notes | so this idea came to me, and i actually really hate it. it doesn't add up.

TYLER WALDORF

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(He wasn't good enough, was he? Not good enough to keep).

He has few memories from that period of his life, but he remembers Blair. Remembers how she would always run off with that blonde Serena, favouring her friends over him. Sometimes he'll still hear her laugh, sometimes it's her shouting, or screaming, or throwing a tantrum.

When he was three, right before they decided they'd had enough of him and sent him away, Blair let him go to a tea party with her friends. Shimmery lights still haunt his eyes as he closes them, sounds of pumping music, the voice of the blonde — high, and a little bit shrill calling Blair's name. There's a crowd, a swarm of people towering over him. He gets lost, like Nemo in that movie. There's swirling lights, and unfamiliar voices all around him.

The blonde boy that Blair spends her time with finds him, hair a little mused and snuggled into a green sweater with a silver heart poking out of the sleeve. Blair is soon rushing back to his side, sprouting out sorry's! and kissing his head.

(And he felt better).

But it was only a month later he was sent to live with his Grandmother, and never came back.

.

A Dan Humphrey starts a site that documents the life of the Upper East's Elitest. (Read: What should be him, Read: His sister).

It's not long before his site has been given up on and lands in Tyler's greedy little lap, he learns the ropes and takes over quickly enough. Living the life he should of lived through the tips of his fingertips, his laptop, as he blogs about his sister and her friends.

(He hates himself almost as much as his parents hated him).

.

(do you hate me? sister, do you hate the monster that i have created? that i have become? do you hate me like you hate the girls who wear last seasons Marc Jacobs? i wish i knew you, i wish i knew the thoughts you have about me. do you think about me at all?)

.

He meets Jasmine when he's fifteen, she wears yellow coats and her hair in french plaits and worships Blair Waldorf from off of that site Gossip Girl. Tyler will let out a smirk, lips curling upwards as they walk arm and arm down the dusty old roads that his grandparents live on, retired from the city long ago.

"You have the same last name as her, you know." Jasmine remarks, sipping on an iced coffee as they walk home. His eyes are curious, his lips twisted in a confused expression; he knows exactly what she's talking about, though. "Blair Waldorf?" She prompts him, giving him the name. Eyes light up, as he nods his head.

"She's my sister," The words are tumbling out of mouth, (But she's not really; he doesn't know her). And Jasmine is slowly falling in love with him as he's slowly falling in love with his website.

.

It's the wedding of the century, and he's not invited. Seventeen, and Jasmine is still around; somewhere, not really in his life that much anymore but she's the first to come knocking on his door.

"Take me as your date." She demands, a dress in one hand as she smiles gracefully and moves swiftly inside his house.

"I'm not invited." He responds quickly, his wit sharpened over the years he's practiced being the ultimate insider; the baddest bitch in the whole of the world; the top of the top; the best of the best.

Somehow Jasmine lands in his bed, and somehow she leaves through the door with a shrill cry as she screams how stupid and pointless making out with him is if he's not going to give up whatever date he has now, for her. Childhood sweethearts! She screams, remember? She questions.

(He thinks he might be in love with her).

.

Jasmine is at the wedding, and he isn't.

.

He moves to New York City, and runs into Blair on his first day back. She recongises him straight away, but pretends not to know who he is.

Smiles at him, pushes him gently out of the way and then she's gone, (and his heart is more broken than it was before).

.

Eleanor takes him back, and he reconnects with Blair (but it's not the same), and there's Aaron and they turn out to be great pals; everyone he wrote about is now in his life, and they're all growing up, becoming uninteresting. So as much as his fingers ache with the need to type out frivolous stories about them, he can't because there's nothing to write about.

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notes two | what the fuck did i actually just write. i'm tired, and this idea stayed with me and i can't write it because nothing adds up. ugh ffs