#from the desk of anachron

[anachronic-cobra]

Being on Tumblr from ten years ago until now and seeing how it's aged is so funny. When I first got here everything was like "haha lol so random, superwholock, taquitos, tumblr university!" but today I just scrolled past three different memes about tax season

[from-memphis-with-love]

Songbird - Ch. 1 - The Handsome Stranger

Summary: The year is 1969. The place is the International Hotel. Valerie Pedretti, an aspiring singer, has a chance encounter with one Elvis Presley in an elevator that will change her life forever. Notes: To me, 1967-1971 EP is kind of peak Elvis, and so I wanted to write a fic with him smack dab in that time period. In the 1969-1970 period, especially, Elvis was probably the most handsome and alluring man in the galaxy. Lots of anachronisms and historical inaccuracies in this one, but just roll with it because it's fun! I based Valerie, in a sense, off of a mixture of Kathy Westmoreland, Joyce Bova, and Linda Thompson. Kathy met the real Elvis for the first time in an elevator, and that really inspired this work. Priscilla exists in this universe but she and Elvis get a divorce far earlier than in real life. Theirs, in some ways like real life, is a marriage of convenience and an "arrangement." Lisa Marie does not exist in this universe.

Las Vegas, Nevada, 1969

*

Vegas was shimmering mirage of bad decisions just waiting to snare me—a sucker-punch I never saw coming. The lights, the noise, the impossible promise of it all crashed over me in kaleidoscopic waves as my cab cruised down the strip towards the International Hotel. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, watching slack-jawed as sequined showgirls and vacationers blurred by in streaks of neon and rhinestone.

The cabbie swerved to the curb with a jolt, snapping me out of my daze. "International Hotel," he barked, his voice an ice bath to my face. I shoved a crumbled wad of bills into his hand and  stumbled out and into a swarm of hairspray and cigar smoke congregating under the hotel's blazing marquee. Blinking in confusion, I took in the frenzied scene unfolding—beefy security shoving their way through the sea of pompadours, vendors hawking glossy headshots, teddy bears and "I 🖤 ELVIS" pins. The realization hit me like a freight train. This wasn't just any weekend at the International. It was the kickoff of Elvis Presley's residency. Ground zero for absolute Elvis mania.

The irritation set in, simmering beneath my skin. "Shit," I muttered, suddenly feeling foolish for forgetting. Of all the rotten luck. Out of all the times to visit Las Vegas, I had unwittingly chosen the kickoff of Elvis's shows—an event drawing crowds I had no desire to mingle with.

I wove through the throng, lugging my cumbersome suitcases behind me. Inside the lobby was even more chaotic—a swirling kaleidoscope of big-haired fans and cigarette smoke lingering over shag carpet. Elvis was everywhere, his angelic face beaming down from posters, gold records, life-sized cardboard cutouts. A veritable religious shrine. Groaning internally, I caught my bedraggled reflection in a mirrored column. Of course I would show up to the Presley Promised Land looking like something the cat dragged in. Normally I'd at least try to pull myself together for check-in, maybe swipe on some lipstick or fluff my chocolate curls into place. After all, I didn't want to look terrible in front of people dressed to the nines. But after the day I'd had, I couldn't muster the effort.

My flight from Chicago had been delayed six excruciating hours due to "mechanical issues," which apparently was airline-speak for "sit tight while we screw you over." By the time we finally took off, I'd already stress-eaten two sleeves of Oreos and read the in-flight magazine three mind-numbing times. To top it off, I'd spilled coffee all over my only nice blouse right before landing. Clearly, some divine power had it out for me today.

Feeling sweaty and vaguely nauseous, I trudged to the front desk. The angular blonde behind the counter, Brenda, barely glanced up from her well-thumbed issue of Variety as I approached.

"Welcome to the International Hotel. Checking in?" She smacked her gum, eyes never leaving her magazine.

"Yes, uh, reservation should be under Deena Lovelace."

That finally got her attention. Her penciled brows shot up as she inspected me, taking in the coffee stains and rumpled slacks. "Wait, you're Deena? The Deena who told me she booked for the Sinatra audition tomorrow?" The doubt was palpable.

I gritted my teeth into a tight smile. "No, actually. I'm her friend Valerie. Deena got sick at the last minute, some kind of exotic flu, so I'm filling in for her."

Suspicion clouded Brenda's face, but after a long beat she shrugged. "Huh. Well, takes all kinds, I guess." She signaled to a bellhop in a red monkey suit and thrust a key into my hand. "Room 2806, elevators are that way. If you need anything, ask for Hector."

Hector the bellhop scurried over and hoisted up my bags with surprising ease for such a slight guy. I made a weak attempt to protest, but he just grinned and ushered me through the cacophonous lobby to the first hallway. The doors slid open and I thanked him, pressing a few crumpled bills into his white-gloved hand.

“I can take it from here, Hector.”

As I walked along, I looked at my reflection in the mirrored wall and exhaled slowly. My nerves buzzed like an exposed wire as I thought about tomorrow's audition. Landing a spot in the Sinatra chorus line seemed about as likely as shooting the moon at this point. I barely knew the song Deena had been rehearsing for weeks, my go-go boots had a broken heel, and my voice was ragged from practicing the whole weekend.

But damn it, this was the first real shot I'd had in ages to claw my way out of the chambermaid grind and actually make something of myself. To prove Ma right for always saying I had stardust in my veins, even when it landed me more trouble than applause growing up. I had to at least try. For all those thankless nights warbling in dim lounges, waiting for my big break. For Deena, who I knew would kill for this chance.

I'd barely begun my little pep talk when someone brushed by me, sloshing their vodka tonic onto my sleeve and snapping me back to the present moment. I weaved through the crowd towards another inner hallway, clearing my throat.

I turned on my heel and started hoofing it towards my room. The hotel's layout was an absolute dizzying mess of twists and turns in every direction. My thudding, ungainly footsteps were muffled by the shag carpet and the dulled roar of fans congregating throughout the hotel.

As I trudged on, the ambiance shifted gradually. The hum of voices faded away, replaced by an overwhelming silence that signaled I was getting farther away from the bustling core. Exhaustion tugged at my bones while I navigated the maze of hallways. My room was somewhere in this labyrinth, but my bed felt worlds away at this point.

My steps sank into the plush carpet as I drifted into a quieter, dimly-lit corridor that seemed less traveled. Finally, I found myself alone in front of a bank of elevator doors. I stabbed the call button and waited impatiently, my arms aching from the weight of my overstuffed suitcases. God, why did I pack so much useless junk?

"Must be close now," I muttered out loud, my voice barely audible.

With barely a thought, I slipped out of my heels and bent my toes backwards and forwards, allowing my sore feet to relish the heavenly softness underfoot. It was soft, springy, and absolute relief for my aching soles. Automatically, I began humming a familiar, nameless tune under my breath - just a few sweet, absentminded notes I always turned to for comfort when I needed it. The thought of finally washing this endless day off my face and jumping into a crisp hotel bed was the only thing on my mind as the gilded doors opened with a tinny ding.

*

The cab was empty. Relieved to finally have a moment to myself, I dragged my heavy bags inside and slumped against the mirrored wall. As the doors started to slide closed, a large, ring-adorned hand suddenly shot out, halting them.

I straightened up with a jolt, my exhaustion replaced by a flash of irritation. Great, just what I needed, another overzealous Elvis fan trying to cram into my personal space bubble.

But as the interloper stepped into the elevator, my breath caught in my throat. Standing before me, in all his smoldering, technicolor glory, was the man himself. Elvis fucking Presley. The aura he gave off was undeniable, that much was sure. And I recognized his face immediately, the same one splashed all over the posters and knick knacks in the lobby. There he was, outshining the garishly glitzy elevator cab like a supernova eclipsing neon. And next to him, a well-built redheaded man, his hand resting at something shiny on his hip. Bodyguard, most likely. Quickly, I shoved my feet back into my heels, silently cursing myself for having taken them off in the first place.

I blinked hard, convinced I must be hallucinating from sheer fatigue. But no, he was unquestionably real, from the polished black shoes to the perfectly coiffed onyx hair that shone like quicksilver in the light. His lean, powerful frame was draped in an immaculately tailored black suit, a shock of pink peeking out from the silk scarf knotted at his throat. But it was the penetrating, electric blue gaze behind tinted shades that truly unraveled me.

I'd never considered myself much of an Elvis fan. Sure, I could appreciate a catchy tune like "Don't Be Cruel" or "Teddy Bear," but I'd always been immune to the mass hysteria he incited in his besotted admirers. Yet here, in such close proximity to his cosmic charisma and undeniable sex appeal, I finally understood. This man was a force of nature.

The redhead caught my awestruck stare and chuckled knowingly. "I see you've met my friend Jon Burrows here," he said with a wink.

But this was no "Jon Burrows." I knew who it was, plain as day. And his affect on me was immediate. Was I dreaming? My pulse started racing. Should I say something? And just how the hell did this happen? I opened my mouth, then closed it, swallowing hard. Play it cool, Valerie.

Any lingering self-consciousness about my frazzled appearance just evaporated in the sheer force of his presence. Though judging by the unmistakably mischievous curl of his lip, my travel-battered state didn't seem to faze him one bit. His perceptive eyes met mine, always accustomed to the spotlight but now studying me with curiosity. He took in my slumped posture and visible fatigue without a hint of judgment.

"You've had yourself a long day, haven't you, honey?" That voice, richer than a Mississippi smokehouse, sliced right through me.

I could only nod dumbly, a lump forming in my throat. "I—uh, yeah. No. I mean... yes, you could say that," I stammered like an idiot. Get it together!

His smile was pure bewitchment. "Well, you'll be tucked in in no time, I reckon. I hear the beds are mighty comfortable here." 

I looked up at the ceiling in silence, tracing the swirling pattern with my mind's eye and trying to give off a vibe of cool indifference. But my stomach was actually rolling.  

To my surprise, he kept talking. "Pardon my manners. My name's Elvis, and this is my pal Red. Who might you be?"

My throat locked tighter than a cowboy's bullwhip. "Valer—?"

"Valerie." He drew the name out, savoring each note and curve as if testing its ring. Each single syllable seemed to undergo some mystical transformation, alchemized to pure liquid amber from his lips. "A pretty name for a pretty little songbird." A ringed hand discreetly adjusted the bejeweled cups shielding his gaze, maybe hoping to make out my sides better.

Elvis was still steadily playing the blue suede shoes off me, from his elegant bent stance to the teasing half-smirk barely shadowing those indolently hungover features—the whole routine daring me to go chasing his bait. But I was far too busy trying not to spontaneously combust. I screwed my eyes tightly shut for a half-moment, desperately grasping to regain some sense of composure with an oxygen-deprived brain. 

How did he know...?

Dumb question, Sherlock. The very notion conjured images of me, sweat-glazed and punchy-tired, mindlessly vocalizing sweet lullabies straight from my Off-Off-Broadway chambermaid days while I waited for the elevator. Of course he would've overhead that.

I cinched my mouth into what I hoped was a blasé half-smile, refusing to come completely uncorked by his pet name. I replayed the embarrassing moment in my head, wishing I could dissolve into the elevator shaft. Every breath I pulled in seemed to crackle with electricity. First I randomly share an elevator with The Elvis Presley, and now he'd overheard my nervous vocalizing and was complimenting me on it?

"Baby." A rich, salt-cured chuckle melted off his tongue, resining deep in my nerve center. "I got ears like a well-tuned radar dish. You in town for a show?"

I shook my head slowly. "Technically yes, but no. Just an audition," I replied, my heart thundering in my ears. I hoped he couldn't hear it pounding.

"Who for, if you don't mind me asking?" he inquired with that laser gaze.

I sucked in a steadying breath. Might as well take the bait since I'd already been barb-hooked but good. "I'm here for an audition, actually. Tomorrow. For Sinatra. I'm a singer. I mean, not like you, but hopefully one day..." I paused, unsure of how much backstory was worth burdening Elvis with. "Just got a last minute sub-in for a friend who's under the weather."

Something flickered across Elvis' handsome features before the mask of idle curiosity slid back into place. "Is that right?" His gaze raked over me again, slower this time, more deliberate. "And what will you be singing for Ol' Blue Eyes?"

Shit. Why was he asking me so many questions? My palms started to sweat as I racked my brain for a suitable answer. It wasn't like I could admit that I barely knew the material, that I was flying by the seat of my pants on a far-fetched favor for a friend. So I settled for a half-truth instead.

"Oh, you know. Just a little medley of standards. 'To Keep My Love Alive,' 'I Can Cook, Too,' that kind of thing."

Elvis nodded slowly, a shadow of a smirk still playing on his lips. "A classic set list. I'm sure you'll knock 'em dead, honey."

I started to stammer out a thanks, but Elvis was already moving past me towards the door as the elevator finally shuddered to a stop. He paused, throwing a glance back over his shoulder. There was a new intensity in his eyes when they met mine, a dark promise that made my toes curl involuntarily in my heels.

"I'll be rooting for you, songbird. Break a leg."

And with that, he was gone, leaving me weak-kneed and dizzy in a cloud of his smoky-spicy cologne. I sagged against the wall, trying to collect myself. What in the ever-loving hell had just happened? Had I honestly just been shamelessly eye-fucked by Elvis Presley in an elevator?

More importantly, why had I liked it so much?

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the treacherous thoughts as I finally stumbled out into the harshly lit hallway. It was late, I was tired, and I had an audition to rest up for. The last thing I needed was to dwell on smoldering looks from a celebrity Casanova that I had no business panting over in the first place.

But even as I went through the motions of unlocking my room and sinking face-first into the marshmallowy duvet, I couldn't stop my mind from wandering back to the electric encounter in the elevator. The way Elvis had stared at me, equal parts scorching and inscrutable, as if he was trying to crack some tantalizing code. There was no way I could have imagined that. The effortless command he'd exuded, the sheer magnetism rolling off of him in waves. How ridiculously, unexpectedly good he still looked, hips swiveling in slow-motion in my mind's eye...

I punched a pillow in frustration, annoyed with my traitorous libido. This was so far beyond the scope of anything I'd anticipated when I'd agreed to sub in for Deena's audition. But one thing was certain—my time in Vegas was shaping up to be a hell of a lot more interesting than I'd bargained for. And something told me that a chance run-in on a hotel elevator was only the beginning.

[dustdeepsea]

Writer Interview

Tagged by @my-favourite-zhent nearly 3 weeks ago and I've entirely missed the wave.

I've enjoyed reading so many interesting ones by my mutuals! Tagging (only if you're keen) @graysparrowao3 @coreene @say-lene @luvwich @grossestjay —and if I've missed your interview somehow, tag me in the comments!

Q&A after the cut—

When did you start writing?

I wrote my first fanwork at age 12. It was self-insert fanfiction with me and 2 of my friends in the Slayers anime universe, which meant it was several comedic sketches strung together with with lots of actions denoted by asterisks and emoticons. You know the ones ^_^ ^____^ @_@ T_T *slaps you gently with a trout*

We printed it out on someone's home printer and bound copies in plastic school folders with a two-hole punch. I've lost the original file ages ago, but I would love to read it again.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

When I was younger, I actively sought out "difficult stories" because I wanted to experience things beyond my day to day life. I read Nabokov at 16 because everyone kept saying Lolita was a dangerous book. I also read a lot of Chuck Palahniuk and Bret Easton Ellis without really understanding them.

My pretentiousness definitely peaked in my university days. My dating profile at the time listed: Herman Hesse, Kazuo Ishiguro and Mikhail Bulgakov.

Now that I'm older, I read and write stories primarily to make myself happy.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I'm not remotely at the level where I get compared to any published writers.

My favourite contemporary writer is David Mitchell (of Cloud Atlas fame), and my favourite book by him is The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet.

My favourite "classic" novel is The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I type at my desk, in a study shared with my partner. Sometimes if the scene is particularly spicy or they are gaming too loudly, I take the laptop to the living room.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Bouncing plot bunnies off others on Discord, talking a walk or a long train ride, playing an immersive video game and rotating characters in my head for hours afterwards.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

According to my lovely readers:

"Romantic and sweaty"; "two silly sausages frying in a pan" (thanks to my long time beta-reader @littleplasticrat)

"Purity, temperance, glimpse of [the] ability for real love / real forgiveness" (thank you @tellmeallaboutit!)

These did surprise me a bit when they were first pointed out but it makes sense—I've been accidentally writing Regency romances and repressed idiots in love without setting out to do so explicitly.

What is your reason for writing?

I put aside hobbies for many years because of my work (no matter what advertisers want you to believe—doomscrolling is not a hobby). Started doing more creative things during my sabbatical last year, and writing was one of the things that saved my broken corpo soul.

Nowadays I'm really into bread making and cooking in general. I'm trying to balance work and creative pursuits and I'm much happier overall.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Any and all comments are received with love <3 <3 <3 I really enjoy it when people let me know what lines really resonated with them or point out motifs I'd snuck in.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Friendly and approachable! Not entirely hyperfixated on That One NPC from a Video Game with Five Lines (that one might be harder now...!)

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

A fairly broad vocabulary, including anachronisms, which is useful for fantasy story settings. Writing characters who are actively lying to themselves (thinking one thing and saying/doing another).

My writing tends to be on the more contemplative side and a bit sadder and slower paced, so if you enjoy A Great Deal of Yearning along with your smut, then it would appeal to you :)

How do you feel about your own writing?

I'm pretty happy with it! I write very, very slowly, with constant edits as I go, and would probably starve if I ever had to rely on my fiction writing to be paid. Luckily, I get to do this as a hobby.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

I write for myself, but I am also super blessed to have a very small but vocal audience that I can interact with directly. I guess my best advice is: Write for yourself and your 10 friends who want to read your hand-bound home-printed self-insert fanfic <3

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Grey 33

First / Previous / Next

Gord... floats.

He lays on his back in the pool, staring up at the window. Beyond is the deep blue-black of space, with the interior lights of the room blocking all except the brightest stars.

Suddenly, he flips into the water, pushes off the wall and swims laps. Three, then Five, then Ten. Back and forth, back and forth. When he can swim no more, he rolls back onto his back and floats.

He does this two or three more times, and a woman enters the pool room. She's very tall, over two meters, with long silver-white hair and an imperious expression. Her lips purse and she crosses her arms. "Gord you are going to rust if you don't get out."

Gord's eyes flick to her, and he turns his head. "Don't be racist, Chloe."

Chloe harrumphs. "You've been swimming for more than an hour Gord. It's time to come back to the world of the living."

Gord stands. The shallow side pool is only a meter and a half deep, he's in the water up to his head. "Chloe, you can't have come all the way down here to just to bother me into getting back to work. What's wrong?"

Chloe snaps her ankles together and dives into the deep end of the pool. Her form is tight, controlled. When she enters the water there is barely a splash and she dolphin kicks up to him. She surfaces behind him and puts her arms around his chest tightly. Her head rests on his shoulder. "Please Gord. Come out."

Gord turns around and returns the hug. Chloe doesn't seem bothered by her wet clothes. "Fine."

They both climb out of the pool and Gord throws Chloe a towel. She peels off her sopping wet dress and dries off. She wraps up in the towel and grabs another for her long hair.

In the locker room, they get dressed. Chloe's locker has a change of clothes in it already. When Gord sees this, he raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

Gord makes his way up to his office. As he passes people in the hall, he greets them and makes conversation. The more people he talks to, the more agitated Chloe seems. There aren't too many of them yet, but more than Gord has seen in centuries. It's important to him to say hello and ask after them.

Finally, they enter Gord's office. Chloe rolls her eyes. His office is an anachronism, just like him. In the center is a large desk, made of real wood. She has always wondered where he got it. Soon after they arrived and he started up his operation it appeared one day. The rest of the office is done up in muted tans and browns. A carpet quiets their footsteps, the walls are colored in an innocuous tan color, like a pale beach sand. The lighting overhead is muted and diffused, and there is a lamp on his desk. In the corner is a coffee machine.

Gord walks over and makes a cup of coffee. As it hisses and bubbles Chloe grows more impatient. He takes his time. Once it has finished, he pours it into an old battered mug and carries it to his desk.

As he sits at his desk a small grunt escapes his mouth. He takes a sip of the steaming brew and nodding to himself, puts it down on a coaster. He takes the pad and glances at it, while Chloe sits at one of the comfortable seats on the other side. She waits while he looks at his pad. He continues to look while Chloe tries to find something to do with her hands. She puts them together on her lap, then takes them off and grips the arm rests. She shakes the damp hair off her shoulder. Her leg twitches. There's an antique mechanical clock on the wall in the office. Every time Chloe sees it she shakes her head. It's always running but never at the correct time. As she sits and waits for Gord, the ticking grows louder, and louder, and louder. It feels like it's ticking on her skull.

A small smile escapes Gord's lips.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you, Gord." Chloe says testily.

"You were always so easy to wind up Chloe. Good to see time hasn't changed that." He looks up from his pad. "I'm also waiting for Spyglass to arrive. She pinged me while we were walking up to my office."

Just then, there's a knock - a real, knuckles upon the door knock - and the door slides open. A woman enters, shorter than Gord, much shorter than Chloe. Her dark hair is tightly curled naturally on her head, and she's wearing the inner suit from a spacesuit, form fitting and leaving nothing to the imagination. Chloe's stare could melt tungsten, but the woman doesn't seem to care. "Hey Gord, hey Chloe. Sorry if I kept you waiting!" She takes the seat next to Chloe without waiting to be invited to sit.

"Gord puts the pad down. "Hey there Spyglass. How's the body?"

She smiles and shakes her shoulders and it jiggles - just a little bit. Chloe rolls her eyes again. "It works great Gord. I'm just distracting enough that people don't look too hard, but not so distracting that I'm attracting too much of the wrong attention. That's actually why I came back, I have news from Sol."

"Oh? Something too important to send in a beacon?"

Spy shrugs. "That and I got sick of all the BIs. I need some time off."

Gord smiles and leans back in his chair. It squeaks slightly. "Well then, give us a debrief and you can have a few days off."

Spy nods and unfolds her own Pad. "So rumor on the Floating Cities is that the Empress doesn't have her powers anymore."

Gord's relaxed posture falls away. He leans forward. "Her powers are what?"

"Gone" Spy's eyes flick up to meet his. "No official word of course, and everything coming out of the Floating Cities is that everything is fine, but there is talk."

Chloe nods to herself. "Sounds like it's time to attack. We should prepare immediately."

Spy looks at Chloe, and then at Gord. He makes a face at Chloe, but doesn't reply. Spy continues. "Anyway. Word has been swirling around for a little less than a month before I left. If it's true, it's just happened. They're trying to keep it as quiet as they can, but she has attendants, and they talk." Spyglass winks. "Especially when properly motivated."

Chloe makes a horrified face.

"Pillow talk has been a source of intel for millennia Chloe, you know that. You think you're above the humans and all of their biological impulses, but it's still a valid source, and has provided us some of our most valuable insights." Spyglass shrugs. "Plus, it's fun."

Gord leans back in his seat. "We need people of all kinds, Chloe. Spyglass's up front infiltration as well as your behind the scenes management. We're more than three people now. We have to cover all our bases. That said-" Gord flips through his pad. "-We are still fewer than five hundred Chloe. We're in no shape to retaliate. We have to be more subtle. Spy, do we know why the Empress lost her powers? I know the Nanites are fickle."

"No insight into that yet Gord. I've put feelers out, but the galaxy is a big place. Speaking of that, turn to the other report I sent." Gord, Chloe and Spy all look at their pads. "The pirate Hemmi Navarren has started operating again. Looks like the coup against him was overturned. The Heap has moved twice in the last month, and we're getting reports from Imperial vessels that they're being targeted."

"So?" Chloe scoffs. "What do we care about one K'laxi pirate?"

Spyglass turns to Chloe. "What is with this attitude Chloe? We're all on the same team and we're all moving in concert towards the same goal. I don't need you scoffing and rolling your eyes - yes I can see that - at everything I say. We care because Hemmi seems to be attacking Imperial ships nearly exclusively and because of his daughter."

Chloe opens her mouth to reply and then stops. Her expression softens and she tries again. "I apologize Spyglass. I was in a mood from something earlier and I let that color our interaction. I will do better in the future. Why is Hemmi's daughter important? I thought the K'laxi didn't think of their progeny that way?"

"Thank you Chloe, I accept your apology. We all have bad days. As for his kids, Hemmi is different, apparently. He doesn't mind who the mother is, but he has paternity tests done on all the kits and gives special attention to 'his.' Zherun Navarren is his oldest and current most likely person to take over his organization."

Gord puts the pad down. "That's all good intel Spy, but I think I have to agree with Chloe here. Why do we care about one mid-tier K'laxi pirate and his daughter?"

"Because of who Zherun is currently with. She's been seen as the one of the commanders of a new mercenary group." She grins wickedly. "A group that's headed by Fenchurch Whitehorse."

"Hah!" Gord slaps the top of his desk. The sharp noise causes Chloe to jump in her chair. "Fen! I knew she'd turn out all right. She's got her own ship?"

Spy nods. "Yes, a former Imperial frigate. It's legally registered in her name, and we can't seem to figure out how she got it. It passes all cursory and even most in-depth checks of ownership."

Gord whistles low. "Nice work Fen. I'll have to ask her how she got it one day. Any other news about Fen?"

"She's running with a small group. Her, Zherun, an AI an a few other K'laxi. They're sticking to small jobs, trying to build networks."

Chloe's head snaps to Spy. "Who is the AI?"

"It's Northern Lights." Spy looks up at Gord.

Gord isn't looking at them. He was staring off into nothing. "Northern Lights is still alive. Holy Shit. It's been..." He blinks and looks at them both. "Sorry, I haven't heard from Northern since before the purge and I was sure she was gone. To find out she's not only alive, but active in this day and age? Shit. We have to find them. I want to say hi to Fen, but I really want to talk to Northern. Where are they?"

"As of a week ago they were on their way to Picaresque. They're probably still there."

Gord stands. "Come on Spy, Chloe. Let's go visit a friend."

[rosewaterandivy]

c'mon barbie, let's go party

summary: steve harrington learns to embrace his kenergy with a little help from his friends.

a/n: in honor of barbenheimer today, please enjoy steve's newfound kenergy in the kids aren't alright cinematic universe. that being said, you can absolutely read this as a stand alone too! i'm seeing barbie later tonight, so mentions of the plot are vague and culled from the teasers and trailers - any and all mistakes are my own! feel free to yell at me in about this in my ask box et al. i'm at the tattoo shop for the foreseeable future and need some enrichment in my enclosure. Reblogs, feedback, and likes are appreciated - reposting is not. Enjoy! 💜

p.s. sneaky peak at eddie and his gf from my upcoming series notes on a scene 👀

steve had it all planned out - made the appointment himself and triple-checked that your schedule was clear for the day. circled it on the communal calendar in the kitchen double-feature: barbenheimer.

the group chat had been made aware and eddie's girlfriend, inexplicably known as princess, had taken it upon herself to buy tickets for the gang, therefore dictating the order in which the films would be seen (film teachers, am i right?). oppenheimer first, which steve would suffer through - historical films were always difficult for him to get through due to the anachronisms, and ending with the pièce de résistance: barbie.

you were swamped with grad school classes (having applied over the spring and started your courses this past summer) and steve wanted to treat you to something nice and relaxing. and a trip to the nail salon would have been just the thing, if not for eddie & princess crashing it.

luckily, you didn't seem to mind and were happily ensconced in your chair waiting on your nail tech. you'd brought your own color, because you're picky like that, and let steve, and then eddie and his girlfriend (out of necessity), sort through your collection too.

he'd settled on something called a midsummer's dream from that one brand you liked (there seemed to be a package from them every few weeks or so), thinking it would compliment your choice of arcade monster quite nicely; a little sweet and a little sour.

"manicure and pedicure?" the woman at the front desk had asked. steve clarified that the mani/pedi would be for the ladies, while eddie and himself would just get the pedicures. though the chipped black polish on ed's nails was becoming unsightly.

but despite doing so, steve somehow found himself moved from the pedi bath over to a nail table and seated right next to you. you looked up from your reading (Prisoners of Geography by Tim Marshall, steve's suggestion) and quirked a brow. "whatcha doin'?"

"sitting here, i guess."

you smirk, "sure thing, babe," and go back to your book.

so when a well-meaning woman grabs his hand and places it in a bowl of water while asking about his color choice, he doesn't know how to respond. he could've sworn he just said a pedicure for him and eds, but when he looks down the row and finds eddie in rapt conversation with his nail tech about god knows what as she removes his chipped black polish, he's no longer quite as sure.

"psst."

he looks over to you, seeing an ill-attempt to repress your laughter. "you don't have to get a polish if you don't want to." and it's sweet, you're sweet for thinking of him and his comfort when this was supposed to be all about you and yours.

steve shrugs, "might as well at this point," and hands her the bottle of pinky-blue iridescent polish.

you tuck your chin toward your chest with a grin, teeth flashing bright against the pink of your lips. "a very nice use of kenergy, steve. gosling would be proud."

💅💅💅

your nails flash green-gold in the sun, a nice contrast against the magenta base polish. you’re sipping from a s’mores milkshake from the ice cream parlor after the nail appointment, eddie having spied it a few stores down.

("it's too hot to argue, harrington," eddie groused, but not before grabbing steve's hands to examine his manicure. "dude, that color is sick on you!")

“s’nice color honey,” steve says, pausing to drink from the milkshake when you passed it over to him. the cool blend of chocolate and marshmallows with graham cracker chunks hits his tongue as you send a deilvish wink his way.

“thanks baby,” your tongue glides against the full of your bottom lip, collecting a bit of chocolate. checking to see that eddie and princess are out of earshot, you pull him in by the belt loops.

“think they’ll look as nice wrapped around your cock later?” you rasp, voice dropping to a low whisper.

steve shudders at the husky sound of your voice and nearly chokes on the milkshake in response, flustered and blushing. your laughter rings out in the afternoon heat, as bright as the sun shining above.

you kiss him for good measure, lips cool and sweet, before catching up to eddie and his girlfriend a few paces ahead. and all steve can do is watch after you, struck dumb by his girl with her quick tongue and wicked words.

he gets it later that evening seeing barbie when they say: “she’s barbie, and he’s just ken.”

you did not tell a lie when you said to princess all those months ago, that ken would end up being steve’s ‘literally me’ character. truthfully, he’s just glad to end up with his dreamgirl.

and yeah, your nails looked just as pretty later that night. as did his when you fell apart on his fingers. a flash of blue in the dim light when his hands dug into the soft flesh of your hips— you coming with a ragged cry on his cock, face buried against the pillows of your bed.

steve may be “just ken” but he wouldn’t trade it for the world. not when he’s got a barbie like you.

[petermorwood]

“E” or “O”...?

A comment in the “It Was Sugar!” post wondered if "castor" with an "O" was the American spelling for caster sugar, or a typo.

It’s a typo, but one with an interesting history.

*****

“CastOr” is the spelling when referring to castor oil (pressed from castor beans) and, even older, a hat made from felted beaver fur (Castor canadiensis).

Fans of historical fiction might occasionally read that a character “doffed their castor” - meaning, raised or removed their hat in a token of good manners to ladies or respect to superiors.

"CastEr" is the spelling for a container (or its contents) for strewing, sprinkling or throwing, as in "cast aside" or “cast a shadow”.

In homophones (same-sounding words) such as sow / sew, rein / rain, peal / peel, breach / breech etc., just one letter gives the different meaning.

Words like “cast”, however, depend on context - cast a spell, cast a bell, cast a role, arm in a cast, cast in an eye, cast of the show...

English is like that.

*****

Besides sugar casters for sprinkling sugar, there were “sand casters” of wood, ceramic or metal, which contained the powder used to blot ink before or instead of blotting-paper.

This powder might be fine sand or ground sandarac resin (two reasons for “sand caster”) but also ground cuttlefish bone, or ground pumice which was called “pounce” - the French for pumice stone is “pierre ponce” - in which case the container was called a “pounce pot”.

Blotting a letter with sand or pounce may even be the origin of the phrase “done and dusted”, meaning “job all done”, though that might just derive from a room or house completely cleaned, so YMMV.

Its use is often seen in historical films, though they often get the end of the action wrong by showing writers blowing or shaking the powder off onto the floor.

In fact blotting powder was re-usable, and was poured off the paper back into the pot, whose top was often funnel-shaped to make that easier.

Using sand or pounce continued until fairly recently: here’s a silver writing set - inkstand with matching inkwell and pounce pot / sander - hallmarked 1908.

Fountain-pens were already in use (mass-produced since 1880) though prone to leakage until that problem was fixed in, surprise,1908, so it’s not surprising that this handsome set relied on dip pens. Also, it was probably on the desk of An Important Person who had to write little more than signatures.

The pounce pot is a curious anachronism; I’ve read one source suggesting pounce and sand continued in use because they was cheap, but penny-pinching doesn’t seem an issue here.

Maybe used blotting-paper was considered unsightly, whether as a sheet or mounted on one of those rocker-blotters still used occasionally when signing treaties.

Or maybe pounce was considered more secure; if blotting-paper picks up a good reverse impression of the writing, it can be mirror-read; there’s no way to mirror-read anything from powder.

Writer Note; a fantasy story could mention a spell which makes the pounce or sand reassemble itself as the words it blotted, so re-use is done for more than mere economy. Each time pounce is poured back into the pot it gets a thorough shaking, that world’s version of a micro-cut paper shredder or multi-pass disc wipe.

This was originally about spelling variations, so yet again I seem to have wandered a bit off-topic

I do like the silver desk-set, though.

[twig-tea]

Absolute Zero ep. 1 First Thoughts

Absolute Zero already has me in a chokehold. This is everything I want from New Siwaj. It's beautiful, it's sad, it's cinematic, the background music is orchestral. People have visible real skin texture, and different skin tones. There is so much good, subtle physical acting (not every reaction is in the face), something New excels at bringing out in his actors.

There is SO MUCH NOSTALGIA! I am drowning in the aesthetics. And I love that two of our characters, the cinephiles, are clearly also quietly obsessed with retro things for their own reasons--the DVD/VCD rental store owner who has a gramophone and cassette deck in 2008 and was still renting DVDs through 2018, and Soon, who carries around a walkman and a flip phone in 2008, past when mp3 players and smart phones were a thing, renting rather than pirating DVDs, and watching films projected from real film on a reel [also was that an old school tape-based voicemail machine on his desk?]. Anachronism is established so early in this show, so quietly but thoroughly. I wonder how many younger audience members would even know that these things are anachronistic (I know it's not just cultural differences because Remember Me confirmed Thailand had smartphones by ~2005). I know we've already established that Soon is stuck in the past because he misses his recently deceased parents, but I am curious about how else these anachronisms are going to interplay with time travel as a theme.

I am also trying so hard not to reminisce, but I had a corner store that I passed on the way home from school and so would stop in all the time and rent VHS tapes from and the old guy who ran it knew me and would say hi and point out new things I would like and would make fun of me for renting the same thing over and over and would give me free gum from the gumball machine at the counter....it was even smaller than the one in the series and it was such a comfort and man I miss it!

And the time pieces! The hourglass, the old school analog alarm clock, the cigarettes which indicate the mystery neighbor [Soon from the future] has been on the balcony awhile, the ticket stubs to indicate the amount of time Ongsah missed Soon, the lack of anything on Soon's wrist (contrasted with the watch on Ongsah's--this might be a stretch but I'm thinking about it), even the stars as old timepieces (this is definitely a stretch).

And the grief this episode! So much and so quiet. We have Soon so overwhelmed he looks like he's choking on his grief at his parents' grave, as well as his general constant air of sadness [Mix improved so much since What the Duck and UWMA!]; Ongsah crying silently at the water for reasons we don't yet know; the DVD/VCD rental place's daughter grieving her father, and Soon also grieving him, and then the preview for the next ep so we know more pain is coming. I really appreciate how different each of these circumstances and depictions of grief have been so far, and it's something I'll be thinking about as the show goes on too (because I'm sure there will be more!).

Anyway. I am really excited that the first episode lived up to my expectations!

@bengiyo you asked to be tagged 💕 Anyone else talking about this show, feel free to tag me too!

[piercedpressure]

(sits down across from you) ofc i need to know literally everything about king's gambit.

SLAMS HANDS DOWN ON MY FUCKING DESK!!! OK!!!!!

king's gambit is a quest campaign i gm for my friends :3 the basic gist of the story is that in this country called katinia, a nationwide hunt takes place. the target is the king, and the prize is the throne and the haunted house that keeps it, the Last House. the current monarch, King Halina, has steered the country through war, famine, and civil unrest for 99 years -- and with the very recent announcement of her pregnancy, it seems that she shows no intention of abdicating the throne any time soon.

however, just 73 days before the tournament begins, a deadly earthquake rocks the capital to its core. when its revealed that the epicenter sat in the belly of the Last House, it sets off a chain of events that not only highlight how deep the rot goes, but also leads to the inevitable fall of the House.

and it all falls into the hands of a duty-bound mother and knight, an addict squire bound for sainthood, a handmaiden dragging herself through a suicide mission, and a gardener that tends to the roots of the House.

tragedy. horror. anticolonialism. a fucked up tree that eats everyone you love and hate and dont know. crazy political machinations. nasty transgender gay sex. the fight for a better world. fucked up house that echoes the grief of those who bled for it. ever-changing political landscape. archaeology. anachronism. its got it all baby!

[magdacat]

(This one's drowning in references and goofs... you gotta scroll down for that)

Top OC Round 3: A Thief Among Us

Lady Acette’s scream was loud enough to alert Conk, despite them staying in the most remote room of the Manor. It wasn’t long before he got word of the thefts.

“There’s a crown? I mean— Detective Boltz is ON THE CASE! I’m gonna need supplies… and an elite team!”

Conk immediately put in an order for some coats and hats, took over an empty office in the manor, and went about recruiting help.

“Let me introduce you to my hand-picked team of experts: Dr. Emma Therapist! Top OC’s resident… therapist! No one knows the depths of the contestants’ minds like she does. Her intel and skills are invaluable to our operation!” Conk smiles widely at the doctor. “Actually, I can’t tell you anything that violates doctor-patient confidentiality.” “And this is Mr. Average—” “—Please, PLEASE, just call me Joe…” He sounds like he’s made this request before. “This is Joe! Top OC’s very own security guard. He knows the ins and outs of Top OC headquarters like no one else!” “I’m… not that familiar with the Manor, actually.”

“Don your uniforms, team! We have a case to solve! Now listen here, I'm the sheriff 'round these p—” “—You're not a sheriff.” Dr. Therapist interrupts. “…I'm the detective 'round these parts—” “—You're also not… a detective…” Joe clarifies. “I'm… I have a cool hat and coat, and a desk, and evidence!” “…okay.” The two acquiesce.

“Joe, I’m gonna need alla the security footage from last night.” “We, uh, we don’t have cameras in Lord Ascan’s Manor…” “Well… how about Sunny’s camera?” “I can’t just take a contestant’s belongings.” “We will FIND A WAY!” Conk points to nothing in particular, but does so very dramatically.

Emma is in the corner scribbling down notes. “Detective Doctor Therapist, have you made any headway?” “Conk, do you ever feel like you're faking your smile?” “That ain't a part of this investigation! ONWARD! FOR THE CROWN!”

But wait! One question remains… what if the culprit is Conk themself? “Ain’t no way! I was busy all last night playing some ‘Tale of Zeldor’ game with Sunny and Oliver. Then I… well, I borrowed the oldfangled device for… for science :)”

Present-day notes: Man, I really feel like I hit my stride with the caption this time around... and then I got out of the competition... oof

close-ups of details below and then I gotta list out all the sources. Oh good heavens me--

References:

Joe Average created by @cturtlesea -- plus mentions of her stories on the bookshelf

Emma Therapist created by @/jellybean_tales on IG -- plus titles on the shelf as well

Emi and Kita of @smittyw fame on the board

Zach belonging to @/welshdragon0404 on IG on the board

Many many many AUs by @/jamiejacksoninsta on IG on the bookshelf + Sunny and Oliver in the caption and on the board

Death's Apprentice by @theoreticallyartsy (read here or on Webtoon or Tapas) also Anachronic mentionnn on the shelf

(originally posted with Caine by Pylot)

(⚙‿⚙)

[charlie-lynchs]

Well, that hurts like a b***h

Sara Lance x daughter reader

POV: The legends have a mission and Charlie has to save the day, but gets hurt while doing that. It’s 2018.

Warnings ⚠️: blood, weapons, swearing

“Mom I can handle myself.” Charlie said walking behind her mother. “We talked about this now too often. You’re a kid, my kid and I said no.” Sara said not even turning around. “I am 17 years old, Mom. I’m not Child anymore.” She said. They now arrived at the bridge. “Physically yes. Do I have to remind you that you’re born 2007, that makes you 10.” Sara said.

Oliver and Sara went onto the Queens Gambit to hide the pregnancy from everyone. Sara gave birth to her on the ship of the bad guys. When she “died” a second time, Oliver was left with Charlie on the island. Then she got sick and Oliver panicked so he gave her the Mirakuru. Which lead her to the grow to a 8 year old girl in 2008. Now in 2018 she still looks like 17, but is 11 years old. With the Mirakuru she got strong and clever, Nate likes to call her ‘Big Brain’.

“Oh really you play that card, again? But isn’t the Mirakuru an argument for me going to a mission? I’m stronger and harder to kill.” she said annoyed. “That makes not a better case for you. You are not going onto mission. Unterstand?” Sara said starting to point with her finger. Before Charlie could answer Gideon interrupts. “Captain Lance, there is an anachronism.” she announces. “Gather the team. This conversation is not over” Sara said walking to the round board in the middle.

It didn’t take long until everyone was gathered around. “What to we got?” Ray asked standing next to Sara. “There has been a Zombie attack in 1973.” Gideon explained. “Okay, Zari you stay here. Everyone else suit up, we have mission.” Sara said. Charlie sits in the background on one of the chairs. She was really pissed at her mom, pissed that she still treats her like a child even tough she’s been through more then most grown ups. She made her way to her room while Zari moves the Waverider to the right time and place. After Zari did her job and legends are just observing, she made her way to Charlie. She knocks on the door.

“Can I come in?” she asked and door opens. “You do know she just wants to protect you?” She said sitting down on her desk chair. “Since when do you agree with her?” Charlie said looking up to her. “Since I know that you should worship every minute you have with your family.” Zari said. “She lost so much. She doesn’t want to lose you too.” she said. “I know, but I’m not a kid and I’ve been through worse stuff.” she said groaning. “She would understand if you finally explain what happened to you on the island when you were alone.” Zari said. Charlie just looked at her. Zari and Felicity are the only people on earth knowing what happened in that one and a half year where Charlie was alone on the island. “I can’t. I’m not telling her to protect her.” Charlie said. “But don’t you think she will feel betrayed when you tell her?” Zari said looking at her. There is a silence after that. Suddenly Charlie jumps up. “Betray! Zari you’re a genius!“ she said running to the bridge.

Zari took after her. “Why am I a genius?” she asked when they arrived. “Well I asked myself. How the hell did freaking zombies get into 1973?” Charlie explaining while typing something. “And why did they target a small supermarket, instead of the peace event right next to it?” Charlie said. “Right! Normally they would target the place with the most people.” Zari said. “But what if someone wanted them there, to lure the legends there. Someone who felt betrayed and wants revenge but still has a heart not to hurt hundred of people.” she kept going. “Someone like Jane Bloom.” Charlie said letting the image show on the screen. “Ex-Worker at the Bureau. But got fired after she had something against us.” Charlie said. “So she is angry.” Zari said and Charlie just nods. “Sara we’ve got some news.” Zari said, but there was no answer. Zari and Charlie just looked at each other. “Coms are down.” Charlie said. She types something more. “Fuck.” she said running towards the entrance. “Charlie? Where are you going?” Zari asked running after her. “To them. She is especially pissed at mom. She wants her dead. We can’t warn them. So I go there and warn them.” She said taking her arrows and bow. “Ok but I come with you.” Zari said. “No you stay here be my eyes and ears. We go on my private channel so she can’t stop that to. My mom is not going to die today!” Charlie walking out.

Charlie made her way through the city. Now and then she found a zombie on her way and killed it with a perfect shot arrow in the head. When she arrived at the scene she stayed in the background watching the Legends fight the zombies. “Zari you there?” Charlie whispered. “Yeah Baby Lance. You see here?” Zari asked through the coms. “Not yet.” Charlie said still watching everyone closely. Then she sees Sara being busy fighting a zombie and Jane coming from behind with a sword like weapon. Without thinking twice Charlie jumped between the two. The sword stabbing through her stomach. She fell to the ground. By now Sara noticed and knocked Jane out. After that she immediately runs to Charlie. “Charlie! Oh god.” Sara exclaimed while laying Charlies head on her lap. Ray already trying to stop the bleeding. “Why did you that?” Sara said stroking her hair. “It couldn’t be you.” Charlie just said slowly closing her eyes. “Charlie! Baby stay with me. Open your eyes come on.” were the last words she heard.

Sara run to the waverider. Her dying daughter in her arms. When she walked in Zari run by. “What happened?” she said after seeing Charlie. No one answers, all to focused on her. Sara makes her way to the medby. “Gideon! Tell me what going on.” Sara yelled placing her daughter on the chair and putting the bracelet on her wrist. “It seems like the sword was able to hurt organs of Ms. Lance. If I am able to repair that, I have to put her into a coma.” Gideon explained. “Chance of survival?” Sara asked even though she doesn’t want to her the answer. “15%, Captain Lance”. Sara didn’t know how the act or respond. She goes and takes Charlies hand. “Come back to me Sweetheart.” Sara says while pushing hair out of her daughters face. “She is strong, Sara” Nate says standing behind her. “Can you call Oliver and Felicity? Tell them what happened.” she said not looking at him. Nate walked away and does as he is told.

Gideon was able to repair the organs of Charlie but had to put her into a coma. And like she said, the chance that Charlie wakes up is low. Hours turned into Days and days into weeks.

For 4 weeks Charlie was now in the coma. They changed the chair in the medbay into a hospital bed, also big enough so Sara can stay the nights there. Oliver and Felicity came and visit. Right now Sara was sitting on a chair next to Charlie watching her closely. At the same time the team sits at bridge. Everyone was still down and it’s like with Charlie the good spirit of the ship went into a coma. “It’s weird seeing Sara like that.” Zari exclaimed. “Well she usually doesn’t show emotions to often, but when it comes to Charlie she is always softer.” Ray said sitting down. Suddenly there was a ring and Ava Sharpe tried calling via video. “We can’t press her away forever.” Nate said standing up and accepting the call. “Mr. Heywood. I would like to talk to your captain.” she said without a hint of emotions. “I’m sorry, but Captain Lance is not available at the moment.” Ray says now standing next to his best friend. “You have been reclining my calls for week and stop working. It’s time to start working again.” she said. “We have our reasons and they are non of your business.” Zari said this time. “Is it because of Ms. Lance?” She asked and everyone looked surprised. “I know everything. And it has to be said. She is just another human being. Let it go and get your asses up and work. Now I would like to talk to your captain.” she said. This time Mick stands up. “If you talk one more word about Charlie I will burn down your whole office.” he growls and hangs up the call. Everybody looks at Mick, confused on how protective he got. In the medbay Sara fell asleep in the chair next to Charlie.

Pain is the first thing that Charlie feels when she opens her eyes. Her hands go immediately to her stomach where no longer a sword was in, but a bandage wrapped around. She looks around and realises she is in the medbay, she also sees her mother next to her. “Ms. Lance. It’s is good to see you’re awake.” Gideon says. Because of the noice Sara jolts up thinking something bad is happening. “Careful we don’t want you to fall.” Sara turns around from where the voice came from and sees her daughter awake in the bed. Sara hugs her immediately holding her like she is going to lose her any moment. “How are you feeling?” She asked looking at her. “Good. Well, this hurts like a b***h.” Charlie points at her stomach. Everyone was relieved to see her awake. Her dad also came to visit.

Over the next few days it came out that she only survived because of the Mirakuru in her blood. Recovery was still hard but she had the Legends and her mom by her side always.

Right now she was laying on her own bed watching a movie. There was a knock on her door, with a press of button the door opens and her mom stands there with a plate of food. “Thanks but I’m not hungry.” she says and looks back at the TV. “But you haven’t ate your breakfast or lunch. You gotta eat something, baby.” Sara said placing the plate on the nightstand and runs her hand through Charlies hair. She sits down on the desk chair, next to the bed. It had been standing there since Charlie slept in her own bed again and Sara was there until she fell asleep. Sara takes the remote and pauses the movie. “Hey! I was watching that.” Charlie says looking at her mother. “We have to finish our conversation.” Sara said looking at her with a face Charlie couldn’t interpret. “No we don’t. I understood what you had to say and I won’t bother you again.” she said taking the plate starting to eat trying to get out of the conversation. “You didn’t bother. While you were in that coma I had a lot of time to think. About everything. You’re not a child anymore and you’re more clever than me for sure. You proved that. Connecting the dots between Jane and the attack. It was brilliant. So I decided to let you come onto missions. Little ones in the beginning” Sara said. Charlie smiled and jumped up hugging her. It was not the most clever decision given her wound. “Careful we don’t want you to tear your stitches again.” Sara said but with a smile on her face. She helps Charlie sitting down again. “And don’t forget small ones. I choose, no complaints.” Charlie just nods on that comment. Sara laid down with her daughter and the movie continued. Sara didn’t plan on staying the night in Charlies room but she fell asleep on her chest and Sara didn’t want to wake her up. After Charlie healed completely she went on her first official mission and solved it like a real legend.

The End

[anachronic-cobra]

Love that while online fandom in general is having a weird meltdown about the morality of enjoying anything darker than sanitized fluff in fiction, the Danny Phantom fandom is still sitting in the corner 16 years after the show ended with a blankie and cocoa and their 10,000th deep-fanon supertorture cannibalism vivisection psychological horror fic

[jeongyunhoed]

As seen on my FF.net Also seen on my Ao3

Following the events of fifth year, a new adventure awaits for Norah Lee. Boys, exams, school events, common room parties, and old foes outside of Hogwarts. Even battling pensieve guardians was easier than this.

Main Pair: OC / Ominis Gaunt Genre: Adventure/Angst/Fluff (it's a little of everything, tbh)

KEEP IN MIND: Characters are aged up (even if the story's got them in sixth year) to make it more appropriate. Time period is leaning towards the modern day so in case you might find anachronisms in the dialogue or references, this is why. This may also be quite a lengthy fic too.

BE WARNED: Social anxiety, mentions of blood and injury, grief, drinking, kissing but nothing more than that, death (this is Hogwarts Legacy, after all)

P.P.S: This chapter, or at least the first part is also known as: Ominis Gaunt and the Chamber of Secrets. Also, some poor attempt at writing a kissing scene, AND Amit does the hard thing while also uninentionally hurting two people.

Masterlist

Chapter 22

Sebastian stepped inside the Undercroft one afternoon, removing his scarf and gloves only to realize how cold the space still was. Ominis and Norah followed close behind as he told them after Herbology that there was something he wanted to show them, something he knew Norah also knew about. It had been a few weeks since the Hufflepuff party, and the Yule Ball was closer than ever and it was all everyone could talk about including the teachers. That hadn't stopped them from going with Norah's plan during their weekend visits to Hogsmeade, already finding a few Astronomy tables in the area. They had agreed to visit the coast next for more of the tables during the summer holidays.

With winter break coming the day after the ball, Sebastian came to the conclusion that he needed to bow out. There really wasn't a chance for him with Norah, who seemed sure that she liked Ominis, and that Ominis liked her too. This would be the only time he didn't let his stubbornness get in the way, and yet, Sebastian was quite okay with it. Perhaps, he felt, he had long been okay with it for some time, even before knowing how Ominis felt about her.

And as he had suspected, that day in the Room of Requirement, he had a feeling Amit, Henry, and Natty knew of this as well. It seemed like everyone in their friend circle knew that Norah and Ominis liked each other except for them. Unconsciously, an amused smile formed on his lips at the thought.

His best friends were and are idiots. That was enough for him, he thought.

"Oh, it's so cold," Came Norah's shaky voice as she stepped in, brushing the snow off her shoulders. Behind her was Ominis, who seemed unfazed as he sensed Sebastian already waiting for them.

"Sebastian, what were you going to show us?" the blonde asked as they approached him.

"I found this among Norah's notes and letters a few weeks ago in the Room of Requirement," Sebastian immediately took out the old bit of parchment from his bag to show to them. "Where did you find this?"

Norah immediately knew what he meant. "Oh, when we went into the Scriptorium. I saw it on Slytherin's desk," She kept glancing at Ominis as she said it. "I-I actually had wanted to ask Ominis about this, or anyone who might know, but I feel like having undergone the cruciatus curse was enough excitement for that day."

"What do you mean?" Ominis asked curiously, his wand-bearing hand pointing at the bit of parchment Sebastian held up to him. "...His journal entry. You have Salazar Slytherin's journal entry."

"Yeah, and it mentions him being annoyed that Godric Gryffindor wasn't as obsessed with blood status and also," Norah pointed to the bottom part of the entry. "Putting a creature to sleep for a descendant of his to unleash on those unworthy of being here."

That part sent chills down their spines, and the blonde's expression stiffened. "Slytherin was never done with his pureblood mania...this is cruel," He muttered.

"Yeah," Norah nodded. She suddenly remembered her field guide. "There's also something I saw in the girls' bathroom on my first days here. There's one particular sink that's got the Slytherin logo on the tap. I know that doesn't sound out of the ordinary, but-"

The two boys knew what she meant. "You mean that creature thing Slytherin put to sleep is in Hogwarts?" Sebastian added.

"There is a chance, isn't there?" Norah turned to Ominis as well. "Somewhere in this castle, Slytherin placed a creature that can kill those he thinks are unworthy to study magic. And somewhere in this castle is the entrance to where that creature is."

While Ominis looked disturbed, Sebastian was intrigued. "If we're to believe this entry, then many of us are in danger," Ominis closed his eyes in exasperation. "Then again, it is Salazar Slytherin...we've had to use the Cruciatus curse to avoid dying in his traps, it's not entirely unusual for him to hide a monster here."

Ominis could tell Sebastian and Norah were waiting for him to say more. "...You want us to go down there?!" He gaped. "Have you two gone mad?!"

"How are we going down there? We don't even know how to go there or where in Hogwarts it is," Norah shrugged.

"I can look up what might be down there...And I think I'll have to go to the restricted section for that," Sebastian suggested. "I reckon no on else is going to tell us about that..."

"My family knows," Ominis suddenly said, looking down. "I mean...I've heard things, especially what Marvolo would tell me, about Slytherin's serpent being hidden away in this castle. My parents would often talk about how one day that...chamber would be opened by someone in the family. They were hoping it would be me but...of course I wouldn't."

"Hmm," Sebastian turned to Norah curiously. "Down there, at the caverns where the repository is, do you think there's a way to that chamber from there?"

Norah shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Didn't we swear not to engage in anything that Salazar Slytherin has left behind in this castle? After what we've had to go through in the Scriptorium, that should be enough already," Ominis pointed out, his voice almost pleading. He didn't want to remember Norah getting cursed again. He didn't even want to remember somewhat witnessing that Norah was cursed by Nicholas Carrow that had her bleeding all over.

With the topic of the secret chamber having been brought up between them, Ominis knew this needed to stay within the confines of the Undercroft. If anyone knew the story behind the chamber, all eyes would be on him if the creature would be unleashed. He pointed his wand at the bit of parchment again, feeling a hint of concern at what his ancestor intended. It meant that Norah might be in trouble if ever that creature came out.

As much as Ominis despised having anything to do with Salazar Slytherin, what Norah and Sebastian brought up made him remember what his late aunt Noctua Gaunt believed in. He always saw Hogwarts as another place of refuge aside from the Sallow home, and knowing what his ancestor had kept in the depths of the school, only time could tell when that chamber would be opened.

If he had the same beliefs as his beloved aunt, shouldn't he also take the same step in changing the way his ancestor was perceived? It seemed like a lost cause.

A million thoughts ran in Ominis' mind the more Sebastian and Norah talked about the journal entry. That meant muggle-borns would be in danger. That might include Norah as well.

"Ominis?"

The blonde snapped out of his thoughts, sensing that both Norah and Sebastian were looking at him, waiting for him to say something. He tilted his head toward Norah, catching the faint whiff of her perfume that meant she was standing a lot closer to him, or at the very least, leaning toward him.

"Ominis?" Norah asked again, her hand hovering over his arm. She turned to Sebastian. "I think we broke him..."

Sebastian snorted as Ominis blinked a few times, gaze shifting to Norah. "I-I just remembered something, that's all," He said. "My aunt Noctua."

"Oh," The two of them exchanged looks. "Do you think she knew where the entrance to that chamber is?"

Ominis nodded. "It was..a heavily guarded secret. It's impossible for anyone in my family not to know about it. It was passed down from one of my great-grandfathers, Corvinus, who was a student here when he found it. He knew what it meant, knew where it was and was the one who kept it a secret. He even found a way to disguise the entrance when Hogwarts at the time was installing a new plumbing system. But he never opened it. I guess it's because he didn't want to take the responsibility of killing off all Muggle-borns in this school at the time."

Sebastian shook his head. "He holds that kind of prejudice against Muggle-borns, wanting to rid the school of them but all of a sudden he doesn't want to assume responsibility for killing them off in Hogwarts?"

"As you know very well, Sebastian, many of my relatives don't exactly have rational explanation or logic as a strong trait," Ominis pointed out.

"Well, we don't need to figure that out now. I'll head to the library to see what I can find out about this chamber and what's inside it aside from this journal entry," Sebastian nodded. He hastily put his scarf back on. "If you two will excuse me, I think I'll go to the library now. I'll see you two at dinner."

Ominis and Norah watched him leave, with an unusual skip in his step as the doors of the Undercroft closed behind him. That left the two of them alone. The two of them turned to each other. "You know," Norah went to the couch near the fireplace and sat down. As she saw Ominis follow her, there was something she noticed. It had only occurred to her how the usually-prim and proper Ominis Gaunt, looked a little too casual this time. His tie was loose, and judging from the outlines of his sweater, his waistcoat was undone. She remembered the button she saw on the desk in the Room of Requirement. "If we look for this chamber, it'll just be like the time we went back to the mine."

"Going into the mine again seems like a better adventure than to revisit Salazar Slytherin's old...haunts," Ominis said quietly. "First the Scriptorium and now this...what am I getting into with you?"

"Me?" Norah chuckled.

Ominis wanted to say something more. Yes, you. I find myself in these situations because it's so easy for you to convince me. One word from you and I'm in, all the way. I'm crazy about you, he thought. "You've got a habit of risking your life. Maybe you belong in Gryffindor."

Norah snorted. "I think it was my ambition to see everything through that's what got me into Slytherin. But I suppose you are right," She smiled. "I have been told I look good in red."

"Told by who?" Ominis raised a brow, a sly smile creeping up on his face.

"Told by plenty of people. Outside Hogwarts, that is," Norah continued to joke, wanting to see the blonde laugh. She smiled to herself. "Any plans for Christmas holiday? I'm going home."

"I-" Ominis stopped to think. "I was thinking of going with Sebastian to Feldcroft. But then it would just be the two of us since Anne's going back to St. Mungo's by the time we arrive. I'd hate to think I'd have to go back home. All eyes would be on me since Marvolo's definitely going to spend Christmas with his wife."

That gave Norah an idea. "Do you want to spend Christmas with my family?" She asked. "My parents would love to have you all come and have Christmas with us. Although, we should probably be careful in case our muggle neighbors catch anything."

"Where do you live?" Ominis was curious, tilting his head toward her.

"London," Norah replied. She sat up. "Then that's settled. You, Sebastian, and Anne can spend Christmas with me and my family in London! We'll have a good time. It's going to be my first Christmas at home since fifth year."

Ominis' expression softened. No way was he not going to take that chance. "That...that would be nice."

He could tell Norah was grinning from ear to ear. "I'll write to my parents right away. The guest rooms have to be ready for the three of you. I'd invite Natty to come too, but she'll obviously be spending it with Professor Onai. Henry's also going home."

"In that case," Ominis took a breath as he turned to face Norah. "Will you go with me to the Yule Ball?"

"...What?" Norah stared at him, her expression dropping in surprise.

"Will you...go with me to the Yule Ball?" Ominis repeated. "Sebastian was thinking of asking Adele, so that leaves me alone."

She studied his expression to discern whether he was serious. "...Were you going with Sebastian to the ball?"

Ominis snorted, making her laugh. "That's not what I meant. I meant-" He paused, clearing his throat. "If no one's asked you, I suppose we can go together. If you'd like to, that is."

"Yes, we can go together," Norah smiled.

~

There was a reason why Sebastian hastily left the Undercroft. The very reason was behind the fireplace in the library, where the quidditch uniform-clad Adele was waiting rather anxiously. She lit the fire so as not to attract any attention, and at the moment, she didn't want to be noticed. The fire was immediately put out by a blast of ice, making her stand up from the chair, and in came Sebastian, who dropped his bag and scarf. Sebastian quickly lit the fire again before taking her into his arms, the two of them kissing each other hungrily.

"Spin the Bottle's certainly changed your tune," She smirked against his lips, making him lean in for more. Sebastian held her flush against him, backing her against the wall. "It's certainly changed mine..."

The Slytherin boy hummed, his hands roaming her back, wanting to maybe remove the robe as his hands momentarily brushed against the hems. "I needed some closure, that's all..."

"Closure?" Adele pulled away slightly, her lips barely away from his. Both of their cheeks were flushed, his lips especially swollen. "Finally got over her, huh?"

"Yeah. I'm not mad about it," Sebastian pecked her lips a few times. "I hope you're not."

"The Slytherin heartthrob, Sebastian Sallow," Adele grinned, her hands in his hair. "We really need to stop meeting like this."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, we've been meeting like this since the party," Adele's fingers were tangled in his locks. "I mean we should go on a proper date. It won't be long before people find out about you and me..."

Sebastian rested his forehead on hers. "I know, I know. It's just-"

"You think Nellie might find it weird?" Adele was curious. "She's so hung up on Amit, if you must know, I don't think she'll mind one bit."

Her breath hitched when Sebastian leaned in to kiss her neck. "...You knew Nellie and I used to date?" He muttered against her skin.

"Who doesn't know you and Nellie used to date?" Adele closed her eyes, sighing in content. When Sebastian started sucking on her neck, she gently pulled away a little to make him stop. "No hickies, please. No one on the team's going to live it down," She whispered.

"Alright," Sebastian sighed, leaning back up to kiss her. "You know, on the way here, I spotted Henry and Natty snogging near the Restricted Section."

Adele giggled and shook her head. "Those two have been snogging every chance they get. Get used to it," She kissed him, making him smirk.

"Alright, alright. It's not like I told them I saw them," Sebastian said in between kisses. "Then Hogsmeade this weekend?"

Adele nodded, nipping his lower lip. "I'd love to."

"And then the Yule Ball?"

"I'd love to too," Adele smiled. "About time you asked me."

They pulled away, the Slytherin boy looking at her in awe. "Good thing we agreed to this, Adele Kang."

"Likewise, Sallow."

~

Amit was up in the Astronomy tower, taking deep breaths. He was finally going to do it. He was finally going to make clear whether or not he wanted a relationship. It was between Samantha and Nellie, two of the coolest girls in school, and two of the coolest in sixth year. He didn't want to lead them on any longer. Amit took a step forward, then another, and then another, until he found himself in the Transfiguration courtyard.

There Nellie was, laughing and chatting with Adelaide Oakes, who seemed to throw glances in his direction. Amit cleared his throat and approached her, his palms starting to get a little sweaty. "Uh Nellie, can I have a word with you?" He asked, trying to suppress his nerves.

Nellie smiled and got up. "I'll talk to you in a bit, Adelaide," She said. "We should go in that room," She pointed to the closet next to the doors that led to the Bell tower.

Amit nodded, following her confident strides towards the room, closing the door behind him and locking it for the meantime. Once he closed the door, he was met with a pair of lips on his own. His eyes widened in surprise as Nellie pulled away, looking quite hopeful.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," She giggled. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

There was no time like the present.

"I'm not looking for a relationship right now," Amit blurted out.

The Gryffindor girl's expression fell. "...What?"

"I'm," Amit paused. "Not looking for a relationship right now."

Nellie looked down. "...Is it because you're actually in love with Samantha?"

The Ravenclaw boy shook his head. "No, it's not because of that. I just think a relationship is not something I'm looking for right now, what with NEWTs and preparing for seventh year. I still don't know what I want to do with my life, and I know that getting into a relationship when this is what's happening is wrong."

"So do I. So does everyone," Nellie said quietly, her eyes welling with tears.

Amit took her hands in his own. "I know, but for me, I want to be fully committed, I want to be ready when I do. I want to get my life together before thinking about pursuing anyone."

Nellie nodded. "I...understand. I understand," She burst into tears and unlocked the door to leave, Amit sighing as he could hear her sobs.

He still needed to go to the greenhouses. Amit quietly slipped into the corridor of the History of Magic classroom. He needed to get it over with even if it meant he'd have to hear both girls cry. The Ravenclaw boy soon found himself in Central Hall and down the stairs to the greenhouses. As he walked in, he saw Samantha sitting on the bench by the dirigible plum tree. "Samantha?" He called out, making the brunette look up.

"Over here," She waved him over, making him climb down the stairs. Samantha patted the space next to her.

Amit took another breath as he joined her. "So," He turned to face her. "I need to tell you something."

"You're not ready for a relationship."

He stared at her. "You knew I was going to say that?"

Samantha nodded. "I overheard you talking to Henry about it, so I've known for a while."

Amit cleared his throat. "Then, I want to say it to you. I'm not looking for a relationship right now."

Samantha looked crestfallen, tearing up at his words. "...Wow. It doesn't make it hurt less."

"I'm sorry, I really am," Amit tried to explain. "I just want to explain why."

Samantha shook her head. "Please don't. We both know it's because of Nellie."

"No, no, it isn't," Amit sighed. "I actually came from the Transfiguration courtyard. I told Nellie the same thing. I'm not looking for a relationship at all."

"Oh," Samantha looked down. "And then I was beginning to think it was also because of Norah. Everyone seems to fancy her."

Amit shook his head. "It's not because of Norah, but I see why you'd say that. She's been telling me to tell both of you how I felt because she said it was wrong to keep leading both of you on."

Samantha's expression stiffened. "So it is because she told you to."

"What? No, no it isn't! She's my friend, Samantha," Amit tried to explain.

But Samantha, however, wasn't having it. "Friend? She's been telling you all this time to tell me and Nellie. She-she couldn't handle not being the center of attention so she made you think like this, didn't she?"

Amit's eyes widened. "Samantha, please-"

She got up. "And then I was naive enough to ask for her help in putting that crest back to Marmaduke's tomb...I turn my back and she doesn't hesitate to stab me."

Amit shook his head. "Samantha! She has nothing to do with this!" He said. "You're sounding like you want me to date both you and Nellie at the same time."

Samantha huffed, glaring daggers at him. "Amit Thakkar, I can't believe you'd be so easily tricked into breaking things off under the pretense of not wanting a relationship."

"Because it's true! I'm not looking for one right now!" Amit kept glancing around in case someone was nearby. It was certain that Professor Garlick was in one of them. "Even before Norah said anything, I knew I wasn't looking for one!"

Samantha was still glaring daggers at him, and she hastily wiped the tear that rolled down her cheek. "Amit, I like you. I really do."

"I'm sorry," Amit stood up. "I never meant to hurt you. Please know that."

Samantha wiped her eyes. "I just-I just need to be alone right now, Amit."

He nodded and walked off, his head hung as he heard Samantha's sobs. Amit felt like the grim reaper as he went back to the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, back to the Astronomy tower to continue filling out his star charts. It wouldn't be long before many of the people in their year knew about it. As he passed by the Room of Requirement, he saw Norah coming out, fixing her supply of newly brewed potions.

"Oh hey," She said. "Something wrong?"

"I told Nellie and Samantha," Amit revealed. "I made clear to them that I wasn't looking for a relationship and-" He swallowed. "I think I need to stop hanging out with you, or be seen with you."

Norah looked confused. "What?"

"Samantha thinks you tricked me into breaking things off with her and Nellie. I tried to explain but it seems like she won't listen to me."

"Oh...I'm sorry," Norah tried to pat his shoulder, only for him to step back.

"No, please Norah, I hope you understand. I'm doing this for you too. If Samantha thinks that way, there's a chance people might have overheard and start thinking of you the same way."

Norah nodded, fully realizing the situation. "Still, I'm sorry you've had to go through that."

Amit looked down. "Yeah, I am now going through that. We'll hang out again when things have died down. Sorry, Norah."

He sighed and walked off, climbing up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower.

[jhsharman]

Uncle Steven?

The arbitrary decision making keeps "death sentence" regarding the prospects of a boxing match with Reggie but --

switches "kill" to "hurts". An anachronism for sure, high school boxing -- as too any PE instruction. Then too, escaped gorillas aren't happening much these days either.

Kids today don't know from Gene Autry.

Uncle Steven?

So, the problem comes in that they ret-conned Jughead as Bingo Wilkin's cousin, meaning they both share an uncle Herman. And now they share an Uncle Steven. The would-be inventor of a handful of 1950s Jughead comic book stories who'd get sent to an insane asylum here and there. See a reference to such here.

Curious, though, this allusion to prison made instead.

So. Uncle Herman / Steven thinks he turned Jughead into a gorilla. And -- intoxication not allowed in Archie Comics this century?

Send the call.

Yes. The inmates are running the asylum. Curious both ways, in that the revision -- I guess -- just hints at a desire for wacky stuff around the desk. The propeller beanie makes all the difference. And, revised, the story ends. Not wanting to show the offensive to psychiatric ailments classics.

[arjunrajsingh]

Finding the Perfect Budget Hotel in White Town: Pondicherry is Affordable Charm

The French flavoured heart of Pondicherry, White Town, is famous for its colourful colonial architecture, a serene ambiance and a lively street life. Its streets seem an anachronism: tree-lined avenues, pastel colour building, and charming cafes on every corner. It’s a great idea to stay in a budget hotel in White Town and get a taste of this beautiful place without overdoing what you pay. This gives you both convenience and comfort, which allows you to have the best Pondicherry offers in terms of history and culture.

Why not Stay in a Budget Hotel in White Town?

For anyone wanting to be close to the main attractions of White Town, choosing a budget hotel is an advantage. Reason being, the French Quarter is surrounded by picturesque surroundings, popular landmarks, and here they are; not far from the coastline and, of course, where many tourists desire to come to. You can go out and explore attractions such as the famous Rock Beach, Aurobindo Ashram and Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Jesus without having to spend much travelling, as you are located in such a budget hotel.

His nearby location also means that a budget hotel stay places you close to cafes, galleries, shops and weekend markets, so you can spend more time out and about, and less time on the road. White Town is compact enough to walk, giving it a good chance to soak in the views at your own pace.

Affordable Comfortable Stays

It doesn’t mean that you can’t stay in a comfortable hotel in White Town. But this is one of the most budget friendly cities in Europe and most budget hotels here have comfortable, clean rooms with basic amenities such wifi, ac, and 24 hour front desk service. Some of these budget hotels also provide you complimentary breakfast or in house dining options so that you might begin your day with a tasty meal without extra expenses.

White Town’s budget hotels tend to have simple yet charming decor of the sort that you’d find in the French Quarter, minimalistic and often colourful. These hotels are cosy and comfortable hotel for when you are travelling solo, with a partner, or as a family that just need to relax after a day of exploring the city.

Close to White Town’s Best Attractions

Accessing some of Pondicherry’s famous attractions is easy — one of the greatest benefits of staying in a budget hotel in White Town. It’s a few minutes walk to Rock Beach, where you can grace your sunrise walk along the promenade, or sit with the ocean. South India’s charm, its beaches, golf courses, art galleries, quaint book stores and cafes offering both South Indian and French inspired treats line the streets of White Town.

Within walking distance also is Aurobindo Ashram, a peaceful retreat for meditation and self reflection. Among other things they do is visit the nearby Manakula Vinayagar Temple, which, along with being a historic Hindu temple dedicated to Lord Ganesha, one also uses as a detoxifying ritual. White Town is still within driving distance of these sites so you can actually experience them and see the unique French Indian cultural blend that results from the mixing.

Go out exploring Local Cuisine and Cafes.

If you’re a food lover, then staying in a budget hotel in White Town is a dream. There’s a lot of cafes and restaurants there serving either French or or traditional South Indian dishes. A short walk from your hotel, you can have a coffee and croissant at a French bakery; or dosa and chutney from a South Indian eatery and finish the day.

From high end to street, food is plentiful in Chiang Mai with each of the local dining scene available at whichever price point you are looking for. It’s a budget friendly option to stay in White Town because you can get to taste the vibrant tastes of Pondicherry while staying there.

Value and Convenience

A budget hotel in White Town gives you great value when it comes to not only staying but also while you commute. You can walk to most places near White Town and the variety of attractions means you can avoid having to eat out which can save a lot of money, plus there’re a number of picturesque views to take in on the walk. This area is great since you can enjoy the best of Pondicherry without spending a fortune.

When on a trip to the White Town side of Pondicherry, it is best to stay in a budget hotel there, for it will help you experience the French quarter’s charm and history. White Town offers affordable and comfortable accommodation and close proximity to top attractions while offering helpful travel tips for getting eating options in the area. If you are coming for the heritage sites, the beach or the odd mixture of cultures, but don't want to blow your budget then a budget hotel in White Town allows you to do all without the strain.

[anachronic-cobra]

The Goncharov meme has exposed several really interesting things:

1) It highlights tumblr as actual social media based in community effort rather than status

2) It shows what tumblr as a whole values in media (in particular, queer representation, strong relationships between characters, emotional catharsis, and dichotomy of themes such as spending one's life building a legacy versus just living life)

3) Tumblr humor is based primarily in improv "yes and-ing" and commitment to the bit, and people will put 200% effort into pushing the bit even further if the bit keeps being fun

4) More than anything, people want to entertain each other, and being in a community that values entertaining others leads to incredible collaborative works of creativity that don't even feel like work to make

[anachronic-cobra]

Not enough Danny Phantom fics capitalize on the second hand embarrassment that is Lancer trying to be "hip" and "connect with the youth". I want him to have a serious moment of somber advice and care for his students interspersed with godawful long-dead 80s slang, and when someone tells him he's pretty cool for a teacher he gets OUTRAGEOUSLY excited over the fact that the "teen lingo" books are working