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I think it's a good addition to the series you've got going.

As the party moved forward, Kur'nak could tell that many were shaken by the scene. He didn't realize that he was shaken until he felt a small hand gripping his own. He looked down to see that Luxury, tears in her eyes and a look of determination on her face, had taken his hand. For his reassurance or her own he didn't know. He squeezed gently, in a way that he hoped said "I've got you. We're in this together."

This is from "Catastrophe Theory: Return to Sender". It's a side story that focuses on Kur'nak during the Invasion. It isn't the last thing I was writing, but it is the most recent that doesn't contain massive spoilers that I don't want getting out at the moment.

-Phobos

Ankur Ket arrived from the inner reaches of his garden without fanfare, but no Astartes could help but draw attention to himself with his sheer presence. He stepped into position in the focal point of the bench, and every eye turned inexorably to him.

40k fanfic! Well, 30k, really. This was going to be for the "secret" prompt, but then I got sick, and I haven't written anything for about two weeks, so yeah. I'll finish it at some point.

And, just cuz, the tenth paragraph from the mission I'm working on:

“What nonsense!”

{; P

~Neshomeh

Ix yelped and fell off the sofa, landing with a whump. She tripped over her skirts as she stood, then hiked them up as she hurried to silence the console. Her face contorted. “We were supposed to get time off, not a mission!”

...And, because I'm feeling particularly sadistic, this one's from the entry I'll be posting for next month's Badfic Games. (They come in just nine days, I have to be ready!)

"You smell delicious," Lord Faolan purred, one hand cupping the back of Charlus' head as he sniffed his neck. The Omega smelled like fragrance and honeysuckle and moondew and desire. "Oh, my little wolf, you've been eager for me, haven't you?"

...

...

...

Yeah, I'm gonna regret this. :P

Open the last writing project you worked on. Post the tenth paragraph from the last chapter you worked on. If it doesn't have chapters, go from the top or the bottom, your choice. If it doesn't have ten paragraphs, pick one. PPC, fanfic, original works, a paper for homework, a grocery list - it doesn't matter. Just find something you have written and have fun sharing!

I went with a third option and used the "Source Editor" by default. I seem to remember that I’ve just recently seen those little boxes of categories and media when I chose the "Visual Editor" from the Edit Button’s menu, but either I’ve dreamed that or it doesn’t work anymore. I’ve now set my preference to "Classic rich-text editor (where available)". (Any idea what’s to do where it’s not available? /rhetorical question)

HG

Also, the ritual coffee is not fair trade and you forgot to set out a vegan offering, just in case.

^_~

(If I'd responded to this in time, I would've posted as Sister Boot Knife of Looking at Both Sides of the Question and attacked the problem with compassion and an open mind.)

~Neshomeh

You must double declarer at least once within the next two rounds. If you lose points, it's your own fault for not doubling sooner.

D'Jitalspass is Digitalspace, which is where the Oddlots site was hosted (ie, the former PPC homepage). The Lighthouse and Waterfall roads are just geographical names. Tangodown was the name of a project DML occasionally plugged; I don't actually know what it was, but I needed a name, so. No idea about Nechsiv.

I'll poke Castle Flayme at some point, but I don't think the castle was ever reoccupied. La Wunj I think is definitely occupied, and Godreve... heh, every time I think Ekyl has wandered away for good he pops back in, so I think we have to assume he's still mayor or whatever.

As for removing categories, you should be able to... are you using the Visual Editor or the Classic version? The latter has a little box of categories down the right hand side, which you can delete them from; I can actually do this while logged out entirely, so.

hS

As far as birthdays went, Victoria Brown's nineteenth was shaping up to be pretty rotten.

She'd graduated Hogwarts the June before, a witch ready to make her mark on the world. June had become July, and the Ministry responded to her application with a form rejection, her name misspelled on the first and only page. July had become August, and Obscurus Books, a safe bet for a Ravenclaw, even a muggle-born one, hadn't returned her owls. Now it was late September, and Brown had sent resumes to the Junk Shop in Diagon and the local Tesco.

Staying in touch with friends was proving harder than she'd expected, too. Portsmouth was a long ways from everywhere, in both the muggle and magical worlds, and there was only so much a cellphone and an owl could do to keep up with friends who were happily finding jobs, love, and other things.

On the other hand, Brown was finding books. At least there were libraries here, and authors writing about history or space or magic, close to the truth but wrong in enough ways that she could tell they didn't have a clue it was real. She could walk to the nearest library almost by habit, just a muggle with a wand in her bag and, occasionally, when nobody was looking, an owl on her shoulder.

Habit was useful, this morning- the September fog had been getting thicker over the last few weeks, until it was dense enough that it shrouded the city around the clock. Everything was muffled, the preternatural hush of a world waiting for the weather to change.

Brown's feet had carried her down to the university. Today felt like a non-fiction day, and the library there was tempting for all that it was by the water, and thus even deeper in the gloom of the fog.

It wasn't until her hand hit glass that she realized that something was wrong. Habit was habit, she'd walked to her favorite coffee shop first- except it wasn't there. The building didn't even have a storefront, for all that it was on the little high street that ran alongside the university. It was just empty, anonymous windows in a forgettable brick facade.

Wrong turns happened. Brown stepped back, looked around, confirmed her bearings. This certainly seemed to be the place- Guildhall Walk, across from the-

The New Theater Royal was missing. Mostly. There was a facade in its place, sure, white porch in front of brickwork, but it looked flat and empty, like it was painted on an unimportant corner of one of the backdrops inside.

Brown glanced both ways before digging out her wand. This smelled like magic, for all that she'd never heard of it. Some strange form of concealment charm, perhaps?

Thoughts of counterspells vanished from her mind when a thing that had once been a car drifted past. It moved aimlessly, as though it moved out of habit rather than any motive force- and instead of windows, there was just a broad black stripe wrapping around the vaguely-bloated shape.

Brown didn't run. Running was a bad idea. Brown walked quickly back the way she'd come, wand in hand but forgotten.

It was all wrong, the details washing out of the world. There had been an old half-timbered building on the corner, now it was just a boxy building, white concrete and blank windows. There had been a little restaurant, catering to students with bright text on signs, now it was just a blank wall with "pizza" painted on it. Even that was fading, flaking, vanishing entirely.

Brown made it to the imposingly-named Winston Churchill Avenue, just to find it deserted. There were no people, there were no cars, real or car-things or anything, just fog and the looming sense of buildings. She walked around the railings, looked both ways before crossing the street.

There was a building on the far side, she was pretty sure- but it didn't loom out of the fog. The sidewalk just ended, an edge opening into mist. Brown turned to go back, but there was nothing there, either- the curb-stone was the edge of the abyss on that side, leaving her on an island of sidewalk, floating in foggy nothingness.

A shrinking island of sidewalk. Every time Brown turned it had lost size where she wasn't looking, squares of concrete vanishing into nothingness. It was ten meters across, and then five, and then she blinked and it was down to a three-by-three grid of pavers, barely a meter to a side.

There were ways out of this. Brown tried to picture home, somewhere safe to apparate to. She couldn't do it- nor could she visualize the library, or the coffee shop, or the shore, or anywhere that was close enough that she felt she had a chance of getting there safely. London and Hogwarts were clearer but further, and the rising wave of panic made it clear that long-distance apparation was out of the question.

Her phone was similarly useless- low battery, no signal, no messages.

It felt like it was getting darker, or maybe her mind was playing tricks on her with nothing but fog to look at. That, at least, was fixable. Brown raised her wand, said "lumos!", winced at the sudden, clear glare of the charm.

And then there wasn't anything else to do. Brown sat, a witch in jeans and a sweater and a blue-and-bronze scarf loosely around her neck, and waited for the end of the world.

And waited for the end of the world.

And waited.

Who knew that ceasing to exist was so boring?

The next thing Brown heard, a moment, an eternity later, almost sounded like an air-raid siren. It was accompanied by something fading into existence, for once- a blue box, a police box, butted up against her square of sidewalk like a ship against a quay.

Brown tried to stand, to face the TARDIS with some semblance of dignity, just to find that one of her legs was asleep.

"Sorry to bother you, doc-" she started, as the door opened.

The person inside the TARDIS wasn't any Doctor that Brown knew. She looked like she could have been a student at the university, young and dark-haired and equal parts short and strong, as she demonstrated by casually hooking one of Brown's arms over her shoulder and pulling her to her feet.

"Not me, I'm afraid," she said, walking Brown into the TARDIS. "Call me Grace. Let's get you out of here, hm?"

Se-vah – Server
Yuwebap – the 'yourwebapps' part of the Board's URL
Disc – the 'disc' part of the Board's URL
D'Jitalspass – (no idea, digital something?)
Hoe'm Payj – Home page
De'endee –'Dungeons and Dragons' (D&D)
Risersh – Research
Sozeri – Sorcery
Bhot – Bot
Nechsiv – (no idea)
Tango Down – (Probably a website)
Lighthouse Road – (Probably just the possibility that, running along the coast, it may pass a lighthouse.)
Waterfall Road – (Probably just the possibility that, running along a river, it may pass a waterfall.)

Apparently I’m not allowed to remove pages from categories; thus there are still places in Iric as well as in the Diskord or the Riding.

The history of Castle Flayme is beyond a humble apprentice’s abilities (should we just scratch "; since her return, she has been a baron without a barony", or should we acknowledge that July reclaimed her barony, but then left again?) I’ll leave this (and choosing the appropriate map) to the shared responsibility of Barons Neshomeh and Huinesoron.

Since we’re talking about shared places at borders, apparently

• La Wunj is in Barony Juliette and in Barony Larf (former Barony Vixenmage), but governed by nobody, because it is still abandoned.
  
• Godreve is in Barony Eshakhar and in Barony Huinesoron, but still governed by Sir Ekyl.

Clarifying whether this is true I’ll leave to the local residents.

HG