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 

for bronson

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 

for bronson

"Oh Lord. Give me coffee to change the things I can change, and red wine to accept the things I can’t."
- #and wisdom to know when to just reach for the vodka whisky instead. (via mirroir)

enoqi:

Multicolored by Hajime Asahi (x)
Your "warm this cold winter" mix is the only thing getting me through the paper that I'm writing. It is absolutely gorgeous and everything flows so well. Perfect to write to (not to mention chock-full of baby Stark feels). Thank you for putting this up!
Anonymous

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! 

image

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.

"There are songs that still feel like your teeth on my neck."