alix. 20. ISTJ. melancholic. history student. limping disaster. self-deprecating & sarcastic with forest green hair and living the grantaire appreciation life.








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apollocomic:

thischarmingmaniac asked apollocomic:
can you please post the second panel? they’re all gorgeous - thank you for sharing them - but i especially love grantaire’s profile there. thanks!  


apollocomic:

thischarmingmaniac asked apollocomic:

can you please post the second panel? they’re all gorgeous - thank you for sharing them - but i especially love grantaire’s profile there. thanks!  







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perkamentus:

mythology meme - one of two objects: pandora's box

Only Hope was left within her unbreakable house,
she remained under the lip of the jar, and did not
fly away. Before [she could], Pandora replaced the
lid of the jar. This was the will of aegis-bearing
Zeus the Cloudgatherer.



#myth




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heathenhippy:

Druid’s Temple, North Yorkshire


heathenhippy:

Druid’s Temple, North Yorkshire







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By Leonardo Ugalde



#art




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Head of a Lady in Medieval Costume (detail), Lucien Victor Guirand de Sccevola, 1900


Head of a Lady in Medieval Costume (detail), Lucien Victor Guirand de Sccevola, 1900



#art




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He had it coming, he had it coming, he only had himself to blame 







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The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the A gaean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.


Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

Matthew Arnold  (via mirroir)  






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vaginawoolf:

javert







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redvipers:

The Freys slashed her throat from ear to ear. When we found her by the river she was three days dead. Harwin begged me to give her the kiss of life, but it had been too long. I would not do it, so Lord Beric put his lips to hers instead, and the flame of life passed from him to her. And… she rose. May the Lord of Light protect us. She rose.