isabelle be my wife

6

Hannibal - Homages / Influences / Visual parallels

  • 3.07 “Digestivo” - Diabolique by Jeremiah S. Chechik (1996)
  • 3.06 “Dolce″ - The cook, the thief, his wife & her lover by Peter Greenaway (1989)
  • 3.03 “Secondo″ - Suspiria by Dario Argento (1977)

More influences and homages

Fluffy Clizzy heacanons!!

because my blog has been a mess of negativity lately and im over it
  • After clary’s mom woke up she dragged her back to Lukes with her so her and Izzy were seperated :(
  • to make up for this they facetime every night 
  • and it ends up being like 4am and their eyes are bloodshot and they cant stop yawning and theyre not even really making conversation anymore and the birds are chirping outside but they dont hang up
  • Izzy has so many screenshots of Clary from their facetime sessions because she’s just so cute especially when she’s distracted or laughing
  • Sometimes though Izzy can’t stand it and will get out of bed at 2am throw on old sweatpants and sneak into clary’s room through the fire escape
  • they take naps together, alot especially if one of them has an especially hard day. 
  • Clary will literally arrive at the institute and barge her way through the place, ignoring everyone until she gets to izzy’s room where she takes off her pants like “nap. now” and Izzy is the big spoon and plays with clary’s hair while she sleeps
  • Theyre both really into star signs especially izzy, like she fully believes it all and tells clary her horoscope every morning
  • For real though izzy is in love with the stars and the moon and always drags clary out star gazing 
  • She also likes to connect clary’s freckles to make constellations
  • Clary loves to bring Izzy out to do lots of arty things and they always go to modern art museums and Izzy loves it but also doesnt get it she’s always like “but babe you’re way better than all of these”
  • Izzy is usually oh so glamorous but Clary shows her that sweatpants are a thing and theyre amazing and izzy constantly steals clarys even though theyre a little loos on the leg and she wanders around the institute in her sports bra and sweatpants and clary is aroused™

one of my favorite things about isabel maru aka doctor poison aka my newest and worst wife yet is that like at the very end you see she has these scars, and there’s like this implication there that something bad must have happened to her in the past. like ‘oh that clearly had 2 be related to her villain origin story’ right? like what else would it be? 

but then if u look it up it’s actually like oh yeah the scars? she wasn’t sure if her poisons were quiiiite sadistic enough so she burned off half of her own face just to make sure it really hurt to have half your face burnt off. for science. that was a thing that seemed like a reasonable idea to do.

i luv that bitch

anonymous asked:

Can I request #29 from the May prompts, with Isabelle Lightwood and a female faerie reader?

Isabelle Lightwood -  "How is my wife more badass than me?“

“Isabelle…” You touched her sweating forehead with the back of your hand. “Who did this to you?” You didn’t doubt that this was not her own fault. You didn’t doubt that Isabelle had not been the one discovering the power of vampire venom on her own.

“I just wanted to do this mission…” Isabelle could barely talk. Her chest moved up and down, but she still seemed to be constantly out of breath. “I thought it wouldn’t be that bad.” She leaned back and her clothes were glued to her trembling body.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything, Isabelle? Why didn’t you ask me for help?” You spoke softly and once again you dipped the cloth into the cold water before you pressed it to her forehead. “You do know that we have far better things that you Shadowhunters have.” You winked and curled your lips up into a smile, but where your sense of humor normally made Isabelle laugh it now had little to no effect on her.

“I was only going to use it once…” She was avoiding your glance, as if she was too ashamed to look at you even though you loved her more than anyone else in the world loved her. “I didn’t know it would end like this.” Of course she had thought that she was much stronger than the addicting effect of the venom. “I was stupid.”

“No, Isabelle.” You interrupted her as quickly as you could and your hand stroke her hair. “You are not stupid. You just wanted to show the world how strong you are.” You paused for a moment and licked your dry lips. “You are strong, Isabelle. You are so much stronger than you feel right now. Not that many people have battled an addiction like this one and even less of them have managed to win the fight, but I know that if someone can do it, it’s you.”

Isabelle curled her lips up into a smile. “It’s that I know that you can’t lie, else I wouldn’t have believed you.” She turned to her other side and now she was facing you. Pearls of sweat covered her forehead, her neck, her chest, her arms, her entire body, but despite that she was still breathtaking beautiful.

“Do you know how brave it is to admit that you made a mistake?” You whispered and cocked your head while you watched her. “Do you know how brave it is that you came to me to ask me to help you?” You grinned. “And here I thought that Faeries were way more awesome than Shadowhunters could ever be, but look at you right now.” You folded your hands in your lap and bit your lip. “How is my wife more badass than me?”

“I’m not badass.” Isabelle sighed and she coughed a few times. “But wait until I’ve recovered and can hold a sword again.” She curled her lips up into a smile and you smiled back at her.

“There is my warrior girl.” You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “There is the wonder woman who is going to beat this nasty addiction and who’s gonna show the entire world how strong she really is.”

Scribble-Doodle: Won’t Fail You Again

@only-1-a talked bunnies with me. This is the result. Book spoilers ahoy!

We saw Jace’s first meeting with Alec. But how did he find out that he would be living with the Lightwoods?


Robert doesn’t feel Michael die. He doesn’t sense their bond straining, fraying and then breaking apart. There’s nothing, no sense of dread or foreboding, no certainty of things coming to their end.

He has to be officially notified. “Mr Lightwood, this is an official letter of…” And he sits there, on the bed in his and Maryse’s bedroom at the Institute, staring down at the thick piece of paper carrying the official seal of the Consul.

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