#if there are grammar errors no there's not

[imgonnafuckthetriangle]

Remember, its not too late to learn. For anyone looking for a place to start, I recommend the CRAP acronym:

Currency - When is this information from? While there are some subjects like history where it makes sense to use older sources, for most issues, it's extremely important that you're using up to date information.

Reliability - Is this source able to back up its information? Look for citations and links to other resources. There should be at least some indication of where the info is coming from. Keep an eye out for simple mistakes like spelling and grammar errors, as well as sentences that don't quite make sense. In the age of AI, this is perhaps more important than ever - AI can and will make things up, and many people are using AI to make their websites. I don't generally consider information trustworthy unless I can find multiple reliable sources saying the same thing.

Authority - Who is the author of the work and are they an authority on the subject? Anyone can talk about anything, so make sure that you can find evidence to back up their expertise. People often overestimate their own knowledge, so people can spread misinformation without even meaning to. So it's important to make sure that you're getting your information from someone who is qualified to talk about that subject.

Purpose/POV - Why is the author writing this? What is it they're hoping you'll do with this information? What are their biases? This allows you to spot propaganda and other manipulation. I'll use an example from my own life. I have fibromyalgia, and I've done a lot of research into how fibromgalgia affects sleep. When I search for information about that, a lot of the results are from mattress companies. They have an obvious bias here - they want me to buy a mattress, so they have a vested interest in convincing me that a good mattress can fix my sleep. Therefore, they can't be considered an unbiased source on the issue.

Obviously, there's a lot more to media literacy than just what I've written above. But the CRAP acronym is a good start.

I cannot stress the importance of paying attention in language classes in high school. Maybe the reason why your English teacher taught you about unreliable narrators is because a lot of the media around you is written by unreliable narrators posing as reliable. Maybe they gave you assignments on interpreting texts so you could draw your own conclusions about news articles. Some of you clearly thought English classes were useless in high school and now are unable to engage critically with media.

[chaosartic]

His sunshine | LN4

word count: 0.5k words

warnings: fluff, bad writing

summary: Just a random lazy morning with Lando during the off season.

a/n: I finally did it, here is my first fic! Please note that english is not my first language and while I tried my best there are probably some spelling/grammar errors.

The sunlight of the early morning was already streaming through the partially closed curtains. Lando and y/n are curled up in bed, still asleep. With Landos career it was rare that the pair got to sleep in and enjoy their morning together.

Lando stirred a bit slowly waking up. His arms tightened around her holding her even closer to his chest, his sunshine. She got the nickname from Carlos shortly after they started dating. No matter what was going on, she always had a smile on her face and that smile was contagious. It didn’t take long for the rest of the grid and Lando to adopt the given nickname as well.

“Morning love” he said into her hairline, voice rough with sleep and low on the volume. He pressed a few kisses to her cheek and head. Deep in his heart Lando lived for these early quiet mornings with her. If anyone would ask him though he would deny it.

She turned around in her sleep, slowning waking up as well. Her head pressed against his chest when he mumbled a morning back to him while leaving a kiss right above his heart. “Do you have anything planned today?” She asked him.

He pressed a kiss against her forehead, “Not really. Maybe stream later with Max.” He told her while pulling her closer to his chest. A gush of cold air came through the slightly opened window, the mornings are cold despite all the sunshine recently.

“Mhm” she hummed, snuggling closer into his embrace. She adored the time they had together like this. With him being away so much during the year for his career both of them learned to appreciate and take in small moments like this.

“Let's just stay like this for a little bit longer,” Lando said while looking at her eyes. “Please baby.” He added. She nodded her head more than happy with his idea of staying in bed and enjoying this.

That’s how they spend their morning. Cuddled up together, kissing each other lazily from time to time and just forgetting the rest of the world.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I hope you enjoy it! Any (honest) feedback is appreciated!

Also I have some writing ideas for Oscar, George and Carlos. Let me know which one you want to have first. Request are also open if anyone is interested and has ideas.

[fleuriion]

✦ Season of Love

ノ When the flowers started blooming back as the scent of spring slithers back into our body, whereas the season of love has just begun.

♡ What I think the current Chrysos Heirs' love languages are ⸝⸝ gn reader ⸝⸝ wc: 957

✦ Note ; beware of spelling mistakes and grammar error due to english not being my first language T_T ⸝⸝ while this writing was meant to be romantic, you can take it however you like! (platonic or romantic.) ⸝⸝ I won't write for Tribbios in this one! ⸝⸝ I apologize if they're ooc because this is my first time writing them

♡ Phainon, The Hero ノ Words of Affirmation ⸝⸝ Acts of Service (Physical Touch might work for him too,,)

For whatever reason it is, I see Phainon as the kind of guy to shower you with compliments that you totally deserve while carrying all the stuff you were struggling to carry with ease. Would always get down on one knee and kiss your knuckles like they're a treasure for him (Like you yourself isn't a treasure he holds dear already), if not that then bridal carries you.

Phainon is protective of you; you could trip and get a scar that is barely a scratch on your being and he would get into a teary-eyed dramatic frenzy panic. You can many times assure him that you are very much okay and he will still worry dead for you.

"Are you okay?! Do you need me to carry you up?! Should we go see a doctor?!?-" "Phainon, it's just a scratch."

Overall a massive head over heels sweetheart that is afraid of losing his loved one and would give his life away to protect you <3

♡ Aglaea, The Weaver ノ Gifts Giving ⸝⸝ Quality Time Okay I know this might not sound like it makes sense, but imagine juuust imagine Aglaea making clothes and/or accessories that reminds her of you and then gifting them to you. She will come across a fabric and then once it reminds her of you, even for the tiniest things ever, she will start sewing and sewing and then boom, an entire set for you just the next day standing at the corner of your room.

Aside from bathing together, Aglaea loves hearing your voice. As a demigod with a duty to protect Okhema, she will obviously be busy and that's no doubt, but she will somehow always leave a room in her busy schedule for you. For you, she will even endure the stupidest of the stupidest questions ever.

"Aglaea, what if the golden blood in the Chrysos Heir's bath is actually piss?" "Yes, My Dear."

You might be an idiot, but you're her idiot <3

♡ Mydeimos, The Undying ノ Acts of Service ⸝⸝ Gifts Giving It's no doubt that the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos prefers to let his actions speak for him because words have failed him multiple times already. While he may not verbally express his love for you much, Mydei would slay a god for you and hand you their heart as a gift. I'm just kidding, he's not just a hot headed brute. But, still, he will give you gifts that reminds him of you, or just things you like generally. Oh you were walking together and he heard you gushing over something of your interest? You will find that same said thing the next day you wake up placed on your nightstand.

Mydei will remember things about you, even ones that are tiny and useless. He will remember the precise number of the plushies in your room and your breakfast routine if you tell him. Would tag you along to have a bite at the restaurant that serves his favourite pancake, and would let you know that he actually likes the pink in his pomegranate juice. While Mydei becomes more gentle with you around, he also gets extra protective of you, by nature. Nobody really mess with you unless they have a death wish because of this.

"What? No no! Mydei is actually super nice! You just need to get to know him to see that side." *radiates passively agressive aura*

By the end, Mydei softens around you like a lion turning into a house-cat. His sarcastic remarks stays though! <3 /hj

♡ Castorice, Servant of Death ノ Quality Time ⸝⸝ Words of Affirmation Due to her curse, Castorice has been deprived of physical contacts for so long throughout her life. She is well aware of this, and because of it too, makes sure you physically keep your distance away from her at least a little. Not because she has any grudges against you obviously! The Servant, in fact, loves you very very much and deeply wishes she could hold you and vice versa. When it comes to this, Castorice makes a plushie resembling you for her to hold at hard times.

While she's incapable of touching you in fear of sending you to the not-so-sweet embrace of death, Castorice loves spending time with you. You two could sit under the white gazebo nestled at the garden of Marmoreal Palace, and she would tell you all sorts of story revolving around the history of the Titans and more. If not that, then she will make accessories together with you. Aside from that, Castorice showers you with sweet words that she wishes you know of too.

"[Name], I sincerely hope you are aware of just how blessed I am to be in your presence.." "I love you too, Castorice."

Castorice might be cursed with the touch of death, but just by your existence had the burden on her shoulders be lifted off slightly and The Servant is very grateful of it <3

[justanothermemestrider]

40k Nsfw Alphabet - Ferrus Manus x F! Reader

Aaaaaand now, a return to regular programming.

I'm kicking off with a request I've gotten from a few people: the big metal caveman himself Ferrus Manus.

Apologies for spelling and grammar errors, as well as lore inaccuracies. Also I'm taking requests rn, so please let me know in the comments, reblogs, my dms or my asks.

Hope you guys enjoy!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

In my opinion, Ferrus Manus is damned good at aftercare. He's not a master by any means (he's no Vulkan or Sangy lol), but he's got the competency and he's got the desire to make you feel comforted and cared for. That being said, he's still going to go about it like an Iron Hand: mechanically and efficiently.

When the act is complete and you two are lying in bed after, be prepared to be bombarded with questions: how are you feeling? Are you comfortable? Do you need a glass of water? Do you want him to hold you? If the answer to the latter is yes, how do you want to be held? Big spoon? Little spoon? Traditional embrace?

All of these things, Ferrus asks and executes for you with an earnest, almost grim seriousness that you find deeply amusing.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your hands because they are everything his are not: soft, gentle, warm and tender. He loves it when you cradle his cheeks, claw into his chest when you're riding him and cling to his back when he's on top.

Favourite parts of his body are probably his shoulders and chest for the reasons mentioned up above.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Ferrus doesn't like making a mess, and his favourite place to finish is deep inside you. But, if you were to ask him to finish somewhere else for your own pleasure or enjoyment, he'd happily oblige.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

This man is a bottom. A massive, submissive bottom. On similar vibes to Guilliman and Dorn, Ferrus finds being a strong, immovable rock of a Primarch very exhausting. So, behind closed doors, with the women who loves him most, he likes being able to let that persona go.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Ferrus has no first hand experience, but after getting together with you, he made it his mission to get educated. He didn't want to disappoint you, and he was also (internally) anxious about making a fool of himself.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position where you're on top. As mentioned earlier, this man is a bottom. He was you taking the lead.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Deadly serious. All the time. Every time. The seriousness is cranked up to 120%

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Ferrus is the 2nd hairest Primarch after Leman Russ. Not just downstairs, but his chest, back and everywhere else (except his arms, obviously). Unlike Russ, though, Ferrus keeps his hair very well groomed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It will take a bit of time, but eventually I see Ferrus becoming one of the more emotionally intimate primarchs. In the HH books, his entire arc is his relearning the importance of emotionality, the "strength to be gentle" so to speak. Being in a relationship with you would accelerate that arc, leading to him becoming a surprisingly romantic man. He's still stoic and stern, of course, that's his personality after all. But underneath that is an inherently compassionate heart that, eventually, becomes capable of great and deep love.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

The necrodermis covering his hands and arms makes masterbating super uncomfortable for poor Ferrus. If he's got urges, he needs either a toy or you in order to satiate them.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

The aforementioned submissiveness includes a little bit of bondage if Ferrus is feeling particularly stressed out or worn down.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your shared bedroom- it's a matter of efficiency and effectiveness. The bed is the most comfortable for you, everything you both need to pleasure each other is all there, and there's absolutely no chance of you being interrupted or walked in on.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Any physical advances or teases on your part has Ferrus feeling hopelessly aroused. An embrace from behind, a hand on his knee that slowly traces up to his inner thigh. Anything like that gets this man flustered and hard almost instantly.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that involves hurting (pretending or otherwise), degrading or overpowering you. Blood, violence and brutality are part of his job, he doesn't want to bring any of that into the bedroom.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He far prefers to give and he's HELLA good at it. He's basically perfected the technique. The reason for this is because he knows he can't use his hands (or at least, he doesn't feel comfortable using them), because the risk of hurting you is way to high.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual. Ferrus doesn't want to hurt you, doesn't want to risk being rough lest he grip you too hard with his metal hands or hurt you with his enormous size and weight. He prefers it when you set the pace; he will only go as fast or as rough as you are.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

While Ferrus prefers taking his time with you, he's not against quickies. And he's damned good at them, too. He is efficient, after all. Efficient and effective. Whether you've got two minutes with him or two hours, Ferrus is making you finish.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Ferrus isn't much of a risk taker. He knows what works for him and what works for you and he doesn't really see the point is changing that. Very much a "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" kinda mindset.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Typical Primarch stamina. All night, all day, as many rounds as you can physically endure.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Ferrus is 100% into the idea of toys, both your use of them and his own. If you ask him, he'll even forge some for you ;)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Ferrus isn't a tease at all. If he wants you, he's gonna tell you explicitly, in the most direct, clunky and verbose way possible.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

The first few times you sleep together, Ferrus is pretty modest with his noises; panting and grunting, primarily. But, as he grows more comfortable, he'll get loud. Quite loud.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Part of the reason why, before the Istvaan 3, Ferrus had resolved to find a way to remove the necrodermis from his hands, is because he wants to be able to touch you properly. With his own skin, not alien metal. Good thing he made it back from Istvaan safe and sound and with his head intact, right?

Right?

Guys?

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

E N O R M O U S. Only Primarch whose bigger is Vulkan. Nothing more, your honour.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not that high. His own desire, Ferrus keeps on a fairly short leash. Both because of his personality, but also so he can focus entirely on his missions. However, if you need to be satisfied, he'll drop everything to give you what you need.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Ferrus is never asleep before you. Ever. Not until he's absolutely certain you are comfortable, safe and have had all your needs tended to.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Taglist: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty @hatsubara-8chan @nereidof40k @yanagikou @fyxestroll @yurihasurunbara @justfreakynothingelse @mooniequeen

[dogwaterdish]

if the fic isn't spaced well, I can't read it because it doesn't give my brain a minute to pause and process. same thing with if the punctuation is messy or straight up missing.

if theres grammar errors that aren't like punctuation being missing, I give no fucks as long as I dig the concept.

*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).

[mochroialainn]

Besties, Im gonna be so for real right now, this turned out to be a little more intense and freaky than I intended. Im currently playing the campaign for Modern Warfare II (reboot) and could not get this scenario out of my brain since I first saw Graves. So uh... warnings for power play, mentions of safe words, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, breeding, creepy graves. Minors Do Not Interact this is an 18+ Post. This was also written on mobile and formatted on desktop so please ignore any spelling/grammar errors, I'm too tired to proof read it and fix it

Thinking about cybersecurity CIA!Operative reader whos married to Price and is brought onto the task force by the Secretary of Defense (so above Shepherds head) to try and find the traitor, the SoD has an inkling that its Shepherd and Graves and its readers job to prove it. One of the ways she does it, because shes young and pretty and knows how to get what she wants from a man, is by flirting with Graves and gradually getting closer and closer to him until she can hack his phone and gain access to his emails. She hates it. Hates him and his arrogance, his cocky smile and the way his eyes always trace over her body and stay too long leering at her tits when they talk. He genuinely makes her feel sick and queasy, and she shivers everytime shes out of his sight after flirting with him.

Price hates it. Hates the way Graves looks at her, eyes always on her tits or ass as if she was nothing more than something to fuck and leave disgarded. He has to clench his jaw and bite his tongue anytime he sees them together, he wants to punch Graves and break his fucking jaw. Wants to take a knife and carve his heart out of his fucking chest. But he doesn’t, because he can't. It would jeporadise everything you had worked for, would jeporadise his team if Shepherd knew his little lapdog had been found out he would have all of them killed in seconds.

But when you come to him after flirting with Graves all day, locking his office door behind you and already stripping yourself from your clothes beginning him to make you forget about every look and leer and touch from Graves, hes all but happy to oblige. He kisses you something fierce, all passion with a hint of danger mixed in, all lips and teeth and desperate panting into your mouth as he sigs your bare ass on his desk one hand already toying with your nipple while the other travels further down and starts to rub hard, rough circles your clit. You were already wet thinking about him, and now it starts to pull, slicking up your tighs and his desk but John doesnt care. It wouldnt be the first time he fucked you over his desk and it wouldnt be the last either. John makes you cum from just touching your clit before he removes his finger and rakes it through your hair, grabbing at the roots and pulling so your neck was barred to him.

He so desperately wanted to mark you, leaving bitea and hickeys over your skin to claim you as his but he couldnt, do he was gentle. Trailing kisses down your pulse point and across your collarbone, down your sternum going lower and lower until his face was in front of your pussy and he dove in like a man starved. Lips wrapping around your clit and sucking harshley, a satisfying pop echoing in the room as he let go. His eyes stared up at you as you threaded your fingers through his hair, "you remember your safe word?" A nod from you is all he needs to keep going, teeth digging into the supple flesh of your tigh as he slowly slid teo fingers into your weeping hole. He made sure to push you to the edge and withdraw, over and over again until you were a crying mess and he had mercy on you, edging you again until again until he finally let you cum. He made sure you came for him 2 more times before he even entartained the thought of fucking you and when he finally pulled his cock out of his trousers (not having undressed yet, wanting your wetness to soak into his clothes) you nearly weeped from the pleasure and overstimulation when he entered you, all the way to the hilt in one go. And there was no way he was stopping until he pumped at least 2 loads into your gorgeous pussy.

He'll make you forget all about Graves, hell when hes done with you, you'll be lucky if you can even remember your own name and don't walk away pregnant.

[gojosoups]

Whenever I see a grammar error and someone has already reblogged the fic, I wanna kms and the person who reblogged it and everyone and anyone who let it happen 😭🙏

[rainbow-neko-artblog]

This is more like an opinion ask, and I'm not discarding any of your opinions (honestly I 100% agree with all the points you made), so if this seems rude in any way, please do forgive me! English isn't my first language, so sorry if there's any grammar errors!

Honestly, the game only really used Baba ONCE for a boss fight that wasn't even all that interesting, and only made the other Nightmares to be those tiny plushies that chase us around..🫥

In my opinion, I think it would've been more interesting if Baba had been some scrapped smiling critter because the game doesn't even use the other Nightmares... Hell they didn't even have cardboards, and those tiny Nightmare Critters could've easily be replaced by the ruined critters we know, and it would've made more sense cause why were the Nightmares SO CLEAN when they are literally at the SECOND DEEPEST floor of Playtime???

That's what I've been saying.

There wasn't a single time in the 4th chapter that I didn't think the nightmare critters could have been replaced by the smiling critters.

If anything I'd maybe keep Baba around as a scrapped smiling critter- but only so that dogdays speech isn't wasted since he claimed to be the last of the bigger body smiling critters.

[pnwfoodpolls]

hi!! op was sick at time of writing this and forgot about tater tots

[newmoonlover009]

Long Day - Charlie Swan

“Then let me take care of you.”

Charlie Swan x Fem!Reader

Summary - Charlie comes home from another late night at the station. You’re determined to mitigate the stress that comes with his job—while showing him just how much you missed him.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: 18+, sexual content, kissing, oral m!receiving, lack of foreplay (kinda), the uniform stays ON, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, soft!Charlie, the pet name “baby,” and the use of the words “cock” and “cunt.”

(Let me know if I missed any.)

Disclaimer: Apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes. Twilight au—details won’t be accurate to the films or books—they are rewritten to fit the story.

a/n - again, this one shot has been roughly proofread, so apologies in advance if there are any painfully obvious spelling errors and grammar mistakes.

The jingle of his keys unlocking the door and the sound of his heavy boots stepping onto the hardwood floor prompt you to jolt awake. Your eyes shoot open, and you are met with your dark bedroom. Charlie’s finally home. 

Earlier in the evening, he had called to inform you that he’d be staying late at the station and to eat dinner without him. You understood what you signed up for when your relationship first started, however, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed whenever those frequent calls came. Not only for the lack of quality time, but because you know the mental toll it takes on Charlie. Recently, he’s been working late almost every night—and every night, you’re forced to eat dinner alone and curl up into your empty bed, waiting for him to return. 

Charlie loves his job. Although, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t hate the way it keeps him from you. It kills him to know you’re waiting for him at home all alone, sometimes forcing yourself to stay up until he arrives. This is not one of those nights.

You had fallen asleep as soon as you cleaned the mess that making dinner warranted—begrudgingly crawling up the stairs, lazily breezing through your nightly routine, and closing your eyes as soon as your head hit the pillow. Usually, you’d have trouble even falling asleep, having missed the way Charlie’s warmth would gather beneath the covers. Lately, you’ve grown accustomed to it, despite how much you hate it and how badly you miss him. 

Throwing the covers off of your body, you swing your legs over the edge of your shared bed and slide your feet into your house slippers. Fall is approaching, so the house is under a constant chill, making you grab one of Charlie’s flannels to push your goosebumped arms into the oversized sleeves. It was a bad night to wear shorts and a tank top to bed, you silently point out. 

Slowly opening the bedroom door, your eyes squint from the harsh light shining from downstairs. Charlie’s looking for the food you set aside for him, no doubt, and you can tell by the way his footsteps move cautiously that he’s trying to be quiet. Your feet quietly drag along the floor, your steps barely audible as you tread down the stairs at a leisurely pace. 

Turning the corner, you step into the kitchen, your eyes still adjusting to the overhead fluorescent lighting. You find Charlie sitting at the dinette table, caught in the middle of cracking open a cold beer. Rough night, you figure. 

He jumps, nearly spilling his beer, when he finally notices you standing in the doorway of the kitchen. 

“Hey, baby.” His drawn voice calls to you, setting the can down on the table. “Did I wake you?” 

He looks exhausted. His stature is leaned back, legs sitting manspread, and he hasn’t bothered to shed off his heavy police coat or his duty belt. Hours of work settle themselves into the dark circles that form under his eyes, and his hair is messy, a product of him running his hands through it whenever he’s stressed. Which is often, lately. 

“S’okay.” You wave him off, your tired words slurring as you shuffle toward him and hold his flannel closer to your shivering body. It’s much colder downstairs, and your body screams to crawl back into bed. “I missed you.” 

“Missed you too, baby.” His soft voice pulls you closer, his arms opening to invite you into them. Stopping between his spread legs, you opt to sit on one of them, sitting sideways while wrapping your arms around his neck. His arm curls around you, settling his hand on your hip while his other arm perches itself onto the table. From his position, he looks up at you, his warm eyes visibly admiring your features. He always looks at you with such adoration, his lips twitching into a subtle smirk as he does so. 

“How was work?” You ask, a yawn forcing its way out of you at the end of your question. 

“It was… fine.” His hesitation is a dead giveaway that there’s more than he’s leading on. 

“Charlie.” Your tone is a warning. His eyes catch yours, but flick away when you raise your eyebrows, fishing for more information. Giving in, he lets out a deep breath, his eyes closing as he pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. 

“There’s just a lot going on at the station—and not enough cops to deal with it. That’s where I come in.” He sighs, the stress of the day weighing heavy on his stature. “I guess it’s the price I pay for being Chief of Police.”

“You deserve a break.” You tell him, unwrapping your hold on him to run your hand through his hair. Your nails gently drag along his scalp, knowing it soothes him, and you watch as the tension melts from his shoulders just a bit. “I wish there was something I could do—to relieve your stress, at least.” He only hums in response, distracted by the soothing action as his eyes stay shut.

Charlie does have days off, but even then, he’ll receive a phone call about some paperwork that needs to be reviewed—or a case needs to be filed—or someone is specifically asking to speak with him, and only him. 

“It’s my day off tomorrow.” He reasons, but you both know that doesn’t mean anything.

“For now.” You sigh, sliding your hand from his hair to his cheek, the subtle scruff scratching your palm. His eyes open to find yours, exhaustion present in their gaze. 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, silence falling before you lean in, placing a gentle kiss on his lips as your eyes flutter close. His hand on your hip tightens as you feel him push back, pouring his affection into you. His other arm leaves the surface of the table and you feel his free hand grip onto your outer thigh, pulling you closer into him. Your arms replace themselves around his neck, deepening the kiss further than you intended.

A low groan settles in Charlie’s throat when he feels you squirm in his lap. He can read your body language fairly well—and that’s a telltale sign that you want him. Bad. 

You can’t help but feel as though he needs this. A moment to forget about work. Indulge in something that doesn’t require effort—at least not mentally. If there’s one thing you know about Charlie, it’s how to get his mind off of things. When he’s with you, nothing else matters, and you’re determined to make that happen. 

Quickly breaking the kiss, you rest your forehead against his, your breath heavy with pure need. “Come with me.” 

Charlie wastes no time following your lead as you lift yourself off of his lap. You grab one of his hands, pulling him from the chair and out of the kitchen, straight into the living room. Positioning him in front of the couch, you release his hand and undo the zipper of his police jacket, his eyes focused only on you. Slowly, you peel the jacket off of him, letting it fall off his shoulders and arms, before gathering it into your hands and tossing it to the lonesome chair beside the couch. He watches you, his head following your movements, curious as to what your next steps are.  

Just as his hands instinctively reach for your waist, your hands lay flat against his chest, carefully pushing him to sit on the couch. He lands on the soft surface with a small oof, his head craning upward to look at you. He looks mesmerizing. 

His legs fall in their natural spread position, his head leaning against the headrest of the couch, and hands resting atop his thighs, eyes watching you with eagerness. You’re positive Charlie expected to go another night sleeping beside you with little to no acknowledgment, always allowing you to get your beauty rest, but this—this is much better. 

His eyes follow yours as you kneel between his legs, your hands landing on either knee. You notice subtle tension in his muscles at your touch, your hands moving up his legs at a tantalizing pace. His thighs tense up while you fumble with his duty belt, undoing the heavy buckle and sliding the bulky belt off of his hips, setting it aside elsewhere. He’s left only in his work pants and department button-up. 

“Aren’t you tired, baby?” His gravelly voice cuts in as your fingers graze his pants’ zipper, pulling you to look up at him from your position. 

Truth be told, your tiredness left you long ago when you noticed just how wound up Charlie really is. Your incessant need to pamper him consumed your thoughts, satisfaction only redeemable once he’s cared for. 

“Not at all. Are you?” He shakes his head, his hips absently bucking beneath your touch. “Then let me take care of you.” You smirk, watching as the black of his pupils swallows his rich brown irises. 

He’s at a loss for words as he observes your movements—undoing the button and zipper of his pants with ease and untucking his shirt from the waistband. His breath is shallow—shaky—when your fingers ghost the elastic waistband of his boxers. You must’ve been in this position a hundred times, but you still manage to get him riled up; his chest rising and falling slowly, his eyes focused on every small action. His stomach flexes when the tips of your fingers graze his skin, hooking your fingers into his boxers and tugging just enough to let his length spring free. 

He nearly groans when you firmly wrap your hand around his erection, admiring the precum that leaks from the tip. You glance up at him, watching as his breath gets caught in his throat when your eyes lock with his. His hands have fallen to the sides of him, absently gripping the plush couch cushions beneath him—he’s waiting, patiently—restraint proving hard to keep. 

You hold his gaze as you lean forward, sitting on the heels of your feet, and capture the tip of his cock between your plump lips. He releases his breath, the rush of air coming out uneasy as his head falls back. The salty taste of his precum floods your tastebuds, and you hum as you swirl your tongue around the sensitive skin—simulating a vibrating sensation. His hips jerk beneath you as you feel one of his hands fly to your hair, his fingers grazing your scalp to maintain a hold on you. 

Taking him deeper, you sink your head down, only stopping when you feel him hit the back of your throat. A low groan exits Charlie—your watchful eyes observing as his lips part to release his silent praise. You move up slowly, swirling your tongue around his tip once more, before sinking back down. The grip on your hair tightens, though it’s not uncomfortable or painful. If anything, it encourages a faster pace, your own arousal growing from the consistent grunts that slip off of Charlie’s lips. 

You’re unwilling to let him finish this way, and as much as you’d love to taste him dripping down your throat, you’re feeling selfish. You’re unable to ignore the pooling moisture between your thighs, nearly soaking through the thin sleep shorts you wore to bed. You maintain a steady rhythm, tears gathering on your waterline from the brush of his tip against your throat, until you see his stomach tighten through his shirt. He’s close. Too close. 

Hollowing your cheeks one last time, you release his erection with an audible pop and tuck it back into his boxers. His head veers down to look at you, his brows scrunched from his close climax and chest heaving from his heavy breaths. 

He undoes the hold on your hair, sliding his hand to hold your cheek, his palm flat against your flushed skin. His thumb swipes the spit that’s accumulated on your now-swollen lips, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his own. 

“I missed you so much.” He sighs, bringing his other hand to cup your other cheek, pride present on his features. He has his girl sitting on her knees for him after a long day at work. The sight makes his cock twitch. 

“Show me.” You challenge, lifting yourself off the heels of your feet, still kneeling before him. 

He takes the hint, peeling his back off the couch to capture your lips in a hungry kiss. Your hands grip his wrists, and his large palms are now plastered against your jawline to hold you against him. Your lips move hastily yet fluidly. This kiss is much more fervent than the one before in the kitchen. 

Charlie consumes your every sense. You taste him on your tongue, the brief sip of beer he got to enjoy still present on his lips. His starving groan echoes in your ears. Images of him with his head hung back, lips parted, and eyes squeezed shut just moments ago flicker like a film behind your closed eyes. He smells of cinnamon, firewood, and natural musk—his natural pheromones seep into his skin, only driving you even more insane at a close range. And all that you can feel is him. His rough palms cradling your face, the coarse hair of his mustache scratching your sensitive skin, and his lips consuming yours in a yearning embrace. 

You move quickly as you lift yourself from the ground, lips still attached to his as you climb into his lap, straddling him. His hands fall from your face, instantly finding a home on your waist, the tips of his fingers digging into the soft flesh. Draping your arms over his shoulders and the back of the couch, you break the kiss, much to his natural protest. 

Though, you’re not done with him. Bending your head to find his neck, your lips gently graze the warm skin. His head tilts, his hips bucking into yours as you pepper open-mouth kisses along the tender flesh. Your lips move along his neck, paying extra attention to his sweet spots, and stopping just below his ear. 

Grazing his earlobe with your lips, you whisper, “Show me how much you missed me, Charlie.”

You nearly yelp when he gets a stronger hold on you, quickly switching positions so you’re lying beneath him. There’s no wasting time for him as he paws at your flimsy sleep shorts, pulling the near-see-through material down your thighs. His eyes grow darker—unsatiated—when he sees just how wet you are through your cotton underwear. 

His fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, swiftly peeling the soaked material off of your cunt, prompting you to lift your hips in assistance. You lay there before him in your sorry excuse of a spaghetti-strap tank top, your hardened nipples peeking through the thin fabric, and his oversized flannel, with your hair splayed over the armrest of the couch. 

“Beautiful.” He mumbles to himself. 

He leans over you, carefully placing his lips onto yours in yet another kiss. It’s slow this time. Meaningful. 

Your arms lazily wrap around his neck, your eyes fluttering close as your legs spread for him, welcoming him between them. One of his hands is propped onto the armrest beside your head while the other fumbles with his boxers, releasing his awaiting erection. His lips work against you as you suck in a small gasp, feeling him drag his tip through your wet folds. He’s being gentle, and thorough, as explores every crevice before pausing at your aching entrance. 

Both of your breaths hitch when he nudges his hips forward, your walls stretching to consume every inch. Your breath quickens the deeper he gets, your cunt pulsing as it attempts to accommodate him. His mouth swallows the moan that claws its way from your throat when he’s fully seated inside you. Usually, you’d take the much-needed time to get to this point, but the situation demanded urgency. 

Charlie’s other hand falls into place beside your head, now caging you in. His lips leave yours, his breathing heavy as he pulls his hips back, only to carefully drive back into you. Your lips part, and a string of quiet moans braid themselves into every exhaled breath. If it’s possible, your legs spread wider, the heels of your feet finding themselves digging into his lower back as he finds a steady rhythm.

Your hands spread on the expanse of his broad back, desperately grasping at the material of his police uniform. An incoherent stream of grunts rolls off Charlie’s tongue, increasingly growing louder and adding to your peaking arousal. You know you won’t last long, and neither will he.

“I missed this so much.” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut and scrunching your brows in pure pleasure. “I missed you.” 

“Jesus, baby.” He mutters under his breath. His lack of words is a sign that he’s close, unable to form a coherent thought. 

He maintains the same speed, his hips digging into yours with forceful thrusts, trying to keep the momentum. That familiar feeling settles deep within your lower belly, sending waves of arousal to your already-soaking cunt. It allows him to thrust into you rapidly, your limbs clinging onto him as your climax quickly climbs to its highest point. 

“Please, Charlie.” His name leaves your mouth in a pleading whimper.

“Look at me, baby.” The tremble in his voice lets you know he’s not far behind. 

Your eyes open to find him locked onto yours. A sheen layer of sweat gathers along his forehead, and his hair sticks to the creased skin as his brows furrow in concentration. 

His hips slam into yours for a final time, both of your orgasms clashing. Yours washes over you in rhythmic pulses around Charlie’s cock, uncontrollable cries leaving your throat raw as you finish around him. His cock twitches frantically inside of you, coating your fluttering walls in his cum. Charlie’s defeated groans climb over every surface around you, filling the living room.

When he finally pulls out, his cum spills out of you, mixing with your own release as it settles beneath you. The feeling isn’t your favorite, however, you’re distracted when Charlie places a gentle kiss on your forehead. Both of your breathing has evened, and the aftershocks of your orgasms are now a distant memory. 

His body slumps onto yours, his head falling onto your chest. Your hands slide into his hair, combing the rough strands back, eliciting a content hum from Charlie. His arms snake down to your waist, hooking underneath you to hold you closer. The couch isn’t nearly big enough to allow the two of you to cuddle comfortably, and you’re sure he looks ridiculous with his legs hanging off the other armrest, but he doesn’t seem to care. He nuzzles into your chest, and while you’re perfectly content with staying like this, he deserves to be comfortable. Preferably in bed. With you.

“We should head up, Charlie.” You tug on his hair, pulling him to look up at you. “You’re still in your uniform.” You point out, chuckling. 

“Fine.” He grumbles, lifting himself off of you, and tucking his softening erection into his boxers. You see a glimmer of mischief in his eyes before a smirk is plastered on his face. “We really should get cleaned up, though. How ‘bout a shower?” He means together.

You glance at the clock on the wall behind him, then back at him. “Aren’t you tired?” You repeat his earlier question. 

“It’s my day off tomorrow.” He recalls, and you playfully roll your eyes. 

Tags:

[dotzines]

Calling all Madoka Magica creators!!!

Earth Love 2025 is a collaborative zine that celebrate Earth Day with our favourite goddess: Ultimate Madoka.

Check our past volumes:

🌏 Earth Love 2024 🌍 Earth Love 2023 🌏 Earth Love 2022 🌏 Earth Love 2021 🌏 Earth Love 2020 🌏 Earth Love 2019

Like the past years it’s going to be PDF only, and completely free. Artists/Writers of all skill-levels are welcome, all entries that follow submission guidelines will be accepted and included in the zine!

If you want to be part of our discord server follow this link: (https://discord.gg/nGMhkUq) Be sure to write you’re part of the Madoka zine in your intro or you won’t be able to see the zine channels.

We want to accept the hard work of EVERYONE who submits to us, so please make sure to follow the guidelines below:

GENERAL GUIDELINES

Please refer to “what to draw/write about”.

Only one submission per person!

ALL SUBMISSIONS WILL BE DUE BY 11:00pm CET ON APRIL 8! Every piece we receive after that time will not be included.

The Earth (It’s going to be something for Earth Day after all).

Ultimate Madoka.

A background of your choice. Simple, complex… is up to you. Please NO BLANK/TRANSPARENT backgrounds.

(OPTIONAL) You can include other Madoka Magica characters (OCs are not allowed) but please mantain the focus on Ultimate Madoka and the Earth.

WHAT TO WRITE ABOUT

The Earth (It’s going to be something for Earth Day after all).

Ultimate Madoka.

(OPTIONAL) You can include other Madoka Magica characters (OCs are not allowed) but please mantain the focus on Ultimate Madoka and the Earth.

You can write about the reason why Madoka love the Earth so much, if she does something particular on Earth Day, her job as Earth protector, or if she looks for puppies or cute things on Earth when she doesn’t save magical girl… the possibilities are endless. Remember you can draw/write about other characters, but the focus of your piece must be on the Earth and Ultimate Madoka.

ARTISTS GUIDELINES

Refer to “what to draw” and “general guidelines”.

A4 (2480 × 3508 pixels @ 300dpi), RBG, PNG, portrait orientation. Make sure your canvas is this size.

Traditional art will be accepted, but please scan it cleanly!

Only complete drawings. Sketches will not be included.

WRITERS GUIDELINES

Refer to “what to write about” and “general guidelines”.

All writings must not exceed 1k/1.2k words!

Before submit triple check your piece for grammar/spelling errors. Keep in mind that mods aren’t english native speakers so we might let some errors slip our eyes when we read it. So please get someone that can proofread your work before send it to us.

Please use a google doc link to submit your work.

HOW TO SUBMIT

When your piece is ready send it to dotzines@gmail.com with:

Nickname: (The name we’ll use to credit you. Be sure to check everything for letter case to be as you want -all uppercase, all lower, mixed up-)

Social media: (Up to 2. Please complete url)

Message: A little message for Earth Day ♥ (Please limit yourself to 1 or 2 short sentences)

We’ll send you a confirmation email (so you know we received your piece) as soon as we can. If we don’t after 48 hours please contact us and re-send your email.

You can post cropped wips of your piece (@ our socials so we can reblog/retweet them ♥), but please keep the final thing secret until zine release.

The goal is to have this PDF released on April 22: Earth Day.

Feel free to contact us if you have any questions or check the FAQ page! Please share this post to spread the word so even more people can join in! (.❛ ᴗ ❛.)

[orieriee]

Chapter 15 ✦ Epilogue

prev | masterlist | end

Sypnosis: Y/N L/N is a special shaman from a jujutsu family. Y/N was sent to Tokyo to go on missions to prove their worth as the next heir. With the ability of 'flow', a cursed technique that allows its user to see and manipulate forces of energy freely. Y/N stumbled across Geto Suguru amidst a dark aura, carrying a weight of chaotic and dark energy. Will Y/N be able to help Geto overcome his turmoil? Will Y/N fulfill the lifelong anticipation and succeed in becoming the next heir? The short answer is, yes.

Time setting: 2018, just after the new trio (Itadori, Kugisaki, Fushiguro) joined Jujutsu Tech! gn!reader. I use they/them pronounce for neutrality.

Disclaimer: This will be a slight crossover with chainsaw man because I needed a mentor figure who is not known in Jujutsu Kaisen. I do not own any of the characters from Jujutsu Kaisen or Chainsaw Man. The characters belong to Gege Akutami as the creator of Jujutsu Kaisen and Tatsuki Fujimoto as the creator of Chainsaw Man. I only own the story plot of this work of fiction. I will also mix in a written story for the plot so it's not just the SMAU story. Also english isn't my first language so excuse any grammar errors in the story (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

The year is 2018. Sometime after Itadori Yuuji and Kugisaki Nobara came to Jujutsu Tech in Tokyo. It has been 8 years and you are finally visiting Tokyo again for the first time.

Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru have become teachers in Jujutsu Tech, both of them taking turns in teaching the grades. Mimiko and Nanako have grown into capable young sorcerers as they have enrolled into Jujutsu High, currently in the same grade as Maki and the others.

The end...? Almost! We'll sum up in headcanons of what had happened during the course of 3 years and after the timeskip!

Because I'm too lazy to write and it's easier to explain in headcanons

Before the 3 years

Y/N, aka you, moved back to your place to become the new head of the L/N clan after the succession ceremony

You and Geto kept in touch with each other like promised but it took you some time to get your grandpas permission to let Geto and the girls visit you

After a little some lengthy negotiations with your grandpa, with the help of Kishibe too, your grandpa finally allowed them to visit

And since then they have regularly visited you during the holidays

But just before the 3 year mark, you have gotten really busy with your duty as the head clan and other duties so you couldn't really talk to Geto as much as before

Geto understood that you were busy but he wanted to see you so badly

So he flew alone to your place, a surprise visit you didn't expect (with the help of Kishibe)

But when he arrived, it was not until 3 days that he got to see you after he stayed in your estate

You were very busy meeting some important people in your clan that day, and have been very very busy for the past few days so you were overwhelmed by all of the responsibilities

At first you wanted to dismiss him when Kishibe said that someone was visiting you

But when you knew it was Geto, you broke down crying as he offered you a warm embrace in his arms

And so when you fell asleep after crying, he decided to confront your grandpa to not burden you so much

Grandpa was offended™

And challenged Geto to a duel in the forest (it was actually just a test for Geto and that your grandpa was just bored)

Long story short, Geto almost lost by centimeters but got lucky that he was able to checkmate your grandpa

"You're lucky because I'm already old" aahh scene, you know

Your grandpa actually asks something along the line that implies whether or not Geto is trustworthy enough to be by your side

To which Geto responded that he wishes to take care of you and stay by your side to protect the person he cares so much about

Your grandpa nodded, acknowledging him, and also started to like him since then

And with that, Geto returned to Tokyo

After the 3 years

Geto knew you were going to visit Tokyo for the first time in 3 years--he has been waiting for this time

It was finally time to confess for real this time, that Geto is serious about wanting to have a relationship with you if you allow him to

You knew this day was coming, and was nervous about it

You already knew that your grandpa has approved of him, but you can't help but feel nervous thinking about it

And so you arrived in Tokyo, with Geto picking you up from the airport with Mimiko and Nanako

After finishing some businesses you need to do, you spent some time with Geto and the girls

They decided to go to check on the new amusement park

Gojo tagged along as well, along with a kid you've never seen before, probably around the same age as Mimiko and Nanako

If this was the real JJK, a fight with a cursed spirit will broke out😂 but since it's not, I like to imagine that Gojo was just there to distract the kids for bothering you both... And to eavesdrop his best friend's conversation

I'll leave the details to your imagination on this take~ definitely not because I'm a lazy writer booo

Basically, Geto confessed, no, he asked if he can be with you, to take care of you, and to stand by your side

You cut him off with a anxious expression, you told him of the hardships that you two might face if you two are together... And you doubt whether he would want to stay after that

He took your hands and cupped it on his face, kissing the inside of your palm, as if telling you that he's ready to devote himself to you

You are his light, and he'll do anything to not lose you... For the sake of not losing himself too

In the end you got together, and Mimiko and Nanako couldn't be more happy that their (adoptive) parents finally got together ＼(￣▽￣)／🎉

2018 mark

Before and after Itadori Yuuji and Kugisaki Nobara came to Jujutsu Tech, you haven't returned to Tokyo for a while

But don't worry, Geto, or now Suguru, your boyfriend has been visiting you during holidays or simply when he misses you

He has won the favor of your grandpa and your family of course, although it took him a while to get the permission to marry you

So the day you visited Tokyo again, he had already bought a ring that he was going to propose you to

Gojo, Mimiko, and Nanako helped him plan the perfect proposal of course

Little did he know, you have also gotten him a ring that you're going to propose to him to

Long story short, after a romantic date at night, he proposed to you, asking you to marry him

But then you pulled out your proposal ring to him, a family heirloom passed from generations to generations of your clan and give him your answer

Your grandpa was slightly furious to know you have given that ring to him, but all ends well

You two lived happily ever after!

....Until the shibuya arc begins... Jk

The end ^^

author's note: I'm so grateful if you've read this fanfiction : Light. a Jujutsu Kaisen Geto Suguru x Reader SMAU! written by Orieriee until the end :D! I hope I did the ending a justice! (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ) it was an old fanfiction I made a year ago but it only got halfway done so I needed to write the story until the end before publishing. I'm sorry it got delayed for a bit! I also want to thank you for showing your support! Your likes, reblogs, comments and messages means A LOT to me, I wanna hug all of you 🫂🫂🫂 I would also like to apologize if there were grammar mistakes along the way or if the characters are OOC 😔

It has been a while since I read JJK and I didn't have a deep understanding of the characters, just in general. But it was fun to write because at first I intended this fanfiction to be for a JJK original character that I made-up! So it was fun to write some of the details that I have planned originally for the character to be Y/N! That's all! I'm going to sleep now! Have a nice day and don't forget to take care of your health, dear readers! ^^

written and published by orieriee on tumblr. Please do not copy or repost in any other platform.

© published on 09/02/25 by orieriee

tags: @inthedarkshadows000

[blackcorvette]

Own My Mind

Summary: 1986. Hawkins, Indiana. It’s not your fault that you’re pulled into the messy secrets and hidden world of your small town. It’s not your fault that two of your new acquaintances seem to be fond of you, and not of each other.

Warnings: Language. Stranger Things central violence. Spelling errors, grammar mistakes, and rushed writing. Eventual smut… (buckle in, it’s a long ride.) MDNI

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Hello again, welcome back to this humble little- whatever. Week five is here, and I just spent the weekend writing nonstop for this fic- there is much much more waiting for you guys in the future :) Special thanks to my bestie, @djosfavewig who will always be the first to know what happens, before it even does. Now, let’s read.

Currently Reading: Part Five

Masterlist

It starts with Nancy, she begins the story from where it starts. Retelling what you had learned from Steve and the kids, only this time with more attention to details that you hadn’t heard before, it’s only a summarized version, but it’s enough to give you a better idea- and enough for Victor to form his own view.

Then, when she finishes, you take over, from the point that you’ve been present. You tell Victor about Chrissy, letting Nancy speak about Fred, then you come back to tell him about Eddie running, how you found him. You tell him about searching for evidence, the school therapists office, then Max’s experience.

“When he attacks, our friend described it as a trance.” You recall what Eddie had said about what he had witnessed in the trailer, trying to remember what you had read from the papers as well. “Like a waking nightmare. What’s why we think he’s coming for her next. Does any of this, anything we’ve told you, sound like what happened to your family?”

“Victor?” Nancy prompts when he’s quiet too long. “I know this is hard-”

“You don’t know anything!” He yells and the echo of it rings, it continues in your mind even when it’s gone.

“You’re right.” You say, keeping your voice quiet, soft, trying to ease his nerves even as you struggle to maintain your own. “We don’t know. That’s why we’re here. To learn, to understand.”

“We need to know how you survived that night.” Robin says.

He lets out a laugh that sounds more terrifying than humorous. “Survived? Is that what you call this? Did I survive? No, I assure you, I am still very much in hell.”

When he speaks, he reminisces. Its slow, a memory coming to mind that’s not too far gone, one that he thinks of often, maybe even always. A soft smile forms on his lips, out of place with the scars, but whist full.

“I had been back from the war, some fourteen years. Her great uncle had died, leaving us a small fortune. Enough to buy a new home.” He says. “A new life. It was…a magnificent home. Alice said it looked like it was from a fairy tale.”

“Alice? Was this your daughter?” You ask him, hoping that he doesn’t take it as a hostile sign.

“Mhm, yeah.” He nods, and his smile falters as he continues, a happy memory tainted. “But Henry, my…my boy, he was a sensitive child. And I could see he felt something was wrong. We had one month of peace in that house. And then it began. Dead animals. Mutilated, tortured, began to appear near our home. Rabbits, squirrels, chickens, even dogs. The police chief blamed the attacks on a wildcat. This, this was no wild cat. This was an evil. And evil neither animal nor human. This was a spawn of Satan- A demon. And it was even closer than I realized.”

“My family began to have encounters, conjured by this demon. Nightmares. Walking, living nightmares.” The way he reuses your phrase, it solidifies your belief in him, in the evil you’ve become entangled with, the evil you are now attempting to fight. “This demon, it seemed to take pleasure in tormenting us. Even poor, innocent Alice. It wasn’t long before I began to have encounters of my own. I suppose, all evil must have a home. And though I had not a rational explanation for it, I…I could sense this demon. Always close. I became convinced it was hiding, nesting, somewhere within the shadows of our home. It had cursed our town. It had cursed our home. It had cursed us.”

He drops down onto his cot, defeated.

“It took Virginia first. I tried to get the children out- to save them. But…I was back to France. Back in the war. It was a memory, I had thought German soldiers were inside. I ordered its shelling. I was wrong. This demon, it was taunting me, and I was sure it would take me, just as he’d taken my Virginia. But then- I heard another voice.”

He removes his hands from where he had been covering his ears to shield himself from the dark parts of his memory. “At first, I believed it was an angel. And then I followed her. Only to find myself in a nightmare far worse. While I was away, the demon took my children. Henry slipped into a coma shortly after that. A week later he died.”

The crying starts, and it’s horrible, bad enough you have to tighten your fists and dig your nails into your already bruised palms.

“I tried to join them. I tried. Hatch stopped the bleeding. He wouldn’t let me join them!” He’s sobbing now, curled into his cot with his head against the striped pillow.

“The angel you followed…” You ask, though he might be too far gone. “Who was she?”

He doesn’t answer, confirming your suspicions by humming a song, rocking back and forth in the cot in a way that only the most broken man would. Nancy seems not to realize, attempting to try again, calling his name several times louder each- until the cell door at the end of the hall slams open and makes you all jump.

“Is he everything you hoped he would be?” Dr. Hatch yells down the tunnel, in a sinister voice that tells you he’s found out everything you tried to hide in order to get here. “I just had a very interesting conversation with Professor Brantley. Perhaps we should discuss it in my office, while we wait for the police.”

Security removes you, forcing the three of you out of the cell while Dr. Hatch yells, storming ahead to lead you back out of the cells and through the asylum.

Nancy begins to spill everything, about Eddie, Max, and every little detail that her mind can pull up and spit out- and if you weren’t in your own head trying to organize your plan to escape- you would be telling her to shut the fuck up.

They take you through the building and back into the listening room- where your eyes linger on the patients listening to music.

Debussy.

Etta James.

Elvis.

Brenda Lee.

Beethoven.

They shove you out of the room, Robin yells at the guard who had physically pushed her, and you follow quickly. As soon as you’re out of the doors, into the grounds of the inner courtyards and gardens, she pulls you and Nancy close.

“Victor said the night of the attack, everything went on in the house.” She whispers in a hurried manner, eyes darting up to make sure the guards and Hutch don’t hear. “But he made specific mention of music. He said music was playing- and then when we asked him about the Angel? He started to hum-‘Say nighty-night and kiss me, Hold me tight and tell me you miss me-‘”

“Dream a Little Dream of Me.” You remember the title of the song immediately, having listened to it growing up, the radio always on at home as a child. “Ella Fitzgerald.”

“Voice of an Angel.” Nancy says.

“Yeah.” Robin nods, glad that everyone follows her line of thought.

“Hatch said that music can reach parts of the brain that words can’t.” You say, walking briskly beside them, eyes scanning the grounds of the asylum, counting staff members and patients.

Robin nods again, her voice raising slightly, but not enough to alarm the guards. “So maybe that’s the key. A lifeline.”

“A lifeline back to reality.” Nancy mutters.

“It’s worth a shot.” Robin says.

Carefully, you look over your shoulder, at the guards. There are maybe two yards behind, they leave a gap large enough to take a few minutes to close if you run at the right time. They could get you, but only if they expect it and predict your movements beforehand.

“I think we can beat him.” You whisper.

“What?” Robin gives you a concerned look.

“To the car.” You say, ignoring the look Nancy shoots you.

“Okay, I’m warning you right now. I have terrible coordination.” Robin stresses. “Like, it took me six months longer to walk than all the other babies-”

“Just follow my lead.”

Before she can object, you sprint. You can hear her yelling, but she and Nancy fall right into step beside you- the guard quickly realizing and chasing behind them.

The grass is soft, but the ground beneath is firm enough to keep you from tripping. The patients watch with wide eyes, the staff slowly clueing in and rushing forward to catch you. But you run, as fast as you can, as far as you can and then further. Your sides burn, your lungs acting fast in the sudden burst of adrenaline- your heart doubling its natural rate, but you keep going until you’ve lost your shoes and run through the open gates.

The car is unlocked, and you silently thank God that Nancy hadn’t locked the doors before the meeting. The three of you climb in, and are almost immediately met with pounding fists on the windows. Nancy starts the car quickly, Robin yells, and you curse as you scramble for the radio that a familiar noise comes in and out. Static and Dustin’s frantic voice.

“Robin where the hell are you? This is a code red! I repeat, a code red!”

Finally finding it, you extend the antenna and press the button. “Dustin- It’s me. We copy.”

“Holy shit, finally!” His voice filters in immediately. “Please, please tell me you guys have this figured out.”

“What’s happening?” You have to yell over him, hoping he’d listen. “Dustin tell me what the hell is happening right now.”

“He’s got her- She’s- fuck.” The desperation in his voice hurts and you can’t do anything but talk. “What do we do? Tell me you found out something before-”

“Music.” You tell him.

“What? We need-”

“I can’t explain it now. Music, Dustin. Her favorite song, okay? Something that she loves that has meaning!” You speak as fast as you can, Robin yelling for Nancy to drive faster and your heart racing. “Just do it, okay! Her headphones. Get them and play a fucking song.”

“Okay.” He sounds stricken, and the line falls into static, a sign you hope means he’s doing what you hope will save her.

“Is she okay?” Robin asks frantically. “She has to be okay, right? The music? Fuck the music has to work- if it doesn’t-”

“It’ll work.” You tell her, louder than you meant to be but you can’t handle it, not while you have no clue what is happening or where they are. “It will work.”

It might take minutes, hours or maybe only seconds. All you know is that you can’t ease the tension in your body, you’re sitting up, knee bouncing, and staring out the window. Your hands are clutching the radio waiting for a signal. Nancy speeds away from the asylum, and eventually finds a rural road to start heading back home. Robin is chattering nervously, her hands tapping against her legs. None of you attempt to comfort each other, because there is no comfort to give.

Between the three of you, the car is overwhelmed with anxiety and anticipation. Not a single one of you knows that to do or say, and once Robin no longer has breath…It's silent.

The noise of the road is loud in your ears, mingling with the memory of Victor’s humming, the tune of his song stuck in your head like a spinning record, broken, repeating the same segment.

One, two, four clicks later- still no answer from Dustin. Not a single second of static from his end, not a yell, or a cry.

Nothing.

It will work. It has to work.

Even when Robin takes the radio, attempting to call for a response herself, you sit there waiting and listening. All you need is a voice. Dustin, Max, Steve. You need someone to tell you is she alright or is she…is she alright?

No answers. Not the first or the fifth time she tries. And then Nancy takes it, one hand on the wheel while the other holds the radio. No answers for her either.

Eventually, the radio is set on the dash, sitting in the sunlight as you speed down the road toward Hawkins. You count the street signs, watching the mile markers as you get closer. You're passing the sign reading eighteen miles to town, when the radio finally makes a sound.

Dustin’s voice comes in, quiet, no longer yelling for answers he doesn’t know exist. Robin is the one to pick it up, asks him what happened. And he tells her. She’s alright, she’s sleeping it off now in Steve’s car. They’re heading back to the wheelers.

She’s alright.

====

A loud sound wakes you. Your eyes open slowly, still blurry with sleep. It takes a moment to register that the sound is radio static and a familiar voice coming through.

Sitting up carefully, you make sure not to bump into Steve’s legs, where he’s curled in a seemingly uncomfortable way in an armchair, the same position he had been asleep in when you arrived last night. You search the floor for the radio, before realizing that it’s behind Dustin’s head on the TV stand. Reaching for the radio, you take it and carry it away from the others, who are still sleeping.

In your half asleep state, you press the button in the middle of Eddie trying to reach someone on the other end. “It’s way too early for this, Ed.”

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” His voice lightens when he finally receives an answer. “Um, I'm gonna need a food delivery. Like really soon, unless you want me going out into the world-”

“No, no, no. Don’t do that.” You rub your eyes and stifle a yawn. “Just stay where you are and we’ll be there as soon as we can, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He responds quickly, barely giving you time to finish. “Listen, um, can you pick me up a six-pack? I know it’s stupid as shit, drinking right now, but a cold beer would really calm my jangled nerves-”

Behind you, you hear the sound of Nancy arguing with somebody. “Hey, hold on. I’m gonna have to call you back-” Eddie starts to protest, but you set the radio aside and hurry back in time to see Nancy shaking Dustin awake. “What’s going on?”

She ignores you, speaking directly to a startled Dustin. “Aren’t you supposed to be on Max watch?”

“Yup, yup, yup- Sorry-”Dustin rubs his eyes, still not completely aware of the empty sofa you’re now staring at.

“Where is she?” She asks.

“She’s right there-” He freezes. “A second ago- I swear, I just dozed off for…an hour.”

“Hold on guys-” You try to reason with them, but before either can listen, they shoot up the basement steps to search for her. “Or don’t. That’s a choice too.”

A creaking behind you makes you turn, your eyes landing on a disgruntled Steve Harrington waking up and shifting in the too small armchair, untangling himself.

“That’s what all this noise is about?” He asks groggily, his voice deeper than normal and his eyes squinted as he grunts, stretching his arms. “Max went upstairs like, thirty minutes ago.”

“Alone?” You ask, dropping onto the now empty sofa and refraining from shutting your eyes, still tired.

“Mrs. Wheeler’s up there with her. Making breakfast.” He runs a hand through disheveled hair, somehow making it sit more perfectly than should be possible. “Are you…wearing new clothes?”

“Sleepover, remember?” You gesture lazily towards your discarded backpack. “I brought a few changes of clothes.”

He hums, his eyes lowering to his two days old shirt and the jeans he’d slept in. For a while you sit in silence, both of you still trying to wake up, or maybe just unsure of what to say. But it’s not unpleasant, rather, it’s the opposite.

When he looks up again, his eyes hold yours, and you find that he’s sharing the same feeling. It’s easy to tell that both of you are tired, and comfortable. Here, beside him, you feel at ease in a way you hadn’t in days. Maybe it’s the quiet slowness of the morning, or the fact that you’re alone, save for the sleeping bodies of Lucas and Robin. And for a while, you both embrace the stillness. But like most things, it only lasts so long.

It’s been over twenty four hours since you’ve decided to be upset with him. And in that time, you’ve lost reason to care about it anymore, there’s not an ounce of you that wants to be upset. It’s long faded- but you still feel a wave of something like relief when he brings it to light again.

“I don’t think it’s his fault.”

You ask, sitting up. “What?”

“Eddie. I don’t think he caused this.” He says, his voice kept low and his eyes not leaving yours, holding them captive without trying. “I don’t think that he killed Chrissy.”

“He didn’t.” You look down at your hands, unable to hold his gaze, whether or not you’re greatful to hear what he’s admitting.

He says your name, and it’s almost too much to hear him say it in this context. Your voices are little more than whispers, trying not to wake the others, but it’s like he says it through cupped hands- loud and demanding your attention.

He doesn’t get a chance to continue.

“We’ve got something.” Nancy comes down the steps first, interrupting with a stack of papers in her hand, Max and Dustin right behind. They quickly wake the others, nearly scaring the shit out of Lucas and making Robin yelp.

“What do you mean?” Steve stands, and Robin clumsily clears the coffee table she had been sleeping on, dazed from her sudden wake. “What have you got?”

Nancy and Max begin to pay out the papers, page by page. They connect lines, the scribbled marks coming together like a spider's web. They continue through each page, fitting broken images together until everything aligns.

“What’s this?” You trace your fingers over the lines, frowning at the distorted images. “A map?”

“Almost.” Max says, taking creased pages and beginning to fold them, red and black shapes being manipulated into something else. “I saw this during… At first I thought it was a random mess, like an upside down junkyard. Everything was disconnected and in ruins, torn apart and separated, but it’s not random, it’s all pieces of the same place.”

Steve leans closer, looking down at the pages as Lucas and Robin crowd around. “Where?”

Slowly, she starts to arrange the folded pieces, Nancy helping to match the lines and shapes together. At first, it looks like nothing, but it’s familiar to you. Then, before the image is fully formed, it clicks into place within your memory. You take in a sharp breath, startling the people around you. “The Creel house.”

“What-” Robin gasps, her eyes wide as Nancy lays the last piece, the stained glass door. “Shit.”

“That’s where we need to go next.” Max says, her eyes locked onto the image. “We need to go there and look for something, anything that could be useful. A clue to give us more time or-”

“A cure.” Lucas says, tapping the papers. “If we get there, we can look for a cure. Then you’ll be safe, Max. We can get you the hell away from all this shit, away from Vecna.”

“Lucas-” Dustin attempts to slow him down, but he ignores it.

“A cure.” He says again, sounding nearly distraught. “We can get her out of it, guys. Once she’s safe we can figure out how to take him down, but if this place can fix her-”

“Fix me?” Max cuts him off.

Lucas freezes, stumbling over his words when he tries to recover. “Not fix you. Fix this. If we can fix everything, then it’ll all be over. But a cure-”

“And what if there’s not a cure?” She asks, her voice raised enough that you take half a step back. “What if instead of a cure, I die? What if we find out that I’m going to end up like Victor? If that happens, you still have to defeat Vecna! You still have to figure out how to stop him, so that no one else dies.”

“Max-” Steve speaks to her gently, his hand hovering a few inches from her shoulder, careful.

“No, Steve.” She snaps her head up to him, and for the first time since you’ve met her, you see the pain in her eyes.

They’re red, her cheeks flushed with the same color, and tears threatening to fall. Her eyebrows are furrowed, anger and sadness showing straight through her face. Her voice begins to shake, her hands flexing as she tries to hold herself together. The headphones around her neck sit there as a reminder, of what she’s close to.

“We don’t know what will happen when we get there, but we have to go, okay?” She’s looking at him while she speaks, but she directs it towards everyone in the room. “He needs to hear it- because it’s true. If I die, you need to keep going. You can’t stop, got it? Find out how to kill him, because you fucking have to-”

Steve's hand settles on her shoulder just as the first tear falls, her face crumbling with it. He hushes her, pulling her into his chest and down into the armchair. You can’t see it, because he keeps her face shielded, but you know. You know that she’s crying, her breathing too shallow, even if she falls silent while she cries. She doesn’t sob, she doesn’t yell anymore, she just stays there- and it’s enough.

Nancy clears away the papers, Robin helps her and they step away to talk. Dustin slowly moves across the room when the radio starts to go off again with Eddie’s voice. And Lucas…Lucas doesn’t move. His attention is not once taken off of Max where she’s curled into Steve’s embrace. And you realize that you can’t move either.

For three days, you’ve been involved with them. You’ve only known them for that long, and yet it feels like you’ve always known them. Every problem, you feel you need to help solve. Their triumphs are yours, and their pain…you feel it, every little bit of it. And some moments it seems like everyone is on the same page, because they’re all fighting the same evil. But now, when you look at them, you see that they’re children.

Max, she’s only fourteen. She’s facing a fate worse that anything you can imagine, she’s forced to fear every second- whether she can spare them or not. And now, even while she’s crying, she’s fighting for herself and everyone else. She doesn't deserve it at all, and you wish you could stop it. You wish that you could take all the fear and pain from her, and save her from this monster and every other one that’s looming over.

But you can’t, not now, without knowing how to. And it tears you up, this girl you had met only days ago, that you can’t help her yet. That you don’t know how to, or if you’ll even be able to. It weighs on you, clouding your head with what ifs and wishes you can’t hope for. Things that you never hope to feel again, after everything is over. And it only worsens when you look at Steve.

Only a few years older, Steve is taking responsibility. You can see it in everything he does. He might complain, but he wouldn’t ever leave them when he’s needed. He would never let them be lost, even if it means he has to pretend to know the way. He’s here, holding Max as she cries, as if she’s his responsibility. Because to him, she is. To him, each of the kids, even Robin and Nancy, are under his watch. He doesn’t expect anything from them, and part of you thinks he wouldn’t accept it.

He’s strong, you know it. You see it in the way he talks to her, quietly, trying to sooth her. It’s evident in the way he acts without being asked, in the way he wants to do anything he can. And most of all, it’s in the way he’s able to comfort her while he looks as though he himself might break.

The way his eyes water is nearly impossible to notice. The way his hands tremble on her shoulders, as he rubs her back. The way he has to pause every few seconds to take a deep breath, to keep his voice from becoming unsteady, because he has to stay strong for her.

And it burns a hole in your chest, watching it all unfold, being witness to the unnoticed. But you can’t look away, you won’t, because when it ends, you will be here if they need you.

Because, you have to be.

[thewizardpoliceareafterme]

Time to answer a question everyone needs answered: how do sparkthrowers/guns work exactly?

I lied no one really needs this answered but I do so here you go!

-----

In the tutorial, Boochbeard warns us of spark throwers, saying: "Careful of those sparkthrowers! They'll stun you into submission-- that's how guns work in the spiral."

(nice forthwall break)

Now this is probably to make the game more kid friendly but obviously I need l o r e so here are my thoughts: ->

The guns shoot sparks of electricity, but how? I personally believe it is through the use of 'lumina crystals.' These are crystals that are charged with storm magic in a mill in Triton Avenue(w101). Lumina crystals cut small, so essentially you can 'socket' them into the gun and take them out once they need to be recharged.

Now if you want a gun that doesn't need a recharge, I assume there are expensive options-- for example, a gun that is enchanted with storm magic.

Okay so everything described here doesn't need bullets, in fact bullets aren't shown due ya know kidz but then

COOL RANCH

there are silver bullets?? How spark come out of bullet??

Anyways since metal is a conductor I'm assuming maybe it's just charged?? Make bullet and spark MAKE SENSE KINGSISLE PLEASE I SWEAR-

-----

Last but not least injuries. Since it is electricity wounds will mostly be burns, but enough electricity can kill a person.

To break it down here are symptoms and what happens during electrical shock:

• Outside Body

Can have visible burns but in some cases you look normal. For a sparkthrower, since it shoots out, I'd assume it'd be mostly burns.

• Inside Body

Moving electrical currents can cause damage to organs/stuff around them and cardiac arrest.

- Symptoms

Headache, loss of consciousness, muscle spasms, numbness/tingling, trouble breathing, vision/hearing issues, seizures, and irregular heartbeat.

<- The shock also has a chance to cause Compartment Syndrome.

-----

Last but not least, handling. Handling a lumina crystal is probably safe as it is in a solid form, but I'd be wary if it's cracked or so.

The most important thing is to not touch the barrel while the sparkthrower is being shot or for some time after. You don't want to accidentally electrocute yourself!

[smallidarityfan]

bro let the thoughts win

[niteshade925]

Saw these tags in a reblog of my Chinese museum posts, and thought I have to make a response just so everyone is clear on how archaeological studies are carried out in China:

^Well, the Shaanxi Archaeology Museum is a Chinese museum displaying artifacts found in China, it's not the British Museum lol.

But anyway just so everyone knows, modern Chinese archaeology has a rule, which is that unless it's absolutely necessary, an ancient tomb/mausoleum should not be disturbed. This means that many of these artifacts in the museums are found in a few main ways:

Tombs that absolutely had to be excavated because there were clear signs of grave robbing present, for example when tunnels left by grave robbers were found near a known tomb. This is called "excavating to rescue" (抢救性发掘), it's done by teams of archaeologists, the artifacts found will then be studied and eventually find a home in museums in China. In comparison, actual grave robbers would steal artifacts and sell them for money; many stolen artifacts would end up in auctions, mostly outside of mainland China. This is why there is no "general positive sense" in the phrase "grave robbing with grant money" when it comes to archaeology in China. Modern Chinese archaeology and grave robbing are simply not comparable in any way whatsoever.

Tombs that absolutely had to be excavated because new infrastructure will be built in that location. Such exacavations are also included in excavating to rescue. Examples include tombs in Xi'an city that had to be excavated because a metro was being built. Since Chinese people and Chinese culture are native to China, there are no ethical problems whatsoever, this simply a question of what matters more, the welfare of living Chinese people or the abstract afterlives of ancient Chinese people. Obviously, the welfare of living Chinese people is a more important matter. As for the argument of "but this goes against traditional culture", first, a culture is only alive if the people of that culture is alive and doing well, otherwise that culture is as good as dead; second, a major part of traditional Chinese culture IS focused on the welfare of descendants (ex: the belief that the spirits of ancestors will protect their descendants), so I'm sure our ancestors would be proud to see us doing well.

Tombs that were excavated because archaeologists were absolutely sure that artifacts discovered within would make major contributions to the study of Chinese history. This is pretty much the only exception to the rule of "excavating to rescue", and it is very rarely allowed. An example is the Xia-Shang-Zhou Chronology Project (夏商周断代工程), where the main focus is to gain a clearer picture of the timeline of ancient Chinese history, when dynasties began/ended, when major events may have happened, etc.

Artifacts that were found when arresting grave robbers. These are called "recovered artifacts" (追回文物).

Artifacts that returned to China from foreign countries, these are called "returned artifacts" (回归文物). A big portion of these artifacts ended up in foreign countries precisely because of grave robbers, and another big portion were and are still lost for the same reason as why the British Museum has so many artifacts from around the world.

Artifacts that were discovered scattered throughout China. There are three facts to consider here: 1) China has a long history and as a result, there are vast amounts of existing artifacts; 2) tombs are material things and thus are subject to the elements; 3) not everyone is an archaeologist. Combine these, and you have situations were valuable artifacts were found in places like the chicken coop of a farmer (this is how the eagle-shaped pottery ding was found).

Donations. Some artifacts were family heirlooms that were donated to museums.