ʀᴜɪɴɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴅᴀʏ

CELIA SANTOS // TWENTY SIX

[stcelia]

TITLE / WORLD BURN LOCATION / BLUR TIMELINE / FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 16th @ ~1AM

Lighter fluid only costs 8 dollars at Duane Reade. Pair that with a set of matches, and you can commit arson for less than 15 dollars! And wouldn’t that be a great way to advertise? Celia let herself into the back door of Blur, laughing to herself at the absurdity of it. It seemed so blatantly ridiculous to her that any old poor person could just walk into a Duane Reade one day, and walk out with the means to burn down an entire building. As she walked through the back hallways of the club, dumping her 8 dollar liquid on the ground as she went, she realized that it wasn’t money that kept people from doing whatever the hell they wanted. It was sanity. How boring it must be to be totally sane.

By the time she reached the smallest room of the club, the entire back area of the building had been properly doused. She’d read on the internet that this would make it easier for the fire to catch throughout the place. After it spread enough, the rest of the building would catch on its own.

Light a match.

Throw it on the ground.

Watch the world burn.

That’s what was supposed to happen. In a perfect world, Celia would march through Blur with a smile painted on her lips. She’d take in the chaos surrounding her one last time, watch as one by one people started to smell that tell-tale scent of smoke. She’d be at the front door by the time the first person realized what was happening and shouted fire. Once the guests of Blur started evacuating, she’d be a shadow in the background of the building across the street. Cue Bishop stumbling out onto the pavement, the despair on his face would make it all worth it. And then, after she got her fill of her ex-lover’s anguish, she’d leave the scene of the crime without a trace.

But that would’ve been in a perfect world.

Contrary to popular belief, and unfortunately for her, Celia Santos didn’t live in a perfect world. Instead she lived in a world where door locks got jammed, and fires that were ignited to get back at a boy somehow spread more quickly than the average flame. Celia was never a frantic person, panic didn’t seem to be in her vocabulary, but during the last moments of her life she became the exact opposite of everything she had previously been. Her screams were terrified, for the first time in her life she actually begged, and her frantic pounding on the door would’ve been embarrassing had anyone else been around to see it.

It was just Celia, though, and as smoke filled her lungs and fire loomed only inches away from her, a sense of relief began to wash over her. All of the scheming, the backstabbing, and the lying was finally over. Her fall from grace would forever be overshadowed by her tragic death, and in death she would finally get the fame and recognition she deserved. She’d be loved and mourned. She’d become a fucking martyr, for God’s sake, and wasn’t that just the greatest thing that could ever happen to her?

And that’s how Celia Santos died BYE!

[stcelia]

rowan-tandel‌:

“Jesus Christ.” He laughed, jogging after Celia and doing a lot of stumbling for his effort. Rowan cursed as fumbling for his keys nearly caused him to drop his own box of pizza and the side of bread sticks precariously perched on top. Celia appeared to be in best form, or perhaps on her best behavior, and Rowan was glad for it. It seemed to him that it wasn’t too often that she dropped her schemes and pretenses and let herself be a normal person, and he was glad when she decided to spend that rare time with him. Grinning around the half smoked end of a cigarette, he huffed a laugh. “Hold your goddamn horses would you?” He snorted mildly, finally pulling out the right key and fumbling it into the lock on his front door. “I’m doing my best right now.”

“Do you want something to drink? I got water, orange juice, sprite, and a fuckton of liquor.” Throwing the door open and flipping on the light, Rowan immediately placed the pizza on his coffee table, heading to the kitchen for both a bottle of water and his ashtray which still contained half a blunt. “So, what prompted this night off? Just needed a break, or did something happen?”

Celia hurried inside the second the door was open, the cold autumn air too much for her in her chosen outfit for the night. She took Rowan’s lead and set her pizza on the coffee table, choosing to make herself at home on what looked like the abandoned side of his couch. “Vodka sprite, porfa. I need to keep this buzz going if I’m gonna forget about the calories I’m about to consume.” With a smile, she leaned forward to grab her pizza and dig in, but something caught her eye under the coffee table. It was hidden well enough that someone like Rowan (whom she suspected rarely cleaned anyway) would notice, but Celia had always had an eye for fine jewelry that made it impossible to miss.

“What’s this?” She took a minute to inspect the piece of jewelry. It was a simple pearl bracelet, definitely nothing special but nice nonetheless. There was something attached as well, a central set of letters that were unmistakable. NEK. A monogram, and certainly not Rowan’s. Celia only knew one person with the initials NK who could possibly own a piece of jewelry like this. “Why do you have-” Her drunk brain took a minute to catch up to the obvious piece of information that was staring right at her, but when it did, she gasped. “No fucking way.” A slow, mischievous smile spread on her lips, her eyes gleaming with delight at learning a new, potentially catastrophic secret. “Are you fucking Nathalie Kirbey?”

[stcelia]

rowan-tandel‌:

“Holy shit, did we just come to agreement in less than forty five minutes? I’m fuckin’ shocked- though a little offended you think I’m trying to eat in Lomato’s like I don’t want to sink into my couch with a slice of pepperoni and a blunt. I’ll be happy to pay, if you order the Uber or call your driver or whatever.” He said sarcastically, stumbling a little almost perfectly on cue. “I definitely can’t drive home tonight.” But that was a problem for hungover Rowan tomorrow morning. 

“I’m surprised you have time for me. What’s that old Upper East Side saying?” He joked with a smirk, not worried about offending Celia in the slightest. If there was one thing they had in common- their feelings were not exactly easily hurt. “ ‘The devil works hard, but Celia Santos works harder’ ?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t put eating with those cave dwellers past you. You’d fit in pretty well with them.” She mocked, but her smile was as genuine as was possible for Celia and her tone had no bite to it. This was easy territory, making fun of each other. It was normal for the two of them. “My driver is waiting at the end of the block, lucky for you. And for the record, the devil doesn’t work half as hard as I do, but I’ve decided to take the night off. Being a terror can get exhausting.” She sighed dramatically, turning abruptly on a heel and making her way to the car, certain enough that he’d follow suit. Pizza was involved, and she knew Rowan would do anything for a slice. Even if it meant being obedient for once in his life.

The ride was short, and they sang along to trashy music to and from the pizza place until they finally ended up in front of Rowan’s building. Celia hopped out of the car immediately and ran for the door, because the temptation to eat her pizza on the ride home had been too strong and even Celia Santos couldn’t resist a slice of buffalo chicken forever. “Hurry uuuuup! My pizza’s getting cold!” The signature pout on her lips was quickly turning into a sneer, her small frame practically shaking in the night’s cold air. 

[stcelia]

ceokirbey‌:

He liked to think he’d overcome the disease that was Celia Santos. But as it turns out, there was no cure for that. The only remedy for his addiction to her would have been for someone, anyone, to snuff Celia out, right out from under his nose. To obliterate her to dust. If only.. that were an option, he’d gladly take it. Instead, he gravitated towards her like a hungry shark gravitated towards fresh, warm, blood. “Maybe so,” he whispered, after rolling out of bed and meeting her somewhere in the center of his room. His fingers plucked apart a few of the buttons holding his shirt together around her half-naked frame. Bishop wasn’t satisfied until he got an 80% glimpse-level of her skin to devour with his eyes. For a brief moment, he thought about what it would be like to kiss her again. To taste the combination of sin and regret on her lips. But, then he remembered the sex tape and the sinking feeling in his stomach when he learned that two of the closest people in his life had betrayed him. Not that he could still be mad at Sebastian for that because he’s recently indulged in worse. And admittedly, he wasn’t mad at Sebastian. He was mad at himself for ever caring about Celia in the first place. In the end, he’d only had himself to blame. 

“Don’t know,” Bishop shook his head. He backtracked into his closet, never bothering to shower as he changed out of last night’s attire and into something brand new. He was in the process of sliding on a new shirt when he joined Celia in the bedroom again, “Not really hungry.” In other words, he was just trying to convince himself that Celia’s bait and retired, bad habits didn’t do it for him anymore. He wanted that to be true. Hell, he needed it to be true. But, the jury was still out to get him on that one.

Part of Celia wished she wasn’t so obsessed with the back and forth game she and Bishop so often played. It wasn’t in her wiring to care about anyone or anything, and she didn’t necessarily care about Bishop or what he thought of her. It was when he didn’t think of her at all that drove her mad. When he was fawning all over her, she was winning, and Celia hated to lose. So his blatant nonchalance in regards to her lately had been driving her up a wall. It was half the reason she’d shown up at his apartment, the other half being the fact that she simply could. She’d thought one glance at her, half naked in his shirt, paired with an innuendo that practically shouted to the high heavens how hungry she was for him, would have him pouncing on her in seconds. His indifference was infuriating. 

“What’s wrong, B? Don’t tell me slumming it with trailer trash made you forget how good we are.” She wasn’t unaware of his rendezvous with Chessie Abernathy, but it wasn’t until recently that she paid any attention to it. It wasn’t unlike either of them to have one night stands in a blatant attempt to hurt each other, but this felt different, and it sparked something in Celia that was just itching to be ignited. “It’s sweet that you’re helping the less fortunate, but let’s not pretend you’re better than this because of it.”

[stcelia]

rowan-tandel‌:

“Ahaha go fuck yourself.” Rowan snorted almost fondly, shaking his head. His relationship with Celia was hard to describe- something a little more aggressive than friendship, but too fond to be called anything but. Her mention of Bishop having him do little more than hike an eyebrow. Once upon a time he might have shook his head and told her to stop tormenting the life out of him, but those times had definitely passed. Instead he shook his head in disgust at the more important part of what she’d just said. “No, no, absolutely not. I can see on your face that you’re wanting to get that place on 27th, and I absolutely refuse. That’s garbage pizza. It’s Lomato’s or nothing.”

Usually, Celia would put up an argument just for the hell of it, because the place on 27th was absolutely not garbage and she wouldn’t stand for such defamation. Tonight, however, she was too hungry to argue. Blame it on the drugs. “Fine. But if you’re going to subject me to that trash, you’re buying.” Not that buying pizza of all things would ever be an issue for Celia Santos, but it was the principle. Plus, she was starting to feel the weight that her recent unemployment and mostly blown trust fund was putting on her bank account, and it wasn’t a fun feeling. It was nothing any normal person would ever worry about, but with Celia’s lavish lifestyle the numbers shown in her bank account were certainly not going to cut it soon. Still, Celia was nothing if not crafty. She’d find a way to survive. She always did. “We should get it to-go and go back to your place, though. I am not in the mood to eat around the greasy people that go there.”

[ajmichalka]

favorite Mean Girls lyrics [2/?] - World Burn

[rowan-tandel]

“Fuck me.” Rowan enunciated around the cigarette danging from his lips as he stumbled out of the back door of Blur, his shoulder making painful contact with the brick wall on the opposite side of the alley. The sidewalk seemed none to steady under his feet, and he wondered how in the world he was going to get back to his apartment, as he certainly wasn’t about to drive in the state he was in, and walking was out of the question unless he wanted picked up or mugged. Straightening after a moment, he noticed a person standing at the mouth of the alley, and after peering past his blurry vision, realized it was someone he knew. “Oh, hey.” He muttered, fumbling for his lighter. “What’re you doing here?”

[stcelia]

“I was about to ask you the same thing but then I realized back alleys are sort of your thing.” Celia chuckled at her joke, a drunken sound that would have never escaped her lips had she been in a right state. “I was actually coming back here so I wouldn’t draw any attention to myself going inside. I had a little surprise for Bishop. It can wait though.” She’d formed a half cooked plan to toy with her ex-whatever in the aftermath of just a little to much blow, but the desire to see it through had all but disappeared at the sight of Rowan. Scheming felt boring at the moment, especially with her friend being as drunk as he seemed. Rowan was always most fun when he was annihilated. “I kinda want pizza.”

[stcelia]

ceokirbey‌:

“What are you doing here?” And by ‘here’ he didn’t mean in his suite at the Kirbey. No – The answer to that would be the same as it’s always been. Insanity was repeating the same mistakes and expecting different results. And despite the way it looked, Bishop wasn’t insane. Neither was Celia. In fact, what made her so terrifying was the fact that she was sane. And anything wrongful or ugly or mean about her was perfectly planned out and executed. No stone went unturned with her, no detail overlooked. The evidence of that was staring him boldly in the face as they spoke. His shirt framing her small figure, cropped and displayed elegantly over one shoulder. By now, Bishop had learned to read Celia. She had something up her sleeve and because she was here, it involved him. 

Before Bishop could rephrase his question or demand a more straight-forward answer, his eyes of smoldering dark-hazel drifted over the soft skin of her calve. He could see from his angle on the bed that under the shirt she’d helped herself to from his closet, Celia must’ve recently indulged in a fresh Brazilian wax because there was no trace of hair left anywhere on the bare flesh she purposely exposed to him. “Wild night,” He responded as if that were a reasonable or feasible explanation. “What’s your excuse?” His smirk indicated he was only toying with her. She looked amazing and that’s why he hated her. Because, when it came to Celia… Bishop was by default, always weak. She knew it and he knew it.

His appreciative stare roaming her body gave Celia a sense of satisfaction that could be rivaled by nothing else. She loved the fact that, despite everything, she still had that power over him. Bishop could want her dead but it wouldn’t stop him from wanting her. They always played this game, their own torturous version of cat and mouse. She gave and took from him as she pleased, giving in to what he wanted only to snatch it away at a moments notice. It was like heroin to them; a control that she craved and he was all too willing to give.

Celia ignored his questioning, choosing instead to focus on the task at hand. He wasn’t bending completely at her will yet but he would be soon enough. A few more bats of her eyelashes and he’d be swearing his love for her to the high heavens. She was nothing if not sure of that. Rolling her eyes, she dismissed him with shrug that left the skin of her shoulder just that much more exposed. “And here I thought I looked good in your shirt. Maybe I should take it off.” Her comment was stated innocently although they both knew it was anything but. “So, what’s for breakfast?”

[stcelia]

ceokirbey‌:

What members of the board, his Uncle Harold and his publicist would all call another wasteful night of partying and drinking (had they known what he was doing)… Bishop would call, a raging success. He woke the next morning with an excruciating headache and little to no recollection of anything that happened the night before. His suite was trashed on top of it, and as he sat up in bed, he could hear the toilet flush behind him, followed by footsteps approaching from the bathroom. The figure that imposed in his line of sight was blurry at first as Bishop proposed the question, “what the fuck happened last night?”

Bishop’s suite at the Kirbey was, surprisingly, one of Celia’s favorite places in the world. She’d spent so many nights there ordering room service (that she didn’t dare take more than two bites of), rifling through Bishop’s things to find something she could use against him, and partaking in much more debauchery. She’d had a key made in the very early stages of their fling and he never seemed surprised when she took it upon herself to simply show up unannounced. It was normal for them. Which was why she’d found herself at his front door at the end of her night, key already turning the lock before she could even think twice about it. Her mission was to get them back to normalcy. And if she got to chase away one of his coke-crazed tramps in the process, well, that’d just be an added bonus.

Unfortunately for her, there were no tramps to scare when she got there and she’d sat utterly un-entertained for a good few hours before deciding to shower and primp herself in his bathroom like it was her own. When she heard Bishop stir, Celia flushed the toilet beside her for effect and applied a final coat of mascara before returning the tube to her clutch. One last look in the mirror to perfect her pout and make sure his oversized button down fell just perfectly off her shoulder, and she decided it was time to face the music. “Don’t know in your case. I got in around 5. Your place was closer to where I was than mine.” She sauntered into his room like she had every right to, popping a leg up on his bed as she gave him a pointed look. “You look like shit.”

[stcelia]

rowan-tandel‌:

“Fuck off.” Rowan scoffed without any real heat, rolling his eyes at Celia’s typical attitude. Her quip about his name staying in the papers bothered him, if only because he worried it might be true. If there was one thing a drug dealer didn’t want to be, it was the center of attention. Recalling Sebastian’s earlier accusation, he couldn’t help the words that slipped out before he had half a moment to consider them. “I don’t have you to thank for that, do I?” He wasn’t sure what he’d do if the answer were yes.

His accusation made her smirk, because be it true or not Celia loved the attention this whole thing was getting her. She hadn’t event been in the so-called ‘E-blast’ and yet her name was still in everyone’s mouth. Rumors had been flying all night about whether or not she’d been the one to spill everyone’s dirty little secrets, and she hadn’t even been mentioned in the blog once. “Oh, please.” It was her turn to give an eye roll of her own, shaking her head as if his question couldn’t be any more absurd. “Do you really think if I was Gossip Girl, I’d let my very first post be all about my brother? You know I hate when he steals my spotlight.”

[stcelia]

crownedbishops‌:

How could one small event bring him down to such a vile mood? Ever since the discovery of certain… betrayals, Bishop had been in a hurricane-like mood and was taking down everyone that crossed his path. Sure, his drug-induced romp with Francesca had been of some help, but sex can only fill a human-sized void for so long before the emptiness sets back in. That was where he was now and likely where he would stay. After all, how does one begin life after Celia Santos?

Bishop didn’t understand his obsession with the woman, nor did he understand why this had hit him so hard. Celia wasn’t anything new to the scene; she was the same gag a thousand other women had pulled before with just a new face halfheartedly slapped on the cover. She brought nothing new to the table for him, didn’t even attempt to pretend to care about him or whatever barely there connection they held. In fact, she barely had a personality of her own, and yet he honestly felt betrayed by her. Heartbroken even. It was a pathetic feeling, and he hated it.

By no means was he hiding from her but he also had hoped she wouldn’t show her face tonight but it seemed God was a man of many jokes because soon her voice filled his ears. “Well, there goes the neighborhood,” Bishop mutters though he makes sure to say the words loud enough for her to hear. “I don’t know what the hell you’re going on about Celia and I truly, from the bottom of my heart, don’t give a fuck. So if you’ll excuse me…” Bishop downs the rest of his drink, his third already, and turns to saunter off into the crowd without so much as turning to look at her even once.

His words came at her like a slap in the face, and even though Celia was never phased by petty talk, she’d be lying if she said they hadn’t stung. Bishop was never this hostile to her. Blowing her off was something he just didn’t do. To be dismissed like that — to be talked down to like that — enraged her. Cutting words formed at the tip of her tongue, ready to be lashed out at any moment, but before she took things too far Celia stopped herself. Getting back at Bishop wasn’t what she wanted. It was getting back with him that she craved. She couldn’t stand when he wasn’t worshipping her, and groveling at her feet. Obsession was always a given with Bishop when it came to her and she wanted that back.

The way to get there wasn’t with cutting words, Celia knew that much. Her anger slowly deflated as her arm shot out to grab him before he could get to far, an iron grip latching onto his forearm. “Bishop, don’t.” The fury in her eyes had been replaced with hurt, her features falling into something she’d usually consider pathetic. Celia may have lost her TV show and the life that came with it, but she was nothing if not an incredible actress. “I know you slept with Chessie. And I get why, I do. I just—” looking down, the girl blinked a few times, conjuring up the perfectly glassy eyed effect she needed. A vulnerability she’d never shown him before. “It hurt, Bish.”

[stcelia]

Masks, Celia quickly found out as she weaved her way through a crowded room, were not your friend when looking discretely for one person in particular. Leave it to Nathalie Kirbey to think up the most childish and annoying theme for a gala and set it into motion. While Celia’s whole life usually revolved around masks and smoke and mirrors, she simply didn’t have time for it at the moment. The Gossip Girl blasts were the least of her worries, nothing she’d done would be getting out if it wasn’t on her own terms, that she knew for sure. It was Bishop’s recent lapse in judgement that she was betting would make the blog sooner rather than later. Secrets were flying left and right and while that little piece of information may not be displayed for all to see tonight, Celia couldn’t imagine it would take long before it popped up on every iPhone in Manhattan.

Which was why she needed to find Bishop. Humiliation wasn’t something she took to lightly and if word did get out, Celia refused to let Bishop think it was the first time she was hearing about it. Secrets were her greatest weapon and Celia Santos always had the upper hand. And anyway, it was about time he stopped brooding and started obsessing over her again. 

After some searching it was easy enough to find him, his strong build all to familiar to her. It gave her the greatest sense of satisfaction that she could make such a large man bend at her every will. The thought brought an easy smile to her features as she approached him, batting her eyelashes. The picture of innocence. “You look lonely. I’m simply shocked you haven’t sought out Chessie Abernathy to come keep you company. You know she’d jump at the opportunity.” 

@crownedbishops

[stcelia]

qarchibald‌:

He looks at his phone and it takes him reading the message once, twice, three times for him to fully comprehend the words on the screen. Quinn’s not the type to get easily nervous, but he feels powerless in that moment, mind replaying the secrets he had waiting to be exposed like a scratched record. “Honestly, I preferred the sex tape,” he says only half-sarcastically to the person next to him. “You know, if we go now we can still make a run for it. That food truck down the street is looking more and more promising, despite the fact there’s no way it could pass a health inspection.” 

At the mention of her leaked sex tape, Celia perks up with a slow smirk. “Thanks, it was some of my best work.” Celia says with a wink, eyeing Quinn up and down. She vaguely recognizes him as an Archibald, someone not quite up to her social status. In any other situation, the conversation would end there before it even started. Celia’s bored, though, and with boredom comes the need for mass chaos. She’s seen this guy hanging around O before and she’s dying to know why.  “Yeah, I’m gonna pass on that. I don’t eat carbs or rat poisoning.”

[stcelia]

rowan-tandel‌:

“I swear to fuck if you’re here to ask me about whether that Gossip Hag bullshit is true or not, I’m either dumping this drink on your head or punching you in the fucking face.” Rowan snapped wearily from where he was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, irritation making his head throb in time with the music. 

“Oh my god, Rowan Tandel? Is it really you? Are the rumors true? Why, I’m starstruck. Can I have your autograph?” Celia faked a gasp as she approached her friend, if he could be called such a thing, her grin widening into an annoying taunt. Fucking with Rowan was one of her favorite past times, even if she sometimes pushed it too far. “You may as well embrace the fame, babe, your name isn’t leaving anyone’s lips anytime soon.”

[stcelia]

chessieabernathy‌:

“S’it bad to say this whole ‘Gossip Girl’ thing isn’t that surprising?” Chessie comments, her words only holding half-truth. If someone anonymous blogger was able to get something like that on Monty, of all people, who was to say they didn’t have something on her? “At least there’s an open bar.”

“I’m surprised how accurate the posts are. Hicktown Heiress? I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Celia plastered on a fake smile, motioning to the bartender for a refill of her usual poison. “Did you have fun trying to get your boyfriend back? I always pegged you as a trashy slut but honestly, Chessie. Sleeping with Bishop for revenge and then going right back to Sebastian? Tsk tsk. I wonder if he’d be so quick to take you back if he knew.”

[stcelia]

chessieabernathy‌:

Celia wasn’t someone Chessie particularly enjoyed running into. She didn’t have an issue with the girl before she left the city, but after the stunt at the relaunch — It wasn’t likely that the two would become friends. “No,” she begins, on the defense already. “I was just curious to see if your head would spin all the way around.” Chessie chuckled lightly at her own joke, taking a sip of her cocktail. “Just in case I needed to call a priest.”

If eyes could get stuck in the back of your head from rolling them too hard, Celia’s would have. The hicktown heiress was maybe the last person on Earth she wanted to see. There was nothing wrong with Chessie, per se, but Celia simply didn’t see her as an equal and that alone was enough to make her dislike the girl’s presence. That, and her constant snark was downright headache inducing. “Hilarious.” Celia still refused to look at Chessie and she hoped the brunette would take that as a sign to just evaporate. “Do you ever get tired of being insufferable? I know it must be hard being so very irrelevant but my god, take a hint. Being Ophelia’s weird sidekick doesn’t make you a welcomed member of New York high society.”

[stcelia]

Celia is used to people staring. It comes with the territory of being famous, of basically being a goddess. That doesn’t make it any less annoying when it happens. She has plans to keep today, the last thing she needs is a random stalker taking up her time and making her life difficult. Thankfully, it’s usually easy for her to get her admirers to go away.

“Can I help you, or do you just plan on standing there until your brain turns to cheese from staring at me?” Celia doesn’t even spare her company a backwards glance, instead she catches her straw with her tongue while her eyes roll to the back of her head. “I know I’m a lot to take in.”