fictionesque: “He framed my face in his hands, traced my lips. His thumbs ran over my cheeks. Our foreheads touched. My dreamscape scorched. He set fire to the poppies.” - The Bone Season (Samantha Shannon)
“No, Paige.” “I already exist on a level of hell.” “Exist on one that isn’t near mine.” ~ AAANDD IT’SS DONE! I’ve been rereading The Bone Season in preparation for The Song Rising coming out and fuck I am not.