#XR-1

[blooddrinker-controlgroup]

[joehaupt]

Vintage Heathkit Portable Transistor Kit Radio, Model XR-1, AM Band, 6 Transistors, Molded Plastic Cabinet, Radio Kit Made In USA, Circa 1957 by Joe Haupt

[rmspeltzfarm]

Best Crossbow broadhead

New best Crossbow Broadhead

[fluffybunnybadass]

just adhd things

things i always forget:

adhd meds are effective in so many small ways when you're not EXHAUSTED AFTER HOURS OF WORK AND SINCE THE PILL WENT THRU YOUR SYSTEM that it adds up

things i have been able to accomplish in the last five minutes bc i took my adderall:

-change litter/bag/some rr trash (i compile it into one larger bag jic the litter bag has a hole after a forgetful time of usage

-put some kind of food in the oven (corn dogs bc i like them with the crispy edge and microwaving them makes me sad in the end)

-put a new bag of trash in kitchen trash so i can start throwing things away in the future instead of piling it on the oven and/or in bags on oven

-sweep up AND throw away the scattered cat food from the past week or so?

-toss out the cat food in the bowls she chose not to finish

-throw away trash on the oven

-make short list(s) in habitica to try and not overwhelm myself for today

-grabbed a snack and a drink to eat while corn dogs cook

-write all this out without going AUGH even once at its length

-probably a few other smaller things

things i can normally accomplish without or after work when i'm burnt:

looking at it and going AUUUGGGHHHHHHHH and making mental note #274836373 of it for the 27383745th time

[whatcoloristhatcat]

is there any specific reason that female red tabbies are uncommon? Ive been told that mine is rare, and id like to know why.

a red tabby! unforch with the angle + kitten fluff i can’t see a pattern 😔✊

maybe not rare buuuut about 1 in 5 red cats are female. this is because red is an x-linked trait - if you’ve ever learned about colorblindness in biology class, it lines up like that. in males, there’s (generally) two states: has a red x, and is red-based, or does not have a red x, and is black-based. as females generally have xx chromosomes, this creates more variables. for brevity’s sake, i’m going to refer to a red x as xr and a non-red x as xb for this bit. so for your average female, there’s xbxb (black-based), xrxb (tortoiseshell), and xrxr (red-based). statically, it’s just much less likely a female is going to get a red x from both parents - the mother would need to be tortoiseshell or red, and the father would need to be red. for red males, they just need a tortoiseshell or red mother (as males don’t get an x chromosome from their fathers)

as compared to male tortoiseshells, which appear in 1 in every 3000 torties, i’m just kind of hesitant to call red females rare :p 20% is not some great rarity imo. when a cat is deemed as rare online it tends to get this sort of lore around it that thrives on misinformation (my current thing to be upset about is people convinced their longhair blue cats are nebelungs. stop it). so red females are still special because they have cool genetics in my opinion, but i’ve gotta stop seeing those tiktoks where people talk about their rare red females

[emononbinarybat]

REAL

doodle page of these guys cuz they genuinely broke me out of a spiral which is kinda funny so

yhe uncensored version undercut (warning for RECLAIMABLE slur

[maumausie]

Very bored so here’s medications I think COD:Ghosts characters would have

Credentials: certified pharmacy tech and certified vibe reader

This is all for jokey jokes, I am not qualified to diagnose/prescribe medications, only fill them and do boring insurance stuff :)

Translation for any shortening (I think they’re all common sense, but just in case):

XR—extended release

Caps—capsules

Tabs—tablets

Gtts—drops

TID—three times a day.

DR—delayed release

Elias: Lantanoprost gtts for ocular hypertension/vision loss. Rich motherfucker probably got Xalatan because he could afford brand name. Everyone boo him /j. Also Nitrostat. He had one(1) scare and now keeps it on him religiously. It probably expired 2 months ago but he never bothered to get it refilled (also he’s dead. So. Not much use for it huh).

Hesh: Baclofen 5mg tabs tid. He gets muscle spasms often :(

Logan: Promethazine 25mg tabs. He seems like the type to easily get motion sick (lovingly)

Merrick: Fioricet 50mg. YES, HE NEEDS IT. HAVE YOU SEEN HIM? BRO PROBABLY HAS MIGRAINES EVERY HOUR OF EVERY DAY.

Ajax: Ferrous Sulfate 325mg DR tabs. He’s anemic (especially now that he doesn’t have any fuckin blood).

Keegan: Zolpidem 10mg tabs. Bro has insomnia 😭😭 he isn’t consistent about it due to ops, and all of the techs + his pharmacist worry about him (PSA: take your fucking meds. We notice when you don’t. And don’t take too much of your meds at once. We notice that too.)

Kick: Adderall XR caps. 15mg. You can’t tell me he doesn’t have ADHD. He keeps forgetting to take them.

Neptune: no Rx, but he takes Tylenol OTC for general aches and pain.

Rorke: unmedicated. Completely rawdogging whatever the fuck he has going on.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

As of: Dec 15, 2023

Health Canada has recalled a prescription drug that treats Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) for a risk of overdose. In a public advisory released on Thursday, Health Canada announced that JAMP Pharma Corporation is recalling one lot, or 100,000 units, of JAMP Guanfacine XR 1 mg tablets. It warned that some bottles may contain higher-strength 4 mg tablets in addition to the correct strength of 1 mg tablets.

Continue Reading

Tagging @politicsofcanada

[bisexualmcqueen]

may i offer this thought for the feral racers hc

racecars are like loyal little guard dogs (not little at all. those are metal beasts) with the people they love. they just kinda like. imprint on people and its like an immediate switch to feral mode when they perceive threat and danger to loved one. and they do that thing where they try and make themselves bigger to intimidate enemies.

idk if its something similar like this has posted about or discussed before but uh yeah. the feral racers hc just kinda read to me as racecars being like dogs. wolves. instinctually wild animals. i like how strip and doc being particularly old veterans translates into them being Extra Dangerous or Extra Feral, something like that. though i dont even think racecars get normaller the newer/younger. i think the next gens are just a different flavor of freak (i.e. chewing, zoomies) like they're domesticated sort of in a way

YES YES exactly

ok many thoughts. lets see here

so ive been thinking about this and. the thing is. that part of what makes this headcanon so fun is that theres actually canon precedent, in a way.

Lightning for example. is crazy protective. like instantaneously. zero forethought, action only, putting himself between the Danger and the Friend.

some examples:

in cars TVG, Chick hires the DRH to rob Mack so Lightning will be without supplies for the upcoming race. when Lightning hears that Mack was very upset about it from Sheriff, he gets so pissed off he takes to the streets, tracks the DRH down, and proceeds to spend all night chasing and beating the shit out of them until they drop his stuff. not because he was Robbed, but because they Upset Mack.

i think its funny that Sheriff doesnt say Anything. he just nods in agreement. ...not that i think Sheriff could have stopped him though. Lightning is sort of Insane about Mack. Mack is the greatest. [two quality versions. one oldschool for nostalgia and one more HD]

in the comics (admittedly ive only read in sections), Mater was beefing with Bubba, Lightning also started to get pissed off at Bubba being rude + protective of Mater:

i dont know if Lightning would be good at fighting or get his ass beat terribly. either way, i want to watch.

next up is my favorite example: the thunder hollow crazy 8 race. Lightning LEAPS in to help Cruz several times. it is my fucking Favorite.

HERDS HER BACK OUT ONTO THE TRACK

and then he jumps in front of a speeding attack-bus and takes a metal sawblade to the drivewheel for her. NO thoughts, head empty, protect Cruz. love this man. apparently, type-c school busses can be between 10-20,000 pounds. crunch.

and my last example on this topic: the radiator springs 500 1/2:

these racers show up in town looking for trouble. its supposed to be a silly little western parody, but in terms of this headcanon it comes off as territorial as hell imo. wdym other racecars show up at his house to fight him. hello. and then they insult Stanley, which deeply upsets Lizzie:

cue getting their asses kicked by mcqueen. that is HIS freaky old woman.

[i love this short]

so yeah. my terrible guard-dog-horse-thing-car.

Doc is largely The Same:

14 billion KEEP OUT signs. shooing Lightning away from his friends family because he is A Perceived Danger. another racecar standing in his lawn barking. yeah. you territorial old wet rag.

I agree with what you said its very in line with the vibes of the headcanon yes. true and real. def like dogs/wolves, and i personally try to throw some cat/horse stuff in there too. again, i blame being an x-men/wolverine fan.

a few other tidbits from source material for funsies:

^that ones wallpaper, apparently. for like a Room. in a house. my cars wallpaper merch thats 2018 xrs drag racing diecast merchandise.

Doc was so amped to do racecar stuff again he wakes Lightning up in the middle of the fucking night to run around in circles with him the moment he shows back up in town.

they lost Guido in the fucking sand.

Cars Origins: Struck By Lightning quick aside: "everyone's going to think something is wrong with me" Lightning these are not mentally stable thoughts im so sorry.

second topic: generational/evolutionary differences.

first of all i would like to point out that my basis for strip especially being some sort of craazzy toothy freak is entirely the headcanon of @youhavehitawall that i adopted out of coolness. non has some lore about the weathers that explains it, but basically it boils down to a repeated expression of racecar genes getting more pronounced the more generations it travels down (so long as its an expressed gene).

now for the nextgens (funny calling them that in 2025. theyre all in their 30's lmfao. not saying thats 'old', but they arent rookies anymore, damn does time fly). [disclaimer: dont quote me on this, my knowledge is an approximation] in real life NASCAR, they used very old technologies right up until about 2012. carburetors, leaded gasoline, 4-gear h-box frontend transaxles, reticulating ball steering, etc. most of these things vanished from the dealership road cars between the 60's and the 90's. Meanwhile cars like Lightning and Cal are still running this stuff in the mid-aughts. so when the nextgens came along, they showed up with fuel injection, e85 15% ethanol fuel, 5-speed sequential rear-mounted transaxels, rack-and-pinion steering, bigger aluminum wheels, bigger calipers, and less ground clearance/more areo, there was a very sudden and massive shift in what sort of technology was being run in the piston cup. tech-wise, Lightning +co were very similar to cars like Chick and even Strip. the change in tech could be a good marker for other genetic shifts too. cars change much, muuuch faster generation-to-generation than mammals. its Moore's Law in a way: theyre machines. add that to the incredible 12-week turnaround in which every team booted their driver and replaced them with a 'nextgen', and ive had to spend some time wondering Why? why??? thats brutal! Doc certainly warned us, but goddamn. imagine if that happened mid-season in any real sport! holy shit! (i still want to know more about the fan's reactions to this...) in the context of this headcanon, i Also wonder about what you said, the nextgens being feral in a little bit of a 'different' way. maybe theyve got easier-to-handle temperaments; an added bonus to their overall higher speeds+better track times. uhm. Jackson being the temperament-outlier here, maybe.

to be fair, he did get fired after throwing too many fits.

Cars Origins: Storm Chasing

But yes... racecars!! they are a lottt to handle. the driver AND the incredibly powerful machine mashed into one?? hooo boy. honestly i am a bit fearful of racecars irl. very loud, very fast, smell bad, they breathe fire, etc. why not reconcile that by making the talking ones into Beasts. theyre already crazy, already quadruped, my brain just starts assigning horse/wolf to them. and some of it comes down to me loving logan-wolverine tropes. protective growly little guy with pointy teeth. yeah can i get 5 more of these little fanged bitches.

ok i have to stop yapping now this turned out quite long, but i still have Things to Say about this headcanon/worldbuilding. i didnt even get into the amazing bonds racecars seem to have with their teams/families (the 'imprinting' thing you mentioned!). very fun!!

thanks for the ask!!

[all4aoki]

  ⊹ 𝓟ICK 𝓤P ˒ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝓟ICK 𝓤P ⠀Ꮺ ָ࣪ ۰ ִ

a look inside of Aoki YN`s phone . . . enha x f!reader, poly!enha, enha8thmember ↺ 𝓛ibrary ࣪ ۪ ♡ᱹ

©all4aoki, 2024

ꔫ ˖ 개인 || ⵌ PERSONAL ?? model white iphone 13 lock screen you n ur boys home screen cute aesthetic layout you copied from tiktok case the ‘kitten around’ case by wallflower

᱖ Before you had this phone, you had an iPhone XR which you were pretty happy with. However, your sister got a new phone for one Christmas, so your parents got you a new one too. You’ve been using it ever since and with how often you drop it, it’s surprising that it’s gone so long without cracking. This current phone you have was given to you before the pink version of the iPhone was released, so unfortunately, you didn’t get that cute baby pink color. However, you’re content with the white that your parents picked out for you since white goes with everything.

Your lock screen is just of ot7 Enhypen and you (aka you and your boyfriends). Honestly, the picture isn’t anything special, but it’s still one of your favorites. It’s just such a cute picture. and your home screen was one you found on TikTok. Being a huge fan of anything pleasing on the eye, you adapted the style to your own electronic immediately and haven’t changed it since.

Sunoo got you your phone case for your most recent birthday. Originally, you wanted the Wallflower case that had the design of pointe shoes and ribbons, but it had been sold out in the iPhone 13 size for what felt like forever. So, Sunoo chose a different design and you ended up liking it even more than the first.

You have all of your socials and games located on this phone. Honestly, there isn’t a huge difference between this phone and your work phone, apart from this one containing the contacts of your family and non-idol friends. That being said, you rarely bring this phone out in public with you now both because of your group’s partnership with Samsung. Also, as the years have gone on, your privacy has become more and more important to you.

ꔫ ˖ 작업 || ⵌ WORK ?? model silver samsung galaxy flip4 lock screen you n ENGENE home screen plain layout case clear hello kitty case ordered from etsy

᱖ You had firmly believed that you would’ve never gotten a Samsung phone. This was only because phones are expensive and you’ve always had an iPhone that worked so there was no point dropping 1000+ dollars on a new one. But when Enhypen began endorsing Samsung, you had to get one. You decided on one of the flip phones because it was the same style your mom had and because you’d been influenced by watching ‘Business Proposal’ ><

Fans will zoom in on videos or take peeks in public to observe your guys’ phones so you weren’t able to make your lock screen a picture of your boys and you. But you settled for the next best thing: a cute interaction between you and ENGENE at one of Enhypen’s comeback shows! As for your home screen, you left the layout mostly basic. only adding some things like cute pictures, a calendar, etc.

You’ve always been a huge Sanrio fan, so it only made sense for you to have a phone case that was related to it in some way. You had planned on getting one with Cinnamoroll on it, but after finding two matching cases with Hello Kitty on them, you just had to get them. You have the clear version and Sangmi has the black version! Fans think it’s adorable that you both have matching cases. It was only an added plus that the cases came with an added charm to help you carry your phones around.

This work phone also has games on it, but you don’t have any socials on it except for Instagram and EN-line (like Phoning, but for enha!). Most of the time the staff films TikToks for you and posts selcas on Twitter, so you didn’t bother with downloading the apps on this phone. The only contacts you have on this phone are your members and your staff (manager, stylist & bodyguards).

ꔫ ˖ 연락처 // CONTACTS ⵌ !! whore 1 (affectionate) heeseung 쭌이! / jjongie! jay / whore 2 (affectionate) jake 남편🗣️ / hubby🗣️ sunghoon 꿀벌☺️ / honeybee☺️ sunoo 양양🌷 / yangyang🌷 jungwon no.1 sasaeng!👽 ni-ki

ꔫ ˖ EN라인 || ⵌ EN-LINE ??

᱖ Very similar to Phoning for NewJeans (except this was released before they even debuted :P) and Weverse. Except it’s solely for Enhypen and ENGENE!

Main features include… Data & Voice Lines (messages between members and voice notes you’re able to leave for fans); Physical Media (photo albums for each member); Class Schedule (calendars each member can post updates on like what they’re doing for the day, if they plan to go live, etc); Audio Transmission (where the members can make and share playlists / what kind of music you’re listening to or creating); SIGENAL (video lives); and DARK MOON (contains all Webtoon and stories related to Enhypen’s lore)

There is a premium version of the app called EN-Line+ but there are quite a few benefits that come with it! For example, it allows ENGENES to access chat rooms that are separated into ‘clubs’ and they can talk to each other. Sometimes you and your members join the convo, but it’s more fun to watch everything happen. This version of the app also gives exclusive BTS content on vlogs, concerts, filmings, etc. And! For every month ENGENEs are subscribed to EN-Line+, they get the option of 2 photocards and 2 other pieces of merch that are exclusive to the app!

마리셀의 노트 , just a little smthing while I finish up some other works☺️🌷thank you all so much for your patience and for the support!💕😻

[fartlovingblkguy69]

Aromatherapy (Continuing a Story from Nifty.org)

A link to the story I'm continuing: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/urination/aromatherapy

Part 1

I waited 10 minutes before leaving. I was shaking with anticipation. i had never been so excited in my whole life. He was already pulled around waiting in a 2018 GMC Sierra Crew Cab. "Get in. This isn't a free ride by the way. You can either give me gas money or get down there and sniff my gas. It's a 30 minute drive, maybe longer since it's about to be rush hour. Your choice". There wasn't even a question. I quickly climbed in the passenger side and laid down while he rose up and lowered his basketball shorts. He was wearing stained gray boxer briefs with a wet stain on the back and a big golden brown streak going up the crack. They smelled like a sweaty toilet seat. He quickly sat down and ground his fat ass around my face until my nose was right in the middle of his crack. He reached back, spreading his cheeks and pressing down until my nose was pushing the dirty undies into his hole and his ass enveloped my face. "Ah, that's it. Your nose feels great in my nasty hole. I'm still sweaty from that sauna and I just took the most massive shit so your nose is going to have to scratch that itch." He ground his ass on my face some more as we pulled out of the parking lot. We stopped at every red light on the way to the highway. It took 45 minutes to get to his place. I could smell the fresh shit around his hairy hole and he kept letting out the worst SBDs the whole way laughing each time and rubbing it in on my nose. Finally we got there and he pulled up his shorts and got out. I sat up and made my way out as well. The house was huge and there were 3 other vehicles in the driveway, 2 SUVs and another pickup. We made our way inside and he took me straight to the living room. "I'm hungry so I'm going to make myself something to eat. Get down on the floor with your head in that seat over there and I'll be back" pointing to the comfy chair in the corner. I quickly obeyed and was waiting quietly in the dark when suddenly this handsome young man walked in texting on his iPhone Xr. He had on only a jockstrap that was bulging. He looked to be about 25 maybe and he had a perfect amount of muscle, nice arms, legs, firm pecs, with a little bit of a chiseled but bloated belly and a nice happy trail. He launched himself ass first into the chair I had my face waiting in and oh boy was it a nice one. Nice smooth golden cheeks with a very hairy crack that smelled like a long day with several unshowered before it. Once he had sat down he quickly realized there was something under him but instead of getting up he just farted loudly and wetly. PRRRBBBBBBTTTTTT. "Ah. That felt good. I don't smell a thing. Pops must have gotten a new fart cushion. Awesome! Especially after all those burritos had for lunch. The cheese and beans is really fucking my stomach up." He sat on my face for 10 minutes letting let out several sbds and loud wet releases while rubbing his sexy belly and really ground his wet hole into my face before spreading his cheeks to let out a huge shart. SSSSSSRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHTTTTTTTT. My nose was sprayed with hot air and speckles of shit "Whew that was nasty. Think I felt a little shit come out on that one. Pops will have a fit if I stained his favorite chair! He might even make me his fart cushion again! Definitely don't need that torture!" He shot up and turned around bending down to make sure he hadn't made a mess of the seat. While he did I got to see more of his handsome face. He had a perfect chiseled jaw, beautiful mischievous eyes, and a thin, long nose (think Daniel Croix with green eyes). I licked my lips as he finally got to inspecting me. "Nice. It all went on you huh, cutie? Well plenty more where that came from" He said with a chuckle. He let out a bubbling fart into the air and sniffed. "Damn that's ripe. Why don't you open that pretty mouth for me this time just to be safe. I'll try not to take a dump in it". I shuddered at the thought as I'm not into that at all. He kindly wiped my face off looking down at me with a glint in his eye. I did as he said as he turned around and spread that perfect ass open.

[joehaupt]

Vintage Heathkit Portable Transistor Kit Radio, Model XR-1, AM Band, 6 Transistors, Molded Plastic Cabinet, Radio Kit Made In USA, Circa 1957 by Joe Haupt Via Flickr: This was Heathkit's first transistor radio.

[rmspeltzfarm]

Best Broadhead for Crossbows

Crossbow broadhead thoughts in this video we made

[postsofbabel]

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[pixel7777]

This Old House - A Bloodweave Fanfic: Ch. 1

Work Summary: Astarion thought he'd escaped his past. Then he inherited it.

When Astarion learns that he has inherited both Cazador's title and his horror show of a palace, Astarion wants to ignore the whole mess in the worst way, but Gale insists they return to Baldur's Gate and do the paperwork to truly rid themselves of the last of Cazador's ugly legacy. However, the house is haunted and has its own agenda for Astarion. Between a bureaucracy more convoluted than the schemes of the Dead Three, corrupt Patriars who want Astarion to step into Cazador's old shoes, and a tax bill large enough to crush Waterdeep, Gale and Astarion learn that Cazador is almost as much trouble dead as he was alive.

Work Content Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Astarion/Gale, Bloodweave, Post-Canon, Dual POV, POV Astarion, POV Gale, Vampire Spawn Astarion, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Confronting Abuser, Happy Ending, Humor, Dark Humor, Banter, Astarion's Past Abuse, Astarion is his own warning, Established Relationship

Read this chapter below the break here or on AO3!

Chapter Summary:

Title: Office of Unclaimed Holdings - Case File #SZARR-0001 Status: Open Action Item Status: ✅ Collect inheritance papers ✅ Discover bureaucratic nightmare ✅ Question whether dying (again) would be simpler ✅ Be officially declared a noble (forcibly, against all reason) ✅ Contemplate tax evasion ❌ Escape responsibilities (denied)

Notes: Inheritor has expressed intent to reject title. This will require Form XR-17B, which is currently out of stock.

Chapter 1: Astarion

Astarion glared at the clerk behind the counter, who studiously avoided meeting his eyes. The Office of Unclaimed Holdings and Stewardship—a name whose length apparently reflected the time it took for them to process paperwork—had to be the dullest place in all of Baldur's Gate. The waiting room smelled of dust, ink, and the subtle desperation of people who had been trapped there for hours.

"This is absurd," Astarion muttered, shifting in the uncomfortable wooden chair. "We've been here since midday. The sun will set before they deign to see us."

Next to him, Gale turned a page in the tome he'd brought, ever-prepared for delays. "Bureaucracy moves at its own pace, I'm afraid."

"Its pace being 'not at all,'" Astarion hissed.

He drummed his fingers against his knee, watching as yet another gray-robed clerk shuffled from one end of the room to another, arms laden with parchment that looked one breath away from disintegration. The entire office seemed designed to crush one's spirit—windowless walls lined with filing cabinets, the air thick with neglect, and a crooked painting of some long-dead official whose expression suggested he'd died of boredom in this very room.

"I should have burned that letter," Astarion said. "Lord Szarr. As if I would ever want that title."

"And then we'd have bailiffs at our inn door the next time we came to visit our friends," Gale reminded him gently. "Better to face this now, Astarion, than have it follow us."

Astarion sighed dramatically and slumped further into his chair. "Karlach and Wyll had better appreciate the sacrifice I'm making. I could be lounging on our terrace right now, enjoying a fine glass of wine instead of..." he gestured at the room with distaste, "...this."

A merchant sitting across from them shifted uncomfortably at Astarion's visible irritation—or perhaps it was the mention of his name. Word had spread about the "Heroes of Baldur's Gate," and the vampire among them wasn't a detail people tended to forget.

"Number forty-three?" called a clerk from a small door.

The elderly halfling beside them rose with a groan. "Only took three hours," she muttered, shuffling forward.

"And we're fifty-seven," Astarion said, eyeing the paper slip they'd been handed upon arrival. "At this rate, we'll be here until winter."

Gale patted his knee. "Perhaps we could find something to discuss that might make the time pass more pleasantly?"

"In this mausoleum? Impossible."

"Mausoleums are typically quieter," Gale observed with a slight smile. "And better decorated."

Astarion sighed heavily and, conceding defeat to the bureaucratic nightmare surrounding them, tucked himself under Gale's arm. The wizard adjusted his position immediately, making space against his side as if they'd practiced this dance a thousand times.

"What are you reading about, anyway?" Astarion asked, peering at the dense text.

"Enchantment theory as it relates to domiciles," Gale replied, his voice brightening. "There are fascinating applications for—"

"Never mind. I already regret asking."

Despite his protest, Astarion found himself scanning the pages. The words blurred together—arcane terminology that made his eyes glaze over—but the warmth of Gale against him provided a comfort he'd never admit to needing.

With any luck, this tedious visit would end with a simple transaction: sign over the estate to the city to dispose of, reject the absurd title, collect whatever gold all of it was worth, and return to their life in Waterdeep. Their comfortable tower with its balcony overlooking the sea. The distance from memories that still haunted him, no matter how he pretended otherwise.

Cazador was rotting, but his shadow lingered. And now, that shadow had a physical form—a palace Astarion had never wanted to see again but had—somehow, improbably, absurdly—inherited.

The minutes crawled by. A dwarven woman was called forward. Then a human couple. A harried-looking tiefling with a stack of scrolls tucked under one arm.

Astarion watched the clerk stamp papers with excessive force, each thump echoing his growing impatience. How difficult could it be to sign away property he'd never wanted? He'd burn the damned place to the ground if it would expedite this process.

"Number fifty-four," called the clerk.

"Almost there," Gale whispered, turning another page.

"What do you imagine they'll offer for the estate?" Astarion asked quietly. "Cazador's palace is..." He stopped, unwilling to complete the thought. He'd spent two centuries in that place, most of them in misery.

"Valuable," Gale finished for him. "But what matters is that once this is done, it's done. No more connections to him."

Astarion nodded, throat suddenly tight. "Exactly. Then we go home."

Home. Such a simple word, yet one he'd only recently learned the true meaning of. Home wasn't a place—it was the feeling of safety beside Gale. It was waking from trance to find brown eyes watching over him. It was conversations that stretched until dawn and comfortable silences that needed no filling.

But it was also, very much, not Szarr Palace.

Another number called. Then another.

"Number fifty-seven," the clerk finally announced, not looking up from his ledger. "Lord Szarr."

Astarion stiffened at the title, then rose to his feet. "Let's get this over with."

Astarion and Gale followed the clerk down a narrow hallway, the floorboards creaking underfoot. Cobwebs clung to the corners of the ceiling, and the wall sconces cast just enough light to prevent someone from walking into a wall—assuming they weren't an elf with darkvision. He wondered when the Office of Unclaimed Holdings and Stewardship had last seen a broom, much less a thorough cleaning.

"This way, my lord," the clerk said, gesturing to a door so nondescript it might have been designed specifically not to be noticed.

"I am not 'Szarr,'" Astarion said through gritted teeth, but the clerk had already scurried away, apparently eager to escape his company.

He pushed open the door. Inside, a cramped office held a desk stacked with papers, several filing cabinets that looked ready to burst, and a man who could only be described as aggressively average.

The man rose from his chair. Middle-aged, half-elf, with thinning hair plastered across his scalp and spectacles perched on a nose that had seen at least one break in its lifetime. His gray robe matched the walls, the desk, and his complexion, as if he'd been deliberately designed to blend into his surroundings.

"Ah, Lord Szarr—"

"Astarion," he interrupted.

"The paperwork says Lord Szarr. And your companion is...?"

"Gale of Waterdeep," Gale supplied, offering a polite nod as they both took seats in front of the desk. The chairs wobbled precariously, threatening to collapse under their weight.

"Palthor Quillmane, Master Steward of Unclaimed Holdings." The man cleared his throat and shuffled some papers. "Now, regarding the matter of the Szarr estate—"

"I'll make this simple," Astarion cut in, leaning forward. "I want to sign whatever documents are necessary to relinquish all claims to the estate, collect whatever gold it's worth, and never hear the name 'Szarr' again. Where do I sign?"

Palthor blinked rapidly, as if Astarion had just suggested they both strip naked and dance on the desk.

"I—well, that's—" The man adjusted his spectacles. "That's not exactly how these matters proceed, Lord—"

"And why not?" Astarion's patience, already worn thin by the interminable wait, was rapidly fraying. "I'm the heir, am I not? That gives me the right to dispose of the property as I see fit."

"Well, technically, yes, but—"

"Then there's no issue. Name your price, hand me a quill, and we can all return to our lives."

Palthor's face adopted an expression Astarion had seen countless times throughout his long existence—the look of a bureaucrat about to explain why something simple was actually impossibly complex.

"I'm afraid it's not that straightforward," Palthor said, pulling a thick folder from one of his desk drawers. "The Szarr estate is... complicated."

Astarion stared at the stack of papers Palthor pulled from his drawer. The folder was tied with red string and bulged in a way that suggested it contained far more documents than any reasonable matter should require.

"Complicated?" Astarion repeated, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming behind his eyes. "It's a house. A horrible house, admittedly, but still just a building."

Palthor untied the string with ink-stained fingers, handling the papers as if they were precious artifacts rather than bureaucratic waste.

"The Szarr estate encompasses more than just the palace," Palthor began, adjusting his spectacles. "There are the grounds, the contents, the associated holdings, the title itself which carries certain civic responsibilities—"

"I don't want the title," Astarion interrupted. "I want nothing to do with the name Szarr."

Palthor pursed his lips. "If you wish to refuse the title of Lord Szarr, that would require a hearing before the high court of Baldur's Gate. Or if you want the title but object to the name, you could have the title's name officially changed, which would necessitate a visit to the Bureau of Noble Appellations."

"Another office like this one?" Astarion asked, horrified.

"Oh no, much slower," Palthor replied without a hint of irony.

Gale leaned forward. "Perhaps we could focus on the estate itself? What exactly needs to be done to transfer ownership?"

"Well, first," Palthor said, pulling out a document, "Lord Szarr—"

"Astarion."

"—would need to officially assess and certify any holdings he wishes to reject in a notarized affidavit. Then there's the matter of the palace itself." Palthor peered at them over his spectacles. "Szarr Palace is the official seat of Lord Szarr and cannot simply be sold."

Astarion felt his teeth grind together. "Why not?"

"It can be torn down and reconstructed, given the correct architectural permits," Palthor continued as if Astarion hadn't spoken, "but the house must go with the seat, or the seat must be dissolved by the Baldur's Gate City Council."

"And how long would that take?" Gale asked.

"Approximately three to six months, assuming no objections are raised during the mandatory public hearings."

Astarion slammed his palm against the desk. "This is ridiculous! I don't want the palace. I don't want the title. I don't want any of it!"

"I understand your frustration, my lord—"

"No, you don't," Astarion snarled. "That place was my prison for two centuries."

Palthor cleared his throat uncomfortably. "There is also the matter of finances. The estate is somewhat cash-poor after a mandatory financial audit revealed substantial tax liabilities."

"Tax liabilities?" Gale frowned. "I thought Cazador was quite wealthy."

"Oh, he was," Palthor nodded. "But he also hadn't paid taxes in... well, ever. The interest alone is considerable."

Astarion laughed bitterly. "So not only am I saddled with his palace, but I've inherited his debts as well? Perfect."

Palthor sighed and produced another document, this one bound in leather and approximately as thick as Gale's spellbook. "Perhaps this will clarify the situation. On the Limitations and Procedures of Heir Denial as Pertaining to The Succession of Notable Estates, Volume III: Revisions Following the Lord Lannath Versus Treasury of Baldur's Gate Ruling."

Astarion stared at the tome in horror. "I am not reading that."

"The relevant section," Palthor continued unperturbed, "indicates that if you do not fulfill the obligations of your inheritance—for example, by allowing Szarr Palace to become derelict—you will be in violation of the law and subject to arrest and prosecution."

Astarion gaped at Palthor, his fangs slightly visible as his upper lip curled in disbelief. "Arrest? For not wanting a house I never asked for?"

His mind raced through the implications. He'd spent centuries imprisoned by Cazador—he'd be damned if he'd end up in another cell because of the bastard's estate.

Gale placed a calming hand on Astarion's arm, the pressure just enough to ground him before he did something hilarious but ultimately regrettable to the bureaucrat.

"Master Quillmane," Gale said, his voice measured and diplomatic in that way Astarion both admired and found insufferable in moments like these. "Let's approach this pragmatically. If we were to assume that we wish to rid ourselves of the title in the most expeditious way possible—knowing that the name Szarr is unacceptable associated in any way with Astarion—and we also wish to dispose of the estate... what would be your recommendation?"

Astarion shot Gale a grateful look. This was why they worked—Gale could be reasonable when Astarion felt like setting the world on fire.

Palthor tapped his quill against his lower lip, leaving a small ink spot he seemed oblivious to. The gesture made Astarion irrationally irritated.

"Hmm. Well, if efficiency is the priority..." Palthor adjusted his papers with meticulous precision. "I would suggest starting with the name change."

"The name change?" Astarion repeated.

"Yes. It's considerably faster than dissolving the seat entirely. And if you were to attempt changing the name midway through other proceedings, most of the paperwork would have to be done again."

Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course.

"And how long would this name change take?" he asked, already dreading the answer.

"Tendays," Palthor said. "Possibly a month, depending on the backlog at the Bureau of Noble Appellations."

"A month," Astarion repeated flatly. A month in Baldur's Gate. A month with Cazador's palace looming over him.

Palthor continued, seemingly unaware of Astarion's mounting horror. "In the meanwhile, you'll need to assess and certify the holdings and ensure that the palace is in appropriate condition for transfer."

"Transfer to whom?" Gale asked.

"That's the next step," Palthor said, warming to the subject. "Find an heir, legally will the estate to them, and retire. That's the cleanest solution."

Astarion stared at the bureaucrat. "You make it sound so simple. Just find someone willing to take on a massive, badly damaged palace with substantial tax debts attached to it."

"You'd be surprised," Palthor said mildly. "Many would consider a title and estate in the Upper City quite desirable, regardless of... circumstances."

"You mean regardless of the fact that it belonged to a vampire who secretly terrorized the city for centuries?" Astarion asked dryly.

Palthor didn't even blink. "Precisely."

Astarion gripped the arms of his chair so tightly he felt the wood begin to splinter beneath his fingers. His fangs itched with the desire to sink into Palthor's throat—not to feed, but simply to end the torrent of bureaucratic nonsense spilling from the man's lips. The satisfaction would be brief but sweet.

But no. He had promised Gale. More importantly, he had promised himself. He was not a monster, despite what most of Baldur's Gate whispered. He was in control of his impulses.  Theoretically.

Gale cleared his throat. "Perhaps we could expedite matters? We're happy to begin the assessment process immediately if you could provide the necessary paperwork."

"Oh! Of course." Palthor shuffled through his endless stacks. "You'll need the deed, the inventory ledgers—although those are likely outdated—and access to the premises."

"Keys would be helpful," Gale said, although Astarion personally thought they were superfluous to requirements for a rogue.

"Indeed. Now, if you'll just sign here... and here... initial here... full signature with date here..." Palthor flipped through document after document, pointing to line after line requiring Astarion's signature.

By the twelfth signature, Astarion's patience had evaporated entirely. "Is this truly necessary? I've signed my name more times in the last ten minutes than I have in the past decade."

"Bureaucracy requires precision," Palthor replied primly. "Only three more pages."

Three pages turned out to be fifteen more signatures, eight sets of initials, and a thumbprint pressed into red wax. By the end, Astarion's hand cramped—a sensation he hadn't experienced since his mortal days.

Finally, blessedly, Palthor handed over an iron ring laden with keys of various sizes and a thick folder. "The deed and associated documents. I recommend beginning with a full inventory assessment. And applying for an appointment at the Bureau of Noble Appellations when they open their public-facing offices, in three days."

"Delightful," Astarion muttered, snatching the items.

Gale thanked Palthor with far more politeness than the bureaucrat deserved and steered Astarion toward the door before he could give in to his baser instincts.  Gale cast darkness to shield them on the walk to their inn—an indignity that was overwhelmed by all the other absurdities that had happened to Astarion today.  They each activated a ring that let them see through the magical darkness.  It worked—to let Astarion move about during daylight hours without going up in flames—but it was hardly inconspicuous and aggravated him endlessly.

The moment they exited the building, Astarion released a string of curses so colorful that a passing noble lady clutched her pearls in shock.

"Of all the—I should have let the Absolute take this wretched city!" Astarion fumed as they walked. "A month? A month in Baldur's Gate dealing with bureaucratic nightmares and that... that palace?"

"We'll manage," Gale said soothingly, guiding him around a cart piled high with foodstuffs.

"Easy for you to say. You didn't spend two centuries as a prisoner in that house." Astarion waved the folder violently, nearly hitting a passing dwarf. "And these documents! They might as well be written in Abyssal for all the sense they make."

"Fortunately, I'm quite skilled at deciphering obscure texts."

"And taxes! Cazador left me taxes! The absolute gall of that monster. Even in death, he finds new ways to torment me."

Halfway down the street, Gale suddenly gripped Astarion's elbow and pulled him into a narrow alley between a chandler's shop and a bookbinder. Before Astarion could protest, Gale's lips were on his—warm, insistent, grounding. Despite his foul mood, Astarion melted into the kiss, his free hand coming up to tangle in Gale's hair.

When they broke apart, Astarion blinked at him. "What was that for?"

"To stop you from ranting in the middle of the street," Gale said with a small smile. "But also, I wanted to ask you something." He lowered his voice. "How much of Cazador's fortune do you actually believe would be in any books the city of Baldur's Gate had access to? In any official accounts?"

Astarion opened his mouth, then closed it again, considering.

"You're right," he said slowly, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. "Cazador was many things, but he wasn't a fool with his finances. He'd have kept most of his gold hidden away."

Gale nodded. "Exactly. There will be piles of gold somewhere on the estate, and perhaps in bank vaults that aren't on any official list. The tax debt will come out of Cazador's secret pockets, not yours."

The tension in Astarion's shoulders loosened just a fraction. "You're right. That... makes this marginally less infuriating."

"And in the meantime," Gale continued, brushing a stray curl from Astarion's forehead, "we can enjoy some time with our old friends, make quick work of this nonsense, and then return to planning our future. Probably with a bit of spare cash."

Astarion snorted softly. "That's optimistic." He didn't really believe things would go so smoothly—when had his luck ever been that good? But looking at Gale's face, seeing the determination there, he felt a rush of gratitude so powerful it nearly overwhelmed him.

This man—this brilliant, irritating, wonderful man—had for some unfathomable reason made Astarion's problems his own. Had willingly returned to the city where so many bad things had happened to them—all to help Astarion untangle himself from the last of Cazador's web.

"Thank you," he said, the words feeling inadequate. "For being here. For making this... manageable."

"Where else would I be?" Gale asked simply.

Astarion could think of many places Gale would rather be. Establishing his long-dreamed-of professorship at Blackstaff in Waterdeep. Starting some kind of wizardry practice—Astarion remained deliberately vague on how exactly that worked, despite Gale's numerous attempts to explain the intricacies of how wizards made money. Or perhaps finishing the enchantments on his Tower, carefully modifying the centuries-old spells to make the place safe for Astarion during daylight hours.

All of those ambitions now on hold because of... paperwork. Because of Cazador. Still.

Astarion didn't voice any of his concerns. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Gale's again, a softer kiss this time, filled with all the things he found difficult to say aloud. When he pulled back, he traced the line of Gale's jaw with his thumb.

One way or another, Astarion would make sure all this nonsense—the palace, the title, the bureaucracy—stayed where it belonged: firmly in their past. Cazador had stolen two centuries from him. He wouldn't let the dead vampire lord claim a moment more than necessary.

Because Gale was his future. Not some moldering palace, not a title he'd never wanted, but this man who had seen Astarion at his worst and somehow found something to love anyway. They'd fought their way through the hells together (literally, at several points), rid themselves of gods and brain worms and ancient vampires. They could handle a bureaucrat and some paperwork.

[the-robot-bracket]

Robot Poll Green Round 1

Anger Core Propaganda:

https://theportalwiki.com/wiki/Anger_Core

XR Propaganda:

I don't think he gets enough recognition for how funny he is