Desire can't move past, only onward.
They do a lot of talking in the sweet air of the control room, about everything and nothing.
The three of them go to see the redwoods.
Sixteen ways of looking at a rabbit.
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.
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.”
Old (2012-ish!) fanart of Anders Dragonage from my fic Rabbit Heart. Technically unfinished… just like the fic!
After everyone but himself and Jyn died on Scarif, Bodhi did his best to hide from anything resembling excitement. Unfortunately, the Force - and the New Republic - had other plans.
do they keep me afloat//or just wrap around my throat like a noose on a rope?//probably both
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.