Shorn, she thought, like a sheep. She yanked the shift over her head and tossed it to the floor. “Do what you will.”
Mr. Nobley is about 900% done with everyone’s bullshit.
WE’RE NEVER CLEAN (a mix for political intrigues that turned into wars)
i. knives and shadows - akira senju | ii. bad blood - bastille | iii. ballad of a politician - regina spektor | iv. prologue - the antlers | v. the gilded hand - radical face | vi. always a catch - hans zimmer | vii. london’s burning - the temper trap | viii. brotsjor - olafur arlands | ix. buried in water - dead man’s bones | x. cannons - little scream | xi. here comes the night time ii - arcade fire | xii. rise and fall - sophie hunger | xiii. bones - ms mr | xiv. umbra nigra - kajiura yuki | xv. beat the devil’s tattoo - black rebel motorcycle club | xvi. we must be killers - mikky ekko | xvii. to fight monsters, we created monsters - ramin djawadi
|-|| #and wisdom to know when to just reach for the |
I cannot begin to explain how happy this message made me! I hope you survive through that paper and got a good mark on it!
She had no time for sleep, with the weight of the world upon her shoulders. And she feared to dream. Sleep is a little death, dreams the whisperings of the Other, who would drag us all into his eternal night. She would sooner sit bathed in the ruddy glow of her red lord’s blessed flames, her cheeks flushed by the wash of heat as if by a lover’s kisses. Some nights she drowsed, but never for more than an hour. One day, Melisandre prayed, she would not sleep at all. One day she would be free of dreams. Melony, she thought. Lot Seven.
for those of you who are interested i created a quotes blog where i will reblog all the words that make me sit down and reevaluate my entire life