Reviews for alice bands and necklaces and hearts on the floor

Reviews For: alice bands and necklaces and hearts on the floor

Charolette Lee 2008-06-09 ch 1,	abuseII-I … It’s just not fair. The green-eyed monster has visited me once again … and it’s just … not fair. Not at all. Not in the simplest. Not in any sort of broadened daylight, in any glimpse of humility, in any spasm of jealousy. It’s. Just. Not. Fair. You … you … I’ve said this, over and over and over again, and yet this meaning will never sink in, and these words will lay meaningless and forgotten, and never to be seen. Why? Because of raw in complexity and a spiraling talent that will sparkle way beyond anything that is attempted to move through it. It’s blasphemy to say this is fiction. It’s not fiction anymore. It’s literature. Its pure simplicity of words mixed together so beautifully and so artistically done, that any wit matched to the examined piece of three lines of dialogue. None of the rest of simple beautiful, elegant words strung together like pearls on lace, brought into a sunken harmony. It’s beautiful. I hope you know that. And I would be extremely pleasured if I had at least a sixteenth of your talent. This … this … this … short lived biography of sorts, of Blair Waldorf. Oh god. Just … Oh. My. God. The start and end of the same lines. The expressions of one living and then suddenly dying, but never coming to life at the beginning of it. Was she an existence? A figment of an everlasting moral status? What? What was Blair? Perhaps a misguided girl, through the feisty life of Manhattan, that’s explained. The small details of her mother, the mix and match of the small silver lining between details, slipped between lines, downed like a glass of wine, burning your throat. That is what this is. That is wonderful. I love her childhood. This whole corrupted eloquent way of expressing a semi-bitchy girl in her teen years. Her desire to be something of a simpler term. Something on a desperate lines to make herself so successful at such a young age. What a beautiful expression of a robbed childhood. The tiny flickers of detail towards her life, her love of Sundae Sunday, was adorable. The simple italized words guarded by parenthesis, protected by the simple aspect of what she’s thinking, or what others view her as. Adore the names you gave her. Doll. (the repeats of her lavished life, her alice bands, and her red headband) Miss Snow White. Whether they were in the show, or just made wonderfully into this, without expressing it as “the brunette” or the “the blonde” (the words golden girl, so Serena, no?) Describing her life in a simple term of a category. To be placed in a certain mishap. Oh … just … the expression of elicited children. She carries a list in her pocket, so she’s in a higher social class as she leads on. Smart girl. While everyone else is shaking in their boots, she carries a list, and checks off those who can be acceptable to her surperior-ness, through the lengths of anything: parties. But I love the lines: - The last on the list is Van der Woodsen, Serena. She’s the first to be checked off- It was like an opening to how their friendship began. I love the earliness of their relationship. All this growing up together. Nate. Chuck. Serena. Surrounded her life, her friends. Nate her pretty boy, wrapped around her finger, and Chuck the more exploited demise. Her vice, less so then Serena though. The placed fragments of her friendship with Serna. The slight jealousy sometimes looming. The confidence in our Snow White Beauty, the mixed meaning of “Being a Waldorf” all strings together. I like Blair-centric. Blair-centric is pretty. Especially your Blair. And her high point is lavished in luscious words, and beautiful descriptions. Having Nate, as her little toy, no? It’s a perfect illusion of a fantastic life, and crushed away bearing it miserably. The lovely touch of her fourteenth birthday party, the last line. God I almost blushed. The point of view of the betrayal of sorts, between Serena/Blair, told from her eyes. Her hard-partying aspects. Her knowledge of the events, and yet she still wants to deny them solely because she’s safe in her cocoon of emotions, and doesn’t plan on leaving anytime soon. Daringly enough, you didn’t splurge into the whole Serena/Blair torn away friendship thing, which is surprising, but makes a light on the story, I suppose. Jumping to her seventeenth birthday, with a twisted surprise. With no regrets as explained. Her own little revenge. The dramatic irony. How heart wrenching. Then you twisted is so solely on AU. You bring kindness to Jenny, and loads and loads of letters to Serena, and then you ship her off to Italy. Yale long forgotten. I can’t say how much I love you. The high classiness of what is viewed of a foreign romantically beautiful country. The expressed views. The chance meeting. Sitting and drinking coffee out of the old movies that are still adored because they melt your heart. It’s a view of what I get when seeing that picture. Just them, sitting and drinking coffee, taking snapshots of still life. Then this whole making of a friendship again, building up stability which is Chuck and Blair. Her life through segments of years. Years of her life. Her birthday, and her grimacing news, and total twist of alice bands. Now three strung along lines of dialogue. Three twisted and sickening lines. And she’s dead. They’re both dead. Because Blair won’t ever bow down to Serena. A tight bond, that if one goes the other one goes down too. But such an event expressed with such difficulty. But you ended it, with such … such … simplicity. The part that I got jealous at. The part that I sat there, and pouted for about fifteen minutes, before starting to write this review. -He didn’t know she was alive until she opened her eyes. Even then, he wasn’t sure.- God, you do not know how insanely jealous I was after reading that. Because it starts and ends the same way. It has an ending, to a beginning that revolves around one another, and questions the possibility of her ever existing. In part, I am foolishly in awe, and do beg you to write more. Please?
Zagreb-girl 2008-02-13 ch 1,	abuseGreat story. But who was HE?
VirgoMaiden 2008-01-06 ch 1,	abuseI really like this. The ending was a little angsty, but I think that that was a suitable ending - it matched the beginning perfectly. (Who was 'he' near the end, though? I've tried to pick up on all of the hints, but I must say, I have totally failed...) ~VM
Lirazel 2007-12-26 ch 1,	abuseThis right here is proof of how powerful your writing can be: I still haven't seen one episode of this show and all I know about it I've picked up from hearing other people talk about it, but this fic gave me goosebumps. I love everything about it: it's beautiful and brutal and right and wrong. You win.

Return to Top