trc: [what a strange constellation they all were] [the ocean burned] [he danced on the knife’s edge between awareness and sleep. when he dreamt like this, he was a king. the world was his to bend. his to burn] [adam lived in the apartment located above the office of st. agnes catholic church, a fortuitous combination that focused most of the objects of ronan’s worship into one downtown block] [i’m ready, blue. kiss me] [is that all? that’s all there is]
also trc: [wake up, fuckweasel] [i am being perfectly fucking civil] [“what fresh hell is this?” gansey asked pleasantly] [aquamarine is a wonderful colour and i won’t be made to feel bad for wearing it] [yeehaw] [the murder squash song]