labsinthe:

Magdalena Frąckowiak photographed by Ezra Petronio

theloupgaroux:

your deepest fear 

I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited.

posted 1 day ago via theloupgaroux (© words-and-coffee) with 137 notes
filed under: #words

“Toss him over,” Zoya said. “Break his heart cruelly. I will gladly give our poor prince comfort, and I would make a magnificent queen.” (..) "Zoya? I make it a policy never to seduce anyone prettier than I am.”

“So then. I shall become a nun. For I shall never love a husband as I love you, Cesare.”

Watch for the devil. When there’s a god, there’s always a legion of devils

"It will never fade, Alina. It will only grow worse, no matter how many scarves you hide behind or what lies you tell, no matter how far or how fast you run."
I tried to turn away, but he reached out and took hold of my chin, forcing me to look at him. He was so close I could feel his breath. “There are no others like us, Alina,” he whispered. “And there never will be.”
I lurched away from him, knocking the chair over, nearly losing my balance. I pounded on the door with my iron-bound fists, calling out to Ivan as the Darkling looked on. He didn’t come until the Darkling gave the order. (insp)

Oh we’re a mess, poor humans, poor flesh—hybrids of angels and animals, dolls with diamonds stuffed inside them We’ve been to the moon and we’re still fighting over Jerusalem. Let me tell you what I do know: I am more than one thing, and not all of those things are good. The truth is complicated. It’s two-toned, multi-vocal, bittersweet. I used to think that if I dug deep enough to discover something sad and ugly, I’d know it was something true. Now I’m trying to dig deeper.

I didn’t want to write these pages until there were no hard feelings, no sharp ones. I do not have that luxury. I am sad and angry and I want everyone to be alive again. I want more landmarks, less landmines. I want to be grateful but I’m having a hard time with it.

posted 3 days ago via asriels (© godcomplexes) with 6,255 notes
filed under: #words

mydollyaviana:

disneyismyescape:

carry-on-until-its-gone:

wish-upon-the-disney-star:

This scene is SO important. Maleficent is with someone she trusts, someone she considers a friend. And then the next thing she knows, she wakes up in pain, bleeding, with her wings burned off. A huge part of her has been destroyed.

Rape is so prominent in our culture that it is in a Disney movie. Maybe not explicitly, but it is very clear what this scene represents and it is so sad.

I fucking cried my eyes out during this scene

AJ even confirmed that this is what this scene was a metaphor for (x) - just because i saw someone say today that this is not what this scene is about

'We were very conscious that it was a metaphor for rape': The actress explained how the scene in which her character has her wings ripped off her body while in a drug-induced sleep had to be something 'so violent and aggressive' that it would make her 'lose all sense of her maternity, her womanhood and her softness' 

when a man violates a woman, he cuts off her wings.

Hair by Guido Palau @ Dolce and Gabbana spring 2015 rtw backstage (photo by Kevin Tachman)

THE GRISHA TRILOGY AU

Alina Starkov & The Darkling as southern gothic characters

In the Deep South, the Devil is a beautiful boy who swears and cheats at billiards on Sunday. He is the one who reaches up your skirt, pulls out prayers you were saving for someday and lights them on fire with his tongue. He will sing hymns while feasting on your forfeit heart, call you blessed while peeling away dignity like stockings, then drag you out in front of the church to be stoned

In the Deep South, angels look very much like you and i, and they cling to each other with dustbowl desperation and replenish their failing reserves of grace with ritual in the hopes of remembering what they once were, what wonders they once were capable of performing - (Hossana Americana, S.T. Gibson

“Behind every great man is a woman with blood on her hands.”

Clever girl. You play with fire because you want to be burnt.

posted 5 days ago via theloupgaroux (© comatosechild) with 16,351 notes
filed under: #words
©MC