"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 hor 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)

fuckyeahbenallen:

Matthew Bell and Ben Allen backstage at Burberry Prorsum FW14 - London Fashion Week

fuckyeahbenallen:

Matthew Bell and Ben Allen backstage at Burberry Prorsum FW14 - London Fashion Week


Take in the view from Buda Castle overlooking the Danube River in Budapest, Hungry. 
Photograph by Seth Kugel, The New York Times/Redux

Take in the view from Buda Castle overlooking the Danube River in Budapest, Hungry. 

Photograph by Seth Kugel, The New York Times/Redux


Léa Seydoux // ‘Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol’ UK Premiere // 2011
Léa Seydoux // ‘Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol’ UK Premiere // 2011

Kirsten Dunst for Vs. Magazine (Autumn/Winter 2014)

a matchless spirit though a delicate frame, covered by her splendid bravery.

overcome-by-you:

Augustus Waters died eight days after his prefuneral, at Memorial, in the ICU, when the cancer, which was made of him, finally stopped his heart, which was also made of him. He was with his mom and dad and sisters. His mom called me at three thirty in the morning. I’d known, of course, that he was going. <…> The only person I really wanted to talk to about Augustus Waters’s death was Augustus Waters. My parents stayed in my room forever until it was morning and finally Dad said, “Do you want to be alone?” and I nodded and Mom said, “We’ll be right outside the door,” me thinking, I don’t doubt it. It was unbearable. The whole thing. Every second worse than the last. I just kept thinking about calling him, wondering what would happen, if anyone would answer. In the last weeks, we’d been reduced to spending our time together in recollection, but that was not nothing: The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we’d done were less real and important than they had been hours before.

ja