hmthemes
she was beautiful
but especially she was without mercy.
MY ANACONDA DONT WANT NONE UNLESS YOU GOT BUNS HUN

JACE !!!!!! STOP SINGING ABOUT ANACONDAS AND BUNS NO WHAT IS THIS LIFE WE LIVE NOW WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU ?!?!?!! YOU ARE NOT THE NEXT NICKI MINAJ

jaclcfrost:

if u can’t imagine ur otp on a long road trip together with no set destination in mind with things happening like their car breaking down at one point or stopping at a store to argue over what snacks to buy and taking turns driving while the other rests and checking into a little inn or hotel on the way and pulling off to just chill and look at the sky together do u really ship it

valentinesxarrow:

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valentinesxarrow:

transatlanticism // death cab for cutie

i need you so much closer.

valentinesxarrow:

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                      he shrugs.

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           ’ i saw depicted drawings of people  that weren’t
           me—- so i’m trying to find the appeal, but there’s
           simply  none. ‘

                                  flicking through the pages of the
           sketchbook,  he pulls a face at an angelic simon.
           it was one complete inaccurate  representation if
           you would ask jace.  though no one was, nor will.

              ❛  no appeal ? you’re kidding. jace, there’s 
             not really meant to be an appeal. hand it over.
            — but i could change that. maybe. who knows. 
                                    i’ll think about it.  ❜

            so maybe there was pages and pages of small
            scribbles,  attempts that she tore out,  attempts
            that she made of drawing him. he’s too perfect,
            what do you expect. if she hadn’t done that he’d
            be all there is to see.   just led creating nothing.
            at least she’s giving  herself time to draw again. 

touches ur face and whispers you're super fab xoxoxo <333

you wanna know who’s super super super fab
you,  for sure.  asdfghjk thank you for this lovely
message,  though.   it means a  lot to see this in
my  inbox so  i kept it  for a little while.   but your
portrayal  of  loki is really,  really  amazing  and i 
admire your writing so much, i’ve never gotten the 
chance to say that, but it think now’s the time !!!

valentinesxarrow:

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  nephilim across the broken land, some listening to his words
  and others dismissing them. they became reluctant to kill the
  faces of the people they once knew. unalike jace—who’s past
  experiences with the ENDARKENED are evident, they didn’t
  realise the severity of their state, nor how truly gone they are.
  there’s not even the slightest part of their soul left within the
  confinements.

                           only jace had to find out the hardest way, just as his fellow
                           shadowhunters will. with blood  and sheer heartache. his
                           thoughts return to clary, as he drives his own sword within
                           the corrupt heart of an  endarkened,  motivated by her real
                           memory ; and that of what had been taken from her. the girl
                           he met in pandemonium. ichor bleeds, body limp, he finds
                           the hilt and withdraws.

          they’re losing.  he can’t save them all.  the citadel rains with
          fire, as blood and ichor spill in a mixture. he can feel the fire
          within burning and his own tinder sparking a blaze. it slows
          him down, but also motivates the angel boy, releasing all the
          resentment onto these army of immoral souls. one by one,
          they fall at his feet. most leave marks on a bloodstained body.

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          CLARY  is constantly catching his  line of vision, her frame
          swaying with her weapon —— as if it’s an extension of her
          own arm. heosphoros becomes coated in crimson, a brilliant
          red that radiates through the dark. she’s a sickly yet beautiful
          image.

                           he has no option  other than to steer clear of the pathway
                           she creates, wavering between fellow shadowhunters. the
                           ones he can fellow, at least. there isn’t a bone in her dark
                           body that remains to be nephilim-worthy, let alone able to
                           relate to them. the ones she murders in cold-blood. it isn’t
                           too long before he swivels back on her path unintentionally
                           and ends up  facing her.  nothing can prepare him for this.

  ❝ you finally got what you wanted. i must admit, i anticipated
  you to look more… pleased❞ his voice is weak against the
  clash of the crowds surrounding them. it ripples, too, within
  her dreaded presence. he isn’t sebastian. he can’t flick off his
  emotions like a switch. unalike most, he does a decent job at
  concealing, but since his heavenly fire and loss, he struggles. 

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                     how wrong would it be to end this herself ? how wrong would
                     it be to end her own life among others ? from both armies. all
                     soldiers and all demons. half of that sebastian had worked for
                    — and his whole world.   how  wrong  would  it be to scrawl a
                     rune on  the frozen  plain to split  the earth in two.   creating a
                     chasm beneath the red death.   creating something that
                     would   end   all   life   fighting  on  this  blood  ridden  ground.

            how wrong would it be, for her to think she could do that ? she
            is strong enough. she’s tried it.   many times.   harnessing that
            power and letting it flow through  her arm to the adamas of the
            stele. a darkened creation lead to many disasters and trials on
            her part,   for  sebastian  to administer.   defined by her malice
            heart and valentine’s blessed angel blood experiment that sits
            in  her   veins  still  only   tainted  enough  for  her  to  be  loyal.
            sebastian only needs her power. he craves it. not her. 
it needs
            the mind capacity of a thousand shadowhunters.   it needs her
            most  powerful  rune  and  she knows just which one.

                   though  the  decision  is  edging  at  her  thoughts,   tugging at
                   strings that are not meant to be tampered with.   tugging at her
                   sanity as if she has any left.   this would win them the smallest
                   of wars.   a distraction.   and yet clary is willing  to die  for what
                   means so little. willing to die for what is only a warning. still her
                   mind  is  distracted from the real complication.   just before the
                   dark heart speaks her thumb glides softly across her cheek and
                   her fresh wound, catching any blood, smearing it away until it’s
                   no longer 
a bother.

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                       ❛  i’ll look a little more pleased once i know that you’re dead.
                       you won’t get to see it, i’m so sorry to disappoint you, jace. i
                       know how much i sicken you. but i won’t for much longer, 
                                                                         i promise.  ❜

                   it could be that utter sickening desire to feel the fire of him burn
                   hot next to her  or sebastian’s  whispers  in her ear,   but after
                   giving  him one last look her small frame lunges straight for him.
                   sebastian’s puppet,   that’s all she is.   having nightmares about 
                   this very moment and subconsciously begging to wake up again
                   and again and again until there’s only darkness. now, in this very
                   moment,   she is willingly  about to kill the  love of her life.   and
                   those  nightmares  becoming  a reality.   not something clarissa
                   truly  appreciates.     she  won’t  do  as  such  until  he  is  gone.

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