Warrior
Beth CrowleyThis was inspired by The Mortal Instruments and the singer would just LOVE for it to be on the City Of Bones soundtrack, so REBLOG AND FAVE THE HELL OUT OF THIS AND HELP HER.NEVER STOP REBLOGGING AND FAVING.
Listen to it on Youtube and like it. Also drop the singer a lovely note.
Lyrics
You fascinated me
cloaked in shadows and secrecy
the beauty of a broken angel
I ventured carefully
afraid of what you thought I’d be
but pretty soon I was entangled
You take me by the hand, I question who I am
Teach me how to fight, I’ll show you how to win
you’re my mortal flaw, and I’m your fatal sin
Let me feel the sting, the pain,
the burn under my skin
Put me to the test, I’ll prove that I am strong
Won’t let myself believe, that what we feel is wrong
I finally see what you knew was
inside me all along
that behind this soft exterior, lies a warrior
My memory refused
to separate the lies from truth
and search the past my mind created
I kept on pushing through
standing resolute which you
in equal measure loved and hated
You take me by the hand, I’m seeing who I am
CHORUS
You take me by the hand, I’m sure of who I am
CHORUS
The pictures come to life
Wake in the dead of night
Open my eyes, I must be dreaming
Clutch my pillow tight
brace myself for the fight
I’ve heard that seeing is believing
City of Heavenly Fire snippet SPOILERS
A moment later, Helen had returned; she was walking slowly now, and carefully, her hand on the back of a thin boy with a mop of wavy brown hair. He couldn’t have been older than twelve, and Clary recognized him immediately. Helen, her hand firmly clamped around the wrist of a younger boy whose hands were covered with blue wax. He must have been playing with the tapers in the huge candelabras that decorated the sides of the nave. He looked about twelve, with an impish grin and the same wavy, bitter-chocolate hair as his sister.
Jules, Helen had called him. Her little brother.
The impish grin was gone now. He looked tired and dirty and frightened. Skinny wrists stuck out of the cuffs of a white mourning jacket whose sleeves were too short for him. In his arms he was carrying a little boy, probably not more than two years old, with the same wavy brown hair that he had; it seemed to be a family trait. The rest of his family wore the same borrowed mourning clothes: following Julian was a brunette girl about ten, her hand firmly clasped in the hold of a boy the same age: the boy had a sheet of tangled black hair that nearly obscured his face. Fraternal twins, Clary guessed. After them came a girl who might have been eight or nine, her face round and very pale between brown braids.
The misery on their faces cut ay Clary’s heart. She thought of her power with runes, wishing that she could create one that would soften the blow of loss. Mourning runes existed, but only to honor the dead, in the same way that love runes existed, like wedding rings, to symbolize the bond of love. You couldn’t make someone love you with a rune, and you couldn’t assuage grief with it, either. So much magic, Clary thought, and nothing to mend a broken heart.
“Julian Blackthorn,” said Jia Penhallow, and her voice was gentle. “Step forward, please.”
Julian swallowed and handed the little boy he was holding over to his sister. He stepped forward, his eyes darting around the room. He was clearly scouring the crowd for someone. His shoulders had just begun to slump when another figure darted out onto the stage. A girl, also about twelve, with a tangle of blond hair that hung down around her shoulders: she wore jeans and a t-shirt that didn’t quite fit, and her head was down, as if she couldn’t bear so many people looking at her. It was clear that she didn’t want to be there — on the stage or perhaps even in Idris — but the moment he saw her, Julian seemed to relax. The terrified look vanished from his expression as she moved to stand next to him, her face ducked down and away from the crowd.
“Julian,” said Jia, in the same gentle voice, “would you do something for us? Would you take up the Mortal Sword?”
How every Mortal Instruments book goes down
- Jace: Clary dont do the thing
- Jocelyn: Clary dont do the thing
- Simon: Clary dont do the thing
- Isabelle: Clary dont do the thing
- Alec: Clary dont do the thing
- Magnus: Clary dont do the thing
- Max: Clary dont do the thing
- Maryse: Clary dont do the thing
- Robert: Clary dont do the thing
- Luke: Clary dont do the thing
- Maia: Clary dont do the thing
- Valentine: Clary dont do the thing
- Lillith: Clary dont do the thing
- Seelie Queen: Clary cont do the thing
- Hodge: Clary dont do the thing
- Raphael: Clary dont do the thing
- Camille: Clary dont do the thing
- Tessa Gray: Clary dont do the thing
- Will Herondale: Clary dont do the thing
- Jem Carstairs: Clary dont do the thing
- Caesar Flickerman: Clary dont do the thing
- Han Solo: Clary dont do the thing
- Davesprite: Clary dont do the thing
- Clary: Does the thing
My brother thinks that the TMI fandom isn’t big enough to warrant a midnight premiere for City of Bones and naturally, I disagree. (C’mon brother, have a little faith.) But anyway, if you are in the TMI fandom, would you mind reblogging this to show him that we are in fact large and strong and awesome and worth a midnight premiere?
