| the divine things that doesn't exactly help you with your life.
ultimately about books that I've read and love. | I'm in love . . . with a fictional character | I'm a Demigod/Shadowhunter | I'm here, I'm everywhere | I don't care what people says about Will Herondale, I'll love him always. |
Will hesitated. This was not something Magnus had sent him for; it was something he wanted to know for himself. “Love potions—”
Old Mol screeched with laughter. “Love potions? For Will Herondale? T’aint my way to turn down payment, but any man who looks like you has got no need of love potions, and that’s a fact.”
“No,” Will said, a little desperation in his voice, “I was looking for the opposite, really—something that might put an end to being in love.”
“An ‘atred potion?” Mol still sounded amused.
“I was hoping for something more akin to indifference? Toleration … ?”
She made a snorting noise, astonishingly human for a ghost. “I ‘ardly like to tell you this, Nephilim, but if you want a girl to ‘ate you, there’s easy enough ways of making it ‘appen. You don’t need my help with the poor thing.”
And with that, she vanished, spinning away into the mists among the graves. Will, looking after her, sighed. “Not for her,” he said, under his breath, though there was no one to hear him, “for me …” and he leaned his head against the cold iron gate.
Fuck Yeah! Mortal Instruments
`Tessa would like to read a book with you, of your choice. What book do you choose and why? Vathek. Fabulous bit of Gothic trifle. Potions, genies, lascivious dancing, blood sacrifice, magical swords, sworn enemies. If Vathek doesn’t have her in fits nothing will. Good moral, too: “Woe to the rash mortal who seeks to know that of which he should remain ignorant, and to undertake that which surpasses his power.”
`If you could have one favor granted to you by the angel Raziel, what would it be and why? (No fair asking for that little matter from your past to be fixed or for Jem to be healed - too obvious).
Well, that’s not much good then is it? I would wish not to care — about anyone or anything.
`You’re planning the perfect evening with Tessa (I know you can’t be with her - you are just planning not doing). Where will you take her and what will you do there?
Well, fortunately we Shadowhunters have slightly more relaxed rules of courtship than mundanes, for I would certainly not be allowed an evening unchaperoned with Tessa were I not Nephilim. But imagining that she wished to spend an evening with me, and that circumstances were other than what they are, I would think she would enjoy an evening at the theater, especially if it involved Shakespeare, I don’t believe she’s ever seen a play in the flesh.
`You visit Jem’s room after being out all night “at the bars or the brothel or whatever” and he’s playing his violin. You pause and listen before you enter. What’s going through your mind?
That Jem makes beautiful things and I just destroy them. That really it ought to be me dying and not him. I mean what’s the point of living if you can’t even enjoy it? Yet Jem enjoys all the life he’s got. It isn’t fair.
`You’re fighting the Magister beside Gabriel (never mind how that came about it just did). Gabriel falls and the Magister runs. Do you help Gabriel or pursue the Magister?
Pursue the Magister. Not only is that the Law, but Gabriel can manage on his own, the tedious little sod.
~Love is to destroy~
Demons are dangerous… but LOVE is deadly… (Clockwork Prince.. COMING SOOOOON) ;)
Will: ““Tess,” he said, and she thought, once again, how no one but him ever called her that. “That is all I think about.”
— Clockwork Prince
(via gabrielightwoods)the cold winds are rising.
Somehow, I just love The Infernal Devices much much more than The Mortal Instruments. They weren’t that different but I find The Infernal Devices more intriguing with its setting and era. It’s just more … exotic.
My immediate reaction after reading it was like
Not to mention that I just love the way Tessa and Will interact with each other. Their little arguments, sarcasm, and things like that. And the way they just loved each other was mind-blowing.
But I had to admit that I fell hard for William Herondale. He seemed much darker than Jace and the way he acted in Clockwork Angel just made me more interested. He obviously loves Tessa and he thought that she was better off without him - just like Sydney Carton in A Tale of Two Cities. And then at the prologue of Clockwork Prince, he said he wanted an indifference potion for himself.
The point is, I fell in love with him over and over again. I just can’t forget him.
Oh my goodness.
(via infernal-divergent)the moon is a loyal companion.
He flinched away from her, and Tessa dropped her hand, hurt. “Jem, what it is it? You don’t want me to touch you?”
“Not like that,” he flared, and then flushed even darker than before.
“Like what?” She was honestly bewildered; this was behavior she might have expected from Will, but not from Jem: this mysteriousness, this anger.
“As if you were a nurse and I were your patient. You think because I am ill I am not like —” He drew a ragged breath. “Do you think I do not know,” he went on more quietly, “that when you take my hand, it is only so that you can feel my pulse? Do you think I do not know that when you look into my eyes it is only to see examine my pupils, to see how much of the drug I have taken? If I were another man, a normal man, I might have hopes, presumptions even; I might -—” His words seemed to catch; either because he realized he had said too much or because he had run out of breath.
She shook her head, feeling her plaits tickle her neck. “This is the fever speaking, not you.”
His eyes darkened, and he began to turn away from her. “You can’t even believe I could want you,” he said in a half-whisper. “That I am alive enough, healthy enough —”
“No.” Without thinking, she caught at his arm. He stiffened. “James, that’s not at all what I meant —”
He curled his fingers around her hand, where it lay on his arm. His own scorched her skin, hot as fire. And then he turned her, and drew her toward him.
They stood face to face, chest to chest. His breath stirred her hair. She felt the fever rising off him like mist off the Thames; sensed the pounding of the blood through his skin, saw with a strange clarity the pulse at his neck, the light on the pale curls of his hair where it lay against his paler throat. Prickles of heat ran up and down her skin, bewildering her. This was Jem — her friend, steady and reliable as a heartbeat. Jem did not set her skin on fire or make the blood rush fast inside her veins until she was dizzy.
“Tessa,” he said. She looked up at him. There was nothing steady or reliable about his expression. His silver eyes were dark, his cheeks flushed. As she raised her face, he brought his down, his mouth slanting across hers, and even as she froze in surprise they were kissing.
“He’s Nephilim,” said his companion. “And you’ve never cared for them.
How much did he pay you?”
“Nothing,” said Magnus, and now he was not seeing anything that was
there, not the river, not Will, only a wash of memories: eyes, faces,
lips, receding into memory, love that he could no longer put a name
to. “He did me a favor. One he doesn’t even remember.”
“He’s very pretty. For a human.”
“He’s very broken,” said Magnus. “Like a lovely vase that someone has
smashed. Only luck and skill can put it back together the way it was
Dear sensible Miss Gray,
I write to you on behalf of a mutual friend, one William Herondale. I know that it is his habit to come and go — most often go — from the Institute as he pleases, and that therefore it may be some time before any alarm is raised at his absence. But I ask you, as one who holds your good sense in esteem, not to assume this absence to be of the ordinary sort. I saw him myself last night and he was, to say the least, distraught when he left my residence. I have reason for concern that he might do himself an injury, and therefore I suggest that his whereabouts be sought and his safety ascertained. He is a difficult young man to like but I believe you see the good in him, as I do, Miss Gray, and that is why I humbly address my letter to you —