#puckish ramblings no one cares about

[yumenoberu]

She’s a Teaser

Kyoya Ootori x fem!reader

summary: It’s a regular Saturday afternoon in the Ootori estate. Y/n and Kyoya, the notorious Ouran Host Club’s very own managers, silently work on the club preparations. Worn out and fatigued after hours of endless calculations and composing, someone gets distracted by a curious scene from the corner of their eye…

word count: 700 words

warnings: none!!

published: 10/18/24

author’s note: my first published fic!! who cares if it’s assessment week its not like all my projects are due and i'm back tracking my tasks— hey! duty calls when ur mind decides to plague u with fluffy OHSHC brain rot yk!! and now, my doves, please enjoy ✨🥳

‘Sitting on the foot of his couch while crunching down an endless flow of numbers and letters till the sunset. Neither of us ever spoke a word, being simply content with the comfortable silence. This was our average weekend. ’

Such was the silent arrangement Y/n and Kyoya developed over time.

The click and clacking of computer buttons overrun the comfortable silence that rang through Kyoya’s living space. The two second-years alternate between buttons on their respective keyboards, typing up an almost rhythmic stream of characters for their shared digital accounting space. Although, for one of the teens in the room, Y/n couldn’t gauge what exactly she was writing—her mind was elsewhere.

The sun was setting on the horizon, painting the monochrome walls of the Ootori estate with contrasting radiant, warm hues. They’ve been working on a proposal for the next upcoming, unequivocally extravagant, Host Club event. Accounting for the lovable, yet ever-impulsive Host King’s whims always proved to be a task of considerable difficulty.

But nothing is impossible, no? Not for the Host Club! Why, their Shadow King irresistible charm is to blame!

Y/n’s grown quite accustomed to arranging for every outlandish fantasy the eternally flamboyant, capricious Ouran Host Club’s President desired to make a reality. But man could she never get used to how exhausting the process could be.

‘We’re gonna be here for another few hours aren’t we…’

She sighs out loud, rubbing a hand on her strained eyes as she looks up from the screen, straightening her back and stretching her arms up, but not without subconsciously stealing a glance at her ‘coworker’.

Kyoya was, as she anticipated, glued to his usual spot on the couch, posture impressively as straight as a knife even after hours of sitting in the same position, and was, similarly, typing away on his computer with tired eyes with an uncharacteristic brow arched, outwardly showing his irritation at whatever was on his screen.

‘The work’s starting to take a toll on him too huh,’ She almost chuckles to herself. There was something about the sight that was so amusing to her. Perhaps witnessing his usually unwavering prim and proper facade, peel off ever so slightly was, for the lack of a better word, endearing, to her.

‘What a look.’ She thought, a playful smirk inching its way up her lips. Opening her mouth to give a teasing remark on his state, she bites her tongue, rethinking her actions.

‘But then, it always seems like more trouble than it’s worth, annoying him.’

Her puckish gaze lingered even as she relaxed the rest of her body after her little stretch. She didn’t realize she was starting to stare—being much too preoccupied by the sudden train of thoughts that cascaded across her mind at the peculiar scene.

‘Nevertheless, he always seems like he’s in a bad mood around me, wonder what his deal is…’

‘Always so condescending and cynical, not a cute look Ootori, not a cute look.’ She teased. Though inwardly, of course, she wasn’t planning on dying just yet.

She internally contemplates for a while longer, exhaling aloud through her nose, exhausted from her own ramblings. Her work, completely abandoned.

‘He’d be annoyed if he sees I’m not working… Can’t the man relax for a bit, why's he always such a grouch. That's the Shadow King for you.’ At the notion, she unintentionally let her face contort into a playful scowl.

Her inner monologue continued on, her mind jumping through hoops of arbitrary thoughts, making all sorts of faces at her disses toward the boy.

To her knowledge, he was too focused on whatever he was doing to notice she was staring at him; however, ever so clueless to the reality of things, little did Y/n know that Kyoya had noticed since the beginning.

But he didn’t mind, not in the slightest. In fact, he finds it quite amusing, cute even. Because as he recalled, just moments before, while she still wasn’t looking at him, he was doing the same thing.

He almost smiles at the thought, nevertheless as stubborn as his nature is, he suppresses it.

Then, they simultaneously fondly think to themselves,

‘What goes on in that head of yours?’

masterlist

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 9

Weeks pass, and their evening phone calls continue. The timing varies, but its a rare day that Kara doesn't hear from Lena. Each call feels like a gift, as Kara remains conscious of the constraints on Lena's time, and the energy expended on days she does her shows.

But on those rare evenings where her phone stays quiet, Kara can't help the concern that tickles at the back of her mind. She manages to refrain from issuing a check in, certain that it would be considered a nag, or at the very least an entitlement to Lena's time.

The morning following one such evening, the first text she receives comes in after she settles behind her desk, ready to tackle a mountain of paperwork. When she opens the chat window, she's confused to see an image of a glass-paned wall of an office building.

It's not until she spots the building number that she realizes that it's *her* building.

She all but sprints to the lobby, bursting through the front doors to come to a sudden stop to see a black suv and a casually dressed Lena Luthor leaning against it.

When Lena beams, warmth pools in Kara's chest. She surges back into motion, breathlessly throwing her arms around Lena to squeeze long and hard.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Lena says into her shoulder, seemingly content to remain in Kara's embrace as long as possible.

Kara laughs. "The best surprise. I've missed you."

When she pulls back, Lena all but bounces on her toes. "You down to play hookie with me?"

"Dodging another meeting?"

"Actually.... I miiiiight have cleared my schedule." From her puckish grin, Lena doesn't appear to feel all that guilty about it.

Kara's heart skips a beat. She can't remember the last time anyone has ever set aside time dedicated to her. It's been years since her last real committed relationship, and even then the time she spent with her partner had been perfunctory, a matter of course. It hadn't made her feel... special.

"Let me grab my purse."

---

They go to the movies. It's Lena's idea, but Kara is the one to choose the goofy comedy that has Lena in stitches before the end of the first act. And if the sound of Lena's giggling heats Kara's cheeks, who could blame her?

They continue to snack on their bucket of popcorn even as they leave the theater. Lena wears the same denim jacket over a zip up hoodie that she'd worn their first day in the park, and with her sunglass firmly in place, she almost looks like a normal person. No one seems to give them a second glance, for which Kara is deeply grateful for.

Selfishly, she wants to keep Lena for herself, for as long as possible.

"When's the last time you went on vacation?" Lena asks, apropro of nothing.

Kara blinks at the unexpected question. She takes time off every year, but she doubts her little staycations to relax and recharge are what Lena would consider a proper break.

"Define vacation," Kara hedges.

Lena laughs. "Time away, somewhere else. Maybe... with someone?"

Sensing the direction the conversation is headed, a thrill of adventure sparks in Kara's belly, even as she begins to talk her way out of it.

"Lena, I don't know..."

"I know, I know, but listen! I've got five days before my next show in Paris, and it's the longest stretch I'll have free for months, and... I want to spend those five days with you."

Kara stares at her. Lena rushes to fill the silence.

"We could go to Capri. Or the alps, if you want somewhere cooler? Or--"

"Yes," Kara interjects. Lena's rambling halts in surprise. Kara grins. "I don't care where we go."

Lena's answering smile puts the sun to shame.

---

Capri is gorgeous. Kara expects to them to be taken to another lavish hotel, but instead their driver heads to residential area, and when they stop, Kara finds herself at the gate of a sprawling villa.

"Wow."

Lena nudges her playfully. "Wait til you see the real view.

Kara follows Lena's lead. Carry-ons in hand, they make their way into the main area of the villa. When Lena places her bag on one of the long couches in the middle of the room, Kara does the same, then allows Lena to lead her by the hand to the verandah at the back.

The whitewashed terrace serves as the perfect frame for the vista that sprawls beyond the walled perimeter of the villa, all the way down to flat stretch of ocean reaching towards the horizon.

"Wow..." Kara breathes.

"I know, right?" Lena turns, sidling a little closer to press a chaste kiss to the corner of Kara's jaw. When her head rested on Kara's shoulder, Kara let her cheek rest atop it. "I'm glad you're here."

Kara sighs, surprisingly content. "Me too."

---

Though the villa's kitchen is fully stocked and equipped, Lena insists on going out for dinner. "I'm not about to stay in on a night like tonight," she says, and Kara offers little protest.

They choose the restaurant on sight alone, and the food is sumptuous and, once the sun goes down, decorated with a blanket of stars overhead. Lena looks stunning in a white shift dress, perfect for the weather and venue, and Kara's gaze roves in a certainly non-platonic way. She only feels a little bad about it when Lena catches her staring.

The other woman's gaze deepens as she reads Kara's appreciation in her expression, and a knowing smile curls her lips. When Lena's bare foot brushes Kara's shin beneath the table, Kara can't bring herself to pull away. She wants Lena, and she's rapidly running out of reasons to talk herself out of it.

Along the walk back to the villa, Kara points out as many constellations as she can recognize, only for Lena to laugh.

"There is no way I could possibly tell which stars you're pointing at," she says.

Rather than be deterred, Kara pulls them to stop. She positions herself behind Lena, her front pressing close against Lena's back. So close that she can feel the hitch of Lena's breath when Kara reaches one arm over her right shoulder, pointing at the brilliant anchor of the big dipper.

"There. You've got the bright one, which is Polaris. The north star. Follow it that way, and you can see the rest of Ursa Major."

Kara turns her chin to gaze down at Lena. The younger woman's skin glows in the moonlight, her hair nearly merging into the shadows. She looks ethereal against the moonlight off the sea, but in Kara's arms she's all to tangible.

"See it?"

"Yeah," Lena croaks. She tries again. "Yeah, I do." She shifts, reaching back to let one hand rest against Kara's hip. The touch is intimate though non-sexual-- a simple gesture to keep Kara exactly where she is. "Show me more?"

Kara does. She's able to point out most of the greeks-- Orion and Cassiopeia and Andromeda, among others. It's at least another hour before they get back to the villa, and the long walk leaves them melting into the couch the moment they sit.

Unable to keep from dozing off, even with the lights blazing, Kara wakes hours later to find Lena asleep on her shoulder. It doesn't even occur to her to move.

When next she wakes, however, Lena is nowhere to be found. Sunlight streams through the tall arched windows, illuminating the spacious room with a pale light that doesn't help this trip feel any less like a dream.

Stretching the kinks out of her back as she rises, Kara meanders to the kitchen, only to find it similarly empty. From there she explores the adjoining hallways, until the sound of hushed, harsh murmurs draws her towards one of the bedrooms.

Peeking through the open door, Kara spies Lena pacing, phone pressed tightly to her ear in agitation. Kara can't discern her words, but her tone is clear enough-- something is wrong.

Lena looks up when Kara gives the door a light push, and Kara is taken aback by the tears glittering in her eyes. Lena turns away slightly, muttering a swift "I have to go," before ending the call.

"I'm sorry," Lena grinds out, turning back towards Kara. "This-- this was a terrible idea, and I-- I shouldn't have pushed it--"

"Whoa, hey..." Kara interrupts gently. "What's wrong?"

Lena sniffs, before unlocking her phone to give to Kara. There, in all their telephoto glory, are a slew of photos-- of them. Here in Capri. One of them captures the moment Lena had kissed Kara's jaw the day before on the terrace, and others track their trek through the village and their dinner at the restaurant. The last one shows the two of them at the outlook, Lena pressed to Kara's front, with Kara's arm stretching towards the stars.

"I know--" Lena's voice cracks. "I know you didn't want this. That you didn't-- want to be seen with me."

Kara frowns. Papparazzi hasn't even been a thought in her mind, beyond one of their outings being interrupted by people hounding Lena. Her concern-- her *only* hesitation to committing towards something deeper-- has been the dread of losing Lena before having more than a taste of her.

"I swear, I didn't know they knew where we'd be," Lena continues. By now, quiet tears have spilled down her cheeks. "I didn't *know*--"

"Hey," Kara says sofly, cupping Lena's damp cheeks with both hands. "It's okay."

Lena shakes her head. "It's not," she croaks. "You didn't want this..."

"I want you."

The confession comes easier than Kara expects. It stills Lena to a mere tremble, her eyes taking on a hopeful glimmer through the tears.

"Anything else, I'll handle it."

Lena swallows, throat clicking. "*We'll* handle it?" she corrects, tentatively.

Offering a smile, Kara leans in and presses a soft kiss to Lena's lips.

"We," Kara confirms.

Lena exhales, tension bleeding from her in a visible whoosh. She steps Kara's arms when they open, nestling herself into the embrace as her hands grip tightly against Kara's shoulderblades.

"We'll do it together."

[davycoquette]

Acrostic Sentence Tag Game

Thank you for the tag, @sableglass! The word you gave me was

STRANGE

Soon you forget all about how you ran away because of her, because you didn’t want her to know you threw your life away. You can’t think why you did it, now, so it must be the devil is real. It must be he’s as real as the wild pining that dragged you out of the wilderness to tempt fate underneath bridges downtown. As real as the vanity of being wanted. As real as the mounting fear that you did it because you wanted something terrible to happen to you.

Teenage Shiloh contemplates returning home to his mother.

The last of the four horsemen does not come in.

From an old west classic saloon shoot-out scene. Four bounty hunters have ridden up to the saloon and three have filed through the door.

Right after you see it, you smell it, and it doesn’t smell anything like a man but that’s when you know it used to be one.

Child Shiloh finds a body in the crick.

Antebellum propriety is long wrung out of him, and even the treacly Charleston drawl has abraded shrewd and terse. It suits him. He’s wide-faced, with little dark eyes nobody trusts. His eyebrows are puckish and full, contrary to the sparse mustache that slants like a gable roof over his mouth. The white men call him amigo and the women call him Oliver, and the locals don’t speak to him at all.

Reintroduction to an old west story character who grew up on his parent's rice plantation in Charleston, South Carolina.

No one blamed her; this was not Donovan’s first time careening into the light.

From an old west piece called The River King. Refers to a woman's apathy as Don Rucker lays dying.

“Good. You look like you could stand to set a while. Go on — I got the laundry. You’re jes droppin’ it on the ground, anyhow.”

Arabel, daughter of the leader of an outlaw gang, suggests Ruck fuck off and let her get the chores done.

Every place is the same to you, isn’t it? You see this ancient land with forests older than the continent itself rooted to the ruins of mountains that used to pierce the sky. You see rushing whitewater and brightly colored birds and rolling fields of wildflowers, and you smell honeysuckles and pluck blackberries off the bush in the summer. Schoolhouses and clotheslines and governments – but what do you care? You never cared about home or community. Hell, the same town you were born in, the place where you grew up – it was one of these places. And now? Empty, smoldering. They say it’ll be a hundred years before the fire under the earth burns out, before that place looks like anything but a scene transplanted out of hell.

This one's from an RP character profile. Fella is a lackey for a coal mining company that's ravaging an Appalachian town.

Taglist:

@albatris

@capnmachete

@harmonic-melodii

@illarian-rambling

@michellekarnold

@nathaniel-zellos

@saturnine-saturneight

Sorry if y'all already got tagged in this one!

Also, OPEN TAG!

Your word is: FUNK

[finallygaveintothesirencall]

ooh 6, 36 and 46 for your shepard(s) of choice :D

Eep, thank you so much for the ask!

Taken from these questions here. I did these for Serena, my Infiltrator who gets given biotics by Cerberus (against her will) and thus transitions to being a vanguard, and Seamus, my first ever male Shep.

6. What would they be doing, if Shepard never joined the alliance?

Serena: Honestly, I haven't thought a TON about her life pre-Alliance before. I think she would have joined up with something in search and rescue tbh. Something about the danger and physicality of it speak to her, as does helping people and doing good in the galaxy.

Seamus:

He is a sweet bean engineer, who leaves the Reds on rather explosive terms, to their detriment when the gang shifts into more hardcore stuff. So I think after that, he'd stowaway on a ship and make his way as a handy man/tech on whatever, until one day he meets a Quarian on their pilgrimage, and they just click. The thing that Quarian brings back from their pilgrimage

36. What is their relationship with Wrex?

Serena:

Lol. They're so in love with each other, it makes them look stupid. Bioware is wrong, Wrex is romanceable in my heart, and by golly, Serena is gonna be the one to smooch that krogan. It starts for both of them in 1 as mutual respect that then morphs into friendship. Serena is fascinated by krogan culture and history, genuinely curious about it. Learning about most of the other races is easy enough on the extranet, but there isn't much on krogan. Once Wrex realizes she's genuinely interested for no other reason than wanting to learn, he warms up significantly.

2 is a straight up terrible time for Serena. She's very angry, bordering on self-destructive right up until Tuchanka. Seeing Wrex again, spending time together during the celebrations after Grunt's rite, learning more about the krogan from the Shaman and seeing Tuchanka, she finds herself a little more. There's a reason to make it back from the Omega relay now, and she's going to do it dammit. She starts talking to the crew more, if only to make sure they're a cohesive enough unit to not die and get her back alive.

If 2 was a terrible time for Serena, 3 is somehow worse for a bit, at least wrt Wrex. While she is thrilled beyond words about curing the Genophage, it's only too obvious (to her only) after rescuing Eve that she and Wrex will be working to rebuild the krogan people ((poor James is about to lose his MIND because how can nobody else see that the Commander and krogan clan leader are ridiculously in love??)). They talk it out tho, and finally get together. Wrex stays on the Normandy for the most part, going with her on missions, being a rock solid source of strength.

(((sorry for rambling on this one so long, but I love the krogans SO MUCH, and I can talk forever about their potential history, lore, and the implications of the genophage on their culture, which is all super tied into this relationship)))

Seamus:

There is a mischievous, puckish streak in Seamus a mile deep. Not many things trigger it, but when they do, hoo boy, he will cause SO much trouble on purpose. The treatment of the krogan in the galaxy is something Seamus does not care for in the least bit, and he very much enjoys ruffling authoritative feathers. This culminates in Seamus bringing Wrex all over the Citadel, cause he knows the higher ups don't like it. Wrex thinks it's hilarious, and fully enjoys knowing someone with Spectre status enjoys causing trouble with him on purpose.

46. What does your Shepard get competitive over?

Serena:

Spoons, and other similar games like bullshit. Honestly, just board/card games in general, but not poker or anything with gambling involved. Those she just makes sure to gamble with skimmed credits in

Seamus:

Darts, and cheering for any Irish sports team

[darkpuck]

O Captain, My Captain

illustration by Greg Hildebrandt

this copy of dracula can be found here on Amazon

[darkpuck]

TIL Demyx has perfect pitch

he’s tuning his sitar but doesn’t have a tuner. he’s doing it by ear.

[darkpuck]

Pokémon Legends Arceus Theory

Y’all remember that “found footage”-style reveal trailer we got for Hisuin Zorua and Zoroark? 

I’m pretty sure that the unnamed and unseen person recording it is Ingo.

He’s explicitly stated to be another time traveler, but unlike the player character, he’s lost his memory and has no Arc phone.

We can see that the phone is lost during the filming; from the environment, it’s clear he’s in the Alabaster Icelands, where the Pearl Clan base camp is located.

It is also the site of Lake Acuity, home to Uxie.

And according to one of the Pokédex entries:

Known as "The Being of Knowledge." It is said that it can wipe out the memory of those who see its eyes.

So being attacked by Zoroark, and then, perhaps, seeing the eyes of Uxie, would account for the condition of Ingo’s clothing, the lack of a phone, and the loss of his memories.

Is this conclusive without-a-doubt? No; as has been pointed out to me, Ingo would know damn well what a Zorua is. The Hisuin variant looks very much like its Unovan counterpart.

Still, the rest of the evidence does point to Ingo being our camerman. Which is both delightful and also very rude, Pokémon, how dare.

quick edit

forgot to mention Hisuin Sneasel can be found in the Alabaster Icelands, so it could very well be that Lady Sneasler found him and brought him to the Pearl Clan. Just bringing it up. :3

[darkpuck]

see how the mainsail sets (call for the captain ashore)

Lunafreya senses a maelstrom. 

She’s sensed it before, in Regis’ city, but at the time assumed it nothing more than a small eddy of power, suitable for the king’s Glaives. She can sense the power in Nyx Ulric, after all, sense it in Captain Drautos, in each of the Glaives stationed around the room. 

Nyx Ulric is gone now, his guard shift apparently over; he's been on edge even before she introduced herself to him. He's been replaced by a slim man with the haunted expression of daemon survivors, who stares through the contingent from Niflheim as though they don't exist. His gaze rests on Chancellor Izunia the longest, and she takes a moment to wonder, until she senses the maelstrom again, closer.

Her mistake in assuming that power to be solely Regis' magic is made clear to her when another Glaive stops in front of her, bows, and offers a note. His face is a perfectly polite mask, suitable for a gala such as this... on the side of the guests,  not the guards. It's a subtle difference, but Luna knows it well. And when she looks into his eyes, something alien briefly looks back.

The maelstrom is within him, and she is the only one in this room who can detect it.

In the back of her mind, she thinks she hears crashing waves, and then the power retracts like the tide, leaving the Glaive only sharp edges and the taste of blood. She clutches the note in her fist, trying not to stare at him as her thoughts whirl around and around. A warning meant for the Oracle, she thinks, and then, He knows what he was meant to be.

The Glaive has shifted, she realises, blocking her from the view of the crowd, and she looks down at the note he gave her.

The Empire plans to have you kidnapped.

Short, brief, and interesting — she's lived under the Imperial thumb for more than half her life now, after all. Her mind whirls with thoughts and plots as she meets the Glaive's eyes again, and sees only fathomless black: the black, she thinks, of the deepest oceans. Magic swirls around him, collars him, and Lunafreya nods briskly. "I understand," she murmurs, and when the Glaive offers her his arm, she accepts. Clearly, at one point, the Empire had suborned the Kingsglaive from under Regis' nose; just as clearly, somehow, the Empire lost them. Or perhaps the Glaive chose to look after their own.

Either way, she has a chance to reach the other end of the board and cease to be a pawn. A queen, after all, can move wherever she pleases.

From the corner of her eye, she sees the Chancellor frown as the Glaive leads her away, but the Glaive hums a tune she doesn't know, magic crests, and several champagne glasses abruptly shatter. They slip away in the confusion.

[darkpuck]

You know what I'm a slut for? When a character visibly drops a ruse. Like, the way their face changes the moment they give up a facade and reveal themselves.

This applies to revealing love, apathy, anger, evil intent. I mcfuckin love it.

[darkpuck]

[darkpuck]

[imnotcameraready]

chivalry is dead (4)

A/N: also can be titled “roman #1 get so valid that BS almost started crying while writing this” — roman gets valid and things are about to speed the h e c k up!!!! 

WARNINGS: Sympathetic Deceit, cursing, panic, yelling/arguing (things get Bad before they get Good), crying, self-hatred, self-deprecation, more mentions of being touch-starved (im returning to the story’s original idea YEET) — let me know if i missed anything!!! also i realize i stopped tagging sympathetic deceit? so im gonna go back and.,,.. fix that., ., . ., . .

Words: 3796

Pairings: in this one? Roman gets valid and loved, but nothing overt yet

Part 1 (chivalry is dead) — Part 2 (i’m wishing) — Part 3 (the bells of notre dame) — Part 4 (honor to us all)

AO3 link!

@starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda​ @askthesnake @k9cat

enjoy!! <3 <3 

“The….Playwright,” Deceit recoiled, nose scrunching up as the name rolled off his tongue. He didn’t like the confusion, of course, but he especially didn’t like how Roman was being honest about his name. “I think I speak for all of us when I say that we don’t want to deal with your dramatics right now, Roman.”

“What’s the purpose of your outfit change?” Logan took a step closer, and Roman took a step back from Logan’s accusatory tone, “And all of these outfits? And the pseudonym? Where did your room go? Why have you been hiding for a week? What—”

“That’s all backstory, I can’t help you there. It’s not very fun to focus on,” Roman — the Playwright? — walked around the group, towards the table, “Roman and the Imagination are in a very important discussion, and you all interrupted us at the first climax.”

He leaned on the table, ignoring everyone by looking through some papers, mumbling to himself. It was unnerving. The energy of how the Playwright carried himself, just from seeing him, was distinctly Roman-like. But not. He seemed more orderly, hands holding the papers delicately, covered in handwriting that wasn’t nearly as loopy or rushed as Romans’ typically was. It was as though they’d entered an Uncanny Valley.

The group shared looks in a circle, Patton’s eyebrows pinched in worry, Deceit with a tense frown, Logan with an impatiently cocked eyebrow, Virgil and tired snarl. The room’s tension was heavy; it was a miracle that the Playwright was ignoring it.

To Deceit, it seemed that the other three didn’t understand the atmosphere change. “I’m really done with how often you all hide things from each other,” he said, “Look at him. That’s clearly not Roman.”

Patton caught Virgil’s eye. He was staring at the ground, hands shaking at his sides, shoulders hunched to make himself seem smaller. Patton extending a hand towards him, but Virgil pulled away. He marched away from the group and towards the Playwright, ignoring Patton’s hushed warning “Virgil!” and grabbing the Playwright by his sleeve with both his hands.

He spun him around to face him, holding the Playwright tight but trembling horribly.

“I don’t know what you and the Imagination’re on about, but you’ve been locked in here for a week and you got us all worried. And now you’re saying you’re not Roman? You’d better start explaining what the hell you’re doing in here, or we’re dragging you out into the common room,” his voice was deeper, doubled over with his Tempest Tongue, “I’m not fucking with this.”

The Playwright just stared at him, wearing a disgruntled frown. He leaned forward, putting his other hand on Virgil’s chest and pushing him away slow.  “If you all paid more attention to the foreshadowing, then you would have seen this coming,” he said.

“What foreshadowing?!” Logan all but shouted, startling them enough for Virgil to let go of the Playwright’s hand, “You cannot just speak in literary terms and expect everyone to understand you as though this’d been expected. This whole debacle has frankly been too obtrusive to our regular routine. You’ve been unnecessarily tense, causing the rest of US distractions in our work out of worry for you. And with Thomas’ new videos to think of, our production has been placed on a halt because of your gratuitous pity parties—”

“Logan!” Patton yanked him backwards and effectively shutting him up, “That’s enough!”

Logan looked back at Patton, who appeared angrier than ever, and then up at Deceit and Virgil. Both had similarly shocked and fearful expressions. “We know you’re worried, we’re all worried, but you can’t vent your anger out like that,” Patton hissed, out of the Playwright’s earshot.

Clearly the tension’d built up. Logan looked back up at the Playwright. His hands were gripping the table behind him, chest heaving as his breathing quietly picked up. Behind his glasses were tears growing in his eyes, face contorted into a hurt and disgusted unhinged-jaw scowl. What an outburst. Logan leaned back, withdrawing his hand from where he had been angrily pointing a finger just seconds before.

Immediately, he knew he had to apologize. “I...Roman, I—”

“No development,” the Playwright was venomously angry, “No-No awareness. From any of you. I already said I’m not Roman. Not….”

His voice cracked and he looked away. “Not all of him, anyway,” he turned back around, facing the table, shoulders hunched over.

Patton pulled Logan back, letting him quietly stand with Deceit and Virgil. He approached the Playwright slowly and put a hand on his shoulder. “Playwright, right?”

The Playwright swatted Patton’s hand away. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed.

Patton’s brows pinched again, and the Playwright continued in a softer voice, “It-it feels weird. Sorry.”

Alright. Alright, that was okay. Patton leaned on the table besides him. “That’s okay. I’m sorry we interrupted you. Really. But we’re all really worried about you, and we miss you a lot, all of us. We didn’t know what was best to do, since you don’t like being interrupted, but we couldn’t just leave you alone. And, if there’s something we can do to help, we’d like to. We just wanna understand what’s going on.”

The Playwright looked up at him with a single eyebrow raised and fresh tear-tracks down his cheeks. It didn’t look like he was bought what Patton was selling.

Patton took a deep breath and kept going. “I’m sorry we didn’t check on you sooner. But we, um. We wanna help you finish, uh. Writing the story. Or play. You’re a Playwright,” he was rambling now, wasn’t he? He should wrap it up. “We just care about you, a lot.”

He searched Patton’s face for fault and, finding none, turned back to the group. Logan’s fists were balled as he stared hard at the carpet, and Virgil and Deceit were standing besides each other, both watching the Playwright with set jaws. Virgil gave a tiny nod. Yeah, they did care, and they sure as hell weren’t leaving without answers.

The Playwright looked at Patton again. “It’s alright, right, Playwright?” Patton asked, voice soft with a puckish edge.

His response was to snort quietly and punch Patton’s shoulder gently. “I appreciate the wordplay.”

Patton giggled. The Playwright chuckled, too, and wiped his face with the butt of his palm. “I’m sorry, you all,” he said, “I’m, um. This whole situation has been a headache and a half, incredibly stressful, so I must report that my emotional state is rather volatile.”

He cleared his throat, fixing his tie and vest, without looking at the group yet. “We–I–All of us didn’t think you’d care enough to be involved, but now it’s a little late for big changes. Thank you for checking, though.”

Again, nothing hidden. Deceit cast a sidelong look at Virgil. Virgil was fiddling with his zipper while watching the Playwright, tugging it open and zipping it shut. He seemed to be calming down himself as the but the lingering questions of what the heck was happening definitely weighed in everyone’s minds enough to keep him on edge. Deceit glanced at Logan, who was watching Patton with a blank look, before deciding to ask himself.

“So. Playwright,” he stepped closer, one careful step at a time, ignoring how the Playwright was refusing to look at him, “What’s happening? Care to explain?”

The Playwright just gazed around at Logan, Patton, Virgil, then Logan again before answering. “I’m sure you’re all wondering that. Sit, I guess. I’ll provide some exposition, for a change.”

He waved a hand, conjuring couches behind them. Slowly, each Side sat, though everyone leaned forward to an extent. The Playwright sat on a stool in front of them, cradling some papers he’d pulled from the table.

“Roman — the Roman you know, the Prince — had an epiphany. I believe he mentioned it on camera, actually, during the Sander Sides episode ‘Crofters: the Musical,’” the Playwright squinted at one of the papers. “‘I can’t help but wonder if we as a society are past the days of celebrating dashing princes and acts of bravery that are edging on stupidity,’ at timestamp 4:36.

“Despite the acknowledgement that there would be no heavy character development in that episode, that line stuck with him. Princes simply aren’t appreciated anymore, by the audience nor by you all. Thus, to continue maintaining a desired presence, Roman tried to imagine a new form that would be….wanted. But we came up with multiple possible forms. After all,” the Playwright sighed, flipping a page, “Anything is better than the Prince.”

That sat uncomfortably with everyone, though it was difficult to pinpoint why. “I, uh, kiddo?” Patton raised a hand slowly, but the Playwright waved his papers at him.

“Don’t interrupt! Anyway,” he adjusted his glasses, “Back to the source material, Logan is my point of comparison. Hence,” he indicated to himself, “Exhibit A. But I wasn’t the only ‘form’ produced, for lack of a better word. Because there were so many forms — seven, to be precise — we have been hosting a small battle-royale in the Prince’s favored setting. The other six are integrated into Prince Roman’s kingdom village. My themeing is less tied to a narrative and therefore I am backstage.”

“The Mind Palace’s considered backstage?” Deceit jerked his thumb backwards, at the hall of costumes.

The Playwright only glared at him over his glasses. He cleared his throat, looking over Logan and Virgil as though daring them to interrupt, before continuing through his notes.

“All of us theoretically have the common goal of capturing the others and killing them, in the hopes of replacing the late Prince—”

“Hang on, hang on,” Virgil put his hands up, “‘Late’? Roman’s dead?!”

The Playwright rolled his eyes. “Clearly not,” he said, earning an exasperated glare from Virgil, “Roman has simply been dissolved into seven facets, each displaying different characteristics that he possessed. The same could be done to all of you but, well, enacting it in the actual Mindscape without the help of an imagined scenario would likely be painful. Example given, we could probably divide you into impulse, self-deprecation, overthinking, et cetera. Though I can’t declare myself an expert on the Mindscape’s lore, so don’t quote me on that.”

“Thanks for the fucking call out,” Virgil grumbled, pulling his hood up and yanking the strings down.

The Playwright’s brow pinched, not understanding what he’d done wrong. He turned to the other three Sides, lip pursed, and motioned for the conversation to continue.

“So, and correct me if I’m misunderstanding,” Logan said, “But you are one of the seven forms that the Imagination created?”

“Indeed. Like I said prior, I’m the Playwright. The things I represent are more in-line with the creative features of Creativity, though I must admit a little bit of egoism and dramatic flare are definitely written into my character,” he flipped to the last page of his notes, “Much of my inspiration was drawn from you, as I implied earlier. And, to be frank, my goal is simply to maintain order while the other aspects of Roman deal with whatever they believe is correct.”

“I understand. I do enjoy the necktie,” Deceit rolled his eyes at Logan’s self-flattery, sharing a tired look with Virgil. “Focusing on something else, does that mean the other six forms bear different resemblances to Roman as well?”

“Of course. One of the only commonalities I’ve noticed thus far is everyone’s affinity for Disney, but that can be attributed to Roman falling back on a strong creative inspiration base, thus dividing Roman’s representation across multiple character tropes to find one suitable.”

“I don’t—okay, I’m not following,” Patton raised a hand again, “You’re using Roman’s name kinda….without talking about him as a person.”

The Playwright smiled thinly, fingers drumming against his papers. “Yes. I’m discussing ‘Roman’ more as a concept than an individual. Consider it as though myself and the other six are presently different pieces of the whole ‘Roman.’”

“Yet the Roman we know, the Prince as you call him,” Logan felt Virgil squeeze his arm, “He is somewhere in the Imagination. In whatever projected battle you have all created or not, but he still exists.”

“Well, like I said, I cannot declare myself an expert over the Mindscape. We may be able to create and bend reality here, but there are even things that we don’t know,” the Playwright pulled the pen from his hair and scribbled something onto his notes, “That is an interesting point to research, though. I can think of one form that bears a striking resemblance to the Prince, but if they were the Prince before, they certainly aren’t now. Should the Prince be somewhere in the world, we might be able to erase him finally, because I don’t think—”

“Erase? No, no, we need him back,” Virgil stood up at the same time as Deceit, who said “We’re here to GET Roman back.”

The Playwright blinked up at them, pen still pressed hard against his notes. He looked at Patton and Logan, still sitting, and saw them just as shocked. Maybe a little distrusting. He hadn’t been gifted with a sense of emotional atmosphere, so he didn’t fully understand everyone’s reactions to the news he deposited.

“.....Why?” he turned back to Virgil, setting his notes back on the table behind him, “Any of our other forms are more prefered. The fans don’t enjoy the Prince, none of you like the Prince. It could be argued that you just don’t like Roman, but, well. I don’t—”

“We love him!” Patton stood up now. “Roman — the Prince, he’s one of our best friends! And the Imagination can’t just take him away!”

“Yeah, now — yeah. Yeah, no, we need Roman back. I don’t like this whole,” Virgil stood up, too, gesturing to the Playwright, “Roleplay stuff. Give us back our idiot Prince and we’ll get outta here.”

Logan cut in, though stayed sitting. “As much as I’ve enjoyed our discussion here, Playwright, I’m inclined to agree with Patton and Virgil. We would prefer to have the Prince back.”

Deceit just squinted at the Playwright. He was trying to dissect the battle royale situation that’d been described.

“Like I said. He is gone. I don’t know where, I don’t know where the Imagination brought his being or what form he’s taken, but he’s not here,” the Playwright put his hands up, sliding the pen back behind his ear as he did so. “Why are you all so attached to the Prince? Hasn’t he failed you all enough?”

What was the purpose of the battle royale? What were the possible implications?

“Well, we’ve all failed each other a bunch, haven’t we? We want Roman here, flaws and all,” Patton said.

“But the less flaws Roman has, the more desirable he becomes. He’s annoying, not smart, not practical, quick-tempered, loud, dramatic—”

The Playwright understood what they were saying, Deceit realized. He just didn’t understand the why.

“You don’t need to list his flaws, we know. But despite that, Roman is also intelligent, ingenuitive, pensive, reflective, and,” Logan drew in a breath, voice steadying. “And is loved.”

“Well, that’s a great sentiment, but you can’t mean it. That’s—”

“He is ridiculous at times, but he does his best,” Deceit finally stood as well. “You’re unable to weigh his virtues.”

“Oh, he’s got virtues now?” the Playwright’s voice grew shrill. “No one’s demonstrated that line of thinking!”

“Yes, of course he does. He is thoughtful, spontaneous,” Logan was counting on his hand, “Kind, endearing, chivalrous—”

“Haven’t you heard? Chivalry is dead!” the Playwright’s voice increased, suddenly screaming. “No one wants the stupid, annoying, needy Prince Roman! You don’t want ME!”

His back immediately straightened, hands shooting to his mouth as his words echoed around the darkened costume room.

Everyone froze as well, staring at him with incredulity. The Playwright leaned back onto the table and looked down, hands still gripping his mouth.

Silence fell as a blanket over the group, dampening the growing tension with an uneasy reality, as the four Sides looked between each other. Virgil opened his mouth, but Logan held up a hand, opened his, and then Patton held up a hand and made a shushing sound. Virgil put his hand over Patton’s, an eyebrow raised.

Deceit wished he understood what the hell they were all saying to each other, with their eyebrow raising and quiet gestures. Maybe it came with them being so intertwined within the Mind Palace. Wow, Deceit, focus on the task at hand before you think of your own solitude.

He cleared his throat, and the other three glanced up. “Of course we want you, Roman,” Deceit’s voice was quiet, gentle even.

“You….I guess that’s an interesting plot twist, if you all truly want him back,” the Playwright whispered into his hands, rubbing them together in front of his mouth, “But you’ll have to convince him. Roman, not….not just the Prince form.”

“Convince you?” Deceit whispered.

The Playwright shook his head. “Him. Roman. All seven of us. And–And not all of us are friendly or docile. And not all of us are forthright, or understood, or easily interpreted.”

Truly an endeavor, if they couldn’t even get into the imaginary kingdom. Deceit stepped back, pursing his lips. He looked back at the rest of the group and, for once, they were all on the same page. “Alright, then.”

Virgil approached the Playwright first. His hands were balled at his sides but he seemed more level-headed than before. “Hey,” he said, leaning on the table besides the Playwright, “If it’s for Roman? Sign me up.”

“Me, too,” Patton said, determination lacing through his voice. He leaned on the other side of the table, meeting the Playwright’s skeptical eyes with a small shrug. “We need him.”

“As much as I am confounded by the Imagination, I agree that we need Prince Roman back. His absence leaves much to be desired,” Logan stood in front of the Playwright, arms resting behind his back.

The Playwright watched Deceit, eyes wide behind his glasses. He slowly gazed over each of the Sides, once again stopping on Deceit, who simply nodded.

This was real.

He sniffed, and he laughed, lifting his glasses again to wipe his eyes. “That was so cliche,” he murmured, “And you’re all fucking saps. You’ve….well, I can’t say I’m difficult to handle, compared to everyone else. I’ll help you into the Imagination and see what I can do to help you find the other forms, but that’s all the deus ex machina I can perform.”

“You’re wonderful, Playwright,” Logan smiled at him, and the Playwright chuckled quietly.

“Rich, coming from you.”

“Um,” the Playwright turned to Patton, whose arms were open. “Can I? I know you said it felt weird, but, uh, I know Roman likes hugs when he’s feeling down, and I like hugs a lot, too.”

The Playwright blinked once, slowly, before leaning into the hold. Patton’s arms wrapped tight around his shoulders.

It felt.

Heavier than a cloud.

He shivered, snuggling his body more into the hold. His hands grasped at the back of Patton’s polo, tugging him closer, if possible. The staticy and burning feeling of Patton’s arms pressing against him was more bearable than he’d thought it’d be. It was nice. Grounding, even, for a desperate piece.

“Thank you, Patton,” the Playwright mumbled into his chest.

Patton laughed, squeezing him again. “Any time, kiddo.”

Left unattended, the Playwright probably could have stood there for hours. The lights in the room, ominously glowing from no direct source, seemed to glow brighter. With a sniff, though, the Playwright leaned back and rubbed his face, then clapped.

“Alright! First, you all need to look through some of those,” he gestured to the left wall of costumes, “Because I refuse letting you go out and ruining the setting. Period dress only.”

“And it’ll give me some time to write in a mechanism for you to find the other forms,” he moved back over to the table, shuffling through his papers with an increased fervor as the other four sides followed. “Perhaps even the Prince, I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happened to him.”

“Period clothing? Doesn’t this count?” Deceit gestured to himself, “Don’t I look period enough?”

The Playwright stopped and shot him a deadpan look. “No. That hat, in a medieval fantasy setting? The cape, maybe, but you can definitely find something more….functional,” His lip cocked up just a little when Deceit let out a dramatically offended gasp, “Go look, I’m sure there are some hats that’ll fit your fancy.”

Deceit turned back around, grumbling to himself but following the other three Sides in flitting through the clothes. As they found outfits that they enjoyed, they brought them to the Playwright, who conjured them into new colors and perfect tailoring without much comment on the outfits. All the while, he was to be scribbling something in a book, black ink flowing from the golden pen, muttering quietly to himself when the others weren’t near. After what seemed like hours, trying on outfits, discussing presentation with the Playwright, the four sat on the couch.

Ready, supposedly, for what was to come. The concern and nervousness of earlier had mixed together, with a new spark of understanding and determination. They were going to get Roman back.

The lights grew brighter.

The Playwright approached them, holding the book in his crossed arms. It looked like a simple leather-bound book, but the front was adorned with a pressing of the same ribbon-esque decal that was on the back of the Playwright’s vest. “This should help,” he said, holding the book out to the trio, “It….As you win over the other forms, the cover will update, and the inside will update with more about them and the world.”

Logan took the book and flipped it open. Sure enough, most of the pages were blank, but the first had a “Table of Contents” with one entry available: “the Playwright.”

“Thank you, Playwright,” Patton said, reaching up and taking his hands, “I’m sure we’re gonna do great! After all, I can’t imagine what’d go wrong.”

Deceit groaned, and Virgil snickered. The Playwright just smiled a tiny bit more.

“I couldn’t dream of anything happening,” Deceit shot back, and Patton laughed.

The Playwright felt a twinge of something, in his chest. Something he couldn’t identify. Maybe another form would figure it out.

“I wish you all the best of luck,” he said.

“Wait,” Logan looked up from the book, “Are you coming with us?”

The Playwright’s smile widened.

“Uh, Playwright?”

He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers.

The couch and the ground beneath them all disappeared. They all let out shouts and screams as they fell through the floor, into the pit, watching the Playwright and the costume room fade upwards into the distance.

[jhinderer28]

246 Things Bones Has Taught Me

1. 6,7,16 are Carbon, Nitrogen and Sulfur on the Periodic Table of Elements 2. If you plan to murder someone do it on a plane right before you land in a different country 3. What it means to be a rational thinker. And that being irrational sometimes is ok 4. There is such a thing as fate 5. Everything happens eventually. But nothing happens unless first a dream 6. There’s more than one kind of family 7. How to get someone off on murder charges 8. The definition of true friendship 9. 246 ways how NOT to kill someone, because you will get caught 10. When “the” is not the first word in the episode title, shits about to get real (ie Aliens in a Spaceship) 11. The skeletal system is the best part of the human body 12. A million little facts curtesy of Vincent Nigel Murray 13. All the words to Hot Blooded 14. Nothing good happens when the clock says 4:47 15. Everyone deserves happiness, love, laughter, friendship, purpose, and a dance 16. Very few people are scary once they have been poked in the eyes 17. Don’t ramble on and on about conspiracy theories. You never know who is really listening to you and what they might do with that information 18. People do almost anything for family (even murdering the deputy director of the FBI) 19. To appreciate Brainy Smurf 20. Never trust a Russian knife throwing act in the circus 21. You can buy weapons at the mall. But wanting a gun for the sole reason of shooting people is not a good enough reason 22. The plot to strangers on a train 23. How to save someone with compartment syndrome 24. How to make a carbon dioxide scrubber 25. If you start hallucinating cartoon characters and dead soldiers you probably have a brain tumor 26. To search for the truth even if it leads to unwanted results 27. Chasing someone may be the smartest decision you ever make and being chased may be your greatest joy 28. Diplomatic immunity is extremely inconvenient 29. Even scientists can change (and we are all glad she did) 30. To fight. Even when the odds are stacked against you 31. Sometimes you just have to dance to the music that’s playing 32. 1 Corinthians 13:4 33. We can’t change who we are (but thankfully he’s a sexy FBI agent) 34. To not be distracted by the shiny baubles, because you might miss what really matters 35. People make their lives out of chaos and hope. And love. 36. The center has to be solid because the center must hold 37. Daffodil, Daisy, and Jupiter will always hold a special meaning 38. Sometimes you have to take the brain and put it in neutral. Then take the heart and pop it into overdrive 39. There is someone for everyone, someone you’re meant to spend the rest of your life with. You just have to be open enough to see it 40. Sarcasm does not play well on the forensic platform 41. Any lock worth picking is worth kicking 42. There are mysteries I will never understand but everywhere I look I see proof that for every effect there is a corresponding cause 43. Sometimes we have to have the ability to substitute optimism for reality 44. Try to get the signal before you are living with regrets (because we are all glad she did!) 45. That doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results is the definition of insanity 46. That people are more than just psychology 47. To find someone who makes your life messy, and confusing, and unfocused, and irrational, and wonderful 48. Go to the company Christmas party; because friends don’t let friends photocopy their butts at company Christmas parties 49. To appreciate Christmas Eve day. It’s both an Eve and a day, it’s a Christmas miracle 50. That there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in science 51. To find that person who will never make you fall and who will always be there 52. Be respectful of others. You never know what scars they carry on their back. Metaphorically or literally. 53. Life is a lot more than what can be cooked up in a chemistry set. Miracles do happen. 54. Phylogenetic Systematics 55. Always play in the key of G demolished. 56. To not jump to conclusions until all the evidence is in 57. If your world gets turned upside down, give it time, it takes three days for it to turn right side up again 58. That there are burdens which allow us to fly 59. We all share in the loss of a life. No matter who it is. 60. Glug-Glug Woo-hoo! 61. Ergo, ipso facto columbo oreo. 62. Beer from Missouri goes great with leftovers 63. Love changes everything 64. All the words to “Keep on Trying” 65. There is a mystery to life 66. That Wonder Woman is better than Cat Woman 67. WASP stands for White Anglo-Saxon Protestant (but we are really talking about the buzzing pest) 68. Booth is Superman (he beats up bad guys and leaps over things. Not to mention he is married to Wonder Woman) 69. All organisms evolve and develop along patterns only recognized in retrospect (and thank god her life didn’t exist outside the laws of nature) 70. Sometimes you have to have absolute faith in someone 71. All pigs are now named Jasper 72. Beer hats in the bathtub solve all problems 73. Having to hire two nannies (one to watch the kid and the other to watch the first nanny) isn’t crazy it just shows how much you care about your child 74. Sometimes it’s ok to let the ice cream melt 75. The garage is an excellent place to store C4 76. Hearts can’t be broken they can only be crushed. But her heart muscle is bigger than people give her credit for 77. Inertia demands us to keep going 78. The washing machine makes for a great make out location 79. That he’s with Bones. All the way. Don’t doubt it for a second. Because she’s his standard. 80. Sometimes you have to be bad to be good. That way your frontal lobe won’t be a dried up raisin. 81. What goes on between them is just theirs 82. Shooting machine guns is a totally acceptable way to celebrate valentines day. 83. Dancing Phalanges 84. Everyone deserves a knight in standard issue FBI body armor. 85. A rubber band is a great anger management tool 86. Sometimes you have to have the guts of a gambler and take that risk. 87. Don’t judge someone before you get to know them because she’s not a cold fish and he’s not a superstitious moron. She has a soul and he has a brain 88. That it’s illegal to have premarital sex in Virginia (but that didn’t stop them) 89. When you eliminate the possible, you are left with the truth, no matter how improbable. 90. That being the best doesn’t mean being perfect 91. That a stand up crook is better than a crooked cop. Any day of the week. 92. That when two people make love they break the laws of physics, they become one. It’s a miracle. 93. That pigs in a blanket and Mac n Cheese are gods perfect food 94. Sometimes the best gift you could give someone is not a material item. (We are all glad of the gift she gave to Zach) 95. No changies. No take backs. 96. Your gut doesn’t have any special powers but listening to it every once in a while is a good idea. 97. Sequences and patterns will continue until something disrupts the pattern. 98. Everyone has a puckish side that will not be denied. 99. Up and forward are only two directions. Science should look in all directions. (She taught us all that) 100. That everyone deserves a love that is more than just 3 weeks a year 101. To never travel to New Orleans alone. 102. That the swings make for the perfect first date location. 103. How not to act at a funeral (unless translation has occurred) 104. To learn to not fight to change the past. The pain is a part of who we are. 105. That life never comes easy. But nothing of value is ever easy. 106. To never skip snack time. Or meals. Or food in general. 107. That "The Lime in the Coconut" will hold a special place in all our hearts. Because that was his jam. 108. To find that one person who will never betray you. 109. Page 187. 110. That having a high IQ is no excuse not to bathe. 111. That friends never send friends' fathers to the electric chair. 112. To never underestimate criminals with only one leg 113. That sometimes people don't need time and space. Just some time. 114. That there's nothing wrong with living in the moment; but it's good to see what the future holds 115. That infinity goes in both directions. So we all will get a second chance 116. To dive into life, be courageous. Question things. Be happy. And don't forget to laugh 117. That sometimes, love trumps logic. 118. To love everyday. 119. To never take life for granted. There are no guarantees. 120. That people lie; but bones always tell the truth 121. That loving someone, and everything around it, is worth it. 122. That there's nothing more important than having hope. 123. Meatball and peppers make the perfect sandwich. 124. That addiction is a lifelong battle. 125. Always tell your partner that you aren't really dead, you just had to fake your death to catch the bad guy 126. Don't sleep with your college professors. They may get jealous when the student surpasses the teacher. 127. How to make the best Mac n cheese (so good he wants to be alone with it). 128. That you may choose to part with old items but you will never part with the memories you created with them. 129. That the world is a lot better than we think it is. 130. Every once in awhile Pinky can stump The Brain. 131. That there is such a thing as beginners luck. 132. To take a ride on the vomet comet. 133. That babies need grills. 134. Blackmailing a federal agent, while not recommended, seemed to work out for both parties in this situation 135. That if you end up being the parent to the best car salesman (or woman) that's ok. 136. That it is totally worth it to have your own happiness completely contingent on another person. 137. That if you keep living trying to protect yourself, nothing is ever going to touch you. 138. To give yourself a chance to be happy. Even if that means moving on. 139. That my heart isn't someone's to claim, it's mine to give away 140. That character is who we are under pressure; not who you are when everything's fine. 141. That just because something's difficult, doesn't mean that I shouldn't do it. 142. That no matter the anthropological reasons, we fight to make the world a better place. 143. Don't touch the bobble head Bobby 144. All the different reasons the FBI is given jurisdiction in a murder investigation 145. Sometimes you just have to flash your boobs to get information 146. To stand up and defend your friends. 147. That aliens don't wear loafers. 148. That things don't always end up as neatly as we wanted them too. 149. That we are all born unique and our experiences mold and change us. 150. You can be a polymath without being a douche. 151. That Pluto's no longer a planet. It was demoted. 152. To leave life having given more than you've taken. 153. That love cannot be explained. It is beyond science, or religion. Beyond mind, or reason. 154. If you don't have a gun, an app will work just fine. 155. That you don't always get to pick your nicknames. 156. That living with a disability is not by any means a death sentence. 157. That it's ok to plan your own surprise birthday party. 158. To expect the unexpected. It might lead to the greatest parts of your life. 159. Never turn down the chance to conduct a science experiment. 160. That purple elephants are wrong. 161. That his "charm smile" is just a sign of respect. 162. Skalle. 163. That Kansas gets boring after awhile. 164. That someone in your corner makes all the difference. 165. To never light cigarettes in an outhouse 166. The most beautiful things in the world are sunsets, the Mona Lisa and a perfectly thrown spiral. 167. Do NOT piss off your boss. If there's a spider infestation just take care of it. 168. To take a ceramics class every once in a while. 169. Never pay for a plumber. Just get a "For Dummies" book and you're all set. 170. That partners don't say "forget it" 171. That you're never too old to laugh at "boner" 172. That "the man" buys all the office furniture. 173. That he was right, bones really are the heart of the matter. 174. To enjoy a ceramics class every once and a while. 175. To always swim with a buddy. 176. The definition of a philistine, and luddite 177. To never steal evidence from a murder victims house. 178. That sometimes the relationship that didn't work out leads you to the one that does. 179. That parents do a lot of crazy things just because they love their children. 180. That you can't just kill Agent Andy. 181. That they were never just partners. 182. The difference between being impervious and being strong. 183. That we each learn to survive in our own way. 184. Norwegian death metal 185. To appreciate the magic of the Egyptian room 186. That he will always be King of the Lab. Even if he's the only one who cares. 187. Diner eggs are simple magic. 188. Nunchucks are not toys. Seriously. 189. That your brain cannot digest breakfast burritos. 190. Never shoot an ice cream truck (even if you do offer to replace the clown). 191. To always respect the cocky belt buckle. 192. To never trust a washed up army fighter 193. To go to prom. 194. That each squintern brought something special to the team. We could never just choose one. 195. To be weary of bank vaults. 196. That if you have no other plans, racing beetles on a Friday night is totally acceptable. 197. To never be afraid to find a new passion 198. To love your work. Life is too short not to 199. Even an empiricist can have a heart. 200. That the definition of being "stupid in love" is spending $3000 for a quarter ounce of perfume. 201. That in 30, or 40, or 50 years we can all say we knew. Right from the beginning 202. That life is really just a lot of loose ends. 203. As long as a person has enough, they don't need more. 204. To never be ashamed of where you came from. 205. That happiness comes from what you already have. 206. That wanting things to work and making things work are two different things. 207. To never stop being yourself. 208. That if he flies to New Orleans just to make sure you're ok, you're not just partners 209. To appreciate Alfred Hitchcock movies 210. Never try to fit stadium seats into an elevator during a blizzard. 211. To give a piece of yourself every once in a while. 212. That getting blown up may just be a part of the job description. 213. To appreciate hospital pudding. 214. The wedding was worth the wait. 215. To appreciate Cyndi Lauper 216. Setting up a rescue at the airport is an acceptable way to get back on someone's good side 217. Female friendships before male romantic partners 218. That we are not our parents. 219. To watch out for serial killers on Craig's list 220. To go to the Louvre. 221. That we can't always save our siblings from everything. 222. Sometimes it's ok to lie your ass off to the FBI 223. The only acceptable reason to leave the hospital AMA is to save your "partner" 224. To always wear a mask when cutting into bone. 225. That life works out. 226. That 306 pages for a will is not at all excessive. 227. To let someone else drive in London. 228. That life is hard and painful, but we fight together. 229. That your boss can't be your lovely assistant. 230. That stuffed animals make great baby gifts 231. That nothing brings people together like a Christmas lung fungus. 232. Be weary of someone who takes New York action 234. A jail cell can be a perfect place for a wedding. 235. Never route against the Flyers. 236. To go to the museum more often. You never know who you'll find 237. The best conversations happen in cars. 238. To appreciate colorful socks 239. That it takes all of us. Every single one. 240. To look forward to what ever happens next. 241. That it was worth the ride. Everything about it. 242. When the network moves you into every possible time slot it can only mean they love you. 243. To love. 244. That 12 years is a long time. And a lot of magic. 245. That it's all about the cast. 246. To never doubt the little show that could. So Season 12 is it; here’s to the last 12 years and to everything that happens next!

[darkpuck]

Jellicle cats are queen of the nights Singing at astronomical heights "Handel"-ing pieces from the 'Messiah' Hallelujah, angelical Choir~

[darkpuck]

vampire hunter Abraham “M.D., D.Ph., D.Litt., etc.” Vanhelsing is OUT

vampire hunter Quincey “horse girl” Morris is IN

TW for animal death but this passage from Dracula provides us the backstory:

I have not seen anything pulled down so quick since I was on the Pampas and had a mare that I was fond of go to grass all in a night. One of those big bats that they call vampires had got at her in the night, and what with his gorge and the vein left open, there wasn't enough blood in her to let her stand up, and I had to put a bullet through her as she lay.

Now, for those of us who know Horse Girls

That would definitely be a reason to take up vampire hunting.

And yes i know he qualifies it with “one of those big bats” but c’mon, Abraham Multi-Doctorates is definitely avoiding saying Lucy has a case of the vampires, so of course a seasoned vampire hunter would seize upon vampire bats to avoid saying that his horse also had a case of the vampires.

[darkpuck]

Rating: Teen/PG-13 Characters: Luche Lazarus, Tredd Furia, Nyx Ulric, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Libertus Ostium, Axis Arra, Sonitus Bellum Summary: The Kingsglaive have been betrayed at every turn. First, by the city that took them in and immediately spurned them. Second, by a king who broke faith with them. Third, by the Empire they allied with in desperation. Fourth, by their own captain. Now Luche Lazarus is on a mission to deliver the Ring of the Lucii to Noctis, but there's one small problem: he no longer has it. His search takes him all over Lucis, in the wake of Nyx Ulric, Libertus Ostium, and the Oracle herself, and nets him the curious sympathy of the Imperial Chancellor....

behind it all (there's a price to be paid)

.i libertus ostium

It takes three hours to get from the new checkpoint to the Hammerhead garage in Leide. The Oracle— Lady Lunafreya— sleeps curled in Libertus’ lap, her head on his shoulder.

He’s surprisingly comfortable with royalty cradled against his chest. Maybe their desperate battle against the cap— Glauca, Glauca, General fucking Glauca— eroded whatever barrier might exist between two Galahdan refugees and the light of hope for the world, as the radio broadcasts call her.

Radio broadcasts.

He reaches over and flicks the radio on.

"...terms have been suspended in light of recent developments," the announcer says. "Moreover, in the wake of the news of King Regis' death, we've now received word that Crown Prince Noctis and the Oracle Lunafreya have also been pronounced dead."

Libertus exchanges a look with Nyx, then looks down at the Oracle asleep in his lap. "Guess the Niffs don't know his Highness left the City," he says.

"They know," Nyx says darkly. "Don't forget who's been feeding them info all this time."

Read more on AO3!

(Chapter One)