Matchmaker: In all perfect honesty; I do not know where this came from, nor do I know why I chose to write it after months of absence from this site, not to mention the fact that I've never written in this category.

Oh, wait, yes I do. It's all because of the amazing trailers for the upcoming television adaptation of this series and the fantastic acting skills of Leighton Meester for being able to completely and entirely embody Blair Waldolf. This takes place before Serena returns to New York, but it was heavily inspired by the trailers.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl or any of its respective characters.



It was a typical day on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, New York. Blair Waldolf, age seventeen, stood in her bedroom, her boyfriend Nate Archibald sprawled out on her bed. She, however, remained seated at her vanity, examining her reflection. Picking up a tube of lip-gloss, she carefully applied the colour to her thin lips. Turning around in her seat, she smiled at Nate.

"What do you think of this colour? Look good on me?" She asked sweetly.

Nate looked up, a glazed look in his eyes. He shrugged. "It's a little too dark. More something Serena would wear."

Blair's eyes narrowed. Serena. Oh, how'd she'd come to dislike that name. She glanced at the name of the lip-gloss; 'Gash' by Urban Decay. Scoffing, she threw it in the trashcan next to her vanity, before standing up and walking into her bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Even with Serena miles away in England, at boarding school eating tea and crumpets, she still managed to rain on Blair's parade, because Serena was blonde; not brunette. She could wear metallic red lip-gloss and pull it off. She'd always be those few inches taller, always have those eyes that were just a bit bluer. Her waist would always be just a bit smaller, her chest just a little larger.

And she'd always be the one who attracted and interested Nate just a little bit more.

Fucking bitch.


Matchmaker: Not completely impressed with how this turned out...but it was spur of the moment and written at one AM, get what you give, I guess.