Chimes at Midnight

Is there any time in your life when you do not feel the need for caffeine?" "Sure. Sometimes I'm asleep.

When you decide it's time to up the ante on getting into deep shit, you don't mess around, do you? You're just like, hey, what's the worst that can happen? That's the worst that can happen? Great. Let's do that.

Then I stay beside you for as long as we have." He kept stroking my hair. Cats like to be petted. Cait Sidhe like to pet. "October, I meant it when I told you I was not leaving you. I will never leave you while both of us are living. You were not quite this human when I met you, and you were far less human when I finally allowed myself to love you. But the essential core of your being has remained the same no matter what the balance of your blood." "How is it that you always know the exact right stupid romance novel thing to say?" I asked, leaning up to kiss him. He smiled against my lips. When I pulled back, he said. "I was a student of Shakespeare before the romance novel was even dreamt. Be glad I do not leave you horrible poetry on your pillow, wrapped securely around the bodies of dead rats.

He was wearing brown leather trousers, a darker brown leather vest, and a silk shirt that matched my dress. The sleeves were almost piratical in style, and the collar was unlaced. His boots were the same shade as his vest, a few shades lighter than his hair. "Uh," I said again, before managing. "Weren't you wearing that the last time you came to Court?" "She always dresses me in some variation of this attire," said Tybalt. "I can't tell whether she likes the look of it, or whether she's trying to make a point. This would have been a stagehand's garb, once upon a time, and nothing suited for a King." "Uh," I said for a third time. Seeing my distress, Tybalt smirked, leaned in, and murmured in my ear, "I have a disturbing assortment of leather trousers, thanks to her. I'd be happy to show you, if you like.

You are covered in blood," Tybalt said again, stressing the words harder this time. "It makes me tense." There was a thud as the guard hit the floor, and Tybalt returned to my side. "Wow. You must be tense a lot." He sighed. "You have no idea.

Sorry... I got distracted listening to you and hot glued myself to my unicorn

librarianship is a form of heroism. It’s just not as flashy as swords and dragons.

What happened?” she breathed, staring at me. “I got hit in the face with a pie,” I said. Mags stopped, blinking. “You got...hit in the face with a pie,” she repeated. “I...what? I’m sorry, but I’ve been in charge of this Library for a long time. I’ve seen a lot of really ridiculous things. I lived in Wales. And there is no way being hit with a pie should have turned you human.” “It was a really evil pie,” I said.

I feel like a giant Barbie." "I do not become romantically involved with plastic people," said Tybalt dryly.

Damn." "I know." "I mean seriously...damn." "Yeah." "When you decide it's time to up the ante on getting into deep shit, you don't mess around, do you? You're just like, hey, what's the worst that can happen? That's the worst that can happen? Great. Let's do that." - Danny to Toby

I am the sea witch. I am the tide you fear and the turning you can't deny. I am the sound of the waves running over your bones on the beach, little man, and I am not amused at finding you on my doorstep.

I may be a composite of multiple dead people, but I'm not stupid.

I lowered my phone, hope and anger warring for control of my emotions. As always, it was easier to let anger win. I turned back to Sylvester. "You threw him out?" I asked, in a low dangerous tone. "I was asleep for almost eleven hours, and you threw him out?" "October, I told you we had asked him -" "No. 'We asked him to leave so you can rest' only works if I was asleep for four hours, or six, or maybe eight, although me sleeping for eight hours when I'm not injured or drugged is such a perishingly rare event that he should have been sitting next to the bed with a bowl of popcorn. Do you understand me? I was poisoned. This stuff is poison to changelings, and the man I love wanted to be with me, and you sent him away. You kept him away from me for eleven hours, and you didn't tell him what was going on. I know you meant well. But can either of you tell me how in the hell you could believe that was right?

Faerie: where it’s only a little weird to realize that my boyfriend is older than the internal combustion engine.

I whirled, fighting a wave of dizziness as I pointed at Sylvester and snapped, "Don't you 'October' me. He is my family . Even if you couldn't respect that, I don't understand how the hell you got Quentin to go along with you." - Toby to Sylvester in reference to Tybalt.

Tybalt put a hand on my back, resting it in the space between my shoulder blades. "Are you all right?" "Not on this or any other planet." I straightened, up looking around. We were under the old bridge spanning the creek that cut through the middle of campus. I sighed. "See, if I'd just realized where we'd come out, I could have thrown up in the water. Less mess." "Yes, but won't you think about the frogs? I'm sure they receive enough unwanted vomit from the student body.

librarianship is a form of heroism. It’s just not as flashy as swords and dragons.” “Any

Wasn't that the trick, though? Life was one long series of efforts to reach the golden mean, where everything was the way that it was supposed to be.

Quentin looked curiously around. "This is a neat room," he said. "Yes, it is," I replied, directing my compliment toward the distant ceiling. Everyone deserves a few compliments. Even a building.

Try to be careful, okay? You’re the only niece I’m actually speaking to these days. I’m not in the mood to see you dead.

He shrugged. “You got out of bed. The universe does seem to take that as a personal affront.” The

Life was one long series of efforts to reach the golden mean, where everything was the way that it was supposed to be.

Danny. You’re a Troll, driving a cab. Yesterday, I was a superhero, and today I’m addicted to jam. Jam. Do you really think we get to pass judgment on what does and does not get to exist?

A pie?” Now she just sounded dubious. “Was it an evil pie?” “Yeah. Yeah, it was.

I like artificial stimulants,” I protested. “They usually mean nobody’s trying to kill me. Unlike the natural kind.