Richie finds himself in an undesirable situation. Or: bloodsucking Geckos in bondage.
Michael and David and Star, forever.
For hours, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have walked with little words and less hurry, and the peace rakes itself down Wei Wuxian’s back like an itch baiting a scratch.
"Don't," he says, thin and strangled — no, not strangled, really. Smothered. The word hardly left his throat at all, and if John hadn't been so close, just about on top of him in an enclosed space, he might never have heard.
(For the Tumblr prompt "things you said while you were driving".)
Hence the great darkness of philosophers who have looked for a complete building in a ruin.
Marty Hart accidentally acquires the valuable philosophical insights of Rust Cohle, boy detective.
Artists and models.
Or, sailor boys in bondage.
But thou dost in thy passages of life
Make me believe that thou art only marked
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven
To punish my mistreadings.
Garrupe and Rodrigues, returning.