So Merlin fandom. It’s me again. I’ve been thinking there should be a subgenre of canon-divergent fic where Arthur is crowned King and repeals the ban on magic without finding out about Merlin
and the remaining sorcerers and sorceresses all vie for favour from the king, while being very vocal about how they know they’ll never compete with Emrys.
And Arthur (privately) is like Emrys? and starts trying to search him out.
At the same time, Merlin starts sending Arthur tokens as Emrys, probably hoping that if Emrys is playing the game, Arthur won’t single him out
but,
the gifts are really tokens of affection. All other people with magic are giving these dramatic flair that show off their power, and Emrys gives Arthur things Arthur wants or needs or are personal.
And so Arthur now thinks Emrys is omniscient and also maybe courting him
sit down, kids, i’m gonna tell you a fucking story about california city.
imagine it’s the 1960s. we’re gonna fucking go to SPACE and there’s hella people who wanna OWN LAND because if you own land then you’re rich and shit. everybody wants to own land in the 1960s. owning land is like the iPhone of the 1960s, and nat mendelsohn knows it.
“yo,” nat says to himself one day, “nobody lives in the mojave desert and that shit’s basically like FREE LAND. what if i just buy the mojave desert for real cheap and sell it to people so they can FULFILL THE AMERICAN DREAM and OWN SOME LAND.”
so he bought the mojave desert and did exactly that.
(historical accuracy note: nat did not buy the entire mojave desert. he did buy a huge fucking chunk of it, though, so the statement ‘he bought the mojave desert’ is accurate, if slightly misleading.)
once nat had bought the mojave desert, he split it up into a bunch of lots and drew some roads and put in some street signs so it looked like the first five minutes of when you’re playing the sims and you haven’t actually built any buildings yet but you’re trying to plan out where the fuck your house is gonna go and where your shitty neighbors are gonna go.
with like ¼th of a city planned, nat then had huge planefuls of people flown in so he could show him all the streets and shit he’d marked out for his city and hopefully sell them a piece of this city. they were gonna have a huge park and swimming pools and white picket fences and it was gonna be AWESOME.
he made BOATFULS OF MONEY selling these plots of land. everyone fucking owned a california city plot. my own great-grandmother owned a california city plot. it was gonna be BIGGER THAN LOS ANGELES and they could all build cute lil cookie cutter 1960s houses and plant lawns and have backyard barbecues with the fam. california city was gonna be POPPIN’, but everyone had to move there first.
this is where nat’s choice of making a city in the middle of the desert was REALLY FUCKING STUPID.
kids, if you’ve never been to a desert then it’s gonna be impossible to explain why moving to the middle of the mojave desert is a stupid fucking plan. instead, i’ll just tell you this: california city is located just 65 miles from DEATH VALLEY NATIONAL PARK, which is the hottest place on the face of the earth. california city isn’t much cooler than death valley, let me tell you, and even the native los angeles residents who now owned california city plots were kinda rethinking moving to the middle of bumfuck nowhere to be part of this poppin’ new california city.
“fam,” those people said to their squad on the telephone because it’s the 1960s and group chat hasn’t been invented yet, “i dunno about this california city thing. yeah, my boy nat says it’s gonna be LIT but also it’s in the mojave desert and i’m not sure if he mean lit like ‘turned up’ or lit like ‘your ass is gonna be lit on fire if you try to sit down in this hundred degree heat.’ maybe we should just move to burbank. at least they have movie stars and shit plus i don’t gotta build a whole fucking house.”
so nobody but like three people moved into california city.
(historical accuracy note: it was like three hundred people, but that makes it sound impressive for those of you that come from places where three hundred people living in bumfuck nowhere is actually a lot of people living in bumfuck nowhere so please just imagine three people, by themselves, in the desert. way more accurate representation of how many people actually showed up versus were supposed to show up.)
those three people sure built a functional, working city, though. they got an AIRPORT! they got a BASEBALL TEAM! they got the EDWARDS AIR FORCE BASE nearby, so everyone’s got jobs! all the borax for those middle school kids that are selling slime probably comes from the BORAX MINE in california city! and by golly they got their fucking park.
it’s a cool place, aside from the fact that it always feels like you’re being cooked alive in an oven except for in the winter when it’s fucking freezing because deserts want to kill you no matter what season it is.
and that’s the story of why california’s third largest city has less than fifteen thousand people living in it.
TL;DR: local man ran successful kickstarter for a planned city but found out if you don’t actually build it, they ain’t gonna come.
this reads like a bill wurtz video and the all caps are the jingles
“hello,” the dark lord said, “i need a library card.”
“everyone needs a library card,” the librarian said brightly, sliding a form across the desk. “fill this out.”
the dark lord produced her own elaborated plumed quill from the depths of her robes and scrawled her name in handwriting that was completely illegible but seemed to whisper the secrets of the dark from the blinding white page. “yes, but i need mine in order to take over the tri-kingdom area.”
the librarian’s polite smile barely faltered. “funny, the last dark lord to try that didn’t bother with a card.”
“yes, and do you see that fool currently ruling our kingdom? no. of course not. utterly ridiculous, to attempt to take over any size country without a library card, much less an intermediate-sized one like this.” she accepted the thin plastic card with a gracious flourish of her gloved hand.
the librarian, adding the new card’s number to the database, privately agreed, but chose not to say anything.
the librarian balanced the pile of pulled books under one elbow and held the list of call numbers in their hand for easy consultation. “intermediate spell casting for grades three and four,” they murmured, running fingers along the peeling spines until they found it. “willing to bet that’s sorrel’s request.”
they fit the large, paperbound book under their elbow and moved on, checking the list again. “magical creatures encyclopedia, L through M. that’s jackaby trying to finish the entire set by midsummer.” they would get that one last to carry it around the shortest amount of time.
“next — the complete guide to raising the dead.” they paused in front of the row of shelves with the right call numbers. they could guess the requester of that one too, but knew better than to say it out loud.
the return slot thunked loudly as it swung open and closed, having swallowed the returned books with a wet gulp.
“good morning,” the dark lord said pleasantly as she looked up from sliding her books in — or as pleasantly as “good morning” could sound when it was uttered by a voice that sounded like gravel being chewed to pieces by the jaws of a large monster.
“it is, very,” the librarian said crisply, conjuring a clean handkerchief for the still-slobbering return slot.
the mouth just visible under the dark lord’s enormous cloak hood curved into a scythe’s blade smile, but she said nothing else.
“did you enjoy your books?” the librarian asked, since she wasn’t moving and there were no other people waiting (most likely because of the dark lord standing there).
the hood nodded up and down. “extremely. especially the taped lecture by doctor dramidius ardorius of the dark arts institute.”
“well, we have many more taped lectures. i especially recommend the one on the healing powers of tea.” they tilted their head in a now get out sign. the poor steam-powered self-checkout contraption would get overheated if people were too scared to check out at the front desk.
they didn’t really expect the dark lord to take the recommendation seriously, but the next day they noticed the cloaked, hooded specter glide out the door with the taped lecture on magic-infused herbal teas tucked between a CD of dark chants and a step-by-step art book on drawing occult symbols.
“you give good recommendations,” the dark lord said with a shrug when the librarian raised their eyes from the front desk’s computer to the shadows of her hood.
the librarian wasn’t sure what to say. “you seem to take up quite a lot of my time.”
“i’m only a simple library patron,” the dark lord replied in a saintly voice that resembled a dragon coughing up a partially digested house. “do you enjoy mermaid song?”
“yes. you can find the library’s collection in the CD section over there.” they looked pointedly back down at the computer.
“i hear there’s a concert on the shore tomorrow evening.”
“perhaps we’ll get a recording of it.”
the dark lord continued taking out books on various unsavory topics. the librarian continued suggesting books on healing, positive thinking, and community service. the dark lord seemed more amused with each visit. her smile was almost charming, when you got past the long, sharp teeth.
the librarian was trying to go about their usual morning ritual of pulling books that had been requested the night before, but the dark lord wouldn’t stop making faces at them from behind gaps in the shelves. she seemed to find it hilarious. the librarian hadn’t decided yet if they were amused or annoyed.
“ooh, look at this,” the dark lord said, pulling a sturdy but beaten up board book featuring a werewolf mid-transformation on the cover from the shelf. “this was my favorite when i was just a little menace.”
“somehow i’m not surprised.”
the dark lord tucked the book into the ridiculous basket made of a large skull that floated alongside her. “didn’t you have a favorite picture book when you were little?”
“Barker the Sentient Book End,” the librarian said promptly. “i screamed for it every night until someone read it to me, long after i’d already memorized each page.”
the dark lord cooed, sounding like a cross between an owl and something eating an owl. “adorable. i knew you had a little monster in you somewhere.”
the librarian crossly debated denying being a monster at all or pointing out they had actual kraken blood in them.
they should have guessed how close the dark lord was from how good her mood was, but it wasn’t until they arrived at work on monday that the librarian heard the news.
“the newest dark lord managed to overthrow the faeyrie monarchy last night. something about combining traditional herbal spells with a newfangled mental magic based on the power of willful thinking… or something. the news reporter mentioned the use of mermaid song in a mild kind of mind control, i think? i wasn’t listening. the good news is, our budget stays in place.”
the librarian contemplated hurling the can of bookmarks across the room, but concluded that it would be both unprofessional and unsatisfying. they settled for aggressively stamping returned, only slightly saliva-covered books with red ink.
the phone clicked loudly. “public library, how can i help you?”
“by taking my offer,” the dark lord said, slightly hesitant voice like a rock slide that wasn’t sure it was ready to slide. “the royal library in the capital needs a new head librarian.”
“why’s that?” the librarian spun in their new swivel chair, tangling the phone cord while they were at it, thinking they wouldn’t want to leave so soon after getting it.
there was a cough like the ocean spitting out a new island. “erm, hmm, last one got… eaten. tragic. these things happen when you’re very, very small, you know.”
“so i’ve heard.” the librarian stretched the phone cord and watched it bounce back. “well, i’m happy where i am.”
“well.” her voice was more disappointed than they’d expected. “it’s a very nice library, you know. large selection of mermaid song in the CD section.”
“the royal library is part of our system. i can request any materials from there that i want to be delivered here.”
a pause. the dark lord had not considered this. “well, maybe i’ll take the royal library out of the system.”
“you wouldn’t dare disrupt the workings of our very intricate library system set up at the dawn of time.”
“maybe i would!”
“no.”
“fine. i wouldn’t.”
the librarian swiveled some more, wrapping the cord around with them until it ran out of give and spun them in the other direction. “would you like to grab a coffee sometime?”
“yes,” the dark lord said, voice too surprised to resemble anything in particular. “i can travel down meet you tomorrow morning.”
“don’t you have things to do?”
they could sense the shrug from the other end of the line. “i’ll move the capital to your town. i can do that, you know. i’m the supreme ruler of the tri-kingdom area.”
“yes,” the librarian agreed, un-spinning to return the phone to its cradle. “just don’t forget who gave you the library card.”
pop culture intertextuality is just so damn *fascinating*
today a parody movie (50 shades of black) comes out, based on the 50 shades of grey movie, which was based on the 50 shades book, which was based on twilight, which was somewhat based on interview with the vampire (which anne rice based on an earlier short story she wrote), which was based on Dracula and other vampire stories, which originally came from Dr. John Polidori’s The Vampyre (even though Vampires were a thing in folk tales before then, he was the one who made them all classy, etc.)
so really, like so many things, this is all Lord Byron’s fault.
I just have to add that the Pirates of the Caribbean movies are based of an amusement park ride which is based on a movie which is based on a book.
In over 50 thousand notes this is the best addition to my post.
Of all the skills that futurists predicted would become valuable in the era of constant communication, I don’t think anybody saw “conversational multithreading” coming.
No, I don’t mean holding multiple conversations with different people at the same time. I mean holding two or more completely separate conversations with the same person, via the same medium, at the same time.
Like when you’re texting, and the person on the other end asks you a question, then mentally eight-tracks and asks a different, unrelated question before you’ve finished keying in your response to the first one. So you answer the first question, and a conversation based on that answer ensues; then you answer the second question, and a totally different conversation based on that answer ensues, and now you’re having two separate conversations with the same person at the same time, and have to keep track of which responses pertain to which conversation purely from context.
Sometimes I wonder what the generational cutoff for that seeming unusual is – I didn’t pick up the skill until I was like thirty, so there’s always that undercurrent of generational novelty there.
The only way this differs from my from my day to day existence is that normally my off topic ADHD question tangents are verbal instead of typed
sparksoffandommagic 