#25 caliber

[jadeseadragon]

Small Colt 25 Caliber Handgun, ca. 1915, the grip is a replacement. The holster is also newer.

This gun was a gift from my paternal grandfather to my grandmother just before he left to join the troops in WWI. They were white but lived in Fort Yates, ND on the Standing Rock Reservation with the Hunkpapa Lakota. I'm not sure whether he saw action or not, but he thought SHE needed protection. (She didn't.)

My father gave it to me and I gave it to my son. I wanted it kept in the family. It's missing a "magazine" and won't fire. I don't want or need a working gun in my home.

[toaster-boi]

no idea why i do this but in conventional first-person shooters (mostly Battlefield) i always just try to immediately unlock all the sidearms locked behind stringent requirements but never go for the actual primary weapons.

this results in me running around with a Desert Eagle, the rarest sidearm in Battlefield 4, despite not having a fucking M16 yet

[ameliaava001]

wwe lol ,,,,,<<<

[shomatoriashi]

01/22/25; 09:30pm

sylus x fem.reader

obligatory tags: @voidsylus | @milkandstarlight | @madam8

what was going on?

why was there so much blood staining against your skin?

the air felt hot-

so hot-

you felt as though there were burning flames surrounding you, choking you as the smoke travels to your lungs. coughs escapes from your parted lips-

yet perhaps more than the smoke was a warm sensation felt dripping against the palm of your hands. the scent of copper remains thick in the air, and you struggled to breathe.

“it’s alright… this is how it was meant to be.”

that voice, you recognized that voice…

you trail your gaze forward to see sylus kneeling before you, his crimson gaze full of love even as they stared into your eyes. yet… something was wrong. you gasp while taking a step back, noticing the thin trail of blood that escapes from the corner of sylus’s lips. it was only then that you noticed a sword was lodged between his chest, piercing through him as you cried out to him.

“NO! who did this to you?!”

tears stream down your face, yet sylus only lets out a bitter laugh, eyes going darker as what appeared to be horns grew from the top of his silvery locks of hair.

“look down.”

you follow his command and let out a scream, seeing your hands wrapped around the hilt of the sword, unconsciously moving it deeper into him, piercing straight through his heart.

“you killed me… but you knew that i would rather die for you than have you be slain by me.”

your cries of despair echoes throughout the world, shattering all of your hopes and dreams as you watched your soulmate die, the light leaving his eyes, leaving you alone for the rest of eternity-

you woke up with a start, heart still racing in response from the nightmare that threatens to consume you. tears were streaming down your face, and before you could even reach out to him-

a powerful pair of arms encircle themselves around the back of your waist, pulling you closer to a warm chest while you whimpered. a sleepy murmur of your name coupled along with the sensation of his lips trailing kisses on your bare shoulder calms you immediately.

“what is it, little dove?” sylus’s rich voice whispers within your ear, soothing you when you felt his lips press even more kisses down the side of your neck. basking in his warmth, you held on to his large hand and pressed your own shuddering kiss against his knuckles, ��i had a bad dream, i think i lost you… you-“

a choked sob escapes from your parted lips, earning a series of soft coos from sylus. “whatever happened in your dream was just that: a simple dream, sweetie.”

your body begins to tremble as hot tears cascades down your cheek, “y-yes, but it felt so real, and i was so miserable at the thought of hurting you-“

letting out a sigh of your name, sylus sits up in bed while settling you on his lap. he sees the tears in your eyes and wipes each and every one of them away, “sweetie, now do you really think a man of my caliber would be weak enough to die because of a dream?”

sylus’s cocky words manages to make you smile despite your tears, “w-well, no.”

“and do you think a man who’s the proud leader of onychinus would die so easily after many failed assassination attempts have been made on me?”

you think back to his evol and how it practically made him invincible. “n-no.” you manage to answer him with a shake of your head.

“then it’s settled.” he smirks at you, leaning forward to capture your lips in a loving kiss. tasting the saltiness of your tears against his lips causes his heart to melt even further for you, with the powerful man further deepening the kiss in hopes of relieving your fears. when the need for air proved to be too much, sylus was the first to pull away, murmuring against your lips, “i’m afraid you’re stuck with me forever, sweetie. and nothing is going to change that. not even dreams of death.”

the fear caused by your nightmare was but a distant memory now, and truthfully, you barely remembered it the moment sylus wraps his arms around you, laying back down in bed while allowing you to rest your head on his chest. with a content sigh, you press your ear directly over his heart, basking in the sound of his steady heartbeat.

with the proof that he was still alive echoing within your ear, you slowly drift off into a peaceful slumber, a slow smile spreading across your lips the moment you felt something soft pressing against the top of your hair.

end notes: even after spending an hour with caleb with the new update, i still very much love sylus so much and had to write another fluffy fic for him. with all these caleb girlies dedicating stories for him, i’m still by your side sylus, my bbygirl 😭🙌🏻

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[wholoveseggs]

Hey girl, I love you and your stories <3

Can I maybe request an enemies to lovers with a female reader and Elijah, which leads to a threesome between her Elijah and Klaus. Maybe with a little punishment and very kinky maybe with a little light bondage and just light beds in general, I'll leave the details up to you

thank you already <333

Captive

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Klaus Mikaelson x Vampire!Reader} You are being held captive by a group of nasty witches, being tortured, starved of blood and interrogated night and day... You've lost all hope, until two old enemies show up to save you, and you spend the evening reminiscing and making up for lost time.

♡♡ Thank you lovely anon! Its been so long since I did a ménage à trois with the boys & it's always so much fun to write! ♡♡

7.1k words {hehe} - Warnings: smut, lots of drinking, Klaus being a little shit, oral sex {m! and f! receiving}, a little bondage, praise kink, a little punishment, slight dom!Elijah and Klaus, blood sharing, rough sex, double penetration, overstimulation && aftercare ...

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05

In the dark, dingy cell; there was no way to tell the passage of time. Not that you were in any condition to care about that.

It had been so long, you had forgotten the feeling of sunlight kissing you skin, the smell of flowers in the wind, the sound of birds chirping in the morning, the taste of rich red wine, the laughter of friends. The last few days- weeks? months?- were spent in a haze. Time had become a distant concept.

All you knew now was cold, stale, dirty water, and the constant pain of hunger, and the agony of torture.

At first you blamed your captors, with their unrelenting desire to grab at power. Then you blamed your stupidity, your lack of caution. But most of all you blamed the Mikaelsons, for they were who the witches had targeted. They were the ones you were being tortured for.

If only you had not made such enemies, if only you hadn't gotten involved, you could have lived your immortal life without consequence, without guilt. You would have avoided all the pain, all the torture. Indulging in men of that caliber always came with a price, you just didn't expect it to happen to you.

In a way, it was a mercy that your body had long since given out. That you had become too weak, too hungry, to do much more than lay against the dirty floor, staring blankly ahead. Soon your limbs would stop working, only dust left in your veins. You would desiccate and die a slow, painful death, the only relief would be your own insanity.

It was there, in that dark place, where you accepted your fate. The witch's spells kept you trapped, you were too weak to even crawl out the door, and there was no one who knew where you were, no one who would come for you.

That is, until you felt the cold chill of the witch's magic suddenly disappear, like a weight lifted from your shoulders. Then the sound of fighting outside, the screams of the witches and their death rattles, and the door creaking open. And a cold laugh you never thought you would hear again.

"Isn't this a sight?" Klaus said, crouching down outside of the cell, leaning close to the ground to meet your eyes, "I never thought I'd see you in such a state, little fox."

His tone was light, almost mocking, and his grin was as cold as ever. You blinked a few times, hoping you were imagining things, that the delirium had finally set in. You had experienced plenty of hallucinations since the witch's had captured you.

But he didn't disappear. He stayed, watching you, like a snake waiting to strike.

"She looks awful," He mused, looking you over.

"And she smell even worse," another voice chimed in, his soft lilting accent completely unfamiliar, and yet somehow familiar at the same time.

"You've let yourself go, sweetheart," Klaus teased.

"Are you going to sit and gawk, or are you going to rescue the poor girl," The second man said, his voice growing closer as he joined Klaus.

It was Elijah, his way with words unmistakable, even in the attempt at an American accent he spoke with now.

"I was actually thinking about killing her, would it be easier?" Klaus replied, his grin widening, "What do you think brother, is she a lost cause?"

Elijah peered through the bars, his dark eyes taking you in. You wanted to hide, or scream, or cry. His face bringing back a thousand buried memories, all the reasons why you had tried so hard to forget him.

"I'd say she's quite beyond salvation," he said, "but you know I could never resist a damsel in distress, even one as ugly as this."

That hurt, even though you certainly deserved it. Many great fables are written about the tragic love affairs of humans, but nothing compared to the heartbreaks between vampires.

Klaus laughed at the pain in your eyes, the way they watered ever so slightly, despite how weak and dehydrated you were. But he reached out and grabbed the iron gate, tearing it off the hinges with a grunt.

"I think we're past pleasantries, don't you agree, love?" He asked, striding into the cell and lifting you up.

The moment his hands touched your skin, you knew it was real. That by some divine miracle you were rescued and it was by the worst possible people.

"You should really take a bath, it's unbecoming for a lady to smell like a sewer." Elijah commented, watching the way you were limp in Klaus' arms.

You choked out a half laugh, half sob, every small movement felt like sandpaper rubbing against your skin. You swallowed hard and it felt like a knife had been forced down your throat.

"Fuck you," you wheezed.

"There she is!" Klaus said, holding you bridal style, "We were wondering if you had actually died."

Elijah reached out and placed a hand on your head, smoothing out your hair and giving you a gentle smile. You leaned into the touch, the first kindness you had felt in so long.

Klaus carried you out of the cell, and into the room above. He sat down in an old wooden chair, the same one you had been tortured in countless times. Your breathing hitched and you tried to struggle, but he held you tight, pressing his face into your neck.

"Relax," he said, "I'm not going to kill you … yet."

The threat hung in the air, and Elijah rolled his eyes at his brothers' dramatics. You felt the tip of his tongue lick up your neck, and his fangs graze your skin, before pulling away.

"Any of them still kickin'?" He asked Elijah, who was peering around the room.

"One, she's alive. Barely," he replied, his gaze falling on a witch laying face down on the floor, her neck was at a weird angle, no doubt snapped by Elijah.

He dragged her to the middle of the room, her body limp, but you could hear the faint beating of her heart, her blood still pumping. She was still clinging to the last threads of existence. Her blood smelled divine, the sound of her heartbeat was music to your ears.

"Here's a deal," Klaus said, pulling your attention back to him, "I give you her blood, and you answer our questions. Sound fair?"

Your lips were chapped and your throat was dry, but you forced out an answer, "Yes, please."

You hadn't begged for anything the entire time the witches had imprisoned you. Not for freedom, not for mercy, not for blood, not even for your own life. But in that moment, all of your pride had been stripped away, and there was nothing left but desperation.

Elijah lifted the witch up, biting down on her wrist and offering it to you. The taste of fresh blood filled your mouth, and you moaned, gulping down as much as you could. But the relief didn't last long, as he pulled away.

"Enough," he said, his grip tight, "can't have you drinking too much."

You felt life returning to your limbs, your bones tingling as you were able to wiggle them, your skin turning from a gray pallor to its usual color. It wasn't much, but it was more than enough to take the edge off.

"Now, let's start with the obvious," Elijah said, "Why are you here?"

"On vacation," you replied sarcastically, your voice hoarse, but not as quiet as before.

Elijah didn't say anything, instead he gave you a cold stare, daring you to make another joke. You shrunk away, but not much. It had been so long since you had been with them, but the way they made you feel, was ingrained into your bones.

"The witches, what do they want from you? I will not ask you again," He asked, the anger behind his words making you nervous.

"They wanted you two," you said, "they knew we had...history."

"History?" Klaus said, chuckling, "that's a very bland word for what we had."

You bit your tongue. He wasn't wrong, but you weren't willing to admit that to them.

"They thought I could get to you, so they tortured me," you explained.

"And could you? Get to us?" Elijah asked, his eyes narrowed.

You didn't respond, instead you looked down. The truth was, you had been avoiding them for centuries and to do that, you always kept tabs on them. So yes, if you wanted to, you could have gotten to them, but that would have meant reopening old wounds, and the last thing you wanted was to feel that pain all over again.

"We could always compel the answer out of you," Elijah mused.

You shook your head. It wasn't that they couldn't, but that they didn't need to. You were already at their mercy, and had no desire to fight them.

"I... I kept your secrets, no matter how much they tortured me," You said, "I never told them anything."

"How noble," Klaus replied, rolling his eyes, "your loyalty is truly inspiring, sweetheart."

His grip tightened on your body, his fingers digging into your skin. It was starting to make you angry. Yes, they had saved you, but the way they spoke to you, the way they were acting, it was too much.

"Fuck off," you snapped, "I could have given them anything, and yet, here I am, starving and tortured. So maybe a little respect would be nice, you prick."

Elijah let out a short, sharp laugh, while Klaus glared at you. But after a moment he grinned and chuckled, the sound sending a shiver up your spine.

"You were always so bold," Klaus said, "you never were afraid of me."

"She's a fool then," Elijah replied.

"Well, what is life without a few fools, brother?" Klaus asked.

"Boring," you replied, earning a smirk from both of them.

Elijah leaned down, grabbing the witch by the hair and placing her head on your lap. She was so close to dying, you could hear her heartbeat getting weaker and weaker. You looked down at her, the smell of her blood filling the air, and licked your lips.

"Drink up now, you've earned it," he said, stroking the back of her head.

You sank your teeth into her neck, the taste of her blood filling your mouth, as you greedily sucked up as much as you could. Nothing tasted better than draining the life out of a witch.

When you finished, you tossed the body aside, licking your lips and wiping your mouth. You were finally able to relax, your stomach full, your skin returning to a healthy color. You stood up, steady and sure on your feet for the first time in months.

"Where do you think you're going?" Klaus asked, reaching out and grabbing your wrist.

"A hotel, I'm thinking luxury suite, room service, a month long spa treatment, the works," you replied, "thanks for the save, I'm off."

You tried to pull your arm away, but his grip tightened, yanking you towards him.

"Such hubris, little fox," he said, his voice cold and menacing, "you don't really think we're going to just let you go, do you?"

You struggled in his grasp, but it was no use. He was too strong, and you were still too weak. You looked to Elijah, a silent plea, but he just shrugged, an amused smile on his lips.

"What the hell do you mean?" You asked.

"Well, there is the fact that you owe us a favor, but also," he said, leaning forward, his mouth brushing your ear, "I still think your lying,"

And with that, he reached for your neck and with one swift move he snapped it. You didn't even have a chance to react, and as you fell to the ground, the world fading away.

When you woke up, you were somewhere else, on a large, incredibly comfortable sofa, the smell of leather and wood in the air. The light was dim, and it took you a moment to get your bearings. You heard a crackling fire, the sounds of music playing from somewhere, and the voices of the Mikaelson's arguing.

"I don't believe she was lying," Elijah said.

"Really, I'm surprised at you brother," Klaus replied, "considering how she ended things with you,"

Elijah sighed and didn't respond. You couldn't see him, but you imagined him adjusting his suit, and the way his jaw twitched when he was annoyed.

"I'm not inclined to trust her either," Elijah said, "But I think holding her captive is pointless,"

"She's a risk," Klaus argued, "and she's not leaving till I'm sure she's not lying."

You sat up and glanced around, trying to see where they were. It was a large living room, the furniture was ornate and expensive, with antique looking paintings on the wall, and bookshelves lining every surface. There was a coffee table next to the sofa you were on, and your eyes landed on a fresh horror that was laying there.

You let out a blood curdling scream, one that echoed in the space and made Klaus and Elijah appear almost instantly. You were still staring, frozen in place, unable to look away.

A human head was sitting on the table, his skin pale and his eyes wide and lifeless. It was one of the witches that had tortured you, and it was sitting there, staring at you.

"Jesus Christ, is that necessary?" You snapped, pointing at the head.

Klaus grinned, looking down at the head, and shrugging, "I thought you would appreciate the gesture,"

"I don't!" You exclaimed.

"Perhaps you could have done something a little less barbaric," Elijah suggested.

"Oh come now brother, where's the fun in that," Klaus replied, and Elijah rolled his eyes.

"It's a peace offering," Klaus replied, walking over and lifting the head up, tossing it from one hand to the other, "do you like it?"

"No!" You yelled, covering your eyes and trying not to gag, "I want it gone, get rid of it,"

"Oh, come on little fox, don't be so uptight," He replied, his voice low and dangerous, "I remember when you used to enjoy this sort of thing,"

An awkward tension filled the room. Elijah cleared his throat and Klaus laughed.

"Too far?" He asked.

"Just a bit," Elijah replied.

"Sorry, my bad," he said, turning his attention back to you, "now, let's discuss how you're going to repay us."

"What, not even a hello, or how are you?" You asked, standing up.

Elijah gently pushed you back down onto the sofa. He sat down next to you, giving you a small smile, and placing a hand on your knee. You felt your heart skip a beat, and you cursed yourself for the reaction. You had been the one to ruin things with him, and yet, being near him again, it made you wish you hadn't.

"This happy reunion calls for wine!" Klaus called, he chucked the head somewhere out of sight and strided over to a mini bar, pulling out a bottle and glasses, "unfortunately I don't have anything fancy at this particular bar, but this is a decent 1990s vintage, which I think is passable,"

"I don't drink anything after the 1900s," Elijah replied, leaning back against the sofa.

Klaus scoffed, but didn't reply, instead he poured himself a glass and downed it in one gulp.

"Fine," he grumbled, "make me go to the cellar, like some sort of servant,"

"If the shoe fits," Elijah quipped.

You watched the exchange, trying to process everything that had happened. They were different now, their accents and mannerisms, not to mention their appearances. But the easy banter between them, and the way they were able to get under each other's skin, that hadn't changed one bit.

"Are you two ever not at each other's throats?" You asked, leaning back, "seriously, you are worse than an old married couple."

"Far worse," Klaus yelled, before disappearing down a hallway, off to retrieve the good wine.

"Don't mind him," Elijah said, turning to you, "he's never been very appreciative of fine cuisine."

"I know. He's a heathen," you replied, smiling.

Elijah didn't return the smile, his gaze fixed on you, a strange expression on his face. His eyes were dark and intense, and the longer he looked, the more uncomfortable you felt.

"You've changed," he said.

"So have you," you replied, "it's been centuries and I wasn't exactly eager to run into either of you again."

He didn't respond. The silence hung in the air, neither of you wanting to talk about the elephant in the room. What had happened, was painful, and neither of you had really moved on.

"Why did you do it?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You bit your lip. A million lies flashed through your mind. The truth was cruel, and you didn't want to admit it, but it was the only option.

"Because I was bored," you admitted, "and I didn't know any other way to handle it, so I turned it all off,"

"And found a far more vigorous lover in the process," Klaus said, suddenly appearing with an older bottle of wine.

He handed it to Elijah, who looked over the label and nodded. Klaus gave you a wink and sat down on the chair across from the two of you.

Elijah didn't speak, and you couldn't read his expression. He looked hurt, and his gaze turned away from you. Guilt was a feeling you spent a lot a time accepting back into your life, but to witness the consequences, that was far worse.

"Whoops, still a sore subject I see," Klaus teased.

"Niklaus, shut up," Elijah snapped.

Klaus threw his hands up in mock surrender, and didn't say anything, a satisfied smile on his face. He was just as much to blame as you, but clearly he had no remorse and was loving the awkwardness of the moment.

Elijah uncorked the wine and poured a glass for all three of you. The tension in the room was still palpable, and as much as you wanted to apologize, you knew that nothing would fix what you had done.

"To reunions, and bloody witches," Klaus said, raising his glass, "to past lovers and new enemies, to the future, whatever that may bring,"

He chuckled and took a long drink. You and Elijah didn't move, still looking away from each other.

"Oh, come on, I'm not doing this whole thing alone," Klaus said, glaring at the two of you, "let's play a game,"

"You know, I'm not really in the mood for a game," you said, crossing your arms.

"Well, lucky for you, I'm not asking," Klaus replied, his voice dripping with false kindness, "now, the rules are simple, tell the truth or take a drink,"

"We are not children," Elijah protested, "we don't need games to imbibe,"

"Oh, I beg to differ," Klaus said, "so, what shall we ask first? Hmmm... oh, how about, why were you in New Orleans?"

You stared at him, unsure if you should just answer, or try to get out of the game. He was looking at you, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set. You could feel his anger, and the last thing you wanted was to piss him off.

"I needed an answer to a question," you replied, "it's… important to me,"

Klaus and Elijah exchanged a glance, both of them curious about what you meant.

"How intriguing," Klaus said, leaning back, "and what was this question?"

"Doesn't work that way," you replied, a smile creeping onto your face, "it's your turn,"

"Clever girl," Klaus replied, grinning.

"My turn," Elijah said, turning to Klaus, "where did you find this bottle,"

"Why does that matter?" Klaus replied, annoyed.

"I don't remember seeing that year in the cellar," Elijah replied, taking a sip.

"Perhaps it was from your secret stash…" Klaus asked, smirking, "the one I'm not supposed to know about?"

Elijah glared at him, and you stifled a laugh. Their arguments were always funny, and this was no exception.

"Well, I was feeling sentimental, so I grabbed one of the better years," Klaus explained, "what's the harm in a little nostalgia,"

Elijah didn't say anything, his gaze turning back to the glass, swirling the wine around.

"My turn," you said, "how did you find me?"

"Simple," Klaus said, "we have spies everywhere, and witches are the most gossiping creatures on the planet. When I heard they were torturing a lovely little vampire that matched your description, well… we just had to see for ourselves,"

You were shocked, that they had gone out of their way to find you. You hadn't expected them to care, or even remember you, and to know they had saved you just because they could, it was a strange feeling.

"But, why bother saving me?" You asked, genuinely curious, "you don't owe me anything, not after how I left things,”

They both fell silent, exchanging a glance that seemed to have an entire conversation within it. After a moment, Elijah spoke.

"It's always better to know where our enemies stand," he said, "you are a useful asset, and a potential enemy,"

"And," Klaus added, "we love killing witches who get too big for their boots,"

Elijah glared at him and then sighed, "That too,"

You didn't say anything, their reasoning making perfect sense. You had a history with the two of them, but that didn't mean you were friends.

Elijah's arm stretched behind you, casually resting on the back of the couch. His fingers brushed your shoulder and you felt your breath catch. His hand was warm and you could feel his thumb stroke your shoulder.

"What did the witches ask you?" he said, his voice soft and low. “Tell us the whole truth,”

His hand moved subtly to the back of your neck, a quiet threat, one that didn't require words. You understood the unspoken message and knew that if you didn't give him an answer he was happy with, then you would end up the same way as the head that was somewhere in the house.

"They asked about your weaknesses, how to kill you," you admitted, "I told them to go fuck themselves and in return they upped to torture severely,”

Klaus snorted, clearly impressed. He poured himself another glass, while Elijah gave you a satisfied nod.

"Why the loyalty? We haven't spoken in centuries," Elijah asked, his fingers tracing the curve of your neck, "I seem to remember you hating us both,"

You picked up your glass and took a long drink, not saying anything.

"Not a fan of the question?" He asked.

"It's not loyalty, but self preservation," you said, shrugging, "the wrath of witches is one thing, but you two? That's a death wish,"

Klaus laughed and held up his glass, "well played, sweetheart,"

Elijah didn't remove his hand, his fingers lightly caressing the nape of your neck, his gaze never wavering from yours.

"My turn," you said, trying not to squirm under his touch, "why not kill me? You are clearly afraid I hold secrets you rather I didn't,"

"Call it … Nostalgia," Klaus said, a wicked grin on his face, "I do so love to reminisce, and if I am being honest, you are one of the more fun memories,"

"Ah yes, your one weakness, sentimental attachment to those you've slept with," you quipped, taking another drink, the alcohol warming your throat.

"I guess it's the one thread of our humanity we've never been able to shake," Klaus admitted.

You raised your glass and downed the rest of it, setting the glass down with a small clink. Elijah refilled it, his hand now resting on your lower back. You tried to ignore it, but every touch made you more aware of him, and less able to concentrate.

"Let's make a deal," Klaus said, his expression serious, "we will let you go, if you answer why you are in New Orleans,"

You bit your lip, wondering if they would even believe you.

"I'm here because..." you paused, looking down at the ground, "I heard a witch here can help with... Fertility,"

They both froze, a stunned look on their faces.

"A baby?" Elijah asked, his eyes wide.

"Is that what you've been chasing all these centuries?" Klaus asked, clearly surprised.

You looked up at both of them, two of the oldest beings to walk this earth. Them, of all people, you hoped would understand your reasons.

"I've experienced everything I've ever wanted too in my long life," you began, your hands twisting in your lap, "climbed the tallest mountains, swam in the deepest oceans, drank with Kings of long forgotten empires, fucked and fed from the greatest artists, poets, warriors and philosophers the world has ever known... but now I wish for only one thing,"

You stopped, swallowing a lump in your throat, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"To be a mother," you whispered, "to impart my wisdom on someone, and love them more than anything. To show them the beauty of the world and watch them grow up, have children of their own, and carry on a legacy. It's the one thing I haven't done, and the one thing I want most in the world,"

You thought that Klaus would laugh, perhaps even mock you, but he didn't, instead his expression was sympathetic, and Elijah's was one of understanding.

"You are not the wild, reckless creature that we used to know," Klaus said, "you have changed,"

"And so have you," you replied.

The three of you sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the weight of the conversation settle.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Elijah asked, his arm now firmly around your waist.

"All I found was a chains and a cell," you replied, "I was a fool, blinded by hope. All that awaited me was pain,"

Klaus poured you another drink, they couldn't help you, but at least they could offer you a distraction.

The night quickly dissolved into a drunken revelry. The three of you laughing and drinking, the old days a source of amusement. Your belly was full of blood and wine, and the tension between the three of you had dissipated.

"Now that I have determined you aren't a threat, it's time to get down to the real questions," Klaus said, "who is the better lover? Me or my dear brother,"

"Seriously?" You exclaimed, rolling your eyes.

"What?" He replied, "I'm just curious, I promise I won't get jealous,"

"I'm not answering that," you said.

"Yes, well, I would rather not hear the answer," Elijah interjected.

"You are no fun," Klaus replied, and then leaned forward, his gaze intense, "I'm going to assume it's me,"

"Interesting assumption," you said, raising an eyebrow, "but if we're talking about skills, there is a clear winner,"

Elijah grinned, and Klaus shot you an offended look. You laughed and finished the rest of the wine, setting the glass on the table.

"And I've always preferred passion over... Enthusiasm," you said, a hint of teasing in your voice.

Elijah didn't look up from his drink, his face neutral, but you could tell he was smiling. Klaus huffed, and crossed his arms.

"I would be delighted to remind you," Klaus said, leaning forward and placing a hand on your thigh, "just say the word, and we can retire to a more comfortable location."

You grabbed his wrist and twisted, until you felt his bones shatter. He cried out in pain, then quickly recovered, the bones snapping back into place.

"That's not how this works," you replied, smiling sweetly.

He stared at you, his expression changing from shock to a pleased smile.

"Still the same fire, I see," he replied, "a good reminder of the past,"

"If I were to sleep with either of you again, it would be on my terms, certainly not when I'm held captive," you snapped.

"Who said anything about holding you captive," Klaus replied, "if we were, you would still be shackled to the wall,"

"Some might enjoy that sort of thing," Elijah remarked, his cheeks were a bit rosy from drink and you enjoyed how it made him seem less cold.

"Have you done that sort of thing Elijah?" You teased, "I never would have taken you for a deviant,"

He shrugged, a sly smile on his face, "I don't divulge such things,"

"Oh, please, you can tell us," Klaus said, "unless you haven't, and are simply trying to pretend like you have,"

"Or perhaps he has and is ashamed of the things he's done," you added, laughing.

Elijah glared at the two of you, the playful glint in his eyes giving him away. He simply stood up and held out his hand to you, the confidence in his stance and the way he looked at you sent a jolt of heat through your body.

"The only way to know for sure, is to experience it for yourself," he said, his tone seductive, "I'll leave the choice up to you,"

You stared at him, a sudden desire coursing through your veins. This was a terrible idea, but at the same time, a chance to have a night of freedom and pleasure after months of torture was an offer you couldn't resist.

"If I say no, am I free to go?" You challenged, meeting his gaze.

"You were never a prisoner," he replied, "the only person keeping you here is yourself,"

He was right. They hadn't chained you, or compelled you, and now that the threat of danger was gone, there was nothing stopping you from walking out the door. But that was not what you wanted, and the look in his eyes was too enticing.

"Alright, but I need a shower first, I still smell of dungeon and witch piss," you said, standing up and taking his hand, "and you better not disappoint,"

He smiled, his eyes dark with desire, and pulled you into his arms, his lips crashing into yours. The kiss was intense, and you clung to his shoulders, melting into his embrace.

Klaus scoffed, he loathed being left out.

"Really?" he grumbled, pouring himself another glass. "Can you keep the noise to a minimum, I would prefer to have a little sleep tonight,"

You let out a soft giggle, "oh, don't pout, you can come too,"

Klaus raised an eyebrow, looking to his brother for an answer. Elijah nodded, a smirk on his face.

"If she insists," Elijah said, his voice smooth, "you know I've never been good at denying her,"

Klaus immediately got to his feet, throwing his glass of wine into the fireplace. The flames leapt up, the red embers glowing, illuminating the room in a fiery light. He walked over and wrapped an arm around your waist, his lips brushing your ear, his hand cupping your ass.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've fantasized about having you in bed again?" He whispered, his breath hot against your neck.

You smiled and pushed him away, enjoying his expression of surprise.

"Well, then, why are we still standing here," you said, sauntering out of the room, "the night won't last forever,"

Elijah caught up with you in the hallway, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing you up against the wall. He kissed you, his hands sliding down to your thighs and lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and ran your fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss.

He carried you all the way to his bedroom, never once breaking the kiss. The room was dark, and the bed was large and covered in dark silk sheets. He pointed to his bathroom, and you pulled your tattered clothes off, leaving them on the floor.

You went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, waiting for the water to get warm. You felt his arms wrap around you and turned around, letting him press you up against the tile. He kissed you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth. His hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of bare skin, his touch igniting a fire within you.

Klaus quickly joined you, he had undressed in the other room, and stood naked in the doorway. You smiled at him, enjoying the way his muscles flexed as he moved.

Elijah pulled away from you to undress and you watched as his shirt was unbuttoned and fell to the ground. His pants followed, and your eyes roamed his body, admiring his muscular frame. The two of them were opposites in many ways, but they both had a beauty to them, and right now you could hardly choose which one you wanted more.

You took both their hands and pulled them under the steamy water, running your hands across their skin. Their bodies were warm and firm, their skin soft under your fingertips. You kissed Elijah, while Klaus kissed and licked your breasts, his hands wandering between your legs.

You could feel his fingers brush against your wet core, his thumb pressing against your clit. He slowly circled the sensitive nub, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. Your hands wandered down to Elijah's cock, gently stroking the hard length.

Elijah kissed you, his lips trailing down your neck, his hand gently caressing your breasts. You moaned, enjoying the feeling of their hands on your body.

Their touch was overwhelming, hands and mouths everywhere, and it was only when the water started to turn cold that you all stepped out, laughing and breathless.

Elijah pulled you on to his bed, and you fell on to his chest. His lips found yours and you lost yourself in his kiss. You felt the bed dip and Klaus pressed his lips against your shoulder, his hands running along your thighs. He kissed his way down your spine, his hands pushing your ass up in the air.

His lips trailed along the curve of your lower back, his fingers tracing the line of your hip. He placed a soft kiss on your inner thigh and you moaned, anticipation coiling in your stomach.

You felt his tongue flick across your pussy and you gasped, arching your back. He chuckled and began licking and sucking, his tongue expertly teasing your clit.

Elijah's hands cupped your face and you turned your attention back to him. His eyes were blown wide with lust, his gaze fixed on yours. You kissed him, the taste of the wine still lingering on his lips. His cock was hard against your stomach and you could feel his desire pulsing through his veins.

Your hand trailed down his chest, and you wrapped your fingers around his cock, slowly stroking the thick shaft. His eyebrows arched in pleasure, and you could feel his muscles tighten.

You kissed your way down his chest until you were level with his cock. You ran your tongue along the underside of his shaft, enjoying the sound of his low moans. A gentle hum left your throat and you felt him shudder.

You took him in your mouth, gently sucking and swirling your tongue. He groaned, his hands tangling in your hair. His grip tightened and you increased your pace, taking his length deeper.

Klaus moved away for a moment, and you could see Elijah observing whatever he was doing, a dark smile spreading across his face. You felt the bed dip as Klaus returned, and he grabbed your wrists, pinning them behind your back.

A moment later, the soft leather of a belt wrapped around them, and he secured the belt, tight enough that you couldn't move, but not too tight that it hurt.

Elijah's eyes met yours, and a wicked smile played across his lips. "Do you enjoy being tied up? Being helpless and at our mercy?" He asked, his voice a deep growl.

You nodded eagerly, taking him further into your mouth. His eyes darkened, and he grabbed a fistful of your hair, his hips thrusting forward. You could feel him hit the back of your throat and gagged, your eyes watering.

Klaus kissed your lower back, then positioned himself at your entrance. You gasped as he slowly slid inside, the stretch sending waves of pleasure through your body. He held still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, then slowly began to move.

You moaned, the sensation of being filled by both of them overwhelming. They began to move in a steady rhythm, Klaus thrusting into you while Elijah fucked your mouth. You were helpless, pinned between them, unable to do anything but submit.

The sound of their pleasure sent a shiver of delight through you, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to release. Elijah's breathing became ragged, and his grip on your hair tightened. You knew he was close, so you focused on pleasuring him, moving all the way down and swallowing.

He let out a low groan and came, his hot release spilling into your mouth. You swallowed every drop, then pulled away, gasping for air. You smiled up at him, his expression one of bliss.

Klaus continued to thrust into you, his pace increasing. He leaned forward and bit into your shoulder, his fangs sinking deep. You cried out in pain and pleasure, your body shuddering. His bloodlust combined with his own pleasure, the feeling overwhelming, but just as you were about to cum, he stopped.

You let out a whine, and he chuckled, his hands squeezing your ass.

"I don't think I'm quite ready for this to end," he murmured, pulling out.

Elijah's hands moved down to your arms, pulling you forward and guiding you onto his lap. You straddled him, your hands still bound behind your back, and his cock brushed against your wet core.

"Do you remember how you used to love riding me?" He whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

You nodded, eager for him to fill you. He grinned and lifted your hips, slowly lowering you onto his cock. He gripped your hips and began to move you up and down. You moaned, resting your head on his shoulder and grinding your hips.

Klaus positioned himself behind you, and you felt his hand trail down your back. His fingers traced the line of your ass, and then he spread your cheeks, exposing your other hole.

"You are such a pretty little thing," he murmured, pressing a finger against your ass, "all tied up and at our mercy,"

He slid a finger inside, the tight ring of muscle giving way. You moaned, the feeling of being filled by both of them overwhelming.

Klaus coated his cock with a lubricant and pressed it against your ass. Elijah held you still, his lips claiming yours in a heated kiss. You could feel the tip of Klaus' cock pushing into your ass and whimpered, the stretch bordering on painful.

Klaus slowly sank into you, letting out a low groan. He began to thrust, his movements slow and deep. The feeling of both of them inside you was almost too much, and you moaned, your body trembling.

"Are you enjoying this, love?" Klaus asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"Yes," you whimpered, unable to form a coherent sentence.

Elijah kissed along your jaw, his fingers digging into your hips, guiding your movements, rocking you back and forth on their cocks.

You felt the heat of their bodies pressed against yours, and their hands were everywhere, stroking, caressing, and teasing. The smell of their sweat and desire was intoxicating, and you were lost in the pleasure, your mind spinning.

Klaus pulled on your wrists, his mouth colliding with the side of your neck. You cried out as he bit into you, his fangs piercing your skin. Elijah kissed the other side, mirroring his brother's bite.

The combination of the pleasure and pain was too much, and you came, your orgasm crashing through your body. You writhed in their arms, your body trembling, waves of ecstasy washing over you.

They kept you pinned between them, bouncing you up and down, their movements rough and animalistic. The belt came loose, and your hands came free.

You wrapped your arms around Elijah's neck as another orgasm hit, this one even more intense than the last. He smiled at the look of pure bliss on your face and kissed you, his hands tangled in your hair.

Klaus groaned, pressing himself deep as he came, then he slowly pulled out, kissing the nape of your neck.

Elijah soon followed, his eyes meeting yours as he shuddered, spilling into you. You collapsed against him, exhausted and sated. He gently stroked your hair, his gaze soft and loving.

"I forgot how good you are at that," you mumbled, your eyes drifting closed.

He chuckled, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your skin. You snuggled against his chest, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

Klaus laid down next to the two of you, his eyes bright, and a smile on his face. "What about me? Any thoughts?" He asked, and you giggled, the alcohol still coursing through your system.

"You were pretty good, too," you replied, reaching out and patting his arm.

He grinned, his hand coming to rest on the top of your thigh. "I don't know why we didn't do this earlier, it would have saved us all a lot of trouble," he said.

Elijah nodded, a small smirk on his lips, "you may be right,"

"I'm sorry for leaving you the way I did," you said softly, running your hands through Elijah's hair, "and thank you for coming to save me,"

He nodded, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead, then helped you off his lap, and onto the bed, covering the three of you with a silk sheet.

"Do you mind if I stay here a while? It's been so long since I've had a good night's sleep," you mumbled, your fingers curling into Elijah's chest, holding him tight.

He didn't reply, just pulled you closer, his hand stroking your back, lulling you to sleep.

"We've got all the time in the world, love," Klaus said softly, his voice barely a whisper, "we'll make sure no more nasty witches get their hands on you,"

It had been so long since you had felt so content, you could feel the warmth of their skin, smell their cologne, hear the beat of their hearts. You could taste the blood and whiskey in the air, and it felt right, like you had come home.

[bignaz8]

White Moon, a Northern Cheyenne who fought at the Battle of Little Bighorn holds a US Springfield carbine, caliber .45, serial no. 48482, he took from a slain 7th Cavalry trooper on June 25, 1876.

He gave the carbine to Thomas B. Marquis on June 24, 1927, soon after the doctor-historian took his picture.

White Moon was 77 years old when he participated with fellow Northern Cheyenne Wooden Leg, Little Sun, Wolf Chief and Big Beaver at the 51st Little Bighorn Battle Reunion.

He died in May 1931.

[gremlins-hotel]

From the notes of Capt. Alfred Jones: "Davie was a bus and the 'Flying Fortress' moniker seemed to pass her by, but it was a ship with a brave crew. The trudge of getting back to England from enemy territory is a story for another day. I miss her and sometimes I miss the boys we lost that day."

-✪- -✪- -✪-

B-17F "Dear Davie": *U.S. Army Model B-17F-65-BO Air Corps Serial No. 42-29670 Delivered Cheyenne 31/1/43; Pueblo 18/2/43; Salina 15/2/43; Brookley 19/3/43; Smoky Hill 23/3/43; Dow Field 18/4/43. Assigned to the 333rd Bomb Squadron/94th Bomb Group [TS-L] "DEAR DAVIE" 22/4/43; Missing in Action near Hamburg 25/7/43 with Alfred "Comet" Jones, **Co-Pilot: Daryl "Speed" Reed, Navigator: Richard Reed, Bombardier: Charlie Marstaller; Radio Operator: Johnathan Graves, Flight Engineer/Top Turret Gunner: Clyde "Pepsi" Ray, Ball Turret Gunner: William Ortlieb, Waist Gunner: Leslie Lipsey, Waist Gunner: Paul Rapoport, Tail Gunner: Thomas Pugh (6 Killed in Action); "DEAR DAVIE" lost to flak/anti-aircraft fire, crashing near Uetersen, 15 miles NW of Hamburg, Germany.

-✪- -✪- -✪-

[nerd things & acknowledgements below cut]

Notes on the B-17F... The B-17F was an upgrade of the previous E model, with several notable changes: A one- or two-piece plexiglas nose cone, as opposed to the ten-paneled cone of previous versions. Reinforced landing gear allowed for a greater maximum payload, from 4,200 lb (1,900 kg) of ordnance to 8,000 lb (3,600 kg). Flight and combat range of the F model was improved by 900 mi (1,400 km) with the addition of nine self-sealing rubber fuel cells in the wing root, aka, "Tokyo tanks". The F model was generally characterized by being tail-heavy - which lead to part failure - and woefully undefended from the front; the early F models had no front-facing armament, leaving a 60° blind spot to the direct front of the aircraft - a flaw which was exploited by German pilots, who held air superiority. Later F models would see a list of possible available modifications (factory and field) such as inserting two .50 caliber machine guns into the nose cone to solve the blind spot. Other modifications to later F models were bulged cheek turrets, as opposed to the window-mounted guns of earlier iterations, and the available addition of the iconic "Bendix" chin turret. The chin turret is far more common on the subsequent G "gunship" variant. ("Dear Davie" is an early F model without the nose mount, bulged cheeks, or chin turret.)

*This model production block, serial no., and fate are borrowed from real-life B-17F #42-29670, "Thundermug." "Thundermug" was an aircraft that originally served in the 333rd Bomb Squadron/94th Bomb Group alongside my great-grandfather and his usual steed, "The Gremlins Hotel." It was transferred to the 544th BS/384th BG, at which point it went Missing in Action over Hamburg from flak/aa-fire; 8 of its crew became POWs while 2 were KIA. I have had the honor to speak to descendants of both of its crews and help them research "Thundermug"; I wish to voice a mere glimpse of their stories in a unique way.

**All names of Alfred's crew are either cobbled-together family names throughout our history here or entirely fictitious - though some were inspired by real people whom I grew up with stories of. All inspirations were individuals that lived good lives post-war.

[allthose3amthoughts]

Can i please have the download link for the desktop buddy of Peter? Thx and i like ur content !!

(Wow, my first time answering an ask. I'm a celebrity now.) I'm afraid I haven't published him yet - I'm still working on the programming! Sorry it took so long to answer this, but I figured I'd turn this answer in to an Update post, so...

Your Boyfriend Desktop Buddy - Update 2!

...yeah, about my previous update, saying I wanted to publish a beta version this month. I have found myself to be a liar and a fool of the highest caliber.

But! The good news is I'm still working on him, and making steady progress. I still do want to publish a beta/incomplete version (just because I'm proud of myself for Doing a Programming TM and would like to show the world), but right now there's just too much incomplete for it to feel ready to share.

Currently, I'm about halfway through the 'Negative Route', and maybe 25% done with the 'Positive Route'. It's the 'in between' routes that I haven't started on at all, and which will take more time. That said, I think I'll publish him once the positive and negative routes are done, and a very basic skeleton of the mixed route is in place. Again, it'll only be a beta version, but I'd be so delighted to get feedback from everybody!

I won't put a date on it this time - but I'll update more often. Until then, thanks for all the notes on the previous posts, you all actually made my day every time I saw one ^_^

[putrefawn]

ted kaczynski's .22-caliber rifle, bolt-action remington model 700 rifle, and MP-25 pocket handgun.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Ok but imagine the caliber of babying Joanna!Lookalike would receive if she somehow survived her poisoning. They’d treat her as if she was infinitely more delicate than glass. She wouldn’t even walk anywhere anymore, Gregor would carry her everywhere

If Joanna!Lookalike!Reader were to somehow, by the gods, survive the Strangler than she would be seen as an absolute miracle. I can’t help but imagine Joanna!Lookalike just walking off the effects of the poison. Like, she’s collapsed on the ground coughing up four lungs worth, there’s blood, tears and saliva all mixed together and after a bit she just gets herself back up, dusts herself off and continues on like she didn’t just have a near death experience. Everyone would be both shocked, terrified and utterly relieved all at the same time.

Babying would be a complete understatement, House Lannister (along with some others) would become even more completely overprotective and obsessive than they already were. Their darling Joanna!Lookalike was nearly ripped away from them, they weren’t going to leave any room for that to ever happen again. Tywin would immediately cut down on the contact that his grandchild had with anyone else, mainly outside of him. Honestly, Tywin can’t even bring himself to trust Cersei with Joanna!Lookalike after this. He knows Cersei didn’t poison her, after all she had been utterly destroyed by the mere prospect of losing her beloved child, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Her visits and interactions with Joanna!Lookalike would be even more heavily supervised then before.

Hell, Tywin would assign Gregor to be stationed directly by Joanna!Lookalike’s side from then on out. Instead of simply being in the same room as Joanna!Lookalike to protect her, Gregor would now literally by breathing down her neck 25/8. He use to only stand guard outside his princess’ bedchambers, now he would be sat next her bed as she slept just to further ensure her safety. Hell, he Reader wouldn’t even be allowed to bathe without Gregor right there to oversee it, especially when it was the female servants who were set to wash her themselves. Eventually, even that would be put a stop to but Gregor would still be right there (even if his back is tuned way) to ensure his princess was safe in her most vulnerable of moments. And it

Cersei would be so incredibly clingy, suffocatingly so. Understandably she was so close to losing her most precious child, of course she would be wanting to be damn near attached to the hip with her bby. She would take to sleeping next to Joanna!Lookalike, clutching her child close to her, almost bruisingly tight. And much to her absolute dismay and annoyance the Mountain would be right there each and every time Cersei tried to have some much needed time with her bby. Also, Cersei would still very much blame Tyrion for being the one who tried to kill her darling bby, but Joanna!Lookalike wouldn’t let her mother or grandfather accuse him of such a thing. Even after going through what she had, Joanna!Lookalike!Reader would vehemently defend her uncle to no end.

[askarsjustsoswedish]

GENERATION KILL - MILITARY TERMINOLOGY AND SLANG USED IN THE MINISERIES (Part 1, A-M)

// I've been reorganising my files I thought this may be useful for some GenKill fans. //

All rights HBO

For Immediate Release                                                          June 25, 2008

.50 Caliber:  the standard heavy, vehicle-mounted machine gun used by U.S. forces since World War Two; aka “Fifty cal,” “the Fifty,” “M-2” and “Ma Deuce.”

5.56 Machine Gun Rounds:  the diameter of bullets in millimeters used by US forces in all rifles and light machine guns; aka “NATO rounds.”  Distinguished from Iraq’s Soviet standard military, which uses 7.62mm rounds in their weapons.

507 Maintenance:  U.S. Army unit that took a wrong turn into Nasariyah and was ambushed.  Note: This is best known as the unit to which Jessica Lynch belonged, though the platoon will not learn of Lynch by name, or her status as the most famous U.S. prisoner of war, until Part 3.

Alpha Company:  Bravo’s sister company in First Recon Battalion, commanded by the highly popular and respected Captain Patterson, the polar opposite of Bravo’s commander “Encino Man.”

America’s Shock Troops:  a catchphrase invoking Donald Rumsfeld’s plans of a lean, stripped-down invasion force modeled after German forces of WWII.  This is a deliberate reference to the German Shock Troops, the SS, used to spearhead blitzkriegs across France and Poland.  Ferrando takes pride in knowing his battalion will be the premiere shock-troop unit of the entire Marine Corps.

Amtrac:  a loud, ungainly amphibious vehicle used to transport Marines on the ground in Iraq; also used as a mobile fighting platform.

A-O (Area of Operations):  an A-O can be as large as all of Iraq or as small as the area around a Marines encampment.

Ass:  Marine slang for any weapon system or unit that packs a lot of fire power.  “We’re rolling with a lot of ass today” means “We will be accompanied by tanks or attack helicopters today.”

Assassin:  radio call sign for First Recon’s Alpha Company.  “Assassin Actual” is Alpha’s Company Commander, Captain Patterson.

Assault Through:  primary Marine tactic when encountering a close ambush, linked to the mantra drilled into every Marine since day one of boot camp when every Marine must repeat, “I am a Marine, and every Marine is a rifleman and a rifleman’s duty is to locate, close with, and destroy the enemy by fire...”  This is, in a nutshell, the doctrine of the entire U.S. Marine Corps.

AT4 Rocket:  the ubiquitous anti-tank rocket carried by Marine ground forces.  Fired from a self-contained plastic tube about a meter long and weighing just a few kilos, it can destroy a heavy tank.  During the Iraq invasion most AT4s are fired into Iraqi homes to clear out potential enemy forces.

Atropine injector:  atropine is a chemical that counteracts certain nerve agents.  Atropine injectors are issued to troops who expect to be preparing or receiving chemical attacks, and in this instance, Iraqis.

Attriting:  to wear down; verb version of “attrition,” peculiar to the military.

B.R.C. (Basic Reconnaissance Course):  the school a Marine must attend and graduate from to become a Recon Marine; the most sought-after training course in the Corps.  Only about one percent of all Marines qualify to enter B.R.C. and half of those who enter fail to complete it.

Battalion Commander:  Lt. Colonel Stephen Ferrando, commander of the 370-man strong First Recon Battalion, call sign “Godfather.”

Beanies:  black-knitted watch caps typically worn by sailors.  A powerful status symbol; only Recon Marines are allowed to wear them within the First Division.

Belt-fed:  excited; refers to linked rounds fed through a machine gun.  Can also be used an intensifier, as in, “That guy is a belt-fed son of a bitch,” i.e., a real son of a bitch.

Blouse his boots:  to tuck pants-legs into the tops of one’s boots and keep them in place by wrapping a metal spring around the fabric just below the boot-top; part of Ferrando’s hated Grooming Standard.  Not only are the springs used in the boot blousing uncomfortable, blousing one’s boot ensures that all the ambient sand will pour directly into the wearer’s boot.

Blue Force Tracking Antenna:  an antenna for the Blue Force Tracker, a new computerized mapping system that – when it occasionally works properly – identifies the locations of all “blue,” or friendly, forces and the locations of all known “red,” or enemy. forces.  Locations of such forces across the entire Middle East are updated every 30 seconds.  Sgt. Colbert possesses one of only a handful Blue Force Trackers in the entire battalion.

Boonie Cap:  a standard issue floppy field hat, like a camouflaged version of the hat worn by Gilligan on “Gilligan’s Island”;  aka soft cover.

Bound past:  “bounding” is a specific form of maneuver favored by the Marine Corps, employed by two-man fire teams or the entire division.

Buck Fever:  too quick to identify threats; a hunting term that comes from the expression to “put buck’s horns on a doe,” i.e., seeing a valid target when there is none.

Butterfly Trigger:  a safety trigger that requires two thumbs to actuate.

C.G. (Commanding General):  always means General Mattis, Commanding General of the First Marine Division, when these Marines use the phrase.

C.O. (Commanding Officer):  usually applied to the Battalion Commander (Maj. or Lt. Col.), or less frequently the Company Commander (Capt.), but never to a Platoon Commander (Lieut.).

C.O.I., freqs covered, freqs plain:  Encryption lingo necessary to operate radios.

“Captain America”:  derisive nickname for Capt. Dave McGraw, commander of Bravo’s Third Platoon, sister platoon to the heroes in Second Platoon.  Note:  Although Captain America is a rank above Lt. Fick, as commanders of respective sister platoons they are peers with one another.

Cas-evac:  casualty evacuation; similar to the older phrase med-evac.  Cas-evac technically means an evacuation in a combat zone of a patient who has not yet been stabilized, but it’s become the cool way to say any form of medical evacuation.

“Casey Kasem”:  a mocking nickname applied to Gunnery Sgt. Ray Griego, Encino Man’s aide de camp, based on the smarmy host of the Top 40 radio show and the voice of Shaggy in the original “Scooby Doo!” cartoon series.

Charms:  brand name of a hard candy provided to U.S. troops in the meal rations, but seldom consumed due to the belief that they produce bad luck.

Cleared hot:  given permission to fire your weapon by a superior.

Cobra Gunship:  armored helicopter used only by U.S. Marines,  unique because Cobras work in extremely close proximity to Marine ground forces.

Col. Joe Dowdy:  Commander of Regimental Combat Team One, popular among his troops for his reputation of caring about their welfare.  Later relieved of his command by General Mattis for not being aggressive enough and risking his troops to achieve battlefield goals.

Command Vehicle:  Lt. Fick’s Humvee, configured like a pick-up truck with a canvas covering.

Completely outside of what First Recon does:  this battalion is trained to swim or parachute behind enemy lines, not to drive into attacks in Humvees.  Their motto is “Swift Silent Deadly.”

Condition One:  a verb that means to put one’s weapon on red con one; rack a round into your chamber.

Contact:  a visual or physical encounter with enemy forces, said when you either see them or they start shooting at you.

Cyclone:  fierce swirls of dust common to Iraq, which dance across landscape and in some cases will collide with a person, tent or vehicle.  They range in height from a few meters to several hundred meters; aka dust devils.

D.C.U. (Desert Camouflage Uniform):  any field garment with desert camouflage.

DASC and DASC-A:  Direct Air Support Communications headquarters, with one based on the ground and one based in an AWACs plane.

Deck:  keeping with their nautical tradition, anything Marines stand on is the deck, be it on a ship, the desert or the floor of a tent.

Delta Company:  a company of reservist Recon Marines expected to be attached to First Recon Battalion.  Delta will prove to be a bunch of under-trained, overzealous, poorly equipped cops-on-leave and office guys who know nothing about war.

Deuce Gear:  a web of straps and hooks worn as an outer garment, to which one affixes extra gear such as ammo packs and canteens; aka Load Bearing Vest or L.B.V.

Devil Dog:  a Marine.

Dip:  smokeless tobacco used by American fighting forces; a dip is a quantity of tobacco placed between one’s lips and gums.  To dip is the habit of consuming smokeless tobacco.

Donkey Dicks:  venerable Marine Corps term for a variety of phallic-shaped implements from engine hoses, to gas can funnels, to cleaning brushes for large mortar tubes.

“Echo Four Lima”:  refers to Corporal Lilley, whose pay-grade is “E-4” and whose last name begins with “L.”  In radio code phonetics, he becomes “Echo Four Lima.”  Sergeant Colbert, whose pay grade is “E-5,” would become “Echo Five Charlie” over the radio.

“Encino Man”:  Captain Craig Schwetje, Commander of Bravo Company, Lt. Fick’s immediate superior officer; the nickname is a reference to the dim-witted Neanderthal hero of the film “Encino Man.”  This Encino Man is a former football star, none too bright, with an ape-like face:  he is also referred to in phonetic alphabet code, in which “Encino Man” is changed to “Echo Mike.”

Enlisted Tent: Area where privates through to sergeants sleep.  The senior non-commissioned officers such as Staff Sergeants, Gunnery Sergeants, Master Sergeants and the Sergeant Major are technically of the enlisted ranks, and occupy an elite position somewhere between sergeants and officers.

Ephedra:  over-the-counter diet pills, now banned by Marines as a speed-like stimulant.

E-tool:  a collapsible shovel carried by all Marines; short for “Excavation-tool.”

F.O.:  Forward Observer; anyone spotting targets for Iraqi or insurgent forces.

Fedayeen:  a Baathist paramilitary unit trained in guerrilla tactics and established by Saddam Hussein’s son in the 1990s to infiltrate and terrorize the Shia populace, but in the current conflict, arrayed against the American invasion, they are also referred to generically as “insurgents.”

Fiddies:  fifties, i.e., .50 cal. machine guns; former ghetto car repo man Espera uses the gangsta counting system in which “fiddie” equals 50, a “buck” or a “hundo” equals a hundred, a “deuce” equals either two or two-hundred, a “grand” equals a thousand, etc.

Flak jacket:  a heavy yet flexible shrapnel-resistant vest.

Foot-mobile:  a person on foot.

Forty Mike-Mike:  40 millimeter; refers to either an individual 40mm self-propelled grenade round or the weapon that launches them, such as the M-19.

Foshizzle…Hajizzle:  a goof on Snoop Dogg’s hip-hop lingo to mean “for sure” and “Haji.”

Free-balling:  not wearing underpants.

Fucking Sixta:  Sgt. Maj. John Sixta, Sergeant Major for this battalion;  aka “The Fucking Retard,” “Mister Potato Head,” “The Coward of Khafji.”  His role and actions both dictate that he is despised by enlisted men.

Get some:  to “get some” means to do any thing really cool like run a fast mile or kill someone.  [Mo here: I’ve removed one extremely graphic sentence here, which basically says that the term can also apply to sexual conquest.] [O]ften used as an exclamation or cheer.  Latino Marines use the Spanish “Chingaso” and whites have adopted it, so “Get some!” and “Chingaso!” are interchangeable.

Godfather:  call sign of Lt. Col. Ferrando, as well as his battalion.  Ferrando earned the call sign because his vocal chords were removed after a bout with cancer, causing him to speak like Marlon Brando in the noted film.  Note:  Godfather often speaks of himself in the third person:  instead of saying, “I think…,” he will say, “Godfather thinks…”

Grape Beverage Base:  grape juice powder; the name printed on the packaging in the military rations.  Used by Marines rather than the more familiar civilian term.

The Grooming Standard:  not to be confused with Marine Corps standard grooming regulations, the Grooming Standard is Battalion Commander Ferrando’s much more exacting dress and grooming code for those who serve under him.

 G-Shock Wristwatch:  the popular xtreme sports watch, as essential to Marine fashion as Oakley sunglasses.

H & S Company:  the Headquarters and Supply company.  More than half the 370 men in the battalion belong to H & S, responsible for supporting the “line companies” or combat units, made up of Alpha, Bravo and Charlie Companies.

Habudabi:  a nickname for Arabs.

Haji:   an Iraqi or Arab or Muslim of any ethnicity, from the Arabic “Haji,” which is the honorific term for anyone who has made the trip to Mecca, the Haj.  Most Americans who use the term Haji are probably not referring to that pilgrimage, but to the once-popular children’s cartoon show “Johnny Quest,” in which the white boy hero’s turban-wearing sidekick was named Haji.  Not necessarily a pejorative term, Haji may be used as an adjective to describe anything Middle Eastern, e.g., Iraq’s customary flat bread is referred to as “Haji bread” or “Haji tortillas.”

Hardball:  paved road, as opposed to unpaved.

Herringbone:  to halt a convoy of vehicles at a 45-degree angle to the axis of a highway, much like the pattern of fishbones.  Herringbone can be used as a noun or verb.

Hitman Two:  “Hitman” is the radio call sign for Bravo Company and “Two” refers to second platoon, one of three platoons in the company.  “Hitman” can refer to the actual company commander of Bravo or the company itself.  All units have call-signs, rather like official nicknames, which are used in radio communications.  For example, General Mattis, commander of all Marine ground forces in Iraq, is “Chaos.”

Hitman Two One Actual:  Bravo Company’s Second Platoon Team One Leader, Sergeant Colbert.  While “Hitman Two One” refers to the entire team, “Actual” means the actual commander.  “Hitman Two” refers to all of Bravo Second Platoon, but “Hitman Two Actual” is the platoon commander, Lt. Fick.  In addition, “The Actual,” or commander, is also referred to as “The Zero.”

“I glassed it:”  “I viewed the object through binoculars or a rifle scope.”

“I got your six”:  “I’ve got your back”; from the clock point in which the hour of six is at the bottom of the dial, if you were oriented toward the 12 hour.  “On your three” would indicate something or someone on your immediate right.  “On your four” would indicate something or something on your right and slightly behind you.

I.A. (Immediate Action):  whatever you train to do when the shit hits the fan.

Javelin Team:  two Marines who carry and operate a powerful anti-tank missile called a “Javelin.”

K-bar:  a knife carried by Marines.

Kevlar:  a helmet; while civilians know Kevlar as the brand-name of a bullet resistant material, Marines refer to their Kevlar helmets simply as Kevlars.  Note:  Even though flak jackets are also made of Kevlar, they are never referred to as such.

Kill Zone, Kill Box:  the area where the enemy hopes to direct, channel and trap you in order to kill you, or where you hope to do the same to him.

L.A.V.’s (Light Armored Vehicle):  used only by the Marine Corps;  amphibious, eight-wheeled machines that look like upside-down bathtubs painted black.

L.O.D. (Line of Departure):  the border between Kuwait and Iraq.

Leatherman:  the all-in-one pliers, screwdriver and knife tool carried by Marines.

The L.T.:  nickname for a Lieutenant.  Note:  A specific lieutenant or other commanding officer is often also referred to as “The Sir.”

M.R.E.:  Meal Ready to Eat; standard military fare, food manufactured a decade ago and served as a complete, self-heating meal in a plastic bag.

M.S.R. Eight:  Main Supply Route Eight; any paved road is typically referred to as an “M.S.R.”

M.S.R. Tampa:  Main Supply Route Tampa.  Not only are roads designated M.S.R.s,  but American military planners have also given them names that will be easier for U.S. troops to pronounce than Arabic ones.

M-19:  a heavy, vehicle-mounted machine gun that fires armor-penetrating grenades instead of bullets; AKA MK-19, Mark-19, and Forty Mike-Mike.

M-249 SAW:  hand-held or bipod-mountable machine gun common to U.S. forces.  “SAW” stands for Squad Automatic Weapon and fires at a rate of 750 rounds per minute.  Notoriously easy to discharge by accident, hence Marine folklore:  “The SAW’s got a mind of its own, it wants to kill a motherfucker.”

M-4:  rifle carried by most recon Marines; similar to the standard U.S.-military M-16, but with a shortened barrel and collapsible stock.  Note:  Officers and POGs carry M-16s.  (2-3)

M-40:  standard, bolt action Marine sniper rifle.

Mathilda:  Northern Kuwait camp where these Marines stayed, with about 5,000 others, in the weeks before the invasion.

MOPP:  a nuclear, biological chemical protection suit; stands for Mission Oriented Protective Posture.  Can be an adjective, as in “we were MOPPED-up,” or “wearing our MOPP suits.”

Moto:  from motivational, anything that expresses the highly-motivated spirit of Marines.  Shouting “Get Some!” is a moto thing to do.  Moto films are the small movies and slide shows Marines make documenting the crazy things they see in this war.

Mud:  the white supremacist term for a non-white individual.

[shadowcanine]

a deep dive into the raul brasil school massacre.

as always, more information will be below the cut. this post is for educational, research, and awareness purposes only.

On March 13th, 2019, two students walked into their former school- Professor Raul Brasil State School, located in the municipality of Suzano, São Paulo State, Brazil.

The students, 17 year-old Guilherme Taucci Monteiro, born July 5th, 2001, and 25 year-old Luiz Henrique de Castro, born March 16th, 1993, had planned this for well over the better part of a year. It was 9:40 AM, and for the students at Raul Brasil, the day was just getting started. For Guilherme and Luiz, though, they were at the finish line.

Before arriving at the school, the two had shot and killed Guilherme’s uncle at the rental car shop, which he owned; that car shop was also where they stole the car they used to get to school that morning. Monteiro had previously worked for his uncle at this car shop, but had been fired for “petty crimes.”

When they arrived, they were armed with a gun (.38 caliber handgun), crossbows, and axes, as well as molotov cocktails and a handful of small knives. According to those who knew them, the pair had a “deep fascination with Columbine” and hoped to “emulate” it. Friends and former classmates were told about these plans, but claim they “didn’t believe it would actually happen” and those who did believe it kept their mouth shut, “afraid telling anybody would make them a target.”

Taucci and Luiz wanted to prove they could act like Eric and Dylan, the perpetrators behind the 1999 massacre at Columbine Highschool in Littleton, CO. They had goals of being even more well-known than the Columbine killers.

Allegedly, an unnamed 17 year old student was involved in planning the attack- although he was not present at school the day of. Police have asked a judge to issue a warrant for the teens arrest, (but it’s unclear whether or not anything has come of that request, five years later.)

Security camera footage captures Taucci and Luiz walking into the school. Taucci can be seen on CCTV shooting, and hitting several people in the head. Luiz can then be seen following him, attacking wounded, but still alive, students with an axe; “swinging it wildly” through the crowds of students who were attempting to flee the scene.

Luiz aims his crossbow, walking further into the school- and disappearing from the view of security cameras.

It would later be announced that seven people had been killed in the attack- 9 had died in total. 5 students, 1 teachers, and 1 school administrator (who police suspect to be the first to be killed.) 9 people were wounded in the attack, including 7 who were still hospitalized days later. One student was forced to run to the hospital nearby with an axe still lodged in his right shoulder.

After their killing spree, police were quickly closing in. Rather than facing authorities head on, Taucci turned the gun on his partner, Luiz- killing him. He then took his own life.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

why did they do it?

Firstly, Taucci and Luiz were copycats; plain and simple. They wanted the fame and notoriety that Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold have.

Rumors did circulate about Taucci being bullied and dropping out of school over it, but sources claim this was pretty much irrelevant to the attack. The bullying wasn’t severe by any means, allegedly it was primarily focused on Taucci’s acne. State officials say the boys never showed any problems during their time in school.

Taucci had been raised by his grandmother, as a result of his mothers “addiction problems.” Taucci is considered the “leader” of the two, as he’s the one who originally formulated the plan. Luiz was described as a quiet kid who kept to himself, which has led the public to believe this was a “leader-follower” type of scenario. If it is, it’s still unclear how Taucci managed to rope Luiz into this. The boys had been friends since childhood, playing video games and visiting the local arcade together.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

was there any criticism after the attack?

As with any tragedy, the public wants to blame the perpetrators- however, if the perpetrators are gone, the public will tend to target the people who made the tragedy possible in one way or another.

Brasil’s former right-wing president, Mr. Bolsonaro, (a president surrounded by accusations of political manipulation, buyouts, and more) had recently passed a law making the acquisition of firearms significantly easier. Gun violence is extremely common in Brasil, though school shootings are relatively rare, with only a handful of documented cases existing in modern times.

Because of this law being passed, many Brazilians blamed him for the tragedy at Raul Brasil. However, many others brought up the possibility of making sure all staff were armed, in order to better protect their students. However, nothing ever really came from this debate, as the law stayed in place, and staff remained unarmed (that we know of.)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Rest In Peace to the victims who tragically lost their lives on 03/13/2019 at Raul Brasil School. Que onde quer que você esteja, a vida o trate melhor do que o tratou esta vida.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

# Hello! Thanks for reading. I’m really sorry this deep dive isn’t as long as my Cokeville one (view here)- I did do my best to find all the information I could, but this case has been pretty hard to find anything on. I also tried to find a memorial photo of the victims to include so I could do a writeup on who they were as people, but I can’t seem to find anything.

# This was requested by somebody, once again- so if you learned something new, you can thank them. If I’m able to find any photos of the victims at any point, or other information that I think should be here, I’ll edit the post to include it.

# I also did add a translation for the first photo, if you click on the alt text you’ll be able to see it. I think adding context to the photos via alt text is probably a somewhat decent idea, so I’m gonna try to do that more! Again, thanks for reading :D

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

[captain-price-unofficially]

Six .50-caliber MG's jut from the transparent nose of this B-25 aircraft, which served with the 490th BS in China, 1944.

[morbidology]

Amy Fisher, born in Merrick, New York, gained infamy in 1992 when, at age 17, she was arrested for the attempted murder of Mary Jo Buttafuoco. The incident stemmed from a tumultuous relationship with Joey Buttafuoco, a 35-year-old auto body shop owner who allegedly had groomed Fisher while she was a minor.

To gain his attention, Fisher repeatedly damaged her car as an excuse to visit his shop. After hearing Joey's frustrations about his wife, Fisher acquired a .25-caliber handgun and went to the Buttafuoco home, where a confrontation ended in Mary Jo being shot in the head. Remarkably, Mary Jo survived, though with severe injuries, leading to Fisher’s arrest and conviction.

Fisher’s trial quickly became a tabloid sensation. Her recorded conversations, including one with gym owner Paul Makely, exposed her willingness to leverage the scandal for fame, stating she wanted "her name in the press" to benefit financially. She accepted a plea deal, pleading guilty to first-degree assault, and served seven years in prison. Joey Buttafuoco initially denied the grooming, though he was later convicted of statutory rape after Fisher provided receipts and testimony confirming their relationship.

After her release, Fisher pursued a variety of public endeavors, including a column in The Long Island Press and publishing her biography, If I Knew Then.... In the years that followed, she faced controversy once more when her husband sold a sex tape of her, which she initially sued to prevent, later agreeing to promotional appearances. This shifted her career into adult entertainment, where she performed in films and worked as a stripper for several years before stepping away from the industry.

In later years, Fisher appeared on Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew, navigating the fallout of her early notoriety. Her life has been a continual source of media intrigue, particularly after reunions with both Joey and Mary Jo Buttafuoco.

[usafphantom2]

Some might say six .50 caliber MG's from the nose of a B-25 is excessive…they would be wrong ✈️

@JasonRBurt via X

[drarryspecificrecs]

2023.12 ~ Top 5 longest fics posted on AO3

1. The Man Who Forgot by @slightweasel [E, 250k]

►After ten years of marriage, Harry forgets. The more things change, the more Draco Malfoy is still up to something.

2. Conjuring Cupid by @sugarplum-senpai [M, 89k]

►Two decades after Hogwarts, Harry's toy shop is ready for the busiest season of the year. Bolstered with an ever-growing work list, plenty of tea, and a sentient puppet always looking for mischief, his life is full. Still, at the end of the day, he’s lonely, and as the boy who lived his search looking for a match is disastrous. When his friends register him for an anonymous dating service, he’s unconvinced. Then again, maybe not knowing each other’s faces right away might just give him everything he’s longing for.

3. City of Quartz by ladygoodman [M, 57k]

►[...] It's 2012, and the granddaughter of Celestina Warbeck is pronounced dead at her home in Los Angeles. Auror Harry Potter finds the case file a little too familiar with other celebrity deaths cropping up all over the UK. The Dark Mark is making an appearance on young witches and wizards as well. There are only a few former Death Eaters who haven't been locked away in Azkaban, and Draco Malfoy is one of them. On that suspicion, Harry follows his tracks all the way to sunny Los Angeles, where he's faced with an entirely new caliber of celebrity culture. Who is Caelum West? How is he mixed in with all of this? And why does he look exactly like Draco Malfoy?

4. Nervous? by @invisible-nerd-girl [T, 46k]

►Harry gets drunk at a party, only to remember a game he over heard muggles talking about. He ends up playing with Draco who doesn't back down. Much to his surprise, it doesn't end there.

5. If I win, lose, or draw, there’s a winner in us all by MystMelody [E, 41k]

►Sixteen years ago, Harry and his England team suffered World Cup heartbreak following an agonisingly close loss at the hands of a single, incorrect umpiring decision. Many years and two World Cup victories later, and Harry is (mostly) sure that he has moved on. As Harry’s final tournament before retirement looms, he is confident that his team have what it takes to lift the trophy a third time - no matter what anyone else might say. Especially Malfoy, who has reinvented himself as a successful Quidditch reporter and seems determined to write as many awful things about the team as possible. [...]

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 15k

※ Word count: 15k ~ 40k

The Lost Boy by @youhavemyswordandmybow [M, 17k]

Dark Artistry by @sightedkarma [E, 26k]

The infallibility of unicorn hair by mindor [E, 18k]

Just Exist by Kendra_Storm [T, 32k]

More than a Legend by @romaine2424 [M, 17k]

New Beginnings Taste Sweet (Daffodils) by corazon_san [T, 18k]

O Come, All Ye Faithful by toomuchplor [E, 19k]

Secrets Undone (the Lightning Order) by @xx-thedarklord-xx [M, 39k]

Spoils of War by instead_of_sleeping [E, 30k]

What happened at Christmases by ProseMary [?, 15k]

You're Scrooged, Draco Malfoy by @fencer-x [M, 27k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

25 Days of Draco and Harry 2023 | @slythindor100

Frottage Cottage FFF

H/D Erised 2023 | @hd-erised

Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost

Wheel of Drarry Mini-Exchange Secret Santa 2023 | @drarrymicrofic

Dark Festivus Gift Exchange 2023 | @harrypotterfesthub

Fanatical Fam Fic Exchange 2023

HP Festival of Stars 2023 | @hpfestofstars

HP Soulmates Secret Santa 2023 | @hp-soulmates-secret-santa

HP Yuletide Bliss 2023 | @hp-yuletide-bliss​

Yuletide and Mulled Wine Fest 2023 | @yuletide-and-mulled-wine

2023 Harry Potter Trans Comfort Fest | @magicaltrans