solid gold, fourteen carat, barely burnished despite twenty years of hard molling. but beneath it, i knew, beneath that gold & stardust, she was all grit and sharp teeth gnashing, head twisting, talons out, tearing flesh.
make me queen
private, selective, independent blair waldorf.
or i'll make you bleed
you have to decide who you are, little girl, she told me once. once you know that, everyone else will too.
“you can scheme AND sex at the same time? how?” her eyes widen as she looks around her, trying to find a street marker or land mark or…something. “uh,” she’s dead. yep, she’s totally dead. gonna get skewered by blair waldorf’s designer handbag and displayed for the world to see as a ‘see this is why we don’t fall victim to holiday cliches kids!’ “the park?”
❛ you can when sex is an integral part of your scheme ! ❜ wrinkles nose at cab interior , brief wish for more of a warning , so she could have ordered a black car - or at least an uberSelect . ❛ if you’re closer to the upper west side , you know i’m not coming to help . ❜ warning tone , and a mention of central park to the driver .
❛ are you close to anything ? any statues ? you know , something to make the park a BIT smaller ? ❜
