“Where’s Shizun?” He can’t help but ask aloud, hoping that just by saying his name he’ll appear and explain what the hell is going on.

One of the many women stirs, rubbing at her eyes before blinking them open to look at him. Luo Binghe immediately shuts his eyes.

Alone, Oswald considers Jim Gordon and his ethics.

Listeners, I have just received word that our new visitor—you know, the British one, with his soul unwillingly tethered to a non-euclidean facet of what we perceive to be human terror—is listening to our show!

but boys are made for love, and so are you.

Everything is going to plan up until the precise moment it starts to fall apart.

Andrew makes for a bad date, even when he's not the one paying. Fletcher is determined to drag him all over New York or die trying.

Vindice makes ready for an assignation.

(Written for forthegothicheroine's prompt: "Vindici if the Duke and his family were vampires.")

No inch of his bared skin is a revelation to Tang Fan, but stripping before him still feels like an unveiling, marital. A deification of the profane.

Diarmuid and the mute make a bed in the wilderness.