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.
He followed after her, muttering something about bratty rich girls under his breath as she headed towards the pumpkin patch. She’d asked for a FAVOR, and, like the great friend that he was — he’d relented. And now here he was. Probably just to be her personal pumpkin-carrier for the day. “I seriously doubt he’d be able to tell the difference Waldorf,” Tyler sidestepped a pumpkin, glaring at the back of her head as she pulled him along.
❛ I HEARD THAT , ❜ warning tone , with bouncing steps carrying cascading chestnut curls - of course , blair waldorf would do her hair to visit a pumpkin patch . ❛ he’s been living on a VINEYARD in FRANCE , who knows how refined his pallet is now . he probably even has a preference for brands of water now . ❜ not that blair didn’t , but she was supposed to be the high maintenance one , not her dad .
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