If she and Sam ever had kids, they'd be gluten-intolerant out of self-defence.

Gansey turned the key. The engine turned over once, paused for the briefest of moments - and then roared to deafening life. The Camaro lived to fight another day. The radio was even working, playing the Stevie Nicks song that always sounded to Gansey like it was about a one-winged dove.

I don't know if I'd want to be comforted, if I'm being honest. If I'm being forced to eat soot, I want to know that somewhere else in the world, someone else has to eat soot as well. I want to know that soot tastes terrible. I don't want to be told that soot's good for the digestion. And of course, by soot, I mean beans.

Sleep deprivation made his life an imaginary thing, his days a ribbon floating aimlessly in water." - Whelk

Sam looked at me, yellow eyes catching and holding me. "I miss being me. I miss you. All the time.

I couldn't remember the last time I hadn't had to fake gratitude for a gift, and now that I actually was grateful, thank you didn't seem to cut it.

I could live inside a G major chord, with Grace, if she was willing.