He’s done his fair share of fucking up in this line of work, but this might be the worst he’s ever done it.

Tang Fan has only grown wilder for and weaker to Sui Zhou in the years since they first met, when he made a home of this house and then the very man within it.

Goodsir watches Silna after a long day's work, and Silna watches Goodsir.

this is because i can spell konfusion with a k and i can like it

 
In the spring of 2003, Alec Lightwood is just trying to make it to graduation. He'll have to survive the local music scene, his family, and falling in love first.

They were nearly at the end of this bout of fucking, when Sergei gave that damned scarf still looping over his shoulders a playful jerk and whispered in his ear if he would mind if he choked him a little?

Sir John requires Goodsir's assistance in the creation of a heartfelt memento for Lady Jane. Goodsir tries to avoid thinking about it too hard.

Hickey makes his mark.

Spring comes, and Nie Huaisang is seen with his sabre for the first time since— anyone's guess as to when.

It feels too honest, somehow. Too desperate. Kuan-hung's too thinned out by the hour, exposed in the liminal space between his dream and now that's still folding closed, scarring over. He rubs his cheek against his pillow, ducking his head down lower, as if he can creep closer to Fu Meng-po's voice. As if there's a body nearby to press himself into, if he just reaches far enough for it.

Ding Rong should have suspected scheming the moment he saw Wang Zhi in red.