric fic-athon.
Dan is the writer.
He writes about them, gets it published even.
He changes the names to protect the guilty, to turn fiction in to fact, to make them in to things they are not and shine glaring lights on the things they wish they weren’t but are.
Dan paints Blair in a soft warm glow. A heroine pretend. Someone to root for despite the things she says, the things she does. He makes her understandable, approachable.
The main character falls in love with her, again and again, more and more each time he looks at her.
He paints Blair with sunshine in her hair and bitterness on her tongue and people like her.
He writes her all wrong.
--
Blair is not a writer.
She likes books, she likes movies, likes plans and plots and getting things her way. She narrates her life as she goes, tries to make it all go as planned. But she is not a writer.
If she was, she would write a different book than the one Dan had.
Her book would be full of bitterness on every page, she would twist the words to sound pleasing when really they painted the harsh truth of everyday.
She would write of Serena’s golden hair and the way it matted to her tan skin as she leaned against the bathroom wall.
She would write of Nate and his inability to choose anything on his own. Of the drink you will always find in his hands, a trick he picked up from his mother.
She would write of Chuck—
She would write of Chuck and the way he would destroy everything he touched. She would write of a man who got everything he wanted no matter what the cost.
(She would not write what it did to her.)
She would write of Dan behind his keyboard, typing and typing of a world that did not exist. She would write about a boy who saw the world through rose colored glasses and forgot not everyone was like him. Forgot that some people weren’t worth saving.
--
The girl in the book with her dark looks and pouty lips, she’s easy to like, to understand.
You root for her after the second chapter.
(The first chapter you will spend hating her because that is what she wants.
It’s better to be feared than nothing at all.)
Dan writes her in a way that makes her think he understands her.
He writes her in a way that makes her want to tear the pages from the book and burn them.
He writes and he writes of a girl that does not exist and Blair cries, because she wishes did. Blair wishes she could be the girl in the book. Wishes that it was fact not fiction. Not real life adapted into something else.
She wishes and wishes and wishes.
It gets her nowhere.
--
Blair thinks that if she was to write a book it would be a fairytale. Not the water downed kind, but one like the originals. The ones where the evil queen who offered the girl the apple was her own mother. The one where no one comes to save the girl from the wolf. The one where girls cut off their own feet for their chance to win a man’s affection.
Blair would write a fairytale.
A princess who was fated for a boy who loved her best friend, who would choose her over the princess again and again.
A queen overthrown by her most trust secret keeper. Who’s people hated her and but loved the new queen. (Everyone loved the fiery blonde who promised them all the world even though she could never give it.)
A mermaid who gave up her voice for a man who didn’t want her, who wanted other things more. A girl who hurt every time she moved but smiled at the boy anyways.
A princess whose parents disappeared and left her all alone in an ivory tower. No prince to rescue her this time. (No one ever comes in real life. Not even lowly kitchen boys.)
Blair would write a fairytale of a girl who would be queen.
Would be.
That’s the important part.
--
Claire in the book likes old time movies.
She has a twinkle in her eye as she plans the life she wants.
She is beautiful and there is a crown on her head placed there by the boy she loves as he professes his own love for her.
She is not broken. Just bent.
Claire is fixable.
Claire isn’t real.
She isn’t Blair.
--
Blair isn’t a writer.
But sometimes she wishes she was.
She write a rebuttal to Dan’s book, she’d tear it apart. Tear Claire apart.
She’d tell the world of the mornings spent on her knees on cold hard tiled floors.
She’d tell of the girl who never forgave her father for leaving them. Who never forgave herself for continuing to give her mother chance after chance.
She’d tell of the girl who hated and loved her best friend in equal measure. Who had sabotaged her more than she had supported her. Who had wrapped her hands around her throat more than she had her shoulders.
She would write of a boy (so many boys) and the things they took from her. Of the things she would never get back. She would write of boys who had broken her one by one by one.
She would show the world the lie Claire was.
Claire never existed.
--
Blair is not a writer.
Blair is not—
(She wonders if Blair really exists too. Or if she is just a figment of other’s imagination. A mold that people had crafted her into being. A reflection in the mirror.
She wonders.)
Blair is not a writer.
Blair is—
fandom:: gossip girl
characters: blair centric, but most of the ensemble is mentioned (squint and you might see references to blair/dan)
rating: pg (but warning for one brief/vague reference to her eating disorder)
word count: 973
summary: blair is not a writer. blair is—
a/n: written for the prompt ‘I could write the best book on underage tragedy' for
fluffyfrolicker's awesome women-centric fic-athon. Dan is the writer.
He writes about them, gets it published even.
He changes the names to protect the guilty, to turn fiction in to fact, to make them in to things they are not and shine glaring lights on the things they wish they weren’t but are.
Dan paints Blair in a soft warm glow. A heroine pretend. Someone to root for despite the things she says, the things she does. He makes her understandable, approachable.
The main character falls in love with her, again and again, more and more each time he looks at her.
He paints Blair with sunshine in her hair and bitterness on her tongue and people like her.
He writes her all wrong.
--
Blair is not a writer.
She likes books, she likes movies, likes plans and plots and getting things her way. She narrates her life as she goes, tries to make it all go as planned. But she is not a writer.
If she was, she would write a different book than the one Dan had.
Her book would be full of bitterness on every page, she would twist the words to sound pleasing when really they painted the harsh truth of everyday.
She would write of Serena’s golden hair and the way it matted to her tan skin as she leaned against the bathroom wall.
She would write of Nate and his inability to choose anything on his own. Of the drink you will always find in his hands, a trick he picked up from his mother.
She would write of Chuck—
She would write of Chuck and the way he would destroy everything he touched. She would write of a man who got everything he wanted no matter what the cost.
(She would not write what it did to her.)
She would write of Dan behind his keyboard, typing and typing of a world that did not exist. She would write about a boy who saw the world through rose colored glasses and forgot not everyone was like him. Forgot that some people weren’t worth saving.
--
The girl in the book with her dark looks and pouty lips, she’s easy to like, to understand.
You root for her after the second chapter.
(The first chapter you will spend hating her because that is what she wants.
It’s better to be feared than nothing at all.)
Dan writes her in a way that makes her think he understands her.
He writes her in a way that makes her want to tear the pages from the book and burn them.
He writes and he writes of a girl that does not exist and Blair cries, because she wishes did. Blair wishes she could be the girl in the book. Wishes that it was fact not fiction. Not real life adapted into something else.
She wishes and wishes and wishes.
It gets her nowhere.
--
Blair thinks that if she was to write a book it would be a fairytale. Not the water downed kind, but one like the originals. The ones where the evil queen who offered the girl the apple was her own mother. The one where no one comes to save the girl from the wolf. The one where girls cut off their own feet for their chance to win a man’s affection.
Blair would write a fairytale.
A princess who was fated for a boy who loved her best friend, who would choose her over the princess again and again.
A queen overthrown by her most trust secret keeper. Who’s people hated her and but loved the new queen. (Everyone loved the fiery blonde who promised them all the world even though she could never give it.)
A mermaid who gave up her voice for a man who didn’t want her, who wanted other things more. A girl who hurt every time she moved but smiled at the boy anyways.
A princess whose parents disappeared and left her all alone in an ivory tower. No prince to rescue her this time. (No one ever comes in real life. Not even lowly kitchen boys.)
Blair would write a fairytale of a girl who would be queen.
Would be.
That’s the important part.
--
Claire in the book likes old time movies.
She has a twinkle in her eye as she plans the life she wants.
She is beautiful and there is a crown on her head placed there by the boy she loves as he professes his own love for her.
She is not broken. Just bent.
Claire is fixable.
Claire isn’t real.
She isn’t Blair.
--
Blair isn’t a writer.
But sometimes she wishes she was.
She write a rebuttal to Dan’s book, she’d tear it apart. Tear Claire apart.
She’d tell the world of the mornings spent on her knees on cold hard tiled floors.
She’d tell of the girl who never forgave her father for leaving them. Who never forgave herself for continuing to give her mother chance after chance.
She’d tell of the girl who hated and loved her best friend in equal measure. Who had sabotaged her more than she had supported her. Who had wrapped her hands around her throat more than she had her shoulders.
She would write of a boy (so many boys) and the things they took from her. Of the things she would never get back. She would write of boys who had broken her one by one by one.
She would show the world the lie Claire was.
Claire never existed.
--
Blair is not a writer.
Blair is not—
(She wonders if Blair really exists too. Or if she is just a figment of other’s imagination. A mold that people had crafted her into being. A reflection in the mirror.
She wonders.)
Blair is not a writer.
Blair is—