“Now, I know you don’t like it when I lie to you, Marty, and as I’ve been thinking it occurs to me I’ve said some shit that wasn’t exactly true.”

Aaron Stampler gets a visit.

Caesar and Brutus pursue a little light Jupiter-and-Ganymede roleplay in these trying times.

Tom and Peter, partners in disguise.

“Oh,” Qingming breathes out, his shoulders sinking deep with it, “how fortunate.”

Yes, Boya thinks, foolish and giddy and wrecked with affirmation, how fortunate.

The first time, though of course he doesn't know it's the first time, everything went exactly according to plan. Crowley got the baby, right on time. He took it to the nunnery, and didn't stop to talk to the man waiting outside. He observed the whole thing, and made sure no funny business happened. At the end of the night, the Antichrist went home with the Dowlings.

It takes 600 more tries to get it going exactly according to the right plan.

Don Draper has a bad habit of throwing money at his problem. His latest problem is Michael Ginsberg.

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.

Ammit consecrates her avatar to herself.

Tris and Four take a detour.

Longing makes the world bright and the yearner blind, he knows, but even without his want soaking through and staining it, he thinks— he would be sure.