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I simply want to live; to cause no evil to anyone but myself.

Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace (via considerine)

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Forgotten Spiral Staircase

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                                                         and all I loved,                                                          I loved alone.

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darth vader is just the phantom of the opera in space

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35 mm, 1/60th at f/4, ISO 1600

Bouquet of roses.

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Shall I not then hate them who abhor me?i will keep no terms with my enemies. I am miserable, and they shall share my wretchedness.

Frankenstein, Mary Shelley (via midnighttsnack)

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If Erik ever laughs it’s probably going to be those laughs where you hide your face and start shaking from laughter, and then people start to think you’re crying but when they ask what’s wrong for long enough out comes the loudest maniacal laughter to scare the hell out of you

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I spent too long burning with a love that consumed me, don’t you dare call me cold.

Mari via (tousld)

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“Enclosed Cessation” - The Veil Series

Model - Ophidia & Bob Headpieces - Agnieszka Osipa Costumes Photography - Sheridan’s Art

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apcgee:

         “And you’ll get it when we get back,” she assured him with a grin. Then she hummed and nodded. “I must. See, otherwise you’d stay there the whole day and you’ll develop a painful crick in your neck and back from hunching over.” This break was a medical necessity. “Someone has to make sure you take care of yourself.” 

       “It would be more than worth it,” Erik grumbled, but so quietly that it likely went unheard as he dragged himself out of his chair, heading for the coat rack. “Going out in the snow for ice cream hardly constitutes taking care of myself, you know. But fine- where are we going this time?”

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@pirequehideux / ERIC

         “Erik!” A light teasing tone as she ducked down to put her head between his and the sheet of music he’d been hunched over for the last hours. “Come on, you’ve been working on that for age. You need a break. We’re going for ice cream.” No, he didn’t get a say in the matter. No, it didn’t matter that it was snowing outside, either. 

startercall

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Finally read Leroux’s novel and honestly…. would a twenty-something Erik have been a super angst ball of anger that may just quite almost literally melt into a puddle at the slightest sign of affection?

Probably not but Leroux is dead and he can’t stop me.

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Marchesa Notte Spring 2016.

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what defines a monster?

is it the smoke in his lungs and the taste of ash on his tongue? the hooded eyes and shadowed limbs cast in the darkness of a thousand sleepless nights? he bares his throat and dares you to take a bite. he craves your violence, the pain in your touch — to chase away the numbness, because maybe,  for even just a moment it makes him feel alive.

for is it so hard to believe that behind the blood-soaked claws and sharp teeth, lies a soul just praying to feel again.

— the monster is never born a monster | k.s.