infernal.

        moonlight’s  scorched  his  ribs ,    made  a  home  inside  of  them :     he  dances  with  the  stygian ,    with  danger   /   expects  to  win ,    hope  it  doesn’t  end  with  a  coffin.   lascivious  hooked  onto  his  edges ,    a  part  of  him CRAVING :   temerarous  drenched  soul ,    his  hand  placed  on  the  back  of  sebastian’s  head  and  his  own  lips  crash  into  the  other’s.

WHAT 4TH WALL?: ☯ something in canon they wish they hadn’t said/done?

         ‘ i don’t make mistakes. can i say what i wish i had done? i wish i’d killed jace as a baby with my own hands. ’

   “ you don’t SCARE me. i’ve fought monsters twice your size and twice as ugly. some little bitch with daddy-issues and a god complex isn’t gonna send me running. ” 

     at first it is admiration he feels for her bravery, a certain likeness she poses to someone he holds dear. however, her vulgar description of him makes his eye twitch and lip curl. ‘ you stupid girl, ’ he moves faster than she can process, faster than any shadowhunter, to her shoulder. ‘ i am a whole lot more than that. ’

       there is something he sees in isabelle, be it her anger or her confidence or something else entirely, but he can see potential in it, in her. ‘ i’ve heard new york is beautiful, though i doubt more beautiful than paris. not that i’ve been able to see any of it, yet. ’

       a dramatic sigh fell from sebastian’s lips, as he flipped his blade in his fingers. ‘ i don’t want this to get ugly, lydia. just give me the cup. ’

game of thrones.

        his upper lip curls as his next words come out in a snarl, his hand slamming against the wall beside her face. no one else can make him so angry ; no one else can control him so. ‘ yes you do. ’ his breathing is heavy, his face only inches from hers in his usual lack of concern for personal space. ‘ you just want to ignore it because it isn’t pretty. because it isn’t something of the heavens, like your angel boy. ’ he’d wished he’d killed jace when they were children, before he’d sprung up like this weed, sent to ruin everything. a mirthless chuckle fell from his lips. ‘ tell me, clarissa, do you really think you are so seraphic? the blood of angels may run through your veins, but you are a morgenstern and you are dark. ’