i'm a little unsteady ;

fletcher murdoch ; xxiii ; brooklyn "i am the hurricane setting fire to the forests at night when no one else is alive or awake, however you choose to see it, and i live in my own flames. sometimes burning too bright and too wild to make things last or handle myself or anyone else and so i run. run run run, far and wide until my bones ache and lungs split and it feels good. hear that people? it feels good because i am the slave and ruler of my own body and i wish to do with it exactly as i please."

[etherealserena-blog]

As soon as he replied, she could sense the awkwardness behind her question - and how insensitive it must seem, even if she had meant no harm by it. Bank balances were a tightly wound topic in their world. If you had money, you showed it - taking all the care not be tacky as you did. If you didn’t, you spent as much money as it took to pretend you did. Because everyone knew, a loaded credit card was an ‘in’ to the Upper East Side. Usually, they were hardly receptive to the fall from grace stories - embodied by individuals like Fletcher. “You should try taking a vacation from it. Maybe it’ll make you miss it more - or maybe you’ll realize there are other places you can be yourself.” Serena couldn’t yet be completely sure how she felt about Manhattan. Her heart was here, her home was here, but at times she felt as if she had dropped fragments of her soul half way across the planet. “Even if all the people you love are here.”

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

Though he lived, inhaled, and exhaled New York, there was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to leave the forsaken city that had cursed and cast him out the moment he no longer fit under society’s version of perfect. Escape, however, was not an option until he saw a similar demise at his own hands. One way or another, the social hierarchy that the Basses sat atop of would crumble and only then would he entertain the possibility of moving somewhere that didn’t scream pretentious. A getaway, on the other hand, would be far more effective. Even growing up with the hustle bustle of the busy streets, Fletcher found himself aching for some semblance of quiet, Serena’s words forming into a thought and idea in his mind. “And where would I go, exactly?” The question is curious, interested in where she would believe he might fit in. “It’s not the place that makes it home, but the people.”

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

Text >> Fletch

Jenny: Yeah, that sounds right.

Jenny: Maybe if I could keep the fabric that I catch or whatever

Jenny: I was born in 96. I barely remember them, sorry.

FLETCHER: regardless, you should still remember pokemon?

FLETCHER: are you a closet nerd, jenny?

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

adrian → fletcher

ADRIAN: that was a bit weird, yeah.

ADRIAN: ruin the moment? never! #fladrian4life

ADRIAN: dude, you could try to give me that line but i think we both know i'd see through it in an instant

FLETCHER: wish you could've been there, you would've saved my ass and his multiple times

FLETCHER: #rosadoch4lyf

FLETCHER: i don't think i could've gotten through that sentence without shaking my head and disagreeing with myself, anyways. but this is part of the reason why we're best friends

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

Text >> Fletch

Jenny: I guess...

Jenny: It's like meow 2 or something? I don't know what happened to the first one.

Jenny: Right. Don't get hit by a car on the way there... Or do. Whatever.

FLETCHER: .... you're telling me there's a mewtwo in the park

FLETCHER: don't be like that, jenny. we both know if there was a fashion go, where you were able to get rare fabric with just one swipe, you'd go crazy for it too.

FLETCHER: where's your sense of nineties nostalgia?

[evanderwoodsen]

Eric was never judgmental to hurt people, but he did only know the Upper East Side, and it was hard not to judge when all you knew was silk and gold. Still, the longer he spent at the place, the more comfortable he got, and by the time his lunch arrived, Eric had leaned back in his chair as he listened to Fletcher. He thanked the waitress and then picked up his sandwich, tempted to start with the muffin but then decided to think of his health first. “Wow, working for school in the summer.. That’s dedication, man,” Eric told Fletcher with his eyebrows raised, genuinely impressed. “Back? From work?” Eric asked, confusion clear in his voice. 

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

The man had always been under the impression that the harder he worked, the quicker he would be able to work for Bass Industries again, tearing it from the inside out. However, with the passing of Bart, Fletcher’s fate rested in the hands of Chuck and it was obvious to him that the position that he had once been offered was now off the table. It did not stop his fast track to graduation, however. It didn’t surprise him to know that Eric was impressed, not too many people in the Upper East Side possessed a work ethic, after all. Shrugging nonchalantly, he pushed on. “The faster I get out of college, the faster I can start working in something I want to be in,” The answer was simple enough, straight to the point without giving much away. His tilted to one side, his expression mirroring the tone of Eric’s voice. “Weren’t you out of town? You didn’t show up to the party, that’s all. I thought everyone would be there unless they were busy. Octavia hosted, after all.”

[reigningbass-blog]

If he was impatient, and Octavia knew that he would be, the dustbin boy hid it well behind a breezy response. The darkness of her eyes fell on the vehicle, little warmth radiating from her as she assessed the safety of it. Perhaps his plan was to somehow injure her, and then take advantage…but she didn’t think himself that ruthless, that’s something she’d do. Driving was a common skillset to have, amongst the poor folk, but Bart Bass had always instructed his children on a certain way of living. Always driven around, never in the front seat, even taxi’s were a disgrace. Her town-car driver, Hugh, would likely have a snigger to himself over Octavia’s particular predicament. 

“You built it yourself?” she questioned, fingers grazing the sides of the car. “I appreciate that it must have taken a lot of time, but can I just ask, are you certain it’s safe?” Octavia wouldn’t be Octavia if she wasn’t snobbish, and even pretending to be interesting in Fletcher Murdoch didn’t warrant silence on her part. Pushing her lips together, Octavia removed her fingers from the side of the car and rested them against the patterned fabric of her Alexander McQueen dress. It reminded her to assess him appearance, as if she could ever forget. Fletcher didn’t dress bad for a Brooklynite, but then he was a blueblood who fell from divinity. 

“You say that the frame was gifted, was it from someone special?” Rule number one of pretending to be interested in a relationship, was to act as if she was interested in the man himself, although her brain could barely associate the word man and Fletcher in the same sentence, since she still remembered him as the pathetic boy in high-school that she toyed with, until she left him high and dry to go to college. 

Octavia leant against the body of the car, head tilted towards him. “So, where are you whisking me off to today?” she queried, rubbing her lips together. The sunglasses on her head were removed by her fingers to move into place on her face, the Chanel emblem shining under the light. Octavia was a label whore, and in the same place that she worked, her candid photos could also end up in there. 

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

If there was one thing in his life that Fletcher possessed any pride for, it was his car. It had nearly taken years to build up from the ground, countless hours alone in a garage that had kindly let him use their tools if he agreed to work for them part-time in between his classes, kickboxing, and sleeping. He had lived and breathed for the vehicle until he was able to scrounge up enough money for all the parts he needed, finally able to restore it just the year prior to this. His hard work did not sit in the garage of his Brooklyn apartment as though it had simply been a pet project after he had been done rebuilding it, he took every opportunity to take it out, washed and waxed it every chance he got. It was his most prized possession, the proudest achievement he had ever had, the only thing that truly mattered to him. It was everything that he had poured his frustration and his anger into, manifesting it into something far more beautiful than she would ever be to him.

The way she looked at the classic set his insides ablaze, she thought herself so smart and so accomplished at the tender age of twenty-two. It was clear to see that Octavia thought herself to be so far above him that she wasted no time sparing his feelings, she was only concerned with herself and how this relationship could benefit her. His gaze hardened, something resembling anger shining in his forest hues before they flickered back to the car. The shiny finish only soothed him, his expression softening once more as he let out a bark of forced laughter. “Do you think I’d risk my own life driving her if it wasn’t safe? I value my life, even if it doesn’t seem like I do sometimes.” His reply was easygoing, but he was anything but underneath the layers of walls he had put up to deter her from thinking he was up to no good.

“Would you consider my grandparents special?” His answer was instantaneous, automatically spewing from his lips. The elder Bass never begged, never felt the need to fight for anyone because she could get whoever she wanted if she so much as asked. Though, he relished in thinking that he could one day get her to want him only to leave her as soon as he had her right where he wanted her. It was an empty thought, however, the snake was hardly capable of feeling, let alone feeling something for someone like him.

Analytical eyes followed her movement, his lips pressing together in slight annoyance as her form pressed against the paint of his car. He hated anyone touching it that wasn’t him, but it was supposed to be a given today as he was the one who had asked her to take a ride with him in the first place. “It’s a surprise. We might get a little out of your comfort zone, but what’s the point in living if you just stick to what you know?” The question was rhetorical, of course, knowing that she’d likely come up with an answer that stated she had been doing just fine prior to this. “Get in, Octavia. I promise it’ll be worth it and I always keep my promises.”

[etherealserena-blog]

“You might be saving my life. And possibly my job.” The story of Fletcher Murdoch had been bound up with the story of people around her - some closer than she would have imagined. For, there was no mentioning the name Murdoch without Bass - her mother having been entangled with the elder Bass at the time of his Father’s arrest, all conversation of it forbidden at the dinner table. Too absorbed in her own life, she had never thought to ask of it - but here was living proof of its impact. “So er - you live out here now?”

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

Despite her connection with Bart Bass, he had never considered the van der Woodsen siblings a part of their family. Serena and Eric were not devious manipulators, they had no blood connection to the cold-hearted devil that had birthed the twins. They had not stood next to him at the time of his father’s arrest and conviction and it was best to leave the golden haired siblings alone in his schemes. Even so, he couldn’t help but to want to get closer to the girl before him. The closer he could get to Blair Waldorf, the closer he would be to ruining Chuck’s life for good. It was no secret the two were best of friends, even with all the drama that had happened between them. Her hesitance to ask him her question was amusing, no sign of discomfort on his features as he answered unabashedly. “I couldn’t exactly afford Manhattan after everything that had happened, so yeah. New York’s my home, there’s just something about it that you can’t leave behind.”

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

adrian → fletcher

ADRIAN: it pulls you in man, you don't realize you're into it until you're halfway down the page

ADRIAN: are we having a heart to heart :)

ADRIAN: .. i wont make any promises , i'll try to keep all comments and looks to myself

FLETCHER: i just never expected to see my name on it or wyatt's for that matter

FLETCHER: don't ruin the moment, man

FLETCHER: i would say she's a better person than you think, but i'd be lying and i would never lie to you

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

Text >> Open

Jenny: 500 people really crowded in Central Park for some stupid game?

Jenny: Sounds like something my brother would do.

Jenny: When will Pokemon Go be Pokemon Gone?

FLETCHER: THERE'S A POKEMON IN CENTRAL PARK??

FLETCHER: i have to go

FLETCHER: right now, immediately

[stainedbloodline-blog]

Natalie pursed her lips, trying to figure out a way out of this conversation. Part of her wondered if she should just give up, tell him everything, and let herself move on. It wasn’t like he was interested in telling anyone about what he’d seen – At least, for the last few years he hadn’t. She wasn’t sure what he’d do once he actually had solid information. Her business was all too fragile when it came to who knew what, and Natalie wasn’t willing to risk anything if there was even an slim chance of it crashing down on her. She rolled her eyes at his comment, holding back huffing out a whatever. As he brought up them being friends ( a sure fire way to build guilt, of course ) Natalie bit the inside of her cheek, but still held her head high. “Things change, Fletch.” she began, immediately cursing herself for having used the nickname so easily, “We’re not kids anymore, people grow up — and grow apart.” Natalie added, knowing it probably was a bit too harsh, but knew that trying to be friendly with him probably wouldn’t fix the elephant in the room.

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

He had never been the type to hold his emotions close to him, preferring to feel as though nothing truly bothered him unless it had directly to do with the few people he actually able to call his friends. Natalie’s words, however, gave him enough of a reason to pause and flinch at how blunt she had been. They’d never been particularly close, but Fletcher had always seen the older Vanderbilt as someone he could’ve relied on when everything came crashing down. He had enough respect to not reveal her secret, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what her secret was in the first place. It was as though every time she saw him, though, she was spooked by his sudden reappearance back into her life. Despite its many riches and in a city full of millions of people, it wasn’t all that hard for them to circle back around to each other... And now that he was dating her best friend, he wanted to make amends for whatever it had been that she thought he had done wrong. Not to mention the fact that he truly did miss her. “You’re right, we grew apart, but that doesn’t mean we can’t grow back together?” His voice was filled with questions yearning to be answered, a gentle sort of plea that wasn’t forced. “Or... Am I just not worth it anymore because I’m not... One of you?”

[archive-emmasvanderbilt]

It was a rarity for Emma to find herself in Brooklyn, a borough which she had once used as an annoyance to her parents more than an actual desire to inhabit the area. During her more rebellious phase, she had become quite accustomed to the pounding headaches and shaking hands of a hangover, and had thus learned exactly which coffee shops provided the best cures. Unfortunately, she had found that one of her favorites happened to be here. 

To-go cup in hand, Emma had her nose practically pressed against the screen of her phone before she realized someone had called out to her. Her head snapped up, making contact with one familiar face that she found she actually didn’t mind seeing. “Fletcher,” her heels clicked against the hard wood flooring as she crossed the shop toward him. “Just a few minutes, had to get my fix,” she waved the cup in front of him, a soft smile playing across flushed features. She glanced at the laptop in front of him, eyebrow raised. “No breaks for you, huh? Not even the morning after a party?”

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

Despite the friendly relationship they kept with one another (one that he actually found rather strange), Fletcher had never once thought that Emma could even take a step into the part of town he lived in. Vanderbilts had always been on the top of the food chain when it came to Manhattan, hardly ever leaving their plush lives for something far more urban than what they were used to. To be honest, he would have found her presence far more annoying if he hadn’t actually had the pleasure of being in her company the night before. Even without his riches, he had found her gravitating towards him rather than disgusted his nerve to actually show up.

Pushing the frame of his glasses back to the bridge of his nose, a proper grin lit up the tiny cafe. At least with her, he didn’t feel the need to pretend as though he could stand her... That was, until something ignorant came out of her mouth. However, he thought her to be better than that, holding the younger Vanderbilt to a higher degree than most of the people he had grown up with. “I hope I was a good enough cover for you to avoid your boss most of the night,” A bark of laughter escaped him, recalling their conversation from the night before. It was one of the few things he remembered before taking shots with Noah Cartwright, a fatal mistake on his part. “Yeah, well, you have to work hard to play hard, right?” He knew he should’ve kept his mouth shut, but he couldn’t help but to fire back a question of his own with a mischievous glint in his eye. “So... Wyatt, huh?” 

[evanderwoodsen]

“Oh? Well, that’s nice, because I ordered one for dessert,” Eric said while taking a seat across from Fletcher. “Well, I’ve got lunchtime right now, I like a walk every now and then,” he told Fletcher with a nod. “I mean, what’s the point of going to the same place every day, right?” Eric said as he looked around again. The place really was run down, but if the muffins were as good as Fletcher said they were, Eric would gladly give it a try. “So, uh… What are you doing here?” he asked, trying s hard as he could to not put any stress on the word here. 

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

“You definitely won’t regret it, I promise,” Fletcher assured the other man, more than willing to vouch for this place. It felt as though he constantly had to be on the defensive, especially when it came to the way he lived now in comparison to the way it had been before. The Upper East Siders were too engrossed in the vanity of it all and could hardly come to appreciate how great a home cooked/baked treat was. Mom and pop shops like this had existed for a very long time, loyal customers always bringing in revenue. The only thing he feared was that this small sanctuary would be invaded one day by those who were open enough to traverse across the bridge. “I’m doing some work, I’ve only got a few more classes until I graduate. I didn’t actually know you were back?”

[etherealserena-blog]

All the way across the bridge? The split between Manhattan and Brooklyn was far more than simply physical, the social barrier between the pair unparalleled. It took someone truly exceptional to rise from Brooklyn and take the Upper East Side by storm, to command anything other than scorn from its peoples. Serena, of course, had never counted herself among these - a much looser social construct towards the whole agenda. What did it matter? It only ever served to cause more trouble. Mouth creased into a smile, she leaned against the counter, one eye kept on the clock - willing herself not to be late (as she so usually was). “The very opposite actually. I have a meeting, somewhere here. Not quite sure where, but that’s what google maps is for, right?”

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

Serena’s meeting could have meant any number of things, her return back into the lives of New York’s elite (and even the not-so elite) was even more curious. It seemed the girl could leave the city, but she could never quite stay away and always brought quite a few surprises along with her. Despite having been born into the lifestyle of the rich and famous, Fletcher had found himself a home in the infamous borough across the water and as much as he wanted to be able to afford all the things he had been able to before, he couldn’t envision living anywhere else. A small amount of pity filtered into his system, wanting to help the blonde before him as he shut his laptop quietly. “I could help you find it, if you want? I can’t say I know Brooklyn like the back of my hand, but I’m sure I know it a little better than you do.”

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

adrian → fletcher

ADRIAN: i gave in :/ dont judge me

ADRIAN: kinda glad i did though

ADRIAN: you know i have your back through anything right ?

ADRIAN: even if you decide to get involved with a bass , tricky tricky

FLETCHER: i couldn't even if i wanted to, i read her blasts right away

FLETCHER: i know and i hope you know the same goes for you, but i'll definitely let you know if you ever need to step in

FLETCHER: just don't embarrass me if you see her walking out of my room, alright?

[reigningbass-blog]

She lay in luxury, her  body covered in small amounts of silk with lace trimmings, lounging about in her own private boudoir. Rivers of dark hair fell over the sides of the chaise lounge, silky legs half crossed together as she effortlessly texted empty responses. Octavia had always had a way with her words, the personal library inside her mind an infallible tool in her teenage gossip mutterings, and the later the elegant writings in vogue pages. The glossy magazine lay half-forgotten on her lap, mind suddenly distracted by the appearance of Fletcher on her phone. At first, she considered denying the boy, letting him wait a few more days before she blessed him with her presence. But making him fall in love with her would take time, he wasn’t an easy target, and so she’d agreed and then continued to send flattering remarks with disgust etched upon her brilliant features. 

Lifting her coffee cup up from it’s matching pearlised saucer, Octavia took a long sip of the strong brew and sighed heavily. She wasn’t joking about needing brunch, her stomach grumbled and groaned, several emails already sent and a gym visit taking up her morning. It was only after that she’d showered, styled her hair and slipped into a luxurious silk teddy. She had no intention of dressing until Fletcher text to say he was waiting for her downstairs. Octavia was anything but ready, fingers playing lazily with the string of pearls she’d left on the table beside her. 

When the phone buzzed, Octavia stood up and smirked. She didn’t dislike Fletcher Murdoch, she loathed him. His very existence irked her, and the formed elite always had the same look in his eye like he was desperate to get back on top. It was the kind of gaze she saw in Jenny Humphrey, who wanted more than a back alley apartment in Brooklyn with a second hand sewing machine, and discounted fabrics. There was a balance, and whilst some rose, others fell. Fletcher’s father may have been cast out from her father’s company and jailed, but that was his own fault for embezzling money. Now, Fletcher was no better than all the other social climbing rats in Brooklyn, and she wanted to know what he was digging for. 

Almost twenty minutes later, and dressed to perfection, Octavia left her penthouse and gilded gates with a smile at the doorman. “I had to take a call from work,” she lied, tossing Fletcher a well-acted smiled, whilst her eyes scanned over the vehicle. “So this is your car?”

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

Of all the people in Manhattan to chase, he had chosen the one that most likely to make him suffer just for a laugh. He had no doubt that Octavia could pull the rug right out from under him and make him look like a lovesick fool, but it wasn’t as though his reputation was worth tarnishing more than it already had been. He’d been shunned, kicked out, and shut out from the moment his father was convicted. Truth be told, Fletcher had nothing to lose and everything to gain from succeeding. His end goal was not to rise up to be one of the pretentious elite again, but to bring those people who deemed themselves important to their knees. He, especially, wanted to see the Bass twins function without their inheritances and the fear behind their names in normal society. A wake up call was due for all of them and he’d damn sure deliver it if it was the last thing he ever did.

His patience wore thin after the first ten minutes, knowing how pathetic he looked simply parked in front of the building as if he had nothing better to do with his life. He knew he had laid it on a little too thick, not even a full twenty-hours had passed since Octavia had declared that she wanted him. Fletcher needed to seem eager, though, as if this was the only thing he had ever thought about in all the years they hadn’t seen each other. He couldn’t have any shame and spare himself the embarrassment of attempting to play a game of waiting that he would surely lose. Despite never knowing each other personally, he knew of her reputation and everyone knew that neither of the Basses ever cracked first.

At the fifteen minute mark, he felt tempted to send her another text, emphasis that he was waiting but he didn’t cave into the desire. If she wanted to toy with him, he would prove that he could wait, even if he was irate. Opting to text his best friend instead, he quickly passed the time until he saw a flicker of something from the corner of his eye. Carefully exiting the vehicle to be sure not to scratch the pristine paint once Octavia came closer, Fletcher couldn’t help the look of admiration as his gaze raked from her head to her toes and back up again. As much of a bitch and an annoyance as she was, he had to admit that she was definitely something to look at regardless of the way he felt about her.

“I’m just sorry they were pulling you away from brunch,” came his reply, light and breezy as if the waiting hadn’t phased him. Walking around to the passenger side, he held open the door until she sat down in it. “Yeah, she’s a classic, built her myself after I got her frame as a gift.” A note of pride rang deep in his chest at the statement, never having been more proud to call something his and his only.

[stainedbloodline-blog]

Natalie Vanderbilt had never been a fan of Brooklyn in her youth – It was somewhere a wealthy Upper East Sider had no reason to be near. The only exception to this ( for Natalie, at least ) was that one of her regular clients lived in a Brooklyn loft. To this day, she wasn’t big on the borough, but she enjoyed that she could blind in while there – She wasn’t surrounded by politicians, or people watching carefully so they could send tips to Gossip Girl. After her ‘appointment’, she decided to stop and get coffee. It wasn’t until she was waiting for her espresso, that a hauntingly familiar voice filled the air. “You have got to be kidding me,” fell from her lips before she could stop the words from coming out. She shouldn’t have been surprised that she ran into Fletcher – With her luck as of late, it was inevitable. “What – Are you stalking me now or something?” she asked, frustration quickly building. 

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

While Natalie had made it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing to do with him, Fletcher was persistent. They had no qualms in the past, their friendship anything but bumpy before she opened the hotel door that fateful night. She continued to vehemently deny her involvement, but he hardly forgot. He could never afford to forget the details or his carefully placed plan would go to waste and Natalie was certainly one of those details. Still, his smile fell, replaced with something strained as he held his hands up in mock surrender. “I was here first, actually, so you’d be technically be stalking me... Plus, it’s sort of my turf too,” he responded, his smart remark egged on by the hangover he still possessed. He took it in stride that she wasn’t running away again, but it was only a matter of time. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, I get that. That’s fine, we don’t have to. You were my friend, Nat. I just want that back.”

[etherealserena-blog]

Brooklyn, in the life of Serena Van der Woodsen, was far off the beaten path. Sticking to the Upper Quadrant of Manhattan, it was very rare she ventured across the infamous bridge, especially since her breakup with a certain Brooklynite - who she hoped, more than anything else, she wouldn’t run into today. But with Graham’s publicist preferring this side of the river, on location for the start of production, she had agreed to a meeting on their turf - not wanting to seem the snobby Upper East Side Princess they no doubt guessed her to be. Catching sight of a familiar, if not overtly so, voice in the corner, Serena folded her lips into a characteristic smile. “Hey - just now actually. I need caffeine.”

[fletchermurdoch-blog]

Of all the people he had not expected to set foot in Brooklyn, Serena van der Woodsen was on the very top of the list. Her reputation far preceded her, even if he had not known her in high school. She, arguably, belonged to one of the richest families in the Upper East Side, her life had always been adorned in gold and was never given anything less than the best. Her relationship with one Dan Humphrey had long since been terminated, but there was no reason for Fletcher to act hostile towards her, especially when she had always been considered one of the nicer ones. In spite of his thoughts, he couldn’t help the dubious question that slipped from him. “All the way across the bridge? Are you trying to avoid someone?”