#soulpunk

But what exactly is the classification of this au? What do they mean and if your type of puppet defines your place I that world?

Are there also animatronics?

No need to apologize!

Funny you ask that actually, because Jax is an animatronic! His specific classification is an 'Animatronic Automaton'.

The classifications of Puppets in the Harlequin AU are vast; although still a WIP, I've made some quick guides on the current classifications, so that it's easier to understand them!

i was in and out of the hospital in 2011 - september and october were the only months i managed to stay okay at home and i was out of the hospital for a bit - and i was super sick, my mom’s car barely made it to Sacramento, and when Brendon Urie said they were gonna cover the blackness’s song “I Believe In a Thing Called Love” i was the only one in the club - during a short quiet moment in the crowd - that went “WHOOOO I LOVE THAT SONG!” and he went, “Yes! Thank you! Enjoy!” and everyone looked at me. me, my sister, and my mom were in the back sitting on these booths so we could see and not be in the pit, and I was sick, on pain meds, and hurting a little. i was super embarrassed. i was 19 years old…damn time went by fast!

but i managed to see patrick stump do his thing and got to see panic! for the first time - albeit i was a little high. i wish dyamon was here so we could try and remember everything from that night. i just remember Patrick’s bright blue suit, embarrassing myself, and then going outside to throw up, and then sleeping on the way home after our older sister came and picked us up.

An entirely free web serial: Cyberpunk-lite/Aetherpunk, Zombie Apocalypse included, and Soul Magic to tie it all together.

In which Varrett's shopping trip turns abys-mall.

Chapter 13: Mall-evolent

>> Read it on Ao3 | Follow it on Campfire | Tumblr Tag <<

Varrett sat his haunted ass down on one of Olof’s hard plastic chairs, folded one leg out over the other, and fell into fidget-hell, his foot bouncing and his fingers tapping out a rhythm against the knee he’d stuck out to the side.

Two Runners shared the station with him. One up at the desk, arguing with Olof about how it wasn’t his fault verge coils looked like fuel injectors (they didn’t), and one sitting a chair off on the left, a WreadSheet in his lap. Varrett’s eyes slid from one to the other. The first dude was Buzz (not his actual name, but, like, his Runner's nick). The second one was plain old Dave, who'd been a nine-to-five accountant with a love for extreme sports at the side. Buzz had started out as a street racer. 

Varrett's fingers kept drumming.

Oh, he was fine.

Absolutely fine.

Peachy, really.

Wasn’t like he hated waiting and wasn’t like he had only one singular thought running itself ragged in his head. 

And if you want to know what that is, go read :3