Cornelius Hickey robs graves. Wouldn't you?

An Erebite and a Terror confer over their grievances

What would you have me do? I am a subject,
And challenge law: attorneys are denied me.

Henry of Lancaster has had ample time to think over what he wants and what he intends to do. Not that this is a whole lot of help.

They end up keeping the dress.

Sometimes, honesty really is the best policy, especially if you're on tape.

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.

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.

In a public street, Goodsir gazes at another man with a less-than-scientific eye and gets more than he bargains for.

Two things are unavoidable: death and laundry.

(A take on the bathing scene from '...on the earth, and not on him', from a perspective other than Richard's.)

He is not in his body. He is not of his body at all.