#Windows Evaluation Period

[techdirectarchive]

Fix Windows Server frequent disconnects and shutdown

In this article, we shall discuss how to fix Windows Server frequent disconnects and shutdown. Before proceeding, I am currently using ACEMAGIC Mini PC for this specific lab environment with an  excellent computing power and impressive performance. You may want to see how to install Windows Server unto ACEMAGICIAN Mini PC. Also, see  how Install Proxmox VE on a Beelink EQ12 Mini PC, how…

[phossiii]

｡𖦹°‧⭑ monsters: chapter ten

synopsis: batman comes for a visit. and phosphorus makes a rather "heartfelt" confession.

cw: reader is a monster, mature themes, violence, profanity, innuendos, phosphorus is phosphorus

a/n: anon... this is for you ;) you know who u are

One month later.

"Let me get this straight... you want to stay here in Belle Reve?"

"Yes."

"And you don't want to go back to Arkham?"

"Nope."

Taking in a deep inhale, Batman let out a long exhale through his nose.

"I don't suppose this has something to do with Alexander Sartorius?"

"Whaaaaat? What makes you say that?"

His brows flattened, and you realized his gaze wasn't on you, but rather on something outside of the window behind you.

Warily, you turned around, only to see Phosphorus fighting against a swarm of guards trying to detain him.

"You're not taking her back to Arkham, Batman!" he exclaimed, using his head to bang against the glass since his hands were cuffed behind his back. "I'll burn this whole place down!"

Your eyes shot wide.

"Don't say that, you idiot! They'll add to your time!"

"I don't think a few extra years is doing much to his triple life-sentence..." Batman assured in a monotone.

You could practically hear the judgement in his voice, its presence distinguishable from a mile away.

With a sigh, you turned around, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Alright... maybe it does have something to do with him... so what?"

"He's psychotic."

"It wasn't too long ago that the shrinks at Arkham thought I was psychotic."

"Demonic possession is not recognized by any court in this country. It was either that or be declared as legally insane. And if that were to have happened, they would've—"

"Locked me up and threw away the key? Believe me, I know."

With a huff, you slumped slightly in your chair, your gaze falling to the floor, before slowly gliding up to him.

"He's charming."

"Most psychopaths are."

"Do you think I would be anywhere near him if I thought he was a threat to me?"

"Love can make sane people do irrational things, (y/n). I've seen it before, and I've seen the road it leads to."

"I am not Harley Quinn."

"And he's not Joker?"

"This seems very hypocritical considering you-know-who..."

At the mention of Selina, Batman cleared his throat, quickly shifting the conversation by sliding a manila folder across the table.

"This is not what I came here to talk about."

Glancing at the file, your eyes quickly landed on the JL insignia printed boldly on the cover.

"...You're joking."

"I think you would be a good addition to our ranks."

"You gonna open a Belle Reve chapter of the Justice League? Start recruiting inmates?"

"You're not an inmate. You haven't committed a crime."

"I've murdered and cannibalized hundreds of men, women, and children."

"That wasn't your crime."

"Oh, yes, civilian! Let me save you from this burning building! Oh, no! I bit your arm off. Try again next week?"

"According to your psych evaluation, the demon has repressed herself with no signs of returning in the near future."

"Mahalat may be docile now, but I can't promise that when the stakes get high, she won't return to her old ways," you stated, seriously. "I may have placated her into not eating everything in sight, but that doesn't mean she won't eat period. And with the Justice League's no-kill motto, I'm sure I'd be nothing but a social pariah."

"You shouldn't have to spend your life behind bars because of the mistakes your parents made."

Slowly, a small smile cracked onto your lips, heart warmed by the hero's declaration.

Batman had always been so kind to you, no matter how frightening or menacing you could be.

He made it a point to make sure you were well-taken care of, covering everything from your legal fees to your original, self-admitted stay at Arkham.

He was a gentleman—with nothing but your best interests in mind—and the kindest person you had ever met.

"I'm a danger to the public, Bats... And myself," you started, softly, resting a careful, reddened hand over his gloved one. "If staying in here means I don't harm another innocent person, then I'll do it, no questions asked."

Expression firming, you stood from your seat.

"But I'm no hero."

Memories flashed behind your eyes, images of dead bodies, half-eaten limbs, screaming children.

You were far from innocent in this whole endeavor.

"The people I've hurt... the lives I've taken... that can't be redeemed by saving cats from tress..." you stated, seriously. "Each and every one of them deserves justice... and I'll be damned if I get off scot-free."

Unable to catch it, a stray tear rolled down your cheek, forcing Batman to stand up.

"So don't worry about me, alright? I'm sure you've got more important things to be doing than checking up on some—"

Before you could even finish your sentence, you were enveloped in a hug.

A surprisingly warm, surprisingly tender hug.

From Batman.

'No. Way.'

You could hear Phosphorus going absolutely ballistic in the background, shouting something along the lines of "Get your hands off her!" as he beat against the glass.

But you were too taken aback to even notice.

Just as quickly, as he came, Batman pulled away, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"You're a good person, (y/n)... Don't torture yourself with the past."

And with that, he picked up his file and exited the room, enduring a few seconds of beratement from Phosphorus before making it past and continuing on down the hall.

Exiting yourself, you were instantly bombarded with questions by your irradiated lover.

"What did he say? Is he taking you to Arkham? How soon? We have time to make an escape plan? Waller won't let this happen, right?"

"I'm staying here, Alex," you giggled, amused. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh, thank, God."

"Alright, lovebirds. Chow hall. Now," one of the guards barked, quickly un-cuffing the man before shoving him toward the entrance to the dining room, allowing you to walk over.

"Why the hell did he give you a hug?" Phosphorus asked, muttering a few curses at the guard under his breath as he rubbed his wrists. "Bastard's known for being a hard-ass, but the moment he comes around you all of a sudden he feels like handing out hugs?"

You chuckled, entertained by his jealousy.

"You're crazy."

"I'm right," he corrected.

"Y'know, I never took you for the possessive type."

"I don't like people touching what's mine."

At that, you stopped in your tracks, raising a brow as you poked a finger in his chest.

"And what about you? You have this my my my, mine mine mine thing going on. But what about me? Are you mine? Or is this ownership a one-way street?"

"'Course I'm yours, doll face," he answered, smoothly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, sending a ripple of warmth through your stomach. "I thought that was a given."

"Alex, how the hell is that a given?"

"If I say you're mine, it's obvious that the same goes for me to you."

"No. Not obvious at all."

"It's totally obvious!"

"Nope... but now that I know, I wanna hear you say it."

"You wanna hear me say it?"

"Yup."

"And you wanna call me possessive?"

"I can always ask G.I."

"Yeah, good luck getting anything outta him."

"Leaving..."

"I'm yours," he caved, quickly grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you back. "Your guy, your man, I still don't give a shit what you wanna call it."

He let out a quiet sigh, lowering his voice so only you could hear.

"I'm yours. And you get to touch me and hold me and kiss me whenever you like... in exchange for mind-blowing sex."

You grinned, giving him a knowing nudge.

It sounded even better when he said it...

"See? Now was that so hard?"

"On the contrary, I think I felt an artery harden."

"Asshole!"

"You know you love me~"

"Fuck off."

"There she is."

[langernameohnebedeutung]

there's a lot of valid takes on why Gen Z is becoming radicalised at the rate they are - all that misinformation, tiktok, red pill, the pandemic - all have good points. But I think another factor is that even politically, their sense of normalcy is entirely different to the one of prior generations. The spiral of the last 15 years, the way the Overton window has moved, the change of style and tone in political discourse, the normalisation of anti-democratic ideas, the obsession with people's private lives, the topics that are front and centre during elections these days, the changing concept of the respect and dignity expected in a public office (god I sound like a boomer) - all of that was shocking to us.

the three generations of my family, all born and raised in VERY different time periods from one another, we've all just been equally shocked and horrified again and again these last 15 years - not just by what is happening but how it is happening and by what is possible and how easy it is to make a total mockery of the democracy and the rule of law. For all of us, that was a feeling of realising that something we implicitly trusted in to the point that it didn't need talking about ... just falling away. Or proving to always have been an illusion to begin with. To someone who grows up right now, this safety and security has NEVER existed.

But for these kids - the window of their life where they start becoming politically and culturally aware basically coincides with this downward spiral and I think that makes many of them blind or numb to it. I think for many of them, that's just their understanding of how things naturally progress and politics works. That the way previous generations evaluate the current situation - this framework of intentional manipulation and misinformation and radicalisation - is just fair and acceptable behaviour and that of course politicians manipulate the discourse to get what they want and of course it is normal to tell brazen lies and spread panic if that gets you what you want and if you're loyal to the party, you parrot those lines whether you really believe in them or not. (And let's be honest with ourselves - the seed to that has always been there)

And others, who I imagine intellectually know that things are going downhill, are really stuck in this extremely mind-numbing fatalist mindset (climate change is gonna kill us all anyway, haha) which makes you hopeless and desperate. And being hopeless and desperate also makes you vulnerable to all kinds of manipulation and radicalisation - because the offer you a perspective. Or meaning.

If you think about the trad-wife and redpill stuff or generally christian nationalism but also any movement that instrumentalises history with ideological narratives, you notice that their narratives place periods of stability way back in time in periods that match aspects of their idelogy e.g. their fetishisation of the 1950s. Then they come up with some horrible bad evil enemy that destroyed that paradise and created the 'degenerate' misery we live in now. Authoritarians and ideologues and cults have always done this. It's part of constructing the mutual enemy.

Beause this way, they can create their illusion of this kind of mythical, unreachable utopia (the past) that fascists love and attach all kinds of conditions to reaching that - with no pressure for them to ever actually deliver: women staying at home, racial segregation, christian hegemony, eugenics, absolute exclusion of gay and trans identities etc. This doesn't just have the benefit of pushing their politics on a confused youth (though that's a big benefit) - it also helps them hide from young people that these last 15 years, they literally created the chaos that these kids are living in. They sowed this situation and right now, with the radicalisation of the youth, they are reaping the rewards.

And the thing is, we can blame the Tiktok or whatever but I also think it is important that we let younger people know and feel that what's happening right now - is just not normal and not sustainable.

And yes, we need to let go of the naive illusion that "the kid are going to save the world". We should never have had that. But I also don't think a radical heel-turn vilifying all of Gen Z is going to help anyone or do justice to the situation.

[writingwithcolor]

Hey folks!

It has been a while! Well, we wanted to announce some big things coming your way!

WWC Askbox: Soft Re-Opening

Wednesday, Nov 1, 2023 to Thursday, Nov 30, 2023

In light of the recent attention WWC has received by the writeblr community, and the reception to our Guide to Academic Research—the mods have decided that we will temporarily reopen to your questions and test some important changes to the site! As you may have noticed, we've taken a much-needed break to catch up on our personal lives and restore our inspiration to answer the hundreds of Q&A that we receive. 

Once the submission window is up on Nov 30, we will evaluate how our new system is going, tinker some more, and reopen once again once the construction dust clears.

New Rules and FAQ! 

We are pleased to announce our new and improved Masterpost, which we hope will be a more centralized, more informative resource for those new and returning to WWC. 

Brand-new FAQs, with new answers and content for further reading

Code of Conduct and other etiquette rules

The Ask Tutorial—a guide to writing a good ask that we’ll answer!

Moving forward, all followers are required to go through the masterpost to submit a question so they are aware of the new rules, terms & conditions. 

Read the masterpost here and ask your question!

New Process

We're piloting out our own personal askbox via Google Forms. This will help us streamline the process and keep track of everyone’s questions.

We are also introducing the Deletion Log, a public, anonymous ledger that lets you know if your question (identified by a number code) has been deleted due to a rule violation, and what you can do to resubmit. Check out the Deletion Log here. 

Want to submit an ask? 

The below are topics of asks that we will get to right away, based on the mods who are currently active. 

Black 

Chinese

Colonialism

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Japanese (INCLUDING: Anime fanfic questions! Only Mod Rina will be answering anime questions, and only if she feels that the ask would make for an educational post.)

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Mixed race

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Writing/Publishing industry 

Coming Soon: Writingwithcolor.org

We've made tremendous progress on writingwithcolor.org and are almost ready to show off the more permanent residence of WritingWithColor! However, it'll take a lot of time to fully transfer posts and links. To get the new look and all its benefits to you faster, we plan for a soft launch of the content. This will include back and forth linking between WritingWithColor.org and our home on Tumblr. We'll try to keep things seamless and your viewing experience on Tumblr shouldn't be too interrupted. Launch date is coming soon!

New Mod Applications

We still have some applications from our last call of mods and folks to respond to. So if you haven’t heard back, sorry for the delay, but no worries—we will get back to you as we start shaking the dust off our bones and getting back into Q&A. Once we are ready to invite more mods again, we'll continue our outreach.

A Special Thanks To You All

We want to thank you for your continued support, whether it’s been viewership, spreading the word about us, or sending us a tip that supports our domain and future projects for you all. The whole team really appreciates it. We will keep bringing you our best advice and guides on all things good writing with inclusivity. 

Be well and keep writing!

~WWC

[orphicarchives]

For The Glory of Rome

MARCUS ACACIUS X READER

You're finishing your senior year at Orpheus University when your history class is chosen to give an evaluation on one of the professors. Why does he feel so familiar?

⚠️ Past lives AU! Reader is Geta and Caracalla's sister! Reader is also 22 years old, Pedro is older. ⚠️

The mountains were just visible through the window you were sitting next to; their peaks reaching toward the sky above, almost as if in embrace. They were beautiful at this wintry time of year, with the snow cascading down their formations and painting them white. Bare trees that flanked them transformed into branches of green where the cold hadn't hit just yet- your eyes traveling further down the scene. It was that transitory period of the merging seasons, where autumn became winter and left everyone with an odd illness due to the changing weather patterns. Both snow and leaves were tracked inside the bustling classrooms that were alive with the excited chatter amongst the students. Everyone was excited for the upcoming break that would mark the end of the semester. For you, it would mean the midway point of your senior year at Orpheus.

You'd gone to Orpheus all three years of your college career so far, immediately entranced by the large stone pillared building it was. It was so different from your usual pace in the rainy countryside, with its suburban feel and authentic restaurants. It wasn't immediately that you felt the urge to explore the grand halls of the place and to make it your home, but that feeling came soon enough. One glance at the psychology department and a sip of coffee from the bistro down the road were enough to convince whatever part of you left unsure this would be the place. Even with how far you had to uproot yourself and make such a move, you'd made the connections you'd needed and the friends you'd always wanted.

Lee had sat himself next to you this morning with a coffee cup in hand and his phone in the other. He was addicted to that screen- any video that would appear around his recent interest in Danish pop music would be enough to send him down a spiral of excitement. The coffee, however, was for you.

"Morning!" He said, way too chipper for an 8:00am class. He usually went to Starbucks way too close to the time you were meant to be seated with only a minute left to spare. How he didn't have crippling anxiety around his time management, you'd never know. But he did bring you a drink.

"Hey, Lee." You said, with as much energy as you could muster at the moment given how tired you were. "Thanks for the coffee."

Lee threw his bag onto the ground under the long tables in the lecture hall. His spot had been on the other side of the room for the majority of the class as he'd argued he couldn't focus if seated next to you for laughter purposes. However, today he plopped himself down into the one next to you with his notebook open to the most recent material from last week. His hair was a mess as he'd most likely not had the time to brush it but at least his pants matched his shirt today.

"Yeah, 'course."

You took a sip of the drink, wincing slightly at the heat on your tongue. He'd remembered you liked your coffee black.

This morning, you had your history course which was conveniently in the building furthest from your shared apartment. Deciding the added three minutes to your walk would mean a warmer outfit for the day, you wore a white button down with fleece tights under your skirt. You had to substitute your usual leather jacket in favor for a heavier coat but still opted to wear the full face of makeup you had on every day. Eyeliner was your saving grace and you swore you'd never be caught outside without it on. You weren't much of a "girly girl," but that beauty product was the one exception.

Your shoes were still a little damp from the snow and the water had melted into the bottom of your bookbag, to your dismay. Your notebook was mostly fine except for the bottom edge, where the pen ink had run together, ruining your script.

"Did you hear about the evaluation today?" Lee asked, with his arm outstretched, offering you one of the Starbucks napkins to dry your notebook.

You hummed in a quizzing tone, signalling you didn't hear about it as you got to work cleaning up the mess before class started. There wasn't much you could do about the few pages that had been destroyed, but thankfully it wasn't the topic you needed at the moment.

"Well," Lee went on assuming you wanted him to continue, "Professor Klotsbach had to officially go on maternity leave so they're giving us someone else for the duration of this year. Apparently they're having this new guy come in today and we get to decide whether we like him or not." Lee said, rustling through his own belongings. "The history majors are saying this is the fifth one this semester."

"Oh? that'll be interesting. I didn't realize she was out already." You stated, throwing the napkins into your coat pocket. At least that meant this class would be easy today and you wouldn't have to worry too much about the notes. You took another sip of your coffee and turned your attention back to the large window to stare at the mountains again. The sun was really starting to come up now, which would hopefully make the walk home warmer. The sunlight shone over the leaves and made its way into the classroom, turning the wood paneling into that comforting auburn color you loved. Even with the weather outside, the inside felt like summer.

You directed your attention back to Lee, who was now back on his phone. You decided you weren't too tired for a conversation.

"I wonder why they're so particular about a professor for a general education course?" You asked, inquiring Lee as though he'd know the ins and outs of how the administration worked. Orpheus was always a semi-prestigious university; you wondered if they did so many evaluations for all the subjects.

"No idea," he said, taking a sip of his own drink, "I guess they wanted insight from other majors as well."

"Ah." You said, thankful that it would at least be some form of deviance from your usual schedule. After this, you and Lee had plans with the rest of your roommates to go to the bistro down the road so you considered today an easy one. A listening lecture followed by a sweet treat was a great morning.

As you were thinking of your plans, the door on the right side of the room finally opened, meaning the professor had officially walked in and class was about to start. Lee put his phone in his pocket although he didn't turn it off, so you assumed he was listening to music. You scavenged in your case for a pencil that wasn't broken and directed your focus to the front of the room, where the evaluated professor would begin.

Your breath hitched in your throat.

This man had to have been about ten years older than you but he was gorgeous. The brown in his eyes and his hair shone under the sun with such elegance; he appeared to be a painting. His brown leather jacket placed stylishly over his buttoned shirt- save for the two at the top- and his dress pants neatly drawn with a belt. An expensive one at that. He looked less like a professor and more like the cover of a teenage romance novel. Even his facial hair was properly trimmed and accentuated the angular curves of his face, which widened into a heartthrobbing smile.

"Hello, I'm Mr. Marcus." He said, turning around and writing it onto the chalkboard with whatever chalk was left in the tray from the class before. He then wiped his hands against each other and stood in front of the desk, leaning against it in an effortless grace as he stared at the class. His eyes scanned the room before they fell on you. It was only for a moment before he looked elsewhere, but you were starstruck and your stomach flipped.

Lee snickered quietly at the face you were making which took you out of your trance. "Dilf season, huh?"

Your cheeks were flushed and your whole body felt hot. It was unlike you to immediately be so caught off-guard. You shook it aside and attributed it to intimidation. That had to be it, you were just nervous of a new professor and at this guy's confident yet inviting demeanor.

"Shut up, Lee." You said with a small smile, so he'd know not to take offense although you were serious. You didn't want to draw any attention to your heart beating wildly in your chest.

As he continued talking, however, the burning in your abdomen only got stronger. There was something to this man, some sense of familiarity that struck you defenseless, although you were unsure as to why. You were certain you'd never seen the man before in your life, yet there was an undeniable pull that rendered you speechless for the rest of the class. He was wonderful at explaining everything in full detail and perfect when it came to answering questions. One thing was for certain though, and that was there'd be no way you could focus on any topic if Mr. Marcus was the professor. Despite how well he performed his job, you just couldn't concentrate. So, when the papers came around at the end of the class for the evaluation, you checked the box stating your disinterest in Mr. Marcus as your professor. How would you be expected to learn in a place where he was the teacher if you were so flustered? All you wanted to do was go home and decompress.

You submitted your paper to the front of the room, Lee in tow. You placed it face down on the desk even though the evaluations were anonymous; you felt awful for the decision you made. How was it fair for him to do everything perfectly and to not be granted the occupation?

As you were about to turn towards the door, you locked eyes with Mr. Marcus. They were a golden honey brown, very similar to the warmth of the room you were in, and they had you entranced. He smiled at you and raised his eyebrows as invitation for conversation, which was when you realized you'd been standing there in front of him with open eyes for longer than you meant to.

"Miss (Y/N), did you enjoy the lecture?" He asked, calm and composed. He must've read your name off the seating arrangement sheet and pieced two and two together.

"Uh, yeah-yes. Yes, I did. I find Rome pretty fascinating." You said, trying to regain your own composure. You smiled back at him in a last effort to appear normal and then walked out of the room and into the large hall where Lee followed close behind.

Alone in the Lecture Hall once all the students had departed, Marcus let out a hitched breath. You must have noticed it too? There was something so off about you and he was immediately drawn to your presence the minute he'd entered the room. It was as if he'd bumped into you before, only this odd feeling of familiarity was far more intense than anything he'd encountered before.

He learned against the desk for support and reached for the evaluation papers. He remembered exactly which one you'd placed down as he counted the number of sheets placed on top. He was unsure as to why he needed this clarification so badly, as if the evaluation was going to be enough insight as to how you truly felt about him.

You'd written that he performed everything perfectly. Checked all the boxes showing the administrators that he'd done as he should. But, at the end of the form, you'd written you didn't want him to have the job.

He smiled to himself, just slightly. He must've been overreacting.

...

It was with disdain that his eyes followed yours, the vituperative look etched into his skin. He appeared no older, even with the worry lines becoming apparent as he frowned; kohl seemingly molded into the flesh of his face with its darkness around his eyes. His tunic adorned with goldened jewelry held his red cloak fastened at his shoulder, which swiftly moved side to side as he walked about the palace floor. With his domineering personality and flamboyant demeanor, one could argue he very much belonged here. But those who truly knew him, such as you, would argue the complete opposite. A child in the body of man, ruling over the Roman Empire with the ability to kill any one of the men who'd built the imperial palace with the flick of his wrist.

And to think, he was your brother.

Emperor Geta manically moved back and forth, his steps echoing in the greatness of the hall where the two of you stood. Your other misfortune of a sibling somewhere entranced by his monkey, you presumed. Even with neither of them being much too intelligent, Geta was definitely the force to be reckoned with. This flurry of anger he felt was often of your own doing and today was no different- although the situation was more dire than previous mishaps.

What was usual sibling banter had turned into something fierce, unforgiving. It seemed as though the two of you no longer stood on the same plane and no words could be spoken to alleviate the tenseness between you two.

"There's a traitor-" He began, voice laced with more anger than anything else now that the shock had subsided. "Someone is helping the Senate to conspire against us. A traitor within the castle?" Geta dramatically flung his fingers over his heart and buried it into the fabric of his dress, steadying himself from falling as if he were intoxicated.

"I've heard nothing of the sort, brother." You let out, hardly above a whisper. It felt wrong for the secret to spill past your lips after all this time of keeping it. Although this had been going on for nearly five months, to speak it aloud even partially breathed it into existence. You, who had no family other than Geta and Caracalla, were plotting the demise of both of them. Rome was a collective and you'd been appointed to preserve the democracy of the people- something your brothers had turned into tyranny under their rule. However, it seemed as though they'd just caught wind of the plot without knowing who was leading the rebellion. Of course, Geta would eventually figure it out but the best thing you could do would be to deny anything that would lead to you or Acacius. He would have his head by morn and yours by the next.

Geta focused his eyes toward the nearest column so as not to look at you, forcing himself to tongue over the idea as it repeated within his head. His ornate laurel wreath crown he wore glistened in the light from above, casting a radiant glow on the floor. He was beautiful, if undeservingly so.

"Geta." You started, still fighting the fear that was always prevalent when conversing with your brother, "You are the emperor. Who would dare conspire against you?" you asked, knowing you had to do damage control. It all felt too real and too sudden for anything to happen just yet, this was unplanned. There was still so much more to be done and now that Geta had heard, Caracalla would be next to be informed- potentially halting the senate from being able to make a proper move. Your brothers would behead them all and force you to watch.

There had to be an informant within the Senate, someone who sided with your brothers in hopes of some grand reward for ratting you out. If they told Geta of the uprising, there's no telling how long it would take until they knew you and Acacius were leading it.

Suddenly, it was as if the color returned to Geta's white painted face. The creases that had formed out of worry now resumed with a smile so horrid and vile that your stomach seemed to drop to your toes with dread. The redhead inched closer to you until he was standing directly before you, inches away from your faltering breath. Smug look upon his face with his hands placed behind his back, he whispered in your ear the one thing you never wanted to hear from him.

"Make sure to relay this message to the Senate. If I hear of any further plans or catch the name of anyone involved within the operation, I will make sure the streets of Rome run red with their excrements."

Your veins turned to ice. It was as if your body had become as still as the marble statues surrounding the two of you. The sunlight hitting your brother's hair was not a warm and comforting light, but the light of a thousand fires ready to destroy anything within its path. You could smell the antimony from his makeup, and it was churning your stomach the longer you stood next to him. And then, he pulled you into a forceful embrace.

"You're my brethren, (Y/N). But bloodshed triumphs over blood. My mercy doesn't spill out of my fingertips such as the weak do. I am to carry on the tree of my lineage and I will do so from the seed of my power. Don't let me ever hear my dear sister has fallen into the conspiracy of the people."

Then he left, and a piece of your soul died with the slam of the door behind him.

...

General Marcus Acacius, still clad in the paludamentum from the evening's dinner, gathered himself after a lengthy conversation with some of his troops. He was fortunate for the day's conquer, but he was entirely ready to return to his chambers to meet with his love; hoping she could soothe the grievances that emanated from his soul. A slight glance into the reflection of the gate showed a man worn down by war. Physically and spiritually he felt beaten and old. His face, which had appeared so bright when he'd first started his efforts, had now succumbed to the weight he felt inside. He was duller than the man he'd always been. A light had been extinguished and would never again be set aflame. His body felt as though it were an empty chamber, hollow with only the sounds of the maternal screaming he heard from war. Mothers calling home their only sons that would stay calling for the remainder of their lives. Praying for the boys who'd become soldiers, fallen under an empire that prided themselves on greatness.

The Romans were cruel murderers. And he did their bidding.

Trying his best to push his stressors aside, he stepped into the small garden flanking the back perimeter of the palace, knowing that was your usual place upon nightfall. The fountain seemed to hum as the water rushed down into the basin. The sounds of bugs chirping filled his ears. The calmness of the fire tamed within the confines of the torches made flickering shadows upon the stones beneath his feet.

And then, there was you. Turning to face him once he'd entered the palace and meeting his gaze. He'd sworn he never understood the meaning of goddess until he'd met you. From the first encounter at the palace, Acacius knew he was in love. Every statue and painting couldn't compare to the beauty that radiated off you, he knew. Your eyes were pools of mystery and your skin softer than the sheets lining the bed you shared, fragile under the callouses of his hands that were worn by the hilt of his sword. You were a delicacy. He thought you were more striking than the sun itself.

The word love would never be enough to describe the power that flowed through his veins upon the mere mention of your name or the gentleness of your kiss.

You were here in your usual palla, the purple dye of the fabric shimmering under the soft glow of the fire. Your face was hardened into a concerned expression and your lips were downturned. What was usually a gleeful expression when your fiancé returned home safely seemed to be just a little short of animosity.

Acacius immediately went to place his hands gently at your sides, pulling you in slightly with a quizzical look, assessing for any physical ailments. "What troubles you, my Lady?"

You wanted to cry, to scream, to let out all your frustrations through vile words such as your brothers did, but you felt so beaten down you couldn't even formulate the words. Acacius had done nothing wrong but be within your proximity. And now your lover would be subjected to the unforgiving wrath of Geta.

"My Lady?" He asked once more, softer this time. He had a rough day, you could tell, and his forehead lines became more apparent as his brows furrowed. His beard was trimmed but not shaven, so as not to flaunt off some of the scars he'd gathered below his nose. He had one on his cheek and one on the back of his hand that you would run your fingers over in an intimate embrace. He was beautiful, even with the years of war embroidered into his skin. He was your heart.

"It's Geta," you finally mustered, holding Acacius's hand to your cheek and letting a tear fall, "he's enlightened to our uprising."

It was the General's turn to express his worry. "How was he informed?" Hs asked, pulling you in for a stiff hug as he was still wearing his breastplate.

"Macrinus must have caught word after last night's gathering. W-we were so careful, I-"

"Shh." Acacius said, slowly rubbing circles into your back, "We'll be okay, we'll find a way." He said this almost so convincingly you wanted to believe it yourself. But you knew Geta would do his best to punish you in every way humanly possible. There would be no escaping.

"We can run away before they find out its us-"

"To where? We both have the faces of those known in Rome, we'll never even make it past the gate without our identities being revealed. And then what? Where will we go that has no promise of being conquered?" He asked, holding onto you as though your arms alone would ground him. "And (Y/N), you know my heart belongs to you and the people. I couldn't leave one in place of the other."

Any form of democracy was going to be dead if your brothers continued to be the ultimate monarchs the were. Their reign had caused nothing but horrors to the people .

"Geta may want my head when he finds out, but he'll never kill you," Acacius said, looking into your eyes, "He'd never kill our kin." At this, his hand dropped to your stomach, caressing the top of it gently.

"You will not die without me." You said, knowing what he would suggest in the hopes of keeping you safe. "I will not allow it."

"And then what? You die and there will be no hope. Not for the people or politics or our son. My work to free us from the grasp of Rome will be for nought."

Your tears started to cascade down your face as quickly as they came, taking your kohl along with it. This was unfair. All of it was unfair. You wanted nothing to do with your brothers or ruling or Rome or anything. All you'd hoped for was to live peacefully in a world without it- how foolish.

"I love you, Acacius. You know this." You said, burying your face into his shoulder. You took in the metallic scent of his breastplate, trying to ease yourself. You knew as a general that he would never leave Rome defenseless.

"As I love you," he said, moving you gently so you were facing each other, "You know what has to be done."

You composed yourself and met his eyes, trying to find solace in them. He felt more like family than the insufferable gingers you shared a bloodline with. And you knew you'd do anything to protect the family you made for yourself, even if that meant sacrificing the birth one.

"We have to kill them." You said. You found the words didn't trouble as much as you thought they might.

[lonestarbattleship]

March 5, 2024 Refloat of Battleship Texas

"Good Morning!

This morning Battleship Texas Foundation, Valkor Energy Services, and Gulf Copper plan to undock the Battleship Texas. This hours-long process will start at roughly 4 am. This operation is incredibly dependent on weather conditions -tide, current, and visibility. As of right now, there is very dense fog, if the Galveston Pilots do not have sufficient visibility, the discharge will be delayed until the next suitable tide and current window.

With over 700 tons of steel renewed on the ship and hundreds of thousands of man hours put into making the hull substantially watertight, we have great confidence that today will be successful. Once this 112 year old hull goes back into the water we will be subjecting her to an extended evaluation period while the ship remains in the shipyard.

I combined all three videos posted on their Facebook page.

Posted on the Battleship Texas Foundation Group Facebook page: link, link, link, link, link, link, link, link, link, link, link, link, link, link

[emkayewrites]

OK - another BTS of Bridgerton Season 3 moment in my Lukola fanfic. Luke and Nicola rehearsing THAT sex scene.

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

12th October 2022 – Buckinghamshire (UK)

Of all the rehearsal spaces they had been able to inhabit so far, this was one of the grandest.  In another lifetime, this had been the nursery for the Victorian family who lived here.  Attesting to this history were the period features: dark wood floorboards and panelled emerald-green walls.  These days, the room stood largely empty apart from the heavy green curtains that framed the bay windows and a blue chaise longue that the production team had positioned in the centre.  A purple blanket was messily strewn across the chaise longue.

Luke and Nicola sat cross-legged on the floor beside the piece of furniture, a script cradled in each of their laps.  They were both dressed casually, Luke in dark jogging bottoms and a white-shirt, and Nicola in black leggings and tank top.  Lizzy sat opposite them, wrapped in an oversized maroon cardigan, her auburn curls pulled up into a high ponytail. She tapped the end of a ballpoint pen thoughtfully against her bottom lip as she scanned her own copy of the script.

“OK, so, do we want a break or do we want to move onto the next section?”  She surveyed them.

“I’m happy to carry on for a bit.” Luke responded. 

Nicola nodded in agreement, her eyes catching the clock by the door as she did so. She was surprised to see that they had been working for nearly four hours without interruption.  They were deep into a process that Lizzy called negotiating your boundaries.   This meant that their morning had been spent walking through their intimate scenes and figuring out exactly how they would enact them.  Lizzy was there to facilitate them as they maneuvered through the challenging dialogue and actions.  Every single touch was discussed, choreographed, and evaluated in explicit detail. 

Initially, Nicola had walked in feeling slightly on edge and she knew Luke was going through the same motions.  Neither of them had ever worked in scenes where they had to portray sexual acts in such excruciating detail and the idea of doing things like working out the mechanics of digital penetration had been daunting.  Yet, they had done exactly this for several hours and to her surprise, it had been one of the most enriching and comfortable experiences she had ever had in a rehearsal.  It had felt tough but only in the same way coordinating steps to a dance routine could feel tough.  There was something about Lizzy’s gentle manner and her assuredness that made even the most intense scripted action seem manageable.  Most of all, there was Luke.  She had not known she could feel this comfortable with a co-star until they had started working on the sex scenes.  Luke was gentle and respectful.  As they directed one another, step by step, through kisses and touching, Nicola forgot for a moment that anyone else was in the room, observing.  He made her feel like they were the only two people in the room which was exactly how she needed to feel to really embody her character in those scenes. 

It was also a consuming process.  The only thing they had to care about was one another and the performance they were there to deliver.  The rest of the world fell away.  It was just what she needed, and she was happy to surrender herself entirely to the work.

“Great.” Lizzy smiled. “Let’s go from line 347 to 523.”

Nicola shuffled herself up onto the chaise longue, and Luke moved so that he was a few steps away from her.

Lizzy held up the script and read: “We have our rear view of Colin - pun-intended -as he stands before Penelope, fully exposed and vulnerable.”

Nicola looked up at Luke, he faced her with his back to Lizzy.  He stood tall and stiff.  He was so good at playing the character that even without a single line of dialogue, he exuded Colin. 

Lizzy continued reading: “Penelope leans back on the chaise longue, a blanket draped across naked body, tastefully obscuring her breasts, abdomen, and upper thighs.  She looks up at Colin as he approaches, her face is a mixture of hopeful anticipation and nerves.”

Nicola arched her back against the chaise longue, pulling the blanket across her chest, stomach, and thighs as she did so.  Luke’s eyes travelled across her body, a shy smile on his face.  She met his expression with a look of excitement and nerves.  All Penelope wants in this moment is for him to be right next to her, for him to touch her. 

“OK next - Colin gently peels the blanket back, takes in her naked body.” Lizzy directed, watching as Luke walked three small yet purposeful steps towards Nicola.  He reached forward and gently tugged the blanket away, his hand caressing her stomach as he did so.  Although she was not naked, she imagined she was, and let out a small gasp at her own sudden exposure.  His eyes scanned over her stomach, along her breasts and then into her eyes.  He did the thing most men did when they looked at her breasts, he lingered.  It was brief but noticeable.   It was hard in moments like this one to forget that this was an attractive young man pressed on top of her. 

Penelope is aching for him to be on her, in her. Nicola thought, trying to keep her focus.  She felt her heart race.  In that moment, a part of her ached for him to hurry up and touch her.  She could not explain what the feeling was or why it was there, only that it had been present all morning and it had made the work much easier.  When their skin touched, when she felt his breath against her, it felt good.  To her, this was a win.  She was doing sex scenes with someone and enjoying them.  Is this not what acting should be?  She was getting something right.       

“He leans over her, tugging the blanket over them so their dignity is covered. The entire time, their eyes remain locked.”

Here, Luke moved so that he was leaning on top of her, supporting his body weight with his own arms.  She watched as he tried to pull the blanket over them in one smooth motion but instead, struggled.  It was hard for him to support his body weight with only one arm and adjust the blanket with the other.  This scuffle continued, becoming less sensual and more comical as the seconds passed.

“Sorry – it’s either I move the blanket and crush you, or I don’t move the blanket.” Luke sighed in exasperation, sitting back up.

“Can I help him?” Nicola looked over at Lizzy.

Lizzy gave them a thoughtful look.  “Let’s give it a go. From the top.”

Once again, Luke appeared on top of her, using one arm to hold himself up and the other to tend to the blanket.  They stared deep into each other’s eyes as they did.  Nicola felt around for the blanket, trying not to break eye contact as she did, and felt the cotton fabric scrape her fingertips.  She shuffled herself further down to try to reach, still trying to maintain the intensity of their gaze.  Luke’s face began to contort from lovelorn to amused, eventually making him break character.

“What are you doing?” He laughed incredulously. “All I’m seeing is you slipping further down and away.”

She sat up. “I was trying to reach the blanket, I’m too bloody short!”

This made all three of them laugh.

“Alright, so that doesn’t work.” Lizzy stated. She took her pen and began to scribble.  “How about we make a slight edit…?  Out of shot, Colin tugs the blanket over them, so their dignity is covered.  The camera holds on their faces.  There we go, movie magic!  They can adjust it off-camera.”

“I’m happy with that.” Luke agreed.

“I think that could look really beautiful.” Nicola added. “They keep their eyes on each other whilst the action happens below.  It’s sexier.”

“Yeah, a tight close-up on the face Nic was making right then– that would be really sexy.” Luke said the words in a matter-of-fact tone but nonetheless, Nicola felt her face flush.  

“Oh, you’ve got Nicola blushing.” Lizzy laughed.

“I mean Penelope’s face. Which is also Nicola’s face. You know what I mean!” Luke continued, a little self-conscious. “That expression you’re making is really hot.”

“Keep talking like that Luke and you’ll get me into bed for real.” Nicola retorted, making all three of them laugh once again.

This was the thing about intimate scenes.  Things got intimate.  It was inevitable.  There was nothing to be done about it except to have a good sense of humour and to use the awkward emotions to create a great scene.  She also had to admit to herself that she agreed with Luke’s vision of the scene.  There was something incredibly sexy about their characters holding each other’s gaze so intently as they touched each other in the most intimate parts.  She tried not to let her mind wonder into thinking about what that said about Luke and his sex life. 

“The only note I have so far is maybe some more breathlessness from Penelope?” Lizzy queried. “That and her expression changing from sort of stunned to really keen - it definitely heats up the scene. What do you think?”

“Sure, why not?  I’ll remember to bring my inhaler.” Nicola joked.

“Alright… then we go from 401. ” Lizzy returned to the script.

Nicola leaned back again, and Luke looked down at her, his waist was pressed slightly against her abdomen, but his legs were positioned to the other side of hers.  It was not as intimate as the real soon would be when it was eventually filmed in front of a camera.  Then, his legs would be between hers, and there would be a protective cover between them to prevent any touch there.  Regardless, she noticed him taking great pains to keep his parts down there away from her down there. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Luke whispered to her, his face sincere and serious.

“Penelope is overwhelmed by love for him.  She pulls him towards her, crushing their mouths together in an intensely passionate kiss.”

Nicola broke from the scene to look back over at Lizzy: “So, tongues?”

“That is entirely up to you and Luke.” Lizzy smiled.

“He’s already slipping one body part in, what’s another?” Luke smirked.

Nicola pulled a face. “Ugh, don’t say it like that.”

“Sorry, I’ll rephrase.” He looked at her apologetically, and then reached a hand across to push a strand of hair that was creeping into her eyes back behind her ear.  It felt surprisingly intimate, almost inappropriate, perhaps because this was an action by Luke, not Colin. 

He gave her a small mocking smile and spoke in Colin’s voice. “Penelope, can I interest you in duel of the tongues?”

Nicola followed suit, speaking as sweet, wide-eyed Penelope. “A duel?”  A steely look crossed her eyes as she returned to her usual Irish accent. “I want your tongue boxing my tonsils – go deep, lad!”

The remark had its desired effect.  Luke buried his head into her shoulder as he shook with laughter.  If it had been anyone else’s hot breath on her neck, their mouth suspiciously close to her chest, she would have been quick to pull back politely but firmly.  Yet, she did not mind this one bit - it felt like being embraced by a broad-shouldered cuddly bear.  She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him and pull him in closer.  Again, she reflected on how it could seem so strange that they were so physically comfortable with one another, but she was sure this was normal when you filmed such scenes.  She was not sure many outside their industry would understand though.

She took the opportunity to mimic panting noises and asked Lizzy: “Are we doing it right? The sex?”

This made Luke laugh even harder.

They were a ridiculous sight; Luke with his head nuzzled into her shoulder, in a fit of giggles, and Nicola panting like a dog.

Lizzy laughed through her eye roll.  “Oh yes, this would be great for the Nature channel.”

You can read more here: Curtain Fall. Fair warning: this is a slow-burn Lukola romance that spans several years in the vein of friends-to-lovers. If you do want to read from the start, please be patient! There are 50 planned chapters and we are only on 17.

[the-daiz]

hiii i loved your flash falling in love fanfic sm it was so cute😭😭

your other idea of having a scenario of him falling for a reader that's strong also seemed very interesting. could you maybe write that but with like.. a short reader? like a reader whose power doesn't match their size at all? (hero or not)

(i may be projecting on the height part😔)

if not, that's ok. i just rlly like your fanfics/hcs, and i enjoy reading them a lot!! <3

Flashy flash, falling inlove? #2

Genre; fluff, hcs

Pairing; Flashy flash x reader

Short! Reader

side note; Isn’t projecting the whole point of x reader fics? 🤔🤔 I’m so glad you enjoy my fics ml! I appreciate your support sm sm 💋

not proofread (sorry)

Flashy flash doesn’t really focus on much.

well, what I mean is: his focus rarely strays to anything but himself and his duties, which sounds slightly narcissistic but he’s simply goal-oriented (and self-loving).

he merely wants to eradicate all evil and get stronger.

Truly, it’s surprising when you catch his keen interest.

You were strong. Possibly as powerful as him, that was the first thing that caught his attention.

The first time he caught you using the full extent of your power, he wasn’t sure if he was jealous or completely riddled with admiration.

but first he needed to test out how truly strong you were, and what better way to do that then accompany you on one of your hero missions, respectfully inspecting you as you slay the fiends bringing terror to the innocent.

very arrogantly asking you to a duel, apparently.

He’s very… stuck up about it. Which obviously doesn’t sit right with you, and your first impression of him isn’t the best.

He can’t help but look down on you, literally and figuratively, because of your miniature size.

However, when you finally have your duel, whether you win or lose or you end up in a draw, he does quickly learn he shouldn’t underestimate you.

After that interaction, he starts watching you more closely, maybe whenever you’re in the same parameter, or even going out of his way to find out what your schedule is and observing you from afar .He’s very subtle about it.

That was when he started experiencing something else other than respectful curiosity…

It’s how easily you navigate your strength and weaknesses, the immense sense of confidence that radiated from you and the power in your every move, it just kept pulling him deeper every time he witnessed it.

He began to talk to you more often.

He’d suddenly appear whenever you’re fighting any monsters and help you defeat them, then swiftly stir the conversation so he’s talking about anything that may be of interest to you, just so he can stretch out this conversation for as long as possible.

His tone is neutral and even a little cold, which fits the stoic expression on his face, so you can’t tell if he has any feelings for you.

Other people can though.

His quite oblivious to his own emotions. He just thinks you’re just another strong hero he can benefit from by being close to. Despite the fact he stares at you longer than he’s stared at anything else, and the fact he often times thinks about you and what you’d do, say or think in certain situations, or even the fact you give him a sense of inspiration he didn’t know he longed for.

ironically, the way it really dawns on him that he likes you, is when he catches himself adjusting how he looks on the reflection of a window before going up to talk to you.

Now that he thinks about it, he’s been taking even more care of how he presents himself ever sense he started hanging around you.

He starts growing more distant after really evaluating himself.

he doesn’t want these feelings to become a distraction for him in the future. He’s still a hero with a duty and a status to maintain.

It doesn’t last very long however, because in that small period of time he realized how much you meant to him.

it irritated him tbh, and he started cursing and insulting you in his head.

But all the negative thoughts dissipated as soon as he glanced at your face. The face that never left his thoughts or dreams.

His attraction to you manifests in subtle ways— He starts to stand closer to you. He compliments you a bit more but often times it’s (a little) back-handed. Whenever he’s in the hero association building maybe for a meeting or such, and he catches wind that you’re there too, he’s quick to ignore everyone else to look for you.

He’s still stuck-up, but he’s now a more gentle, patient, considerate AND stuck-up version of himself (to you at least)

He also invites you to spar or train together every now and then, and he gets so. Incredibly. Excited. If you make time for him. ESPECIALLY IF YOU’RE THE ONE INVITING HIM TO TRAIN/SPAR.

He pretends like it’s whatever, and he doesn’t care that much. But he can’t stop thinking about it, like he just keeps looking at the time and calculating how many hours, minutes, seconds are left before he meets up with you.

I can see him confessing to you in a ver stupid way, straightforward and stupid. Something that would keep him up at night because it was so embarrassing and out of the blue.

After one of your sparring sessions, maybe you two are just talking and catching your breathes. And maybe he says something… er, stupid like…

”you know, a lot of people are impressed by me. Obviously.” *pauses awkwardly* “I, uh… i guess I’m kind of impressed by you too. Don’t let it get to your head though, when you can’t even reach my head.” -flashy flash, with a snarky smirk.

”your back-handed compliments are getting a bit old, flash. I can’t really tell if you actually mean them or want to get a rise out of me.” -you

Shit.

He starts to panic internally.

and his heart starts racing.

and he gulps.

“No- I- Sorry- I’m complimenting you! You’re very impressive! I’m impressed!” He blurts out loudly, his face frowning but flushed with red. You blink, surprised by the sudden switch in his demeanor.

”oh, it’s fine. I wasn’t being that serious-“ -you

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, the fact is, I’m inlove with you.” -flashy flash

”Wha-”

The confession is so bizarre, you burst out laughing.

he’s very flustered when you do, and is a little hurt, thinking you may be making fun of him.

How he is in a relationship with you…

In public, he doesn’t really do much. Just makes an effort to be around you when he can, and tells you to stay safe whenever both of you have to part ways.

but behind closed doors, he’s like a new person.

He’s soft and gentle with you, holding you, caressing you, kissing you. Everything.

did I mention that he’s very good with words? He’s very good with words. He tries to charm you constantly, reiterating his devotion to you with a new set of vocabulary each time.

He teases you as much as he sweet talks you though. Especially when it comes to your height.

He doesn’t mind your height difference, but he does find it kind of adorable. The way you crane your neck to look up at him, of how you can slip through small spaces thanks to your size, and how it sometimes helps you with being flexible in battle. But most of all, he likes when you have to stand on your toes and pull him by his collar to kiss him.

if you steal his clothes, he’ll complain and act annoyed, but he adores seeing you wear them. They’re so big on, but that’s what makes it so nice, it’s like a part of him is able to protect you. (In a strange/unique way)

He’ll gift you one of his favorite shirts/hoodies and drench it in his cologne. And will say something like “You steal it so much you might as well just have it. My god, you’re such a hassle.”

He likes giving you pet names like, “gorgeous” or fucking “sweetheart” or maybe even “sweetness”, or the typical “love”, “darling”. He’s very diverse.

When he’s feeling cocky he’ll call you “tiny” or “short stuff” (corny ass)

Just loves spending time with you and generally watching you do stuff.

sitting in your presence is simply intoxicating to him, it provides him with such tranquility he’s never known in his life.

You’ll catch him warmly smiling at you a lot.

He does worry about you sometimes if you’re assigned a dangerous mission, he’s confident in your abilities but that doesn’t mean he isn’t afraid you might get hurt. He’ll send you a short text like ‘hey, you alright? Call me when you’re done’ and he’ll check his phone constantly throughout the day.

when you finally text/call him, he’ll breath a sigh of relief then pretend he wasn’t worried in the slightest.

[sovonight]

promise | xan/radri, bg2 | ao3

—✧✧✧—

"It is true, then, that this Bhaalspawn is an elf? How unfortunate. Then again, it was inevitable that Bhaal would mar our people; it is a small mercy, at least, that she was not raised among us."

"…And why is that?" Xan asks.

"Her violent nature. It inhibits her ability to live peacefully in our society." An eyebrow rises—in response to the expression on his face, Xan realizes. He composes his features, glancing neutrally down at the report in his hands. His writing is neat, thorough… and carefully objective.

"She has no more violent a nature than most adventurers, simply trying to make their way in this world," Xan says.

"Is that so? What led you to this evaluation of her?" A wave of a hand. "Point not to her good intentions; they matter little when her actions lead only to bloodshed."

"I can only ask to be believed as one of her earliest and most constant companions," Xan says. "She finds no joy in the path she has been set on, and is as much at the mercy of the coming chaos as we."

"…I see." The words contain a sense of surprise—he was not expected to speak of her this way. "Well, it matters not in the end. She should not be a concern for long. No doubt another of her kin will dispose of her, as she disposed of Sarevok—and so it will go on until this period of chaos, too, is swept behind us."

Dispose of her? Xan's grip on his report weakens; the papers shift, threatening to fall.

"Ah, hold a moment." A shuffling of papers on the desk. "I nearly forgot—there is another assignment for you. You will be traveling to Athkatla. We believe that—"

"I refuse to go." Barely aware that his lips have moved, it takes Xan a moment to realize that the words were his—and that he is now being stared at.

"Ahem—well, let me first describe it to you in full. I know you may not think yourself qualified, but I assure you, you are—"

"I resign."

—

"You seem to contemplate your moonblade more often these days," Radri says.

Xan looks abruptly up from the exposed flames of the moonblade, and sheathes it quickly before she can see much of it. Letting the door to their room close behind her, Radri joins him by the window, noting upon her approach the way that he casts his gaze upon the windowpanes—quiet, and subdued. This alone is not unlike him, but his grip on the moonblade's hilt is tight, and as she'd said, she's noticed him watching its flames frequently ever since their reunion.

"Is something… wrong?" Radri asks.

Xan pauses, a breath held, before sighing and meeting her eye.

"I can hide nothing from you, can I?" Xan says.

Xan turns away from the window, the sunlight upon him shifting away from his profile and falling into bright lines upon his shoulders, instead. His hand is still on the moonblade's hilt, his thumb beside the gem on its pommel. Radri recalls that despite the lack of light in Mulahey's lair, the moonblade's gems had displayed brilliant flashes of color when she opened the chest it had been held captive in… but now, they appear dull and ordinary.

"I was going to wait until I was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt, but I think I am only deluding myself to hope otherwise now," Xan says. "My moonblade's flames have dimmed."

What?

"It—it isn't dying, is it?" Radri asks, despite feeling that her guess is unlikely; she fears that any other explanation would mean worse.

Xan casts his gaze down towards the dusty floor between them, pausing to consider his next words.

"As I think I mentioned once, this blade will outlive you and I for a long time yet," Xan begins. "No, it is something else. I thought at first that it was scolding me for failing to protect you from Irenicus… but those were my own feelings. Unfortunately, I suspect it is displeased with my departure from Evereska and the Greycloaks."

"Why?" Radri asks. "You haven't abandoned your duties. Like with the child, in the Temple District—you didn't need to be a Greycloak to help her."

"The moonblade's judgment is not a system of points and tallies, Estel'amin," Xan says. "If I commit senseless murder one day, but then save a life the next, do you think my moonblade would consider my transgression forgiven?"

"You know what I mean," Radri says. "You're still Xan, after everything. Your heart hasn't changed."

His gaze rises to meet hers with a solemn look.

"Hasn't it?" Xan asks.

His eyes are patient, waiting for her at his guidance's conclusion—and when she finds it, her brows flinch upwards in hurt.

"Me? But I…" Radri says, her gaze flicking down to the moonblade before returning to his eyes, "It only sees me as a Bhaalspawn?"

"I cannot say for certain how it sees you," Xan says, "But it understands what I am willing to do for you."

"What… What you're willing to…" Radri says, feeling faint, imagining what he would possibly need to do to draw the moonblade's ire, "No, you wouldn't do anything like that."

"How can we know? It is said that a man does not know his true limits until he is pushed to the brink of desperation," Xan says, and sighs. "Besides, I cannot be sure that the journey ahead will afford me the luxury of choice. Who can say what your fate will drive us to? Will there always be a better option? If presented with two evils, my death is certain, no matter which I choose."

"But—wouldn't the moonblade recognize that you're in a difficult situation, and be merciful?" Radri asks.

"I do not think it possible," Xan says. "Because as long as I am with you, there is a third choice: abandoning you. As I refuse to do so, I can only bear the consequences."

Consequences. Death. She knew the moonblade could kill him, but had never considered it a possibility—despite all his self-deprecating comments, Xan has always struck her as a steadfast and competent wielder. To think that she might be what changes that….

"Despite everything, we are, in a way, fortunate," Xan says, his voice filtering back into her awareness. "We have the courtesy of a gentle warning. It could have given no indication until the day it killed me, instead."

His tone is light—for him—and while his words are spoken almost sarcastically, she gets the sense that he's trying to reassure her.

"Is there nothing I can do?" Radri asks, feeling even as the words leave her that she already knows what his answer will be. Xan's resigned nonchalance fades, leaving only sadness in its place.

"There is nothing for you to do. It is my choice."

She should nod, she thinks; she should accept this as solemnly as he has, and exit without worrying him. But an unmistakable feeling of dread has already begun to burrow into her chest, and though she can duck her head, she cannot raise it. Cut off in her field of vision, Xan moves towards her, his hand reaching out.

"Radri…"

"No," Radri says, a distant part of her hating her failure to bite back her words, "No, it's fine. Khalid is dead, Imoen is gone, Jaheira is cursed, and now you are too."

With a forced, bitter smile, she turns on her heel and escapes the room before she can cry in front of him.

—

"You are still awake," Xan says, surprise apparent on his face. The small flame in his hand flickers as he slips into their room, night having long fallen outside.

"Just thinking," Radri says, though to tell the truth, her past few hours have been spent staring quietly out of the window with her journal untouched by her side. Pushing herself off the bed, she snags the candle from the side table, and meets Xan where he stands by the door; he lets the flame in his hand die, lighting the candle, instead.

"And you? What keeps you up so late?" Radri asks, recalling the echoes of another night. "No visions, I hope?"

"If only I could say that none remain, save for the one that stands before me," Xan says. "But, no. None that I have not come to expect."

"Deep in study, then?" Radri asks, stepping away to return the candle to the side table.

"One could say that," Xan says, and sighs. "I have been studying the moonblade again."

Radri stills. After she had run out of their last conversation, Xan had not brought it up again—and she, both ashamed of her response and preoccupied with worry for Jaheira's more immediate curse, had not either. In the end, Jaheira's curse had been resolved in a matter of days, but she doubts that Xan is here now to tell her the cure to his.

"…Has it gotten worse?" Radri asks.

"At this point, you would be able to see "worse" without my telling you. No, I have other news," Xan says. "If my moonblade were to attempt to strike me down, there is perhaps a way that I could survive it. I have discovered a way to divert part of the damage, so that it is shared between myself and another."

She blinks.

"You… You can survive it?" Radri asks.

"I may have a chance to," Xan corrects her, but it hardly tempers her response: in an instant, she has him in a tight hug.

"Xan," Radri breathes with relief, "Just tell me what needs to be done, and I'll do it. I have more health, too, I can take more of the damage—"

"Estel'amin," Xan says, his hand cupping her cheek and lifting her gaze to his, "When did I say that you would need to be the one to bear it with me?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Radri says. Xan sighs.

"And to think, I agonized over this to such a late hour," Xan says. "Yes, in the end, you are the only one I can ask. To divert the damage, a connection must be established with the moonblade—not a true connection, only a fraction of one, guided by my hand. Normally, even this would be impossible, as the moonblade will accept ties to none but its wielder… but we are bonded, our spirits intertwined in the Weave. It will know nothing."

Xan separates himself from her gently, taking her hands into his, and looks seriously into her eyes.

"However, I cannot guarantee that this will work as I have planned," Xan says. "Even if we are successful today, there is a chance that the moonblade's wrath will be too great for us to bear, and you may very well end up dying alongside me. If you are at all hesitant, we will leave this here, and it will be as if I never spoke."

"I'm certain, Tahlimil. I want this," Radri says.

But at the sound of his name, a strum of uncertainty travels across their bond—when, usually, the emotion that her use of his name elicits from him is affection. Uncertain herself if she had felt that correctly, Radri searches the depths of his eyes—but she finds the same uncertainty there, as well.

"…Are you hesitant?" Radri asks.

Xan's eyes widen, caught—and as his gaze falls from hers, she notices what she had not recognized to be courage in his shoulders, as well.

"How can I not be?" Xan confesses. "The moonblade's consequences should be mine to bear, and mine alone. This is one burden I am not meant to share."

"...Then you don't think this is the right thing to do," Radri says, feeling the beginnings of a dull resignation grow in her heart. But rather than agree with her, the corners of Xan's lips rise in a faint, self-amused smile.

"No, I do. I feel I must have gone mad to think so, but despite everything, I do. It is only that, from this moment forward, all I can do is hope against hope that my choice is understood," Xan says, then his smile fades. "I seem to have found myself experiencing many of these moments, in these past months…."

His last sentence is spoken less to her, and more to himself—and he looks tired again, worn, like he did on the day of their reunion. The urgency of before forgotten, Radri reaches up to brush the shadow of his hair aside from his eyes, and trails the caress to hold the side of his face gently in her palm.

"Sounds exhausting," Radri says, softly. "Will you tell me?"

Xan's gaze rises to meet hers, and free from shadow, a trace of candlelight flickers in his dark eyes.

"Stories for another time," Xan says—and yet, his gaze is tender, and a weight seems to have been lifted, as if another piece of resolve has found its place. He draws her touch to his lips, and kisses her hand briefly, before releasing it back to her.

Unfastening the moonblade from his belt, Xan holds it between them, its grip held loosely in one hand, and its sheath in the other.

"This is your last chance to change your mind," Xan says.

Radri's gaze runs across the moonblade; its brilliant flames are hidden at present, and she has never stared very long into that fire when she had the chance, but she has an imprint of them on her mind's eye—perhaps from Xan's memory.

Radri meets his eye, committed, and Xan inclines his head.

"Then lay your hand over mine," Xan guides. "I will begin."

—

The pillow at the back of her head is firmer than usual. Scrunching her closed eyes further, Radri shifts, trying to ease the stiffness in her neck. She had had the strangest vision: a storm had visited her, and pain had followed, painted in vivid flames…

"Radri?" The word is hushed, relieved—and opening her eyes, Radri finds Xan looking worriedly down at her.

The pillow is him, she thinks, and then, Why am I…?

"You fell unconscious as I finished the spell," Xan explains, upon seeing the slight disorientation in her eyes. "I was barely able to catch you."

The spell—the moonblade. Radri sits up, her eyes finding the moonblade, which lays beside them. She doesn't know what she should expect. The moonblade doesn't look any different, and besides a faint headache that has already subsided, she doesn't feel any different, either.

"Did it work?" Radri asks.

"I believe so, though I hope we will not have to put it to the test," Xan says. "But that is not my concern at the moment. You cried out in pain…"

Xan takes her face into his hands, looking over her with worry—but all she feels now is relief, and she leans affectionately into his touch.

"I'm alright, Xan," Radri says. "In fact, I feel much better."

"Better?" Xan echoes. "You do remember what you have just agreed to?"

"Of course," Radri says, an effortless smile blooming on her face. "You're safe."

"…Safe-er," Xan concedes, though his expression carries all the words he's holding back. She's only secured him a chance; as long as he's tied to the moonblade, he's still doomed.

But at least we're doomed together, Radri thinks. She nestles in against him, floating on the feeling of having been able to do something to help, after all the helplessness of these past few weeks.

"We're really in this together now," Radri murmurs to herself, and sighs. "Almost like we're married."

Her head rests against his shoulder, but instead of accepting her into his embrace as usual, Xan stills, his surprise flitting across their bond.

"Married?"

"Ah—Wait, I meant—" Radri rushes, ready to take back her words, but Xan relaxes, drawing her close and kissing her hair.

"I suppose it is," Xan says. "Right now, your safety is all that matters, but perhaps once Irenicus is taken care of, we will be able to hold the ceremony. During those days we spent on the road, before everything, I imagined it would be a grand event, held in Evereska…"

Xan speaks wistfully, his head leant against hers—but Radri pulls herself away.

"You still want to marry me?" Radri asks, looking at him in disbelief.

"Yes?" Xan says, puzzled by her question—then his expression falls. "Do you… no longer wish to?"

"No," Radri starts, before rushing to clarify, "No, I mean, I do wish to! But, I thought… You know, given…"

"That you cannot enter Evereska? That was just a remnant of a dream; we can be wed anywhere you wish," Xan says.

"No, it's—"

"The size of the ceremony?" Xan asks. "If you desire it, it can simply be the two of us, although I assumed that at the least you would want Imoen present—"

"A Bhaalspawn," Radri forces out before she drowns in his consideration, "How could a Bhaalspawn associate herself with your House?"

She can't face him, but their bond communicates the conflicted emotion she hides on her face to him regardless. The sequence of his response follows: a shard of surprise, then a fierce protectiveness, which becomes a familiar warmth.

"Why should that matter?" Xan says. "My House will soon fall out of memory outside of Evermeet; my siblings have already left in the Retreat."

His touch finds her shoulder, but she does not relax.

"So I will never meet them?" Radri asks. "So you will never see them, ever again? Suppose we survive this, and live long—how will you explain me to them?"

"My life is my own. I will not have them judge me for it," Xan says; though subtle, there is an edge in those words. "Besides… I am not as close with my siblings as you are with Imoen."

"Your other ties, then," Radri says. "You do not think much of them, but you have them—many more than I."

"My other ties are of even less consequence," Xan says, growing serious and concerned now. "Radri… you know I care little for what others think. What is this really about?"

This is about him. This is about how, since the moment she read Gorion's letter, her life has well and truly torn apart at the seams—and how, since their reconciliation in the catacombs, she has not yet seen Xan hesitate to tear his apart to match her. She cannot regret her newly formed connection with the moonblade—not when it can save him, and allow him to stay with her—but she can add it to the cost of their love, and feel its weight press down upon her.

"I don't want you to do this for me," Radri says, her throat growing tight with emotion. "You shouldn't have to do this for me. I am the reviled Bhaalspawn—"

"And I am the moonblade wielder, and yet you now bear part of my burden with me," Xan says. "Would you deny me the same?"

"That's different," she says, "It's my fault to begin with."

"You may as well say that I am at fault, for choosing to follow you," Xan says, "Or Alaundo is at fault for writing his prophecies, or Bhaal is—well, perhaps we can all agree that Bhaal is at fault. Or is it the very nature of our world itself that is at fault?"

She doesn't respond, and in her silence, Xan wraps his arms around her in another embrace. His head rests beside hers, and his voice emerges low, and quiet.

"You wish to spare me, Estel'amin, but I am not content to be spared," Xan says. "Let me bear this with you."

His comfort is tempting, familiar. She had sheltered in it in Candlekeep's catacombs; in Baldur's Gate, when her heritage had become public knowledge; and in this same room, weeks ago, when Xan had found his way back to her and she had cried in his arms, Irenicus' pain still fresh in her mind. She wants to close her eyes and accept it again, but her thoughts run on: How long can this last?

One day, Xan will come to his senses, and he will regret having thrown everything away for her. What awaits her is either his death or his resentment...

...She should just let him go.

A pang shoots through Radri's heart at that thought, and echoes in Xan's. His compassion, his worry, rise in her chest—and enveloped in his warmth, she cannot bring herself to refuse him just yet.

"Okay," she whispers, at last.

"Will you promise it?" Xan asks. "Will you bind us together, as I did?"

There is a twinge of desperation in those words, as though he knows what she had just considered. A weak smile pulls the curve of her mouth upwards, for no one's benefit but her own.

"I'm not the one with the sentient sword," Radri says. "There's no need for binding. Besides, I don't have any spells."

"You do," Xan says. "Your kiss, for one. And I wish to be bound to you—so there is, in fact, a need."

Radri finds the strength to pull away from his embrace to look at him; Xan is determined, and completely serious. The line of her mouth breaks into a wobble.

"You are so…" She doesn't know whether she wants to laugh or cry; she releases a puff of a breath that could be the precursor to either, "Ridiculous."

The look on Xan's face softens, and in lieu of words he simply closes his eyes, presumably waiting for her binding kiss.

"Xan… really," Radri tries.

But as he waits, and she gazes upon him waiting, a small glimmer of hope emerges in her chest—not that her kiss can be any substitute for a spell, or that she has any ability to bind them together outside of their existing bond, but that she can believe him. Xan has weighed his sacrifices; he knows them better than she. And here, there are no monks, no Phlydia, no Keeper of Tomes, with a thousand words of warning and misplaced compassion that wind through her past to say but one thing: You are more trouble than you are worth.

"I promise to let you bear this with me," Radri says, at last. The words leave her more easily than she had thought—and miraculously, she feels lighter for them. A corner of Xan's lips rises.

"And…?"

Feeling a bit silly, she nevertheless leans in and kisses him lightly on the forehead. When she pulls away, Xan's eyes are open once more, bearing the warmth of candlelight within them as he meets her gaze.

"Thank you, Estel'amin." His love and sincerity wash over her through the bond; she blushes.

"N-Now—shall we go to bed, at last? Or are we going to exchange promises until sunrise?" Radri asks, standing quickly to avoid acknowledging the heat in her face. She holds a hand out to Xan, who gazes up at her with a faint smile upon his lips.

"To bed," Xan confirms, and rises to join her; he kisses her warm cheek.

She sits at the side of the bed, and waits for Xan to retrieve the moonblade and lean it against the side table, as always. When his attention is hers again, he accepts her hand, and the candle is extinguished with a quiet command.

[covid-safer-hotties]

A lot of people say you should use CPC mouthwash to prevent yourself from getting covid: It's actually the inverse. CPC gives you a short term reduction to active viral load. Add this to your arsenal for if you or others in your home become infected.

Abstract Introduction: Evaluating the antiviral potential of commercially available mouthrinses on SARS-CoV-2 holds potential for reducing transmission, particularly as novel variants emerge. Because SARS-CoV-2 is transmitted primarily through salivary and respiratory secretions and aerosols, strategies to reduce salivary viral burden in an antigen-agnostic manner are attractive for mitigating spread in dental, otolaryngology, and orofacial surgery clinics where patients may need to unmask.

Methods: Patients (n = 128) with confirmed COVID-19–positive status within 10 days of symptom onset or positive test result were enrolled in a double-blind randomized controlled trial of Food and Drug Administration–approved mouthrinses containing active ingredients ethanol, hydrogen peroxide, povidone iodine, chlorhexidine gluconate, cetylpyridinium chloride (CPC), or saline. The CPC, ethanol, and sterile water rinses were followed in a second double-blind randomized controlled trial (n = 230). Participants provided a saliva sample before rinsing (baseline) and again at 30 and 60 min after rinse. Quantitative polymerase chain reaction was used to determine salivary SARS-CoV-2 viral load at all time points. An adjusted linear mixed-effect model was employed to compare viral load after rinsing relative to baseline.

Results: The rinse containing CPC significantly reduced salivary SARS-CoV-2 viral load 30 min postrinse relative to baseline (P = .015), whereas no other rinse significantly affected viral load at 30 min after rinsing. At 60 min postrinsing, no group had a significant reduction in SARS-CoV-2 copy number relative to baseline, indicating a rebound in salivary viral load over a 1-hour window. Participants indicated a fair to good rinsing experience with the CPC product and high willingness to use oral rinses before and during dental and medical health care visits.

Conclusions: Our findings suggest that preprocedural oral rinsing could be implemented as a feasible, inexpensive approach to mitigate spread of SARS-CoV-2 and potentially other enveloped viruses for short periods, which is relevant to clinical procedures involving the nasal and oropharyngeal region.

[charmedhypno]

Charmed! 2025 Covid Policy Update

Charmed! 2025 Covid-19 Policy

Charmed! is committed to hosting the safest event we possibly can as the world continues to navigate the COVID-19 pandemic. In light of this, the Convention Committee (“ConCom”) will continue to require up to date Covid vaccinations as well as masking for our attendees, staff, and volunteers at Charmed! 2025.

In addition, hand sanitizer stations will be available throughout Convention Space (“Con Space”) and our Dungeon Monitors (“DMs”) will be extremely proactive in reminding people to clean their equipment - if you need help please ask and it will be provided!

Please read the following policies carefully! They contain several important dates and deadlines – ignorance of these policies will not result in any exemptions.

Vaccination Policy

The newest Covid-19 vaccine update has been evaluated and released for use in the United States to people aged 6 months and older for Fall 2024. People can get the vaccination if it has been at least 2 months since their last vaccination for Covid-19. People who have not previously been vaccinated for Covid-19 are considered “up to date” with their vaccinations after receiving this single dose.

This vaccine update is free under most insurance plans in the United States (including Medicaid and Medicare), but is no longer offered for free by the United States government.

Free vaccinations may be available on a state-by-state basis; so check whether or not your state has a free adult vaccination program if you require a free option. People based in the United States can search for their local Health Department here: https://www.naccho.org/membership/lhd-directory

People who have been diagnosed with Covid-19 may wait 3 months before getting the updated vaccine.

In order to attend Charmed! 2025 in-person you must be up to date with your Covid vaccination: a person who is “up to date” with their vaccinations beginning September, 2024 is a person who has received the latest updated vaccine, released in September, 2024.

Vaccinations typically take around two weeks to reach full efficacy; therefore for the purposes of Charmed! 2025 vaccinations will be considered valid if they are received by or before Monday, January 6th, 2025.

In-person attendees of Charmed! 2025 will be required to show proof of “up to date” vaccination received in good time – that is, they must show proof that they have received the Fall 2024 vaccine update by or before January 6th, 2025. Proof may be in the form of one of the following: official paper vaccine card, electronic vaccine card, photocopy or digital representation of official vaccine card, website listing your name/vaccination date, dated email for an applicable vaccination appointment, a photograph of some part of the vaccination process (eg. the vial of serum), or other applicable media. If you are unsure that your form of proof will be valid, please contact us before arriving at the event. Proof of vaccination will be verified at badge pick-up.

You can contact us using one of the following ways: Email us at: Covid@Charmedhypno.org Contact us through Charmed! social media: Twitter: https://twitter.com/CharmedHypno Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/groups/121240?sp=1 Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/charmedhypno Bluesky: https://charmedhypnocon.bsky.social/ Discord: DM @Noelle - I have answers!

People who are unable to get the updated Covid-19 vaccine for a three month period ending with the final day of Charmed! 2025 (January 26th, 2025) due to a previous Covid-19 infection will be considered “up to date” for the purposes of in-person attendance. Please contact ConCom if you become Covid-positive within this window.

IMPORTANT: if you have a Covid-19 infection that results in you being able to get the updated vaccine within the two week time period before Charmed! 2025 begins – that is, January 8th through January 22nd – you will not be considered “up to date” with your vaccination and will be ineligible to attend Charmed! 2025 in person.

PLEASE NOTE: the three month waiting period is a CDC recommendation and it may be possible for people to get the updated vaccine within that time period.

In-person attendees at Charmed! 2025 will be required to show proof of a negative Covid-19 test taken within 48 hours of badge pick-up, (over-the-counter test is okay), in picture form in order to pick up their badge. Please do not bring a physical test with you to badge pick up - a picture on your phone is sufficient.

Mask Policy

In-person attendees at Charmed! 2025 will be required to wear well-fitting, high quality masks, such as N95s, KN95s, and FFP2s (or equivalent) at all times while in official convention space. This includes both the private convention area and Con Suite, as well as semi-public areas such as registration and the hallway outside of the upstairs classrooms.

If you are unable to acquire an N95 or similar mask, then pleated surgical masks are acceptable as a last resort.

Examples of unacceptable masks include: bandanas, gaiters, and scarfs.

Presenters and demo-bottoms may choose to remain unmasked only while actively presenting.

There are no mask exceptions for evening social events and dungeon play.

Masks may be raised, but not removed, in order to sip water and/or eat small snacks in Convention Space as needed.

A small number of masks may be available via Convention Operations for people who need them; however, we cannot guarantee this so please do your best to procure your own.

Testing Policy

In 2024, we did not require that attendees test daily but did highly recommend that they do so. For 2025, we are again highly recommending that people test daily before entering convention space. Over the counter tests are excellent at detecting a viral load in someone who is contagious, and are currently the best way for people to determine if they need to isolate themselves.

Convention Operations may have a small number of tests available for people who need them; please do not count on this and do your best to procure your own.

Policy Exemptions

Residents of countries that do not offer updated Covid-19 vaccines to the general population may be considered exempt from the requirement to be up-to-date by United States standards as long as they have received and can show confirmation that they received the primary course of vaccinations; that is, the original shot plus the two follow up shots.

We ask that people in non-U.S. countries who are eligible to receive updated vaccines continue to do so.

Attendees who are offered exemptions to the 2025 Covid-19 policy will be required to test daily while in attendance in person at Charmed! 2025 and to send verification of their negative test result to a member of ConCom before they are allowed entrance into official con space.

Failure to follow this policy may result in that person’s badge being pulled and them no longer being able to attend Charmed! 2025 in person.

We will continue to assess the status of attendees with possible medical exemptions on a case by case basis. If you are affected by this policy, please contact us as soon as you can via email at Covid@charmedhypno.org or dm Noelle_8033 on Discord.

There are no exemptions to the masking policy.

Covid Infections & Isolation Policy

Attendees, including all staff members, volunteers, presenters, etc, will be required to report and self-isolate if they test positive for Covid-19 while attending Charmed! 2025.

For the purposes of Charmed! 2025, an attendee who is “self-isolating” will remain in their private room as much as possible and will not enter any shared hotel spaces with convention members, including but not limited to: official Convention Spaces (areas past our security check points), shared convention spaces (eg. the badge pick up area, the hallway outside of upstairs classrooms), and the Charmed! 2025 Consuite (the enclosed room outside of regular Con space that is across from the public fireplace seating area.)

ConCom reserves the right to expand this list during the Convention in order to accommodate the number of in-person attendees present at Charmed! 2025.

Out of an abundance of caution, an initial positive test result will be taken as confirmation of infection, regardless of subsequent testing.

**The identity of anyone that contracts Covid-19 while at Charmed! 2025 will be kept anonymous unless otherwise unavoidable, unless that person wishes to share their identity.

Failure to report and self-isolate will result in the infected attendee’s badge being pulled and potentially a ban from Charmed! in the future.**

Reporting & Contact Tracing Policy

Anyone becoming positive for Covid-19 while attending Charmed! 2025 will be required to report and self-isolate. They will need to identify to ConCom classes/areas where they have been, including private spaces, and ConCom will inform the attendee population that they may have been exposed to Covid-19.

**The identity of anyone that contracts Covid-19 while at Charmed! 2025 will be kept anonymous unless otherwise unavoidable, unless that person wishes to share their identity.

Failure to report and self-isolate will result in the infected attendee’s badge being pulled and potentially a ban from Charmed! in the future.**

Charmed! 2025 is committed to providing as safe an environment as possible for our attendees. This may mean that our vaccination/mask requirements are stronger/stricter than those of other events or organizations. We understand that this can be frustrating, and we appreciate your adherence to these policies that are for the benefit of every attendee at Charmed! 2025.

[afreakingdork]

Soft Spot - Chapter 4

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Donnie's always working on something like in this week’s chapter art by @garbagemilkshake

Rated: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it

Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

LAST WARNING FOR THE 🍋 UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI!

“Okay.”

You looked over from where you were adjusting the collar of your shirt.

“Technically your cycle started six days ago, but marking today as the first cleared from your period.” Donnie spoke with a litany of screens about him.

“It was a long one…” You ruminated. “I hate when it’s just bloody discharge those last few days, like just empty out already.”

Donnie nodded and paced with his circle of screens moving fluidly along.

You noticed a few purple Tetris blocks mixed in amongst the technology and walked closer to get a look at them.

“With your permission I’ve taken an average of your cycles to work off of.” Donnie paced away from you without noticing.

You gave chase.

“As you have cleared, I’ve been examining you daily through the entirety of approximately your last three cycles. That paired with menstrual data that was passively collected, I can accurately map out our schedule.”

You got close to one floating purple block, but Donnie neared a wall and, like a Roomba, rotated away to go in another direction.

“We then take into account your clinical OBGYN visits. Your gametes are considered in a good health range. Mine are in a similar state per my personal evaluation. It is only combining our genetics that interferes now. Consider we are tethered to probability, following your ovulation gives us the best chances of conceiving.”

You watched his path and waited for what direction he would bounce towards next so you could intercept.

“My sperm appears to have a similar lifespan to that of a humans’. That’s a three to five day window in which they can survive in your reproductive system. To best maximize our chances, we should keep you filled just prior to and during your ovulation. Hence the necessity of your menstrual schedule.”

He trended towards the bed and you frowned because that would send him right back out into the bedroom proper.

“Now, we could use the plug, but that was meant as a sexual device. There is no need to keep you full of seminal fluid which only acts as transport.”  

You saw mental images of Pong play out and realized he would soon be heading straight back towards you.

“A more useful and adjacent device would be a conception cap, but I wonder about its necessity as my sperm are tenacious…”

You adjusted your stance and waited.

“We can reconsider going forward if our current methods don't prove fruitful.” He made the final pivot in your direction. “For now, we will begin with this schedule.”

Before he reached you a calendar appeared in your face.

It marred your vision and kept you from seeing those strange fragments.

You gave a small sigh.

“Something wrong?” He swiped your screen to the side so he could better see you. “I debated a separate calendar from our usual, but it made more sense to combine them. Why waste time going out to dinner when we could put our hours to better use filling you with my seed?”

Your stomach flipped and you almost forgot about your other quest. “T-that’s not…”

He waited.

You shook your head and further moved the screen to step into his space.

Holograms broke up around you and you reached out toward the floating oddities.

“What are these?”

Donnie’s arm lowered and, with it, his screens collapsed. “I have been pushing the limits of my ninpo.”

“This is your ninpo?” You tapped the small block and it was indeed solid.

“Yes. My mysticism forms via construction. It is what I understand. However, it is also a manifestation. I have reason to believe that I can integrate it into my technology.”

“You want that?” You cupped your palms under it as if to hold the pieces. “Your tech is amazing. Would the ninpo make it better?”

“My screens now are hologram projections. They come from a knowable source. Though they are expertly encrypted, there is still a chance they could be hacked. Mystic technology, in theory, has no system to stem from. It is being projected from my very being. A completely uncrackable network!”

You sought Donnie’s eyes with growing amazement. “Oh… When you put it like that…”

He nodded enthusiastically. “I can replace everything with complete safety.”

Within your palm, you watched the pixels shift ever so slightly.

“However, data is intangible. While you say you build a system, you are instead writing the basis for it. I can visualize the code, but not its weight. There is a current disconnect between such so I have a simple form of a router up for the time being. I am feeding the connection from my tech gauntlet through my ninpo before it reaches the usual old screens. I am hoping it will help inspire said information to display as if it were a computer and I can then cut out the middle man.”

“Your gauntlet…” You let the ninpo go and moved to touch the device on his wrist.

“I have no plans to stop wearing or using it. My ninpo requires focus and tapping energy of which I have little stamina for. It is another facet of the router manifestation. Raphael described mystic arts as any other muscle to be trained. Thus I try to keep some form of ninpo up when I can and for as long as I am able.”

“Right… The tech’ll be a backup if you’re ever out of commission.”

“I suppose…” Donnie had an interested edge to him.

You fluttered your lashes as you waited for him to elaborate.

He churred into your space, but didn’t make contact. “It’s mysticism. Its rules are infuriating. Who’s to say I am limited in that way? I aim to create lasting constructions.”

“Donatello, my love, always pushing boundaries.” You spoke wistfully.

He lavished in the praise with closed lids before he straightened his posture.

“Speaking of lasting constructions…”

He eyed you and brought the screens back up.

“Let’s say I didn’t hear anything after you mentioned my period being over… How would you feel about repeating everything…?” You grinned.

His patience for you didn’t seem to have a limit though he did have minor scorn as he started his explanation over.

-

You were giddy as you stood outside of your own front door. Adjusting your clothes for about the third time, you debated your entry. You were spoiled for choice, but wanted to make this occasion special. Per Donnie’s planning, today marked the window just before your ovulation. It was the crossroads section in which his sperm would stay alive within you and be ready to inseminate the moment it became possible.

You had both also agreed to stave off sex until today. It was a paltry three day window and you had joked about Donnie saving up. As he was these days, he had bitter corrections for any perpetuated mythos. He was a regular sex ed teacher and explained that while it was possible that certain abstinence could lead to increased sperm counts, the ejaculate would contain older, less agile emissions. It was under his scrutiny that you agreed to only wait to enhance this moment.

A giddy countdown now had you shaking with the thrill and your entry. 

Should you come in sultry and swing your belongings out of the way while announcing yourself?

Would Donnie be waiting to sweep you off your feet?

Would you not make it to the bedroom?

Would there be a line of candles and flower petals guiding your way?

Running through every scenario, you abandoned them all in favor of the door knob. It turned for you and you pushed against the wood. It revealed your apartment and you didn’t immediately notice anything had changed. It looked like your usual home and your lips parted to announce your presence.

Before you could speak, your husband stepped out so he was across from your entry.

He was the picture of dichotomy.

From his posture and squared shoulders, he was ready.

From his stance, he could not be knocked down.

From where his hands lazily flopped back to his sides, it said he’d been wringing them.

From the pinched lines of his face and the faded look to his pupil, he was tightly wound with nerves.

All of him read an equal amount of excited and nervous.

You forgot all about some fancy entrance and moved to your mate.

He accepted you as your bag fell to the ground. His willingness to give himself over read as an emotional scar and you swept over his shirt. It was something plain he’d probably been in all day and, upon finding nothing of note, you coasted up to his cheek. His head tipped into your palm and you felt your affection swallow you whole. “Hello, sweet. You hanging in there?”

“I should have asked you to take today off…” He spoke with sorrow.

“We’re saving that for ovulation day.” You reminded him.

“I know…” His hands trended beneath yours. “That’s why I didn’t.”

You nodded and curled your fingers to pull him down.

He resisted at first, his eyes darting to commit you to memory before he lowered.

He came with a winding and you met him for a kiss.

It struck as mellow in comparison to everything you had seen. He seemed to smile at your confusion and pressed into you to make his intention known. What came then was tenderness, but those nerves still slipped beneath it. You wanted to ask why, but the glowing embers against his lips spoke of how deep his desire was. You imagined maybe he had a fear of how deep his carnal desires could go. He was finally exercising his top kink in its truest form. It seemed obvious that he'd be afraid he might consume you.

It reminded you of an old line from your first date about a bear. It struck you how you had long become equally as voracious as him and you channeled that ferocity. The surge of both your body and emotion knocked him back a step. Drunk off the power to ruffle the master, you pursued him as much as he would allow. He soon got his feet stabilized which meant you were a tiny powerhouse against the pylon of his body. His form held steady, allowing you whatever wanton destruction you craved that wasn’t his person.

It came in the form of his clothes which you twisted up and pulled at. He bent for you, coming down enough so you could yank his top off and knocked his glasses in the process. He chuckled at your need, but gave no recompense. It left you as the one-sided onslaught and you pantsed him in retaliation.

When you came up from shoving his waistband down, he only had an arched brow that sarcastically challenged your childish move.

You tittered at the sight, playing it off. “Here? Couch? Bed…?”

He looked over each spot as if he had all the time in the world.

His bond barely concealed how much his emotion begged to differ.

You put out a sort of sigh and trended to his right.

“I’ve been bombarded with info lately…” You mourned and slid a forlorn hand across his wraps. “Intro to baby making.”

He watched you circle him.

You made sure to keep a teasing digit on him at all times. “A long winded separation ig facts and old wives tales…”

You appeared on his other side and he continued to track you.

“No sex position increases odds, but deep penetration is good. Whatever gets the sperm closest to the cervix…” You stopped at his front and sighed again.

You saw his fingers twitch as he withheld himself.

“Hard to push you into missionary if you aren’t going to help…” You kept your eyes to his plastron and followed scute lines with your fingertips.

You felt his head move as he tried to view your path.

You caught him with his neck bent forward as you snapped your attention up. “You really want to finally knock me up with me on top?”

You watched his pupils adjust to the prospect.

There was the language.

You told him that he was going to participate regardless.

There was the insinuation.

As it had all day, today was the day it was finally teetering on dangerous to fuck.

There was the challenge.

Was he going to be passive?

In one fluid motion, he dropped his center of gravity.

Excitement exploded in your belly and his elbows snapped akimbo. They led as his hands slid up into your shirt in a perfect slide. Smooth prints teased your spine and had you arching as he got to your bra. It took a single trace to the clasp and he barely had to flick to undo it. It was then, with a lift, that your entire upper ensemble was headed upward. You scrambled to lift your arms and just barely saved your chin from catching the fabric.

He hovered over you like a dance and your spine wilted dangerously from how much real estate he commanded. He beamed you a million watt smile before you heard the fabric plop onto the floor. The textures struck you and his arms came down to press into the curve of your back. He kept you safely dipped like a dancer there with one hand while the other danced around your front. It felt over your belly before a single digit found interest in your fly.

It worked expertly with a twist and flick until he was able to undo your trousers. They slacked open in the fold and he skimmed with that single hand around your waistband as if testing its tensile strength. The backs of your thighs burned from the weight distribution and your neck ached from having to hold up against gravity. Donnie only surveyed the curve of your body with faint flicks of his gaze as he instead focused on circling your hips.

With a sudden hook of his thumb, he levied half your bottoms and shoved down. The other side clung and it took a clean swipe from the opposite direction to catch them. He moved in a seesaw that had his thumb nail skimming more sensitive skin as he rocked your pants and underwear down. By the time they fell, your legs were threatening to do the same and only then did he scoop you up.

It was into his arms and you kicked out socked feet in glee as he carried you to bed. He perched you on the edge and the titillation pumped through your veins as he squatted in front of you. It sent you right back to imagery of your first night together and your inner muscles clenched onto that excitement.

“You are well aware of what we are about to get into.”

You nodded.

“Are you ready?”

“Very much so.”

“Show me, love.”

You gathered your knees and adjusted your positions. Already perched, you moved your pelvis forward as your shoulders came back. Your arms compensated for yet another lean, though this one was cushioned by a mattress. It read comfortable as your hands fisted the sheets and you split your legs to present for him.

He took you in with all his senses. It first came with the visual sight even though you could tell you were far from glistening. Excitement had only taken you so far, but he was completely enamored by your sex. He surveyed you with his exploding pupils before he reached, compelled. His warm finger skirted your outer lips and he pressed to see how engorged they were with blood. Arousal meant there was a heated layer and the cooler air of the room lapped at you in time with the way he licked his lips.

You rolled your hips eager and he lowered his head for his next sense. It was smell, and you’d grown accustomed to his scenting. He’d been sniffing you shamelessly in his daily examinations and it always looked to you like a master sommelier. His lips would part, letting the scent inhale deeply through his nostrils and cascade down his tongue. You imagined he picked up all sorts of notes that you couldn’t as he trended closer.

He breathed out then in and it was with one last striking whiff that nosed lightly at your clit. The tip of his beak invaded you for touch and your voice pitched behind warbled lips. He flicked a scolding glance up at you for trying to muffle your noises and when your mouth opened it was to breathily pant. He found that suitable and returned to his nosing. He was scenting, you could tell, but there was no snuffle. It was a slow and even thing meant to relish and, even though you couldn’t see him, you felt the moisture differently when his jaw parted.

You arched in time and met his tongue. A dainty tip, he mapped your folds first as if he didn’t already know your anatomy down to the cellular level. He gave a base level tasting lap and you whined at the lack of targeting. You watched his eyes surface in a rolling fashion and you frowned when you caught sight of him. He smiled against your cunt before pressing into your heat with his eyes still questioning you.

You mewled for him and it seemed like a satisfactory answer because he dove in. You puffed open relief as he licked into you with the accuracy you craved. He long knew exactly how to manipulate you on his tongue and you tossed your head back to give yourself over to him.

You jolted when he suddenly grabbed your feet.

In a tug, he used your surprise to throw you off balance and you fell onto your back. The bed was completely forgiving and you stared up at the canopy for exactly one second before his tongue shifted. He latched onto your clit in your toe tingling way and you barely cared he was still doing something to your feet. You imagined he was operating comical heavy machinery where the levers were your limbs because of the jarring push and pull of his movements.

His things swiped down and he hit some sort of pressure point in both your arches that ripped a moan from you. He slicked downward, dragging your growing wet on his tongue to taste and stimulate you. You squirmed, trying to get more, but he pushed your knees to fold. Your legs came, bent at the knee, and he shifted his weight to pour more over you. It pressed your thighs closer to your torso and you recognized the move even though it had been a long time since he last exercised it.

The mating press.

You chirped wanton for him at the thought and he churred straight into your sex at your revelation. You gave your mating call in aching need, but he demanded a bit more of you. It came with a swirling of his mouth and just enough suction that you could feel your insides weeping. The drip caused an audible pop when he unlatched that you could only hear as the final sense, sound, and he panted from what you imagined was a full assault of his senses. He then appeared, moving to stand in a growing form with your combined soaks painting his chin.

The moment he hit his full height was the same time you saw the bob of his cock. It bounced with him and hung a flag over your sex. You heaved a single time at the sight of it and were struck with one single thought:

This was going to get you pregnant.

A mating call warped off your lips before another slammed it out of the way. You couldn’t stop yourself as it sounded again and again on what hit your ears as a nagging repeat. The pitch was off and feral like a cat in heat. You ached for him, head lifting in the process and he only stared at your wanting form.

“D-Donnie…!” You finally managed amongst his seeming neglect. “P-please!”

He nodded and swept over you in what felt like a final moment.

Like you’d never be like this again.

Like something monumental was about to shift.

He then lowered enough to scoop up under your ass and scoot you forward. It made room for his knees and you continued to call out to him. He shushed you with a sharp mating response of his own and you bit down on your lip to try to stave off more. He was taking too long in his adjustments, but you knew there was purpose. You knew first hand how precarious the position could be. Your body was fully trapped beneath his while also being folded. It contracted and compressed your very being, but also made it so his pelvis could be aimed above yours. It also meant you had a full view of how his cock dangled down, scorched and ready to sear you.

Your vision honed in on the glisten of his member and trailed down where his tip pearled a perfect bead of pre.

Another mating call wormed up your throat which was decimated into a squeak as he pressed his glans to you. The heat felt like a boiling threat and you waited for him to plunge. Instead he continued to cater to his alignment before he rolled his hips so his cock ran against you. On your back and neck twisted in a position to view him, you saw his glans face you before they rolled backwards in their stroke. The oar of them flared there, returned once again, and then disappeared to catch your hole.

You wanted to sob at the torturous pace, but he so close.

“Please!” You shouted in spite of yourself.

He didn’t respond at all and only focused on a testing press.

It wasn’t enough to breach you and you groaned as loud as you could.

He chirped lightly, something faint and weary that you couldn't think much on before he wound upwards once and then descended.

Your eyes flew open and you watched as each delicious centimeter of him sank into your cunt. There was a pulse to your lips that marked the spread and soak as they peeled apart to grant him entry. He disappeared further, feeding into you and beading up your discharge. It cropped a creamy spill that pressed out at his size and clung around your entrance waiting for further use. His member widened, spreading toward the base of the knot and you saw the stretch of your lips grow taut.

He was then fully sheathed after what felt like hours and your head fell back. You panted lightly, all a mental exertion and felt sweat dot your brow. You were rushing, you knew. It was the incessant need and the many years built up to this moment. As he held in place, you saw all the rushing times you’d tried to devour each other. This wasn’t that and spoke to something far deeper. It roused you to be more present and you found him trying to look at your connection. His proportions meant he couldn’t and he lifted his head with the intent of a question pouring off him.

He wanted to know what it was like and you told him that it was quite the view. He churred a vibration that you felt dip inside you. You willed him to know that more would be better and he agreed to pull back the slightest amount. Your cunt clung to him, eager lips dragging against his length and each and every vein in an attempt to keep him. He barely made it a few inches before he plunged back in as if he couldn’t stand the cold room temperature. You chuckled at the thought of that sort of cockwarming and he probed your depths in interest at your laugh.

You almost responded until his ministrations found what he was looking for.

You then only gasped in pleasure and the cage of his body finally fell. He met you in a scoop of limbs and you pulled him closer. Your hips cried at the weight, but he rocked in a gentle massaging gesture. It eased the tension and his lips found yours with a roll of his tongue. He tasted and smelled like you.  Intoxication clouded your mind and you now, finally this moment, would be the time he'd give way to fuck you.

You broke your lip lock to pepper excitement across his face. He scrubbed into it, his beak moving side to side to catch all your little pecks. He tittered in a melodic chirp and joy caused your cunt to pulse. It warped a sound of almost paint off his lips and he melded your pelvises into a single shape as if to squash it.

“Not gonna last…” He whined suddenly.

“That’s…” You spoke before you fully understood his words.

How was that possible? 

He hadn't thrusted even once. 

He held deathly still and you moved your neck to view him.

Humiliation painted his feature and he would have tucked himself away if he could.

Sense exploded past your horny thoughts for the first time. 

He had showed all the signs. 

That's why he'd been anxious at the door. 

That's why he hadn't rushed to fuck you. 

That’s why he had been going so slow.

It wasn’t just to mark the occasion. 

It wasn't because he feared his ferality.

It was a startling amount of awareness that threatened him.

As much as you did, he knew what today was and what it meant. 

It made him so consciously excited that it went straight to his head.

He had been trying to stave off losing himself in a totally new way. 

An excited noise hummed in your throat.

He saw your glee and wilted against it.

“N-no!” You nudged him with your nose. “That’s good!”

“No.” He bit back.

“Yes.” You disagreed and extracted an arm from the tangle.

You found his cheek and he soured as there was an inherent movement that bobbed his cock.

“I can count the amount of times you’ve gotten close to cumming before me on one hand.”

He glared at you as if you’d pointed out his greatest failures.

You lightly pinched his cheek. “You’re so excited...”

He frowned deeply.

You kissed his relenting face. “I love you.”

“Please.”

“I do.” You pressed.

“Y/N.”

“How do my orgasmd work with conception again? I can't remember…” You absolutely did, but your partner was being too cute not to tease.

He ducked his head as much as he could.

You were too close for him to hide. “Donnie…?”

He grumbled something.

“What was that…?” You poked his cheek.

“It doesn’t…” He ground out.

“Then what’s the problem? I know you'll make me cum right after you do. Doesn’t it sound hot to pump your finger into me, push the cum deeper, until I’m writhing on it?”

He relented the smallest bit.

“I'm married to Donatello. Cumming is always a guarantee. It's like your customer satisfaction brand.”

“I wanted us together.”

“We can try… Has waiting helped?”

His grimace said not at all.

You moved your hips the slightest amount and the way his dropped to keep you still meant you felt exactly how he clenched to keep from cumming then and there.

“Oh yeah, you’re definitely cumming first.” You smiled.

His eyes closed, hopeless.

“You’re being a grump.” You kissed his cheek.

He let more of his body weight fall onto you in some sort of retribution, but you could only giggle.

“Come on…” You channeled as much energy as you could muster in your ass before you managed to flex.

Your innermost walls shifted around him and he gave a long sultry groan.

“That’s it…” You managed the same spasm with less effort.

He moaned your name.

“My sweet, sweet husband…” You encouraged, pulsing around him over and over.

“I’m going to…!” He panted.

“Go on. Fertilize me. I'm waiting.” You whispered against his head.

He exhaled sharply and you felt all of him twitch in one sharp movement. Where you hadn’t followed the trend of his spread or knot, they both seemed to inflate to their widest mass in a snap instant as he came. You felt each twitch of him as you weren’t in your throes. You pet his head before stroking  lower on his carapace to encourage him. You hit a spot that made him buck as he filled you deep.

He eventually breathed again, panting from having witheld, and rolled his head to the side to bump yours.

You rubbed his shell with a heavy hand.

He eventually churred at the feeling and lifted up to appraise you.

You smiled, ever ready for him.

His lids fell in a form of annoyance.

“I’m gonna make you cum until you beg me to stop.”

You pitched an excited noise as he yanked out of you. You felt his essence chase his cock and your limbs were released. You clenched immediately, trying to hold his seed in and he glimpsed the tightening of your sex as he climbed off the bed. 

His lips rounded and you saw focus slip from his gaze. You chose then to relax and the rebound flex of your walls squished out his spent. A tiny amount trickled against your labia and you heard Donnie gasp at the sight.

“Finally, right…?” You mused and assumed you were thinking the same thing.

You were finally stuffed with a potent load.

That chance of getting pregnant now existed.

You were both aiming to make it assured.

Donnie lurched forward and you readied yourself for his decree. He would make you cum. You imagined he would play out that scenario you had offered earlier and felt his cum drip to the swell of your ass.

That's where he would start, you thought. He would swipe it up expertly with those thick fingers of his and stuff the seminal fluid or whatever he had called it, back inside. He would then tease you until you were writhing.  

A tongue hit hot and wet against your ass cheek causing you to cry out your surprise. Your thighs were grabbed first before giving hands tucked under your body. He hoisted you up to meet his mouth as if there wasn't enough time for him to dip any lower.

Donnie swiped the trail of cum up and licked it straight back into you. His arms locked heavy around your body just in time for him to bury his snout hard into your sex, he breathed heavy desperation as his canines grazed your labia. Your voice hit a near painful pinch and you fought against the onslaught with grabbing hands.

You caught his mask in the fumble and pulled it so the back half lifted and the front blocked his vision. “What are you doing?!”

He sucked hard and you spasmed.

“Ah! Donnie-!” You meant to say more, but he let one of your legs drop to his shoulder so his thumb could strike your clit.

It was flint to steel, the sparks ignited and you cried his name in a new tone. It was no longer a question, but a burning desire. He slurped down noisily and the noise hit your ears to stoke. You were inflamed, rising up further than he was holding you as pressure dipped in and outward in tandem. His thumb swirled loose and comfortable against the slick and he routinely bumped his own nose.

His tongue traveled deep, seeking further in you than ever before and it marked a widening of his jaw. You felt the whole of his mouth encompass you until it pushed even his hand away. His teeth scraped over your punished clit and you screamed out as it sent you over.

It burned you to a white host crisp and the flames engulfed your vision. He pressed forth, seeking to destroy what was already ash on the ground. With one leg still over his shoulder, you snapped a heel down hard in hopes of stopping the siege. Your foot snagged one of his carapace injuries and scrape was enough for him to grunt free.

Knowing he'd lock back on, you bucked hard in your freedom and pelvic thrusted into his beak. It loosened his grip and you slid back to the bed. He held your single leg to his chest as a lifeline while you scrambled to slip your hands into your abused cunt. You did a quick check for blood as his teeth had been piercing. As far as you could tell it was clear from injury, but you glowered up at your mate.

“What was that!? You ate it?!”

He was the portrait of a captured criminal.

His mask was also still comically out of place and you tore it off him to wipe your hands. “What happened?”

He gave a pitiful chirp.

You swatted him with the wetted cloth.

He squirmed in a way that said its feeling repulsed him.

“Donatello!”

“As you’d expect!” He finally animated. “That I finally had a chance! That what was leaking from you had potential!”

“So you suck the potential out of me?!”

“The sperm is unaffected! You referenced the science prior!”

Your eyes flashed. “And I know it! Are you still mad because I didn’t listen one time?!”

“You act as though I insinuated such!”  

“Didn’t you?!” You stared him down ready to catch the slightest warp in his expression.

He matched you.

You stood off against each other for several seconds before you deferred.

You then both sat in an awkward heap where you were still spread and he was only half on the bed.

Donnie was the first to move.

“May I?” He asked with lowered lids.

You nodded, granting his request, whatever it was.

He was slow in skimming over you and making his journey known. He moved toward the apex between your legs and you presented for him. He took your willingness in with an emotionally wounded gaze that said he didn’t believe he deserved the kindness. You kneed his chin gently as soon as he was within range. 

“It's okay…” 

He wasn't as sure yet and only kissed the cap before shimmying downward until he was on his knees off the bed. He leaned forward, his face to your sex, and you felt him looking you over.

You knew he was checking for injury just as you had and he affirmed your health with a kiss to your clit. The sensitive bud felt tender, but his warmth came away like a balm. You exhaled slow and steady until he reappeared at your side. You squirmed further up the bed and he laid down beside you. You immediately glued yourself to him, cuddling close and leaning up for a kiss. He appraised you once before meeting you and it took several until he relaxed.

“Does that consumption offend you as well?”

You chuckled against him. “No, it just felt a little like a slight. Like you just filled me and you took it right away.”

He eyed you and you could feel his scientific correction was looming.

You pushed his plastron. “You know what I’m saying.”

His eyes closed and he shrugged as he did.

“It wasn't what I was expecting, but it wasn't bad. You surprised me.” You held your hand firm to his pectoral scute and flexed your fingers out. “As usual…” 

His body went a certain slack.

“We done for tonight…?”

He didn’t move as far as you could tell.

“It’s alright if so… I know that whole ‘make me cum until I beg’ line was you trying to make up for cumming too fast.”

His lip twitched.

“It’s really okay. You lost two kinds of control. That's gotta be overstimulating. I just want to set my expectations.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You pressed him.

“Look down.”

Your gaze plummeted southward on contact. 

All that was there was the mattress and your forearm resting atop sheets where it acted as a bridge between your bodies.

You heard a puff of laughter.

Your gaze shot right back up to see him trying to control giggles.

“I did what you said! Why are you-?!”

He couldn’t manage words and joy crinkled his gaze. 

He bobbed and bubbled until he got enough control to flick his pupils down the length of his body. You made a little irritated sound and embarrassment tried to form a complaint on your lips.

He had to cover his mouth. “My mistake. Please look easterly.”

You glowered at him once before glaring in that direction which led down his plastron.

It was the landing strip leading to his pointed purple member. His cock stood at full mass and its pink base had a redder tint than usual. That was typically a shade you only saw during his heat when his member wasn't able to return to the safety of his body. It was nowhere near Donnie’s season which meant instead his erection had persisted. 

The reason for which shot straight to your core. “O-Oh…!”

“It hasn’t gone down since we began…” He managed with a weary tone.

“But you came…?” You reached for his cock and it twitched away once before you made contact.

“As you stated, I am entirely too excited…”

You soothed his glans with a stroke.

They undulated under your grip, starving.

“So…?” That latent heat glowed in your cheeks, still smoldering.

“I can't predict when it'll go down.”

“Will you cum just as fast?” You felt excitement manifest as stars in your eyes.

His expression flattened out a bit. 

“I want you to.” You tinged your words with those ever present embers. “Cum again and again. I want to wring you dry. We’ll go until it calms down.”

He flushed at how eager you were.

“Just promise I can keep it this time.” You pleaded.

“So you do find cum eating offensive.” His attempt at distracting you from his unease was too obvious. 

You shoved him over onto his carapace and mounted him before he could protest.

“Wait-!” He tried to grab your hips.

“Nope. My terms now. You will-” You commanded, got yourself lined up, and sank down his length. “-cum.”

You felt his cock explode on contact with your heat.

“Oh fuck…!” You ground down on his ejaculate.

Donnie whined something high pitched before his throat eked out, “Sworn! No stopping! You call out tomorrow!”

You squealed happily as he rolled your conjoined bodies over to finally fuck you in earnest.

-

You were slow in opening the bathroom door.

It had been hard enough to muster up the energy for you to grab the handle.

Now that you had swiveled it and the mechanism had pulled the bolt back, it felt like painful irony.

One door led to another.

You saw the creak of space that led to your bedroom and with it came the heavy heart.

This was the transition point.

You stepped forward and felt the cotton between your legs.

It was another tangible omen.

It would disappear in time, but for now you were hyperaware.

The aptly named period product marked an end and was sopping up your failure.

One dark red drip at a time.

You walked out to where Donnie was already standing.

You’d left him sitting on the couch.

What had found him first?

The scent or your abysmal feelings through your wedding band?

You didn’t care because either way he knew and as your foot lifted for the next step, he was meeting it with his.

You reached one another, but didn’t connect.

You had to address it.

You stared down at your three feet and one prosthetic.

“Could it… be the implantation bleed?” You whispered as quietly as you could.

It would rob the words of their strength.

Without power, maybe you could convince them otherwise.

You could manifest them into the outcome you wanted and not the one that wasted seven days of trying.

Eighteen days since Donnie had made the calendar.

Twenty-seven days since your new menstrual cycle started.   

Except today it reset to one.

“There… is… a chance…?” Donnie tried, his voice as soft as yours.

You both met each other’s eyes in time.

You knew the truth then.

You hadn't gotten pregnant this cycle. 

These were only words.

It was the same as before.

Nothing had changed.

Not yet. 

1.73%.

💜 NEXT 💜

My body aches today, but my heart always aches with thanks for my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

General Rated Fics Masterlist (27)

Parts 1-19 / Part 20 / Part 21 / Part 22 / Part 23 / Part 24 / Part 25 / Part 26 

Created: May 12th, 2024

Last Checked: —-

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner-JLaLa (ao3) Summary: "My son is going to marry Katniss Everdeen." If only it was that simple. The Mellarks and Everdeens have dinner. The past and present collide. From Mr. Mellark's POV. Little blank windows-keeptheearthbelow (ao3) Summary: Prompt: Peeta's locket. My awkward take on how Peeta got the picture of Gale before the Quarter Quell. Local flavor-keeptheearthbelow (ao3) Summary: It's a love song you sing with your mouth full (100% fluff.) Long Story Short-VanillaCottonCandy (ao3) Summary: “I love you, Katniss,” he softly proclaims with that glint in his eye that I know well. The one that tells me, wordlessly, that he adores me. That even on days when I feel like scum of the Earth, he openly reveres and cherishes me for just being who I am. / Collection of Everlark drabbles I’ve written based on prompts given. Mama-VanillaCottonCandy (ao3) Summary: “I’m not your baby,” I’d shouted at her years ago. I was so angry with her. I was so angry and so righteous and for what? For something she couldn’t control and couldn’t take back? For something she clearly needed help to manage? I thought I knew everything when I was twelve. I thought I was the strongest person on earth. / Katniss and her mother bond a few days after she comes home from the games. Set between The Hunger Games and Catching Fire. Of Spilled Popcorn and Gender Roles-icbiwf (ao3) Summary: Katniss has opinions about strong, capable women. Peeta has opinions about one strong, capable woman in particular. Peeta The Nutcracker Prince-JHsgf82 (ao3) Summary: (AU) Peeta tells a fantastical tale to his children at bedtime on Christmas Eve about how he and their Mama met and fell in love. Is it true? Or is it merely one of Peeta’s beguiling stories? Ribbons and Bows and a Cat-JHsgf82 (ao3) Summary: Canon-compliant-ish. Post-MJ. Growing Back Together period. Peeta attempts to wrap a gift for Katniss with Buttercup around. Shot Through the Heart-JHsgf82 (ao3) Summary: Finnick, the god of love, tasks goddess, Katniss, with taking over for him for the day, so he can spend time with his beloved. Little does Katniss know that her mortal target will have quite the effect on her. Simmers And Sparks-VanillaCottonCandy (ao3) Summary: “When he told me hours ago about his mental evaluation being only a few days from now—meaning he had to leave the morning after next—I was shocked and maybe slightly upset. When I found out it was Peeta himself who requested it take place next week, I was downright hurt. Hurt and confused.“ / Requested Oneshot for Katniss and Peeta to fight and then make up on the couch before bed. Set Post-Canon.

[ineffable-opinions]

BL Genre

[source post | latest version ]

BL is a genre in itself – practically well as the way Masala is a cinema genre.

BL / romance

I don’t think BL is romance or even a sub-genre of romance. Many BL are romance. Many more of them have at least a romantic side to them. There is enough overlap between those genres to give the impression that BL is romance. (I remember the discussion Killing Stalking had prompted.)

But there are plenty of BL devoid of romance. Like One Room Angel, Social Reform Season, and The Orc Bride. Similarly, BL is not exactly porn even though there are plenty of ero/porn-BL.

Also, there are plenty of BL where romance takes backseat such as The Night Beyond the Tricornered Window, Blue Morning, Brother, Lawless Gangster and Thousand Autumns.

BL / queer

Queer – Even if one were to ignore queer as method in academia, it is still so complex. Can I call it a genre the way I call BL a genre?

Let me quote Taiwanese tongzhi (queer) author Chiang-Sheng Kuo:

[W]hat exactly is queer literature? Is it queer literature if queer people like to read it, or is it only queer literature if there are queer characters in the books? Or is it an appendage of the queer movement? If a queer author writes a book without queer characters, does that represent a certain aspect of queer culture?

(You can find the whole interview here.)

I think the problem persist even when I think of queer as a label.

Then there is the issue with conception of “queerness” itself. Like, in a way it is a limiting term. Is it fair to call normative or customary male-male erotic practices such as masti and Launda Naach, “queer” just because that’s how it is perceived elsewhere now?

To quote what Kaustav Bakshi wrote in Writing the LGBTIHQ+ movement in Bangla:

In the last decade, the question of decolonizing queer epistemologies was being raised periodically, whereby queer politics, despite having a shared agenda of toppling heteronormativity, and queer culture, albeit having a shared aesthetics, became more and more regionalist – not in a negative sense – but, with implications of difference, which can be interpreted and understood only when one subjectively experiences the ‘region’ with respect to gender, class, caste, ethnicity, physical and intellectual ability, access to education, metropolitan cultures, and most importantly, the internet.

[T]he attraction towards the launda is not understood as ‘queer’ – non-normative or out of the ordinary – but, as an integral part of sexual life, which is not always compulsively alert to the heterosexual-homosexual binary.

Imo, decolonizing queer epistemologies comes in handy when discussing BL since there are plenty of BL dealing with:

Historical BL set in eras and locations that had customary male-male sexualities and practices.

BL with special settings, like omegaverse and dom-sub-verse, with different (if any) idea of queerness.

BL / other queer content

I wonder if it is apt to consider BL the way western queer shows (such Verbotene Liebe, Queer as Folks, Os Nossos Dias and SKAM) are considered? Won’t it be better to evaluate BL in relation to local non-BL queer content in BL producing countries? But then, there are BL inspired by western queer culture such as Partners by Tamaki Yura.

Just as Japan has gei-comi, and other manga like Shoujo Manga Artist Minamoto-San Comes Out, and Kieta Hatsukoi (shoujo), What Did You Eat Yesterday and My Brother’s Husband (seinen) beside BL manga, different countries offer diversity in queer content with noticeable overlap. But clubbing them together would not be easy. Moreover, this diversity is as much cross-sectional as it is temporal (tanbi, JUNE, shonen ai, yaoi, BL in Japan).

There is lot of overlap between BL and gei-comi. Gengoroh Tagame first published in JUNE (a magazine that contributed to BL we know now). There are magazines and anthologies (Nikutaiha BL) that offer crossover between different streams of queer content.

Similarly, there are danmei (Chinese BL) novel written by queer men such as the autobiographical works: Six Records of a Floating Life and Waiting Until 35 Years Old by NanKang BaiQi and Bei Cheng Tian Jie (北城天街) by FeiTian YeXiang.

The main difference between BL and other queer genres is BL’s focus on moe (affect). Anyway, BL predates LGBTQ+ acronym. It predates de-pathologization of homosexuality in many BL creating regions. Fu-people (BL fans) were creating BL before mainstream media started representing queer people in media. Fu-people battled state and its censors everywhere along with queer people.

Live action BL is commercialized and we get mostly feel-good content with happy ending since they appeal to the widest audience. But that is capitalism (and the State) reaping the dividends of decades of fu-people’s labor of love. But as the scope expands, it is likely that BL is romance perception would change too, like with up-coming adaptation of Smells Like Green Spirit. But it is also likely that audience members may reserve "BL" label for works that they think are BL - that's just moe (affect) in action.

[dbgdbw]

616.Physical Evaluation (1)

건강검진 (1)

It was still dark outside, beyond the window. Having roused early from slumber, Han Yoohyun quietly observed Han Yoojin’s dimly shadowed sleeping face. The sound of Hyung’s breathing was steady, nor did he seem likely to wake. Han Yoohyun slowly raised himself up into a sitting position. Though the bloodstains had been charred away, the downstairs area was still a disaster zone. Yesterday’s events–actually today’s events yet, by Korea’s reckoning–rose to the fore of his thoughts.

The Han Yoohyun from then, and himself–they were one and the same. He had been recognized as a ‘contract holder’ by Irin, as well.

‘...he was ‘me’, but.’

The basic appearance had been virtually identical, essentially. A slight difference in their heights, but the gap had been near negligible. His physique had seemed a bit more developed, certainly, but comparable nevertheless. He’d just been–a Han Yoohyun who showed a touch more of the passage of time, so to say. A Han Yoohyun who had seemed to have lived through a handful of additional years, at minimum.

‘...a monster, from a Dungeon?’

He’d encountered a similar thing before, in that Dungeon in China. The place where he’d met with the twenty-nine year old version of Hyung. And, though he hadn’t been able to come face-to-face with the person in question himself, where the twenty-four year old Han Yoohyun had resided, too. Han Yoohyun’s expression curdled slightly. The events that had transpired–it was difficult to comprehend what had occurred. The being who had suddenly appeared, had passed on little to no information regarding himself. The only thing he’d seen fit to do, was elaborate when it came to Hyung.

‘Since he’d responded favorably towards Hyung.’

He couldn’t be classified as a hostile party, then. So long as he was ‘Han Yoohyun,’ this was an entity whose existence he had no choice but to accept. Since his objective was to aid Hyung, and to protect him. Because he assigned greater importance to Hyung, over even himself. 

But even so–the sense of revulsion persisted. Though it was something he would have to set aside for Han Yoojin’s sake–he despised that other ‘him.’ Was this something he would need to disclose to Hyung. In truth, he wanted to leave out any mention of that other him altogether. Han Yoohyun, conflicted, slipped out of the bed. Since he had appeared quite keen on concealing his tracks, too–it would probably be fine to keep quiet on the matter, for the time being.

With one last lingering look at Han Yoojin, Han Yoohyun left the bedroom. As he descended the stairs, debating whether he should tell Hyung that it had been a sudden intrusion by a monster–.

“......”

He sensed the energy signature of a magical beast, in earnest. With silent footsteps, Han Yoohyun approached the living room. Atop of the table, where the cake and food had been left spread, a small animal appeared to be rummaging around. From beneath light-colored fur the color of wheat, a long, fluffy tail periodically flicked to and fro. Holding a piece of cake it had excavated in its forepaws, it was merrily munching away, whipped cream smeared all over its face and the fur on its chest. A haphazardly discarded fork lay abandoned nearby, apparently the result of an initial attempt at incorporating the utensil. 

Its rank was high enough to warrant pause, but it was also still a juvenile. Han Yoohyun, who had been intending on eliminating the monster, corrected his course. It was a young magical beast of high rank, with an appearance that woud likely appeal to Hyung. If he could capture it alive and present it to Hyung, then Hyung would probably be too preoccupied with it to notice anything amiss, too.

- 퓨이.

Twitching the end of its nose, the young beast raised its head. Blue eyes fixed on Han Yoohyun. He expected it to make a break for it–but, ears flicking, it thumped its tail instead. How unexpected. Typically, even tamed monsters reacted instinctively to Han Yoohyun with a measure of fear. With measured steps, Han Yoohyun slowly crept closer to the table. 

- 뀩, 삑.

Letting out an odd chattering sound, the monster used its forepaws to attempt to hold the fork. After struggling with it for a few rounds, it let out a temperamental squeak of indignation; then, as it made to leap down to the floor–.

“…Hyung?”

Its appearance changed to that of a human’s. Han Yoohyun’s brows hiked upwards incrementally. Though the hair and eye colors were off, the face it had taken on was unmistakably how Han Yoojin had appeared, during his youth. And now that he was taking a closer examination, he could make out Hyung’s scent and magical signature as well. At first, he’d dismissed those impressions as traces leftover from the day prior; but, having come closer, it was obviously not the case. It was coming from that monster, over there.

“Here!”

The young Han Yoojin grabbed the fork in a fist, and plunged it into a piece of cake. And then, he proffered the trophy to Han Yoohyun.

“Taste yummy!”

He held no interest in consuming anything given to him by others, save what was bestowed upon him by Hyung. In situations where it became unavoidable, the most he would do was bring it to his lips. But the item of food in question, was the cake Hyung had personally prepared. Add onto that the connection the magical beast clearly held to Hyung, as well as that familiar visage. Though he was hardly one to assign significance to something as trivial as an outward appearance, Han Yoohyun had his recollections–his memories–to draw upon. The childhood memories that a regular person would have found difficult to recall, he summoned easily, with perfect clarity. The way Hyung had looked at that age, as he’d endeavored to look after him; insisting, too, that it’d ‘taste yummy.’

But since it wasn’t actually Hyung, of course–instead of obediently opening his mouth to be fed, he took the offered piece by the fork instead. The juvenile magical beast observed closely as Han Yoohyun ate the cake, then reverted back to its beast form. Apparently quite pleased, it skipped its way back up the table, pouncing on a colorful birthday candle and stuffing it in its mouth, only to spit it right back out. 

After watching the scene play out for a moment, Han Yoohyun stretched out a hand towards the magical beast. Had Hyung gone and borne another monster young without having informed him, again. In any case, for the time being, he would have to submit it to be verified, then–.

- 피이이! 삑!

The juvenile magical beast, having been snatched up by its tail, floundered helplessly in the air. Han Yoohyun regarded the forepaws and fur coated in whipped cream with an unmoved expression. He would have to wipe it down first, it seemed. As Han Yoohyun cut a direct path towards the bathroom, the juvenile monster squeaked in distress, pitching its wails as loud as it could.

* * *

“Ack!”

There was a burning feeling in my back. As though I’d been burned by a figurative fire; my eyes snapped open. W-what was going–.

“This place, is…….”

A bedroom? Sluggishly wading through muddled thoughts, I struggled to piece together the events of the previous day. We’d been celebrating Yoohyunie’s birthday, and then, just as we’d been about to dig into the cake, I’d…collapsed? It should be the 25th now, then, in France. I wouldn’t have happened to’ve passed out for several days again, right.

“...even though I thought things had improved.”

Dimly, the memory of my dongsaeng’s face as he wept came back to me. He’d probably ended up super worried again, huh. I thought I remembered him falling asleep beside me, so where had he disappeared to. I quickly made to climb down from the bed, but something felt off about my body.

‘...huh.’

My mana sensitivity, which had shot up exponentially following that fight with Chatterbox, appeared to have been blunted, out of the blue. Why was that, I wondered. Was it because my body’s condition had deteriorated, that my senses had been similarly dulled.

‘...should I speed up going to see the Elder, I wonder.’

Since it was still the 25th, maybe a nearby Dungeon– ugk! My back was overcome by a smarting sensation again. The hell was this. Was it a ‘your remaining lifespan is numbered’ kind of signal, or…….

- 뀨우우우!

Just then, an odd cry from somewhere downstairs faintly reached my ears. Actually, it even felt a bit familiar, for some reason……. And because I still had to track down Yoohyunie, too, I hurriedly made my way to the ground floor. Wait, why was the living room area in such a mess? Had something actually gone down, after all?

- 피이익! 삑 삑!

“Yoohyun-ah?!”

As I barged into the bathroom the sounds were originating from, Yoohyunie turned to greet me. Inside of the sink was a small, thoroughly drenched bundle of fur flailing around to no avail, by virtue of having been securely pinned in place by Yoohyunie’s hand. With his sleeves neatly rolled up like that, it really looked as though he was gearing up to start in on a load of laundry, or…….

“...Kiddo(1)?”

- 퓨잇, 삐이이이!

Kkoma’s forepaws flailed through the air, in my direction. Yoohyunie lifted up the juvenile magical beast.

“So this monster has something to do with hyung, after all? It was in the living room, digging through the cake.”

“What? And when did you even sneak out, exactly…!”

Was it already capable of manifesting externally, before it’d even been given a name? Then again, Gyeolie had been the same way, too. On the flip side–it appeared that the black dragon wasn’t able to pull off the same stunt, as of yet. That was probably why it had spurred me to go looking for its dongsaeng instead, by warming up a spot on my back. 

“With whipped cream splattered all over.”

“No wonder the living room is in such a mess. You can’t wander about alone like that, no sir!(2)”

Soothing Kkoma as it sniveled pathetically from being subject to an impromptu hosing-down, I took out a towel.

“Nor should you put just anything in your mouth, either, you hear. This kid–it’s a mount-type magical beast I created, from before. Kkoma is the last one, for real.”

“...really ‘for real’?”

“Hand on my heart. None, ever since.”

I dried off Kkoma’s fur with the towel. As soon as its fur had been dried off to a certain degree–스륵, it absorbed into my hand, vanishing. It had returned to its magic stone, it seemed.

“This kid’s gonna need a name too–d’you have anything in mind, maybe?”

“...’Furball’?”

“Without stooping to hyung’s level, ‘kay. You’ll need to come up with a name for the black dragon as well. Your blade, I mean.”

Moving towards the living room, I examined the table. The leftover traces of Kkoma’s merry feasting were on clear display. And how in the world had the sofa ended up in such a state, honestly. Kkoma seemed to be of a higher rank than I’d initially assumed, apparently. There were scorch marks littering the floorboards as well.

“Did you try to take down Kkoma?”

“At first.”

“Things almost went real badly, huh. I should’ve let you know about it in advance, but I’d been in the dark that it was capable of wandering about on its own, to begin with.”

I’d have to be meticulous about teaching it not to run around on its own.

“Your body’s feeling alright?”

Yoohyunie, who had been accompanying me around while glued to my side, asked me worriedly. After a moment of hesitation, I spoke. 

“To be honest, after that fight with Chatterbox, my conditions’s…kind of gone down. So I’d been planning on stopping by a Dungeon to address things.”

“...so that was the case, after all.”

A shadow swiftly settled over Yoohyunie’s features. And when it was still my dongsaeng’s birthday… A sigh slipped out on its own.

“Don’t worry too much, we’ll just make a quick stop at a nearby Dungeon after getting in touch with the French Hunters Association.”

While I still felt worried about the party members we’d left behind in Africa, they’d asserted that it’d be fine for us to kick back and relax until the day after Yoohyunie’s birthday. Since we had time until December 31st, and January 1st was still a handful of days away. I sent an awkward smile Yoohyunie’s way. 

“Even though I’d wanted to prepare a proper birthday for you this time. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. Since I’ll be able to spend the next year, and all the years after that, with hyung too.”

“Yeah–absolutely.”

Because it was still far too early in the night, with the time having barely crept to morning, we waited for daylight to break. After sharing together the food and cake we’d been unable to eat the day prior, we bundled up warmly before venturing outside. Deep in the mountains without any artificial lights, it was dark enough outside to the point that it became difficult to see past one’s own nose. Yoohyunie extended his hand forward, and radiant blossoms of fire bloomed outwards.

And then–imbued with glowing light, verdant willow leaves materialized, drifting towards the dark skies above. 휘익–as though borne aloft by a wind, they sped towards the heavens like a rushing stream, before drifting gently back down towards the ground, reminiscent of pale, gleaming snowflakes. No; something cold had, in fact, brushed up against my cheek.

“It’s snowing, seems like.”

A light and fluffy snow, the kind that seemed unlikely to stick around. When I wistfully mentioned how it would’ve been better if it was snowing a bit harder, don’t you think, Yoohyunie showed a smile. 

“It seemed like that side of the mountain over there had a lot more snow piled up, wanna go?”

“That so? Is it perennial snow, I wonder?”

They’d mentioned that the range of the Western Alps were supposed to extend to around here, right. And when just yesterday, we’d been so toasty in Africa; the world really was vast, I supposed. Then again, even within our own country, the difference between Jejudo and Seoul was said to be quite stark, too. 

“Maybe we should go to Jejudo, next year. Despite even having been to Africa, we haven’t ever managed to make it to Jejudo, now that I think about it.”

“Mhn. Let’s go where hyung wants to go.”

“No, wait. I’d told you to think about where you’d want to go, didn’t I? Trying to sneak your way out of doing your homework, honestly.”

Since it was too far to climb up to the summit of the mountain, we took a light stroll around the area instead. The mountains in the wintertime were downright frozen, after all, but with Yoohyunie by my side, the chill hardly managed to touch us.

“There’re so many stars.”

The earth had been dyed pitch black, but the amount of stars twinkling overhead made the heavens feel closer than usual. Apart from the handful of flurries being blown about, the skies were nearly devoid of any clouds as well.

“Once everything’s finally settled, every day should be like this.”

That’s how it’d be, right. No money issues to worry over. Eating delicious things, seeing pleasant sights, living like that.

- Hyung…….

Just then, making his way onto my arm, Irin called to me in a small voice. I’d gotten so used to him promptly running over to attend to me any time I started to feel even the faintest bit cold, so I’d actually been surprised by his absence thus far, rather–but strangely, he appeared to be in low spirits.

- Rinie, he really, truly likes Yoohyunie a whole lot, hyung.

“Mhn. I know.”

- It really is the truth.

Following his glum declaration, Rinie retreated back into Yoohyunie.

“...did something happen with Rinnie?”

“It’s Irin’s true feelings, so don’t pay it any mind.”

What was that supposed to mean. Did Fire Elementals occasionally get depressed out of the blue, or something? I supposed Yoohyunie would know far better than me, when it came to Rinie–but I felt a bit concerned, still.

We took a break after our stroll, and even pulled a breakfast spread together before contacting the Hunter Association. After communicating that Hunter Han Yoohyun wished to briefly test out a Skill, we were easily granted access to a nearby low-ranked Dungeon. In exchange, though, we were made to promise an in-person visit to the Association as well. 

Once Yoohyunie and I stepped into the low-ranked Dungeon, a drawing room emitting a warm air appeared to greet us. I’d sort of been hoping for that snowy field from before again, and yet. 

“The Rabbit is presently elsewhere.”

The young Chaos sat on the drawing room sofa. 

“I’ve just barely propped this place open for you, as well–pay mind that it’ll not last long.”

“How do you do, Elder. Is it because Chatterbox has perished, sir?”

“I’m hazy on the details myself. I had another matter to attend to.”

“Another matter, sir?”

“To deal with a scoundrel that warranted a paddling.”

I wondered who he’d fought with. And now that the subject had been brought up, I was growing concerned for the fate of my own rear end as well. It felt like I was probably due one spanking, at a minimum. With a cough to clear my throat, I approached the front of the sofa.

“Then, I’ll endeavor to keep this brief, sir. I would like to make a request of you, please, Elder.”

The young Chao’s eyes immediately narrowed into slits. 

“I refuse.”

“Sir?! Just, wait, Elder! Please at least hear me out, sir!”

“Then speak.”

“Just, ah, would there possibly be a way to turn me into a sword, perchance, sir?”

“What?”

“...hyung?”

The Elder and Yoohyunie both pinned me with twin looks of astonishment. It seemed like I was about to get soundly reamed out, after all. Swallowing with a dry mouth, I continued. 

“Technically speaking, it’s just a matter of the outward appearance undergoing a shift, isn’t it, sir. And in the case of the black dragon, before he was put to sleep, it seemed like his consciousness had been left intact, as far as we knew. Plus, then, when it comes to the matter of lifespan–”

“What damnable drivel is this brat spewing!”

“Ack! Wait!”

Exactly as I’d been dreading–my ear was snatched in a vice grip. This time, Yoohyunie didn’t even bother interfering. He was simply watching me with that same stunned expression, still. 

“Hyung…….”

“No, that’s, ack! The worse outcome, it’s–the Transcendents–it hurts! Honestly! It’s better than turning into a subordinate, isn’t it, sir!”

“‘Better’?!’”

“Ack! Ack!”

Tears flooded my eyes. Cupping my hands around my ear, which was aching fit to drop right off my head, I kneeled down before the Elder. Yoohyunie, who had been processing the atmosphere, seemed to have come to the conclusion that he shouldn’t sit on the sofa, and had come to kneel on the ground alongside me instead. But Yoohyunie hadn’t done anything wrong–he should be allowed to just sit on the sofa. Tch, the young Chaos clicked his tongue.

- - - - -

(1) yj calles byeol ‘꼬마’(kkoma)’, which is approximately the equivalent of calling her ‘kiddo’–the word is used to refer to (sometimes rascal-y) very little kids, generally. 

(2) using polite language to kids to model social interactions for them: 

Formalities when speaking to children as a teacher?

(3)

‘the only one who could possibly compete for hyung’s attention with me, is me’ - han yoohyun

there was also this one tweet that fucked me up.. abt how 26yh & 20yh both got the short end of the stick, bc 26yh can’t be w hyung, but 20yh also lost the chance to ever have hyung to himself, bc yj will always have a piece of his heart dedicated to 26yh (see: han yoobin)…

thanks to the person who’s been going through and leaving encouraging messages :D i’m an old user who doesn’t know how to navigate new tumblr + never on this site except to post/make the occasional edit, so i didn’t realize ppl were still reading through my archives, bc i was dependent on push notifications that never came through……:’) those early chs def need some polishing up... but i'd had the draft for this ch done, so it gave me the motivation to finish the q&as for this one and put it up finally👌

bonus :)

+(Q&A)

Q) i’m curious about how long han yoohyun sleeps for, or his sleeping habits A) when han yoohyun is apart from han yoojin, he sleeps no more than two hours per day. when living with han yoojin, he syncs up his sleeping time with han yoojin. he can only sleep normally when next to hyung, and even becomes capable of dreaming then. when han yoojin’s body reaches a point where it needs rest, han yoohyun will also mimic feeling fatigued.

+(Q&A)

Q) i’m curious what han yoojin and han yoohyun usually do for ‘healing time*’ (*unwinding/recovery) A) han yoojin simply watches TV dramas/movies or eats something tasty. so long as there’s nothing going wrong, and all the kids are safe and sound, that in itself is a source of ‘healing’ for him. in the case of han yoohyun, as long as it’s time he’s spending with hyung, where it’s just the two of them, it can all be called ‘healing time’ for him ^^

+(Q&A)

Q) with gyeol-byeol-seol, have there been any routines or habits the children or yoohyunie have fallen into over time, from yoohyunie frequently looking after them by himself? since, when there’s a parent etc who gets specially designated as the primary caretaker, they automatically end up developing habits/routines with each other; i’m curious if something of the sort might have formed between the babies (gyeol-byeol-seol) and caregiver yoohyunie, and what that might look like A) as han yoohyun is simply carrying out rote actions in accordance with han yoojin’s instructions when it comes to engaging in childrearing, he doesn’t end up forming any ‘habits’, as a consequence. since, for han yoohyun, the concept of ‘forming a habit’ is contingent on han yoojin’s immediate presence, in a scenario where han yoojin has stepped out of frame, there are no new ‘biological’ or ‘humanistic’ directives being generated for him in that state. in the first place, he’s not one who is given to conforming to any sort of set ‘pattern’, per se. at present, it’s closer to being a situation where he’s ‘diligently repeating the mannerisms he’s learned from han yoojin’ ^^ on their side, the children are currently being indoctrinated into accepting a structured, stable lifestyle pattern as a byproduct of han yoohyun’s exacting approach. as, in addition to the distinct lack of an emotional base(foundation), han yoohyun is given to displaying little to no reaction by default, han gyeol finds this aspect of him difficult to contend with. though he’s perfectly aware that ‘uncle(samchon) is Just Like That,’ as the most emotionally sensitive of the three children, he still gets dejected about it from time to time. even so, thanks to bak yerim and han byeol’s combined influences, he’s doing well enough–still, he’s the one who’s waiting the most anxiously for han yoojin’s homecoming. periodically, he’ll unload/confide to peace about ‘my difficult life’ and ‘when will appa be coming back’ and ‘the hell is sung hyunjae even doing’, and other such sundry matters. han seol doesn’t hold any particular interest towards han yoohyun, and han byeol is unfazed by how taciturn samchon can be. rather, his inclination to simply stoically corral and calm her down in an unperturbed manner after she’s gone zooming around and caused accidents, actually seems to make him quite well-suited to looking after her in a parenting capacity.

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Q) this suddenly occurred to me while i was drawing byeolie, so i came by to submit this! does byeolie still refer to seolie as ‘hyung’ even after they’ve grown up??? A) to han byeol, ‘hyung’ is ‘hyung’. a lot of people around her ask whether it shouldn’t be ‘oppa,’ but she simply ignores them all ^^

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Q) excluding han yoojin, who do the gyeol-seol-byeol babies like the most? A) han gyeol’s is love-hate, but he cares for sung hyunjae despite himself. han seol and han byeol like each other ^^

+(Q&A)

Q) during the novel, it was mentioned that yoohyunie had been an outstanding student while in school (mock test results within the top 1% in nationwide rankings). did yoohyunie always come home with 100s? or, if he happened to get a few questions wrong, what were the reason(s) for that, then? was there a subject that yoohyunie found difficult? or wasn’t as good at?, possibly? A) his strengths lay in memorization and maths, and he tended to be weaker at answering questions where he would be expected to extrapolate from another’s thoughts/motivations. even so, as the courses taught in middle and high school could summarily be passed via simple rote memorization more or less, he tended to hold high marks in each subject. he excelled at art and writing as well, and anything that required technique, he could usually pull off through imitation.

+(Q&A)

Q) would it be alright to inquire about the basic appearances/sizes of the gyeol-seol-byeol babies in their respective magical beast forms????? A) han gyeol has a small, silvery-pink dragon body, and fairy wings. he’s a baby dragon with soft, rounded features, but on the more long and slender side for his build. he’s able to vary his sizing to an extent, but he likes to stay a size that’s suitable for climbing on han yoojin’s shoulder, generally. han seol is a small black-colored dragon. as a juvenile, his wings have yet to grow big enough to enable him to fly on his own (mechanically), without magical assistance involved. species-wise, he’s closer to an western-style dragon, and he’s capable of adjusting his size just like han gyeol; because he decides on his size in relation to han byeol’s own, he’s slightly bigger than han byeol.  han byeol is wheat-colored, and has an appearance that is similar to a chinchilla with elongated ears. her tail is plush and voluminous, and her fur incredibly soft. she’s just about the perfect size for an adult to cup in both hands, with their hands held slightly apart; she finds it somewhat difficult to control her size fluctuations still, and while eating, tends to inadvertently grow in size. the three are fairly neck-and-neck when it comes to size; han gyeol is the longest, while in terms of volume (with fur included), han byeol is the biggest ^^

+(Q&A)

Q) with han yoojin’s speech proficiency being a high enough level that he could even successfully sales pitch a jade stone heat mat in the middle of a desert, and with the puppeteer said to have gone around stirring up trouble once he’d grown up more–among gyeolie, seolie, and byeolie, once they’ve grown bigger(?) or aged up a bit more, would any of the kids have inherited yoojinie’s bloodline(???)/magical lineage(?????)/..DNA..? to have developed a similar aptitude for smooth-talking? A) when it comes to speech, it will most likely be han gyeol who ends up displaying the highest proficiency ^^ owing to some leftover reservations around the circumstances of his birth, he has a tendency to rein himself in, but once he discovers more self-confidence, he’ll likely grow to be far less timid. in light of his status as a fairy dragon–weak strength-wise, but in possession of a damage nullification trait–he’ll probably come into the possession of a correspondingly sharp tongue, in the long run. as han seol is of the mind that ‘action is the most straightforward solution,’ he doesn’t see a point in dragging things out through dialogue; han byeol is also in the ‘action>>>words’ camp, but given her penchant for naked honesty, frequently tends to drop blithe comments that toe the line of acceptability.

+(Q&A)

Q) has yoobinie’s sex been decided? or is it something they’ll choose themself as they get older? A) at present, owing to han yoojin and han yoohyun’s combined influences, he is male. as the sex can be changed at will, he can become genderless or intersex, etc, as well. but so long as there are no other interventions, he will likely continue to mature while maintaining his present sex.

+(Q&A)

Q) in the novel, it was mentioned that the characters for binnie’s name combines 물가 빈, and 빛날 빈; was there a reason those two particular root words were chosen? A) for 빛날(radiant/shining) 빈, it was for its fortuitous nature, while for 물가(waterside/shore) 빈, it was a reference to his relationship with han yoohyun. han yoojin, being who he is, found it difficult to turn away from the lingering feelings he held for the twenty-five year old han yoohyun^^

[conkreetmonkey]

Interesting squirrels I have seen:

Local squirrel who lives a few blocks away but still within the same neighborhood. His tail is partially flattened, seemingly having been run over by a car while the rest of the squirrel escaped. The flattened bit, which takes up the end half of the tail from the middle to the tip, never seems to flex with the rest, and the fur has never floofed back out, but for all intents and purposes the squirrel seems fine, so I think it's just like that now. I see this one regularly.

Squirrel with no tail I used to see years ago, back when a sibling was still in elementary school, which is around where he seemed to live. He has no tail! The whole thing is gone, save for a bit of stump fluff that, without the whole bushy tail, stuck out and looked like the tail of a rabbit. Interestingly, he moved more like a rabbit than a squirrel, taking on more of a bounding gait than his peers. Also interestingly, much of the tail fur around the stump was white, which, among other evidence I have seen, leads me to believe that squirrel fur grows back white when the skin is injured.

Squirrel I saw once in childhood behind a local grocery store, who leapt out of an electrical box and ran away. His tail was almost entirely bald, save for a few scraps of fur that stuck out strangely. I love how he came out of an electrical box, looking exactly how animals in cartoons look like after getting electrocuted. Environmental storytelling.

The population of squirrels at a local playground that have black bodies and red tails (the black bodies aren't too noteworthy, as melanistic squirrels are actually the dominant coat variant here, with about 2/3rds of the grey squirrel population being black). I assume it was hybridization between grey and red squirrels? I only ever really saw them in that one public park, and haven't much since due to being an adult who doesn't spend much time at playgrounds anymore.

The two baby squirrels born in my yard in 2020 who didn't see much of humans and would spy on me when I went outside, thinking they were being so discreet by hiding behind tree trunks and poking their heads around. One was grey and one was black. I saw their mother teach them how to climb, it was adorable.

Finally, the one squirrel in my yard I once watched struggle to carry a chocolate pudding cup up a tree through the window for an entire dinner, then drop it, look down at the ground for a while evaluating his options, and then choose to leave it and go home. #relateable.

Also-worth-mentioning Squirrel Moment:

The time my father planted some seed potatoes in the garden, and the squirrels dug them all up and stored them in their nests. Then we ran into a period of windy weather, and for about a week afterwards potatoes would just fall from above like acorns.