“I just—I kept dreaming about this white bird. Birds used to fly, you know.” “You used to dream about it?” “Yeah. All the time.” He smiles a little, exhales a little, remembering. “It was nice. It felt good—hopeful. I wanted to hold on to that memory because I wasn’t sure it would last. So I made it permanent.” I cover the tattoo with the palm of my hand. “I used to dream about this bird all the time.”“This bird?” His eyebrows could touch the sky. I nod. “This exact one.” Something like realization slides into place. “Until the day you showed up in my cell. I haven’t dreamt of it ever since.” I peek up at him.
where is this from???
ALRIGHT EVERYONE GATHER AROUND, I’M ABOUT TO GIVE A SPEECH. *cue dramatic music that later turns epic*
Alright, listen everyone. I know this is going to be tough. I know we all read a lot of books and we have numerous favorite characters. I know that some of our favorite characters are NOT part of TMI/TID, and you know what? THAT’S OKAY. But we owe it to Cassie for giving us these three amazing books, but most of all, we owe it to my home boy William Owen Herondale of the London hood with the butt tattoo.
We owe it to him because *spoilers* for a while, he thought he could never love, he thought he lost the girl he loved to his best friend and hey, even supported his best friend, he thought he lost said best friend 5EVER and endured immense pain due to that, we owe it to him because he made us hate him (not really), he made us fall in love over his love of literature, he made us cry, he made us laugh with his wit and fear of ducks, and he made us all believe that at least 60% of London men named William are sassy motherfuckers like him.
So let us ban together AND WIN THIS YEAR’S CRUSH TOURNEY.
FOR CASSIE, BUT MOST OF ALL FOR
my babyWILLIAM OWEN HERONDALE.
I am scared to admit that I love the show…
supernatural doesn’t break the fourth wall. It drops a fucking a-bomb on it.
And he worked on Moose’s market