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.

navigation

burningmemories:

                        the world has no right to my heart, the world has no place in our bed, they DON’T get to know what I SAID. i’m BURNING THE MEMORIES, burning the letters that might have redeemed you.

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