I want you. I want your sleepy confused look when you wake up. I want to be the warmth that fills the space in your bed. I want to be the sheets your fingers crave at night; the blanket that wraps around you all night. I want to drink tea with you, share some records we find. I want to talk about everything in the world newspapers. I want to discuss with you, to be stubborn and quick-witted with you. I want to have differences between us. I want your flaws. All of them. I want to go into the deepest corners of your mind and never get bored of you. I want to be surprised by the new all the time. I want to look at you like a movie, a living piece of art; always trying to chase what you crave … and capture you.
“Men aren’t asked about age. Men aren’t asked about their children. Not that these things aren’t important, but I do feel like it becomes reductive when a woman’s life becomes, ‘Talk to me about your kids and how you feel about plastic surgery.’”
—Julianne Moore, by Will Davidson for DuJour Magazine, June 2013.
anonymously tell me your credit card number ill reply with what I bought
Gillian Anderson on Jimmy Fallon (May 21).
And this is how this scene in American Horror Story SHOULD HAVE gone.
The Fall: Dark Descent (01x01)