Romance, intrigue, and distinctly bad prose are unleashed on Hogwarts when the identity of the mysterious Gertrude Perkins is finally revealed.

One morning, Schuldig found he couldn't stop puking. It pissed him off, especially as he hadn't been drinking the night before. Red wine had given him heartburn for weeks, and even the thought of spirits made him -- he dived for the toilet again. He didn't get any sympathy either, just Crawford sneering at the mix of muesli, chocolate and chutney that had seemed so delicious recently, and Nagi running off to sulk just because Schuldig was veering between yelling tearfully at him and giggling over his stash of not-well-hidden porn. Above all, he wished Farfarello would stop calling him "Mary."

The Full Metal Alchemist, of course, accepted his assignment with all the gravity due his station.

Neal knows a very sad story about a thief and a sailor. Peter's still stuck on pirates.

"Adam has been a unicorn activist for four years and an honest to god recording artist for eight months when he goes to throw his trash in the dumpster one night and finds a baby unicorn hiding behind the recycling bin."

"There are a lot of things John hates about his job."

This story starts, as many of the greatest stories in history do, with a talking frog. You could argue that it starts sometime before that, with a vampire that's been turned into a puppet. According to Eliot, the word again should be tagged onto the end of that sentence. Or you could argue that it starts with that said puppet walking into a bar.

And then Hardison clicks to the next slide. "Of course, now the company had been bought by the Wayne Enterprises," he says slowly and pointedly, and all the others suddenly sit up, the focus of their attention shifting and narrowing. "No," Sophie says. Eliot nods once, sharply, and Parker does a rather good impression of one of those boggling-head-dolls, agreeing completely.

John/Karkat, John/Eridan, commentfic, PG. Fanfiction by Dave Strider.