*cassandra clare

anonymous asked:

Omg im a huge fan of cassandra clare and i've read her books a million times and i've just realised that azriel in an angel's name

It is! Biblically speaking, Azriel means “help of God” - “azar” in Hebrew means help, and “el” means God. There were actually three minor characters in the Old Testament with this name (I can look up the specific references if anyone is interested, but I believe two are found in 1 Chronicles and the third is found in Jeremiah).

And if I understand correctly (and tell me if I’m mistaken, friends), the Qu'ran refers to an “Azrael” (different spelling) as an angel of death that does the will of Allah.

Really interesting name choice on SJM’s part!

anonymous asked:

will y'all calm down about cassandra clare? she's got some of the best representation with her books. Why would you accuse her of plagiarism? Because she's got a book published? Y'all wish you were as succesful as her. Your arms must hurt with all of that reach.

She got accused of plagiarism because she plagiarized her novel, duh.

And wow she got a book published, I can do that right now w Amazon.

Don’t have a damn thing to be jealous of. My fanfic is better anyway.

- Mod K

Clary *I kissed my brother* Fray

Jace *Oh what´s my name* Herondale/Wayland/Lightwood/Morgenstern

Simon *I get kidnapped every 5 seconds* Lewis

Isabelle *I kill with both my whip and my cooking* Lightwood

Alec * i´m too gay for this shit* Lightwood

Magnus *Glitter?Glitter* Bane

anonymous asked:

Cassandra Clare stealing all her ideas from others and being the one to blow up cause she already has a fanbase built from her gross harry potter incest fics is nothing to be proud of lol

Right? Like, honey, there’s plenty of people I could be throwing the evil eye @ right now and Cassandra Claire really ain’t one of them.

- Mod K

a snippet from the Lost Book of the White for V-day

The two of them went straight for the bed, kissing and pulling and stumbling over each other, nearly falling over in the process. They tumbled onto the mattress in a tangle and clawed their way toward the headboard, hands in each other’s hair, on each other’s bodies, stirring each other to incandescent life.

Magnus tore himself away from Alec’s lips and yanked futilely at the knots that kept the bedsheet looped around the Shadowhunter’s body. “How did you tie this thing on?” he growled. 

Alec, lips kiss-swollen and eyes dazed with desire, didn’t seem able to respond — he just went for the buttons on Magnus’ shirt with shaking fingers before eventually giving up and just tearing the garment apart down the middle, sending buttons flying across the room. Finally, more out of frustration that expediency, Magnus flicked his wrist at the bedsheet as if shooing away a fly and sent the entire thing fluttering somewhere over the Indian Ocean.

Alec raised his head to watch the sheet disappear. When he looked back at Magnus, the warlock was gazing down at him with a deep seriousness in his gold-green eyes.  “You spend your entire life looking out and sacrificing for people,” Magnus said, and his gentle fingers traced their way along Alec’s bare torso, making him shiver. “It’s your turn to just lay back and relax …”

— from THE ELDEST CURSES, cowritten with Wes Chu

LoS snippet

Kieran gave a soft, impatient noise and flopped down on the bed, among the sheets. The blankets were already flung onto the floor. With his black hair tangled against the white linen, his body sprawled out with no regard for human modesty, Kieran looked even more of a wild creature. “Come with me, then,” he said. “Stay with me. I saw the look on your face when you saw the horses of the Hunt. You would do anything to ride again.”

Suddenly furious, Mark leaned down over him. “Not anything,” he said. His voice throbbed with low anger.

Kieran gave a slight hiss. He caught at Mark’s shirt. “There,” he said. “Be angry with me, Mark Blackthorn. Shout at me. Feel something.”

Mark stayed where he was, frozen, just above Kieran. “You think I don’t feel?”

lord of shadows snippet

They were far out from shore now—it was a shining line in the distance, the highway a ribbon of moving lights, the houses and restaurants along the coastline glimmering. “Well, as it turns out, my parents didn’t die in the ocean.” Emma took a shuddering breath. “They didn’t drown.”

“Knowing that doesn’t wipe out years of bad dreams.” Julian glanced toward her. The wind blew soft tendrils of his hair against his cheekbones. She remembered what it felt like to have her hands in that hair, how holding him had anchored her not just to the world, but to herself.

“I hate feeling like this,” she said, and for a moment even she wasn’t sure what she was talking about. “I hate being afraid. It makes me feel weak.”

“Emma, everyone’s afraid of something.” Julian moved slightly closer. “We fear things because we value them. We fear losing people because we love them. We fear dying because we value being alive. Don’t wish you didn’t fear anything. All that would mean is that you don’t feel anything.”

“Jules—” She started to turn toward him in surprise at the intensity in his voice, but paused when she heard Cristina’s footsteps quicken, and then her voice, raised in recognition, calling: