Ask meme drabble written for this challenge. Prompt: Kate Bush, a deal with God.

The least Nathan can do at this stage in the proceedings is show Caleb a good time.

"You have hairier feet than a satyr."

"Don't be an idiot, Achilles, they've got hooves."

"Hairier than a satyr's ass, then. And they stink."

"Whatever you want," Nathan finds himself saying when his shirt comes off over his head and his glasses hit the nightstand — like he's talking to himself, which he might as well be. "Don't think about it like should, or shouldn't. Don't think. Don't fucking try and figure it out. Come on. You can keep your shirt on."

Crash needs Ginger. Ginger wants Crash.

In Egypt, the emperor sleeps poorly.

Ammit consecrates her avatar to herself.

When they arrive in the Yiling Supervisory Office, Jiang Yanli freshly recovered from fever, Jiang Cheng in a coma, and Wei Wuxian nearly at the end of his rope, Jiang Yanli does what she does best—acts as the warm, nurturing support for her brothers. But she's tired, too.

There in that white-gilt bedroom like a tomb, where I believe none of Gatsby's guests had ever before set foot except by mistake — none until Daisy, and I was only her adjunct and proxy, an accessory to her presence there in the house. He had forgotten about me then. He had forgotten about me now. I was his only witness.

Longing makes the world bright and the yearner blind, he knows, but even without his want soaking through and staining it, he thinks— he would be sure.