Tsukishima knew if he didn't look now, he never would, so he steeled himself. “If you want to show me, then show me, sir.”
Tsurumi kept one hand on Tsukishima’s shoulder and pulled away the headplate with the other, setting it down on the bedside table.
The chiricsanango, or yesterday today and tomorrow plant, has color-changing flowers that last for just three days: yesterday they were purple, today they are lavender, tomorrow they will be white, and then they will be gone.
Tybalt and Mercutio were childhood friends, of a sort.
Sixteen ways of looking at a rabbit.
Jin Guangyao starts playing the song of torment much earlier and triggers an unexpected reaction.
Jin Guangyao nods, face a picture of concern. “Forgive me, but I have no idea what this nature is that you speak of?”
Nie Huaisang grimaces. “Normally this is one of the most funny things about being a Nie,” he says, seriously. “But with this severity,” he starts trailing off. “Every five or so years we have this overwhelming biological urge to …
Jin Guangyao starts playing the song of torment much earlier and triggers an unexpected reaction.
Jin Guangyao nods, face a picture of concern. “Forgive me, but I have no idea what this nature is that you speak of?”
Nie Huaisang grimaces. “Normally this is one of the most funny things about being a Nie,” he says, seriously. “But with this severity,” he starts trailing off. “Every five or so years we have this overwhelming biological urge to um,” he says then pauses. “We need to have sex. Usually it’s mild enough that each of us gets to spend a weekend locked in our rooms alone taking care of it, no problem. If you’re married it's even better I assume, but it’s never deadly.”
“It was deadly in the past, it has been lessened over time, but it seems Nie zongzhu is experiencing the full force of it.”
Desire can't move past, only onward.
Prompt: "swimming in the buff". Carcer watches with ill intent.
Bushy and Green are shortly to be dead.
There is a susurration of cloth as he makes his genuflection. He does not intend to fall on his knees, but it happens. The resignation and dignity he has sought to cultivate throughout his confinement dissolves like wet sugar in the face of that which he has held out for, despite himself, despite all that he knows about the workings of the King of England, which is everything. Or so he has thought, often, and never correctly.
Sansa expects imprisonment and death from the Mad Queen. She doesn't get it.